#So long as they are in someone's mind their existence will linger on and continue on so long as they are kept in someone's unconciouss mind

[inkstainedarchivistmagpie]

You know, playing through Penacony after playing through both Persona 5 and Who's Lila practically back to back is an incredibly surreal experience and makes everything hit you as hard as we hit Sunday with the Astral Express.

[senmiyaazx]

SOLIVAN X READER

“Wanna be your muse ...”

cw: none // not fully proofread

Scratch, scribble, scribble .....

Hm, that's not quite right.

Using the end of the pencil, you rubbed away at the paper— erasing the imperfections in your art.

You were completely distracted. Whatever your professor was saying, you didn't care. It's boring and you could probably just search it up the next time he gives you homework.

You yawned, looking down at your drawing. A blush crept to your cheeks as you realize you've been drawing him for the past few days.

Him— your partner and new friend, the guy whose existence you weren't even aware of until a few days ago, the one who went unnoticed by everyone and you despite him being in the same class as you. Solivan Brugmansia, or rather, Sol.

He's pretty darn cute. Despite his intimidating appearance — from the black clothing and that scary gaze he had — he was actually really sweet, and kind. At least to you.. and Hyugo. But he's softer towards you.

You've noticed the way he stared for longer than he should, lingering touches that shouldn't be there, his dark gaze whenever he sees you interacting with Crowe, or anyone else for that matter. He also seems to like you a lot. Perhaps too much, but you don't really mind. Not when he's been oh so generous to you.

You groaned. No, that doesn't look like him. Try again.

Right. After you became partners, you couldn't help but continue to draw him even if it was unrelated to the project you both worked on. At first, it was mere excuses — you told yourself 'It's just for practice'. It's totally not because he's so pretty you can't help but want to admire him! Sounds weird, doesn't it? That's why it's for practice.

Fuck it. He's so damn pretty.

But your memory sucked, and you need a reference. How though? It's not like you can just ask him for a selfie, that'd probably sound suspicious. Plus, you're in class right now, and you really want to finish this sketch.

You sucked in a breath. Surely one look will be enough. Just one quick look?

You purposefully dropped your eraser on the floor, pretending it was an accident. You took a moment before picking it up, and as you did, you subtly turned your head to where Sol was— though to your surprise, he was already looking at you. Your gaze locked with those vermillion eyes, your own ones widening slightly before you immediately sat back up with an embarrassed blush.

'Can't believe he was already looking..' You sighed. 'This is so embarrassing.'

At least you managed to get a look. You can already envision his image in your head. It wasn't long before you got back to sketching.

You finished after a while. A smile was brought to your face as you stared at your creation, proud.

You rested your head on the desk, using your arms as a cushion. You closed your eyes, feeling tired. Just a few more minutes until..

...

Someone was shaking you awake. When did you fall asleep?

You raised your head from your desk, blinking sleepily.

"Sol..?" You mumbled.

"Morning, sleepyhead. You fell asleep." Sol's voice rung in your ear like a melody. You never realized how soothing his voice sounded, despite the teasing tone it held. You thought about how nice it'd be to hear it every morning.

"Did you get enough sleep last night? You look really tired." His tone switched to a concerned one, more like a doting mother.

"Yeah, just forgot to have my morning coffee." You grinned sheepishly, grabbing your things. "Thanks for waking me up."

He only gave a hum before a shy expression took over his features, a hint of blush blossoming on his cheeks.

He seems to be holding something in his hands before giving it to you. Is that your test paper? No, wait, is that the sketch you made earlier?!

"A-ah! Sorry-" You quickly took the paper from him (albeit rather aggressively), immediately shoving it into your bag as hot shame washed over you.

He chuckled which only served to stir your embarrassment even further.

"It's fine." He sucked in a breath. "You're really cute." He mumbled.

"What did you say?" You perked up, still trying to calm your racing heart. Why were you so flustered anyway?

"Nothing," He smiled shyly. "You know, if you ever need... references, you could always ask me. I don't mind.. I'd do anything for you after all." He whispered that last part to himself. You didn't even care - or notice it, you were too embarrassed.

Your eyes widened. Wait, was he serious? He's being for real?

Nonetheless, you couldn't bring yourself to deny because you probably would've never had the courage to ask. "Right, aha, I'll definitely take you up on that offer, thanks, uh.. bye!" You rushed out of your seat, the paper nearly crumpling in your hands.

Sol watched as you bolted away. He's completely aware of the way his heart nearly jumped out of his chest. He couldn't help but grin. How could he not? You were thinking about him. That alone, is enough to make his heart flutter and yearn for more.

He smiled shakily, leaving the classroom after a while, thoughts filled with you as he walked through the hallways.

You're.. so cute. So damn cute.

———

a/n: this was supposed to come with three characters: sol, crowe and casper (date with death), but it's 4am and I'm not sure when im able to write for the other two since i have a busy schedule. i already have an idea though, just need to write it out :)

[im-poe-dameron]

NO LIGHT

a/n: wake up babes a new sith dropped and he's ridiculously hot. <- i wrote that when the episode dropped. and it's taken me a bit to finish. really i got this done out of pure spite, because what the fuck do you mean we're not going to see him again. expect tons more for this man from me and feel free to scream in the inbox cause if there's one thing that will remain, i am down bad for a sith. and all i could say while writing was: i can make him worse. this is the prequel fic to darkness within.

summary: jedi were the light, the path to good in a galaxy draped in darkness. he never called himself a title you'd grown accustomed to. a life that you'd been thrust into as a child. when doubts arise and beliefs shift, you find yourself entrapped in what you were taught to fight against.

word count: 8k

pairing: qimir (darth teeth) x jedi!f!reader

warnings: EXPLICIT SO MINORS THIS AIN'T FOR YOU, corruption arc, enemies to lovers, but let's be honest it's more hate fucking, violence, he shows mercy, an unhinged villain obsessed with his lover, biting sort of, p in v sex, oral (f receiving), bad ending if you view it that way.

"The dark side of the Force is a pathway to many abilities some consider to be unnatural."

There was no name for them spoken aloud in the temples. No title for them to wield with pride as the Jedi did theirs. An armor they strapped to their chests before they carried the weight of the word knight. History was not a lesson to be taught, nor overlooked. Yet The Great War still remained fleeting in classes of the past. As if they willed each generation to forget.

You could feel your mouth form around the letters. The quick biting word that solidified in your heart, breaking open your armor the longer you thought about it. It sounded familiar. Each letter a hiss, as poison dripped between your lips. And you wracked your brain trying to remember where you'd heard it before, why the title came with flashes of memories long forgotten and feelings locked away.

Sith.

The darkness that lingered beneath what light the Jedi spread. A plague waiting to be brought forth and wrought upon the galaxy. Yet in the cracks of that obsidian void, you caught sight of a power that still remained. One not even the Jedi could detect within their midst, and yet you somehow latched on to what you found. The glimpse of his abilities far greater than anything you could ever achieve.

Images of his smile as you fought him alongside the people who trained you; those who didn't come home. How he held his lightsaber with the assurance of a man who'd done this before. Who trained in the same halls you did—who followed a path of light before sinking down to the depths of nothingness. He nearly killed you, held your life in his hands, yet his eyes flashed the second you began to fight back.

To show what you'd been hiding beneath the wall they taught you to built. The blockade which kept each emotion, each fear, trapped in your own mind.

You lashed at him with a fervor that scared you. With an anger that nearly consumed you.

And he smiled.

Questions ran rampant in your mind, yet no matter how hard you searched. No matter how far back you looked in the Temple records, there were no answers. The Sith seemed to have vanished from sight and wiped from existence. As if they never existed in the first place. You thought that something might arise, a piece of the past someone forgot to bury, but each time you looked the quicker you realized that this was done on purpose.

The Jedi cleansed the galaxy of evil—yet in doing so created the path for them to return without notice.

Since returning, you found yourself unable to sleep. When the possibility finally arose and you gave into the pleas of your body, his face returned with a vengeance. The smile that refused to leave you. The intrigue that crossed his eyes as he finally found your weak spot—the one thing that broke you. He fought you to survive at first, but as it continued, you suddenly felt like he was testing you. Attempting to figure out what made you tick, what would eventually make you fall.

You ignored whoever lingered in the hallways of the temple, their greetings falling on deaf ears, as you rushed to the training rooms. Night was cresting on the horizon of Coruscant and where you expected to be alone, you were surprised to find people still awake.

Apparently the attack left some Knights on edge. Including you.

"Maker," you gasped, pressing a hand to your stomach—a rush of nausea rolling through your body like a wave.

Whoever he was—whatever he was—he stuck to your mind like a fungi. Growing and feeding off your thoughts; finding joy in the depths of your head. You longed to claw him out, rip him to pieces until that calm serenity of peace finally returned. Until you felt like yourself again.

The room was thankfully empty, save for a few moved seats here and there. You gathered what control you had left on your emotions, practically collapsing onto the floor, each breath a gasp for the familiar Coruscant air. From what you were taught, meditating would help to ease your mind. Or at least assist in making sense of what you encountered, what knowledge you managed to accrue.

"I am one with the Force," you muttered. The words slipped off your tongue with ease, the memory of being a youngling in this very temple returning with a flash. It remained an old saying Masters told their Padawans when they first begin training. A reminder that while you may be powerful, while you may wield it to your own rhythm, you were surrounded and made from it. "And the Force is with me."

Your breathing slowed, eyes falling shut, and you allowed the room to fall away. You sought what lingered in between the liminal space of your mind and the world around you. Teal flickered on the edge of your vision as the darkness began to take shape—morph into something familiar. Cold licked down your spine, causing the hair to stand on the back of your neck, and suddenly you weren't sitting in the Jedi Temple anymore.

Ancient symbols surrounded you, carving that were set into stones older than you. Sucking in a sharp breath, you scrambled to your feet, your hand reaching for your hip—for the lightsaber that wasn't there. Night was all you could see through the cracked open ceiling; the ruins of what you guessed to be an ancient temple. One before the time of the Jedi you knew on Coruscant.

"Tragic isn't it."

You whirled around, eyes wide as the darkness you believed to be empty, began to bleed away. A figure cloaked in black stepped forward. Only this time...he wore no helmet, no mask to hide his signature and the thoughts that surged through your mind. He gave you the freedom to find what he was, to see beyond the boundaries set by the Jedi.

"W-Who are you?" you asked, your voice echoing off the stone walls and reverberating loudly in your own mind.

He smiled, the very look shoving every emotion you fought to keep at bay to the forefront of your thoughts. "I think you already know the answer to that question."

You gulped in another breath. "Sith."

"So they haven't wiped away that memory entirely." He breathed a soft laugh to himself, taking a few steps forward. "I'm surprised by that."

"Surprised..." Your eyebrows pulled together, body going tense with each step he took. "Did they have that information before?"

His smile only grew, the haze in his brown eyes flashing a burnt yellow for the briefest of moments. "Once." His hand reached out, as if to grasp yours, but this was merely in your head. A projection of his energy and yours. Perhaps that's why you relaxed, why you didn't flinch when his Force signature began to twine with yours. Perhaps that's why you let your guard down. "When I was a Jedi."

"You were a Jedi?" you exclaimed, reeling back. "That's not-"

"Possible?"

The echo of his steps rang through the air, stifling the air from your lungs. He walked like a predator. Yet held the stance of someone who couldn't care less about what you wanted, what you might do to him. He gave you his back with ease and didn't blink twice when your hand twitched to the nonexistent weapon at your side. You began to wonder if he brought you here without it on purpose—if he knew that deep down...you wouldn't hesitate to kill him if given the chance.

"Don't you find it remarkable?" His question threw you off guard as you turned to keep up with his slow prowl.

"Where are we?"

He ignored you. "The Jedi spent so long fighting the Sith. They nearly lost. And yet...no trace of that history remains."

"There's no point to this-"

Stopping a few feet away, he assessed you with a tilt of his head, eyes scrutinizing your very being. "There's always a point. Because despite their grand powers and promises, they are doomed to repeat history."

"Lies," you spit, eyes burning a hole through him.

"The Jedi will fall," he began, coming closer until his face was mere inches from your own. You attempted to step back, to remove yourself from the warmth that bled off his body in waves. But you were stuck—forced to keep still as he finished. "It's in their nature to believe they won't. But they will. One day." His hand reached up, palm cupping your cheek and for a moment...you felt the gentle caress of his touch. "Do you really want to be a part of that?"

"Let me go."

He sighed, eyes falling to your lips without shame. "I can't do that."

"You brought me here. All to tell lies." You sucked in a shuddering breath. "You can let me go-"

"I didn't bring you here," he replied, his lips curling into another grin. "I don't know how...but you found me."

"Found you where?"

His faint touch vanished as he stepped back with a sigh dripping in disappointment. As if you'd confirmed his worst fears. "Ashas Ree."

The planet's name sounded familiar—somewhere on the outer rim. And for a mere moment, you accepted his words as truth. That he didn't call you to this place, but you in fact found yourself here. Yet all it did was open a door you couldn't close. It would give way to the chaos in your mind, to the feelings that begged to run rampant in your heart. That alone would tear you to pieces and you'd have no way to put yourself back.

He leaned in once more, lips a hairsbreadth from your own, and smiled gleefully when you gasped. Your eyes wide and body falling back. Only for him to catch you—his arm a vice around your waist as his hand went to your face, keeping you still.

His touch should have terrified you—sent trills of fear through your body—and yet...you found a piece of something softer underneath his mask of danger. Though he may have turned to the dark side, the part of him that remained a Jedi still existed in the depths of his heart.

With reluctance, you came to the understanding that he wouldn't cause you any harm.

That isn't what he wanted from you.

"I'll see you soon...Jedi."

With a gasp, you collapsed, your head slamming against the temple floor as your eyes flew open. Pain bled into your skull, vision black spotted and hazy, yet you still scrambled to your feet. Your robes caught on your legs, twisting around your body. The beat of your heart echoed loudly in your ears—his face, his voice, still prominent in your mind.

He was a scar on your heart, a reminder that no matter how much you fought against his will, you would never win.

So you ran.

The temple cleared out during the night as you sprinted through the halls, your breath quick and stunted with each slam of your boots against the sleek floor. You weren't sure how long you'd spent with him. How much time passed as you did your best to ignore his advances—to gauge what exactly had to be done. Given that you now knew where he was.

Ashas Ree. A planet taught, yet never visited.

It didn't occur to you to ask why. What was there that made the Jedi wish to ignore it's existence altogether. What had they left behind?

Slowing to a halt, you found yourself stuck between two paths. Each hallway dimly lit and bathed in shadows. You held a choice within your hands. One that could change the trajectory of the Jedi if you were able to succeed. You could forget this instance happened, continue on with being a Knight, and leave this man to someone else.

Or you could find him.

The possibility of putting an end to this problem tasted sweet on your tongue. Yet you couldn't deny the true reason for going.

Curiosity would one day be be the end of you. A saying your master told you repeatedly as you put him through every type of worry he could endure—your need to know more outweighing the logic of whether you should.

The strength he exhibited on Khofar nearly brought you to your knees, his power a force to be reckoned with. Yet there you stood, considering the option of taking him on by yourself. It would conclude with your death—you understood this. Somehow that still wasn't enough to stop you from taking the left path towards the hangar. That alone couldn't deter you from a path already carved by the Force.

A sleek muted gray ship was housed in the corner. You couldn't recall who it belonged to, nor did you find it in yourself to care. Whatever this vision procured—the emotions that began to bleed into your heart with a heady and restless need—there was no fighting against it. The steps taken would lead to an unknown future; a consequence that not even you could see through the Force.

What began would eventually end.

Yet how it would play out remained shrouded in darkness.

Flicking familiar switches and pressing buttons through muscle memory, you felt yourself begin to slide back to your mind. The hum of the ship jumping into hyperspace gave you a moment of silence to converge over your thoughts. To focus on your own Force signature that spread around you with ease.

The teal felt familiar enough to sink down into its depths with a sigh. You shut your eyes, hands falling to your lap, as you allowed yourself to step forward into the darkness. Until you felt it begin to creep up your body—chills spreading down your spine and curling around your stomach.

You expected to be faced with a wall of fear; horrors unlike those you'd seen before. Surprise filled your chest as an image began to take shape—a memory that didn't belong to you.

He sat on the floor of the Jedi Temple. His eyes closed, hands resting on his knees, and hair tied up into a bun that nearly fell free. The black robes he wore with pride were gone, traded for a familiar set of light beige Jedi robes, a perfect match for the ones you wore now.

"You're not focused."

The voice...you'd heard her before. The sharp tone of concise words teaching younglings to train until they reached a level of perfection you only dreamed of obtaining.

Soft brown robes flowed around him as she stalked in a circle. Yet no matter how far you pried, how much you attempted to clear the image, her face refused to form. As if he was merely letting you see a hint of his past. Of the man that once existed in the same place you did. Warmth pooled in your body at that thought; he wanted you to understand him, to see that perhaps you weren't as different as you believed.

"You must feel the Force. Not simply think about it."

He sighed, shifting his body—hair falling free around his face. "I am thinking Master."

"If that were true then I wouldn't be able to see in your mind. Try again."

You stepped closer, lowering yourself to sit across from him—your eyes focused on the furrow of his brows, the way his body tensed. Agitation spread along his form, growing by the second, until you saw it begin to take shape in his mind. Peace didn't come easy. Not when he felt the conflict that plagued his heart, the beliefs he once held true and firm now a distant memory.

Without realizing it, you leaned forward, and pressed your hands atop his. Hoping that in some way, he might feel the soft light of your energy—the warmth of a Jedi's presence willing to help him.

"What do you see?" she asked.

He let out a breath, expression softening. "A...Jedi."

"Good. Who?"

"I...don't know."

"Try harder."

Frustration began to cloud his thoughts, his hands clenching into fists on his legs, and just as you reached for him again, you felt it. The sharp tug of fear against your heart. As if he'd stabbed you with his blade. His eyes flew open, a ragged breath tearing from his throat. You backed away, hands falling to your lap as you awaited the memory to keep going—to see what came next.

Only for him to meet your gaze and see you.

Pain sliced through your head, invading your body as his eyes narrowed perceptively. And you cried out, hands clutching your face, nails scraping against your skin. Maybe if you dug hard enough you'd be able to get him out of your head. You would remove any part of him that weeded through your thoughts, past every wall you'd placed to protect what secrets you held. He picked at your wounds and for a moment you wondered if he held a knife in his hand.

"S-Stop," you forced out past gritted teeth and clenched fists.

"You're not supposed to be here."

Sucking in a sharp breath, you shut your eyes to the image of him, to the vision that must have projected from his own mind. He didn't want you to bear witness to his past. A version of him that once believed in the light, that once hoped he could help the galaxy.

"No," you muttered, shoving him from your mind. But to no avail did it work. He was insistent, angry at knowing you could breach him so easily.

"The power you hold. It will destroy you."

"You don't..." Your nails sliced through the skin of your palm, blood welling to the surface within seconds as you fought against his hold. "You don't know anything."

Though you couldn't see him...you felt his smile. The pleasure he gained simply from finding the weakest point in your mind and running with it. Your power, your strength. For so long you'd feared what you might become, what your abilities could manifest into. Yet they remained a mere figment of your worst nightmares, a reality that may never come to pass.

Meeting him changed that.

He knew it the second he saw you.

"You're scared you won't be able to control it. The darkness you don't show the others."

"Lies," you hissed, beating against the walls he created as he wreaked havoc within your own mind.

"Tell me...does your former Master know you're on your way to me?"

Your heart leapt to your throat, fear numbing every ability you once possessed to fight back. To keep him at bay. No matter how much you wanted to argue, to claim he was wrong, you could feel the truth ring in the back of your mind.

No one knew you were speaking to him. No one knew you'd left.

No one would know why you may never come back.

His laughter echoed through you, burning a hole in your chest large enough for the darkness to seep through.

"Thrilling isn't it? Playing against their rules."

Perhaps if you dug far enough, you could rip the tendrils of him from your mind. Pieces that threatened to ruin you. The darkness promised freedom, yet you could see the repercussions of your actions played out before you like a story already written. Accepting the bittersweet taste of something so tenuous would leave you broken by the end of it. You'd be a shell of the Jedi you grew to become.

A person unwilling to fight back.

"You want me weak." The ship rumbled as you began to claw your way out of his mind and back into yours; the show of your strength echoing through the Force. "You want me to say yes because you know that if I fight back...you won't win."

Whatever retort he had died on the tip of his tongue when your ship left hyperspace—ripping you back to the waking world. You fell back on your elbows with a gasp, eyes zeroing in on the planet directly in front of you. One that you'd seen before. Perhaps it was in a dream, a memory not of your own, but the landscape looked familiar.

Signs of life were sparse—scattered further from where he resided—and part of you felt grateful. If this concluded in a battle you didn't want to be the cause of an innocent's death. The Jedi could never know you came here. The consequences alone would lead you to be cast out of the Order with nowhere else to go.

The ground shook as you landed; the hiss of the door echoed out into the empty clearing. You expected to see wildlife within the thicket of trees that surrounded you. All that showed itself was the glow of the moon above. Illuminating the path carved into the grass by people that came before. You could see the structure ahead—it's grand entrance towered over you, becoming one with the stars that hung above.

Jedi once walked these grounds. Their energy practically hummed in your veins the closer you came to stepping foot on the stone floors. Carvings of old symbols still remained—placed there by a Republic that no longer existed.

An era of Jedi you'd only heard stories of.

The history of the Olde Republic wasn't unknown to the Jedi that existed today. You understood their practices, the ways they viewed the Force. Part of them were lost to the war when they began to form the Order that still remained.

This place should be taught, visited, to keep the remaining legacy of what came before alive. This was the history you wanted to know—a past you could almost picture in your mind.

Stepping into the temple, you felt the energy before you saw it. A constricting echo of nothing that slammed against your chest with a brutality you'd witnessed once before. Gasping, you nearly fell to your knees as the obsidian nature of his Force signature began to seep into the ground. Fighting against it felt futile as it clambered over your body—sinking into your skin. Into the very fiber of your being.

"It's quite beautiful." His voice resonated in the small circular temple.

You sucked in a sharp breath, hands slamming to the cold stone floor—your knees collapsing beneath you. "What the fuck is this place?"

Controlled steps echoed behind you, his black robes brushing the ground as he stopped mere feet away. "The past your Jedi have chosen to hide."

"This is-" Your chest tightened, air sucked from your lungs at the feeling of his power laying above you—crushing you to the ground. "No Jedi temple."

He crouched, head tilted and eyes bleeding with a curiosity he held in the forest. "You continue to defend them, even when you know they haven't told you everything."

Attempting to reach for your lightsaber felt as if you were traveling through sand. It swallowed you whole. Ate at your insides and begged for more. You couldn't see past his power, past the darkness that formed over your body. He could have killed you like this; helpless and weak to his own weapon.

Why he never did is what filled your mind; the same mind screaming for a reprieve from what lay beneath the stone. What called out to you in screeching tones.

"Long before you and I walked this galaxy, this temple was created to hide the powers of what they considered dark and unnatural." He left you to lay on the floor, your back against a symbol you recognized. "They built this above a Sith temple to wipe their existence from history."

"The Sith followed the darkside of the Force," you spit between gritted teeth and tensed muscles. Your body was on fire and yet no one had lit the flame. "They wanted to destroy the galaxy."

Though you couldn't see it, you knew his lips curved into a grin. "Why do you have so much faith in an Order that would do the same to you if they knew where you were?"

Anger fueled your actions, gave you the strength to fight against whatever bonds he created against your body. With a piercing scream, your lightsaber hit the palm of your hand, igniting as you scrambled to your feet. He stood with his back to you—entirely aware yet uncaring of how you struggled against his hold. How the darkness began to seep its way to your heart.

You'd never felt this before.

The anger.

The hatred.

The Jedi taught you to quell that part of yourself before it had a chance to rise up. For so long you allowed their teachings to define you. To put a barrier between peace and bitter anguish. And you held that wall up with pride—with the knowledge that you could center yourself at a moments notice.

Yet he managed to tear it all down within one day.

"Good," he replied, his voice a soft rasp that penetrated the wave of emotions which sought to consume you. "Feel it. The anger."

"I am a Knight of the Jedi Order-" Raising your blade, you felt the hum of it sear against the side of your face. "And I am here to enact my duty."

The familiar echo of his blade coming to life—red illuminating the walls before him—sent a thrill of fear down your spine. One he could no doubt feel through the Force. You weren't scared to die. This had been ingrained in your mind since the day the Jedi found you. No, you felt at ease knowing this fight could only end one way.

You were scared of what might become of you if you slipped beneath the might of his powers.

"You have the strength of the old ways." He turned, brown eyes gleaming crimson as he advanced. "But your duty will be your end."

You felt the wall shatter within your mind—pieces crashing to the ground—as you leapt at him. Blades crashed together, lighting up the night with sparks of teal and red. And you felt how much he held back in the forest. He didn't want to kill you then; the way you called to his intrigue kept him from slicing his lightsaber down your spine.

Tonight you could see the difference. The strength he held back within his body.

A swipe of his blade nearly knocked yours from your hand, but the foot you landed to his leg kept you upright. He barely stumbled, regaining his stance with an agility you'd only seen in the Jedi Temples. You lunged again, aiming for his shoulder only to be knocked out of the way. He shoved you back with the Force—grinning at the sight of you enraged.

"You were a Jedi." A crack echoed in the night air as you landed a hit to his saber. "And you betrayed them."

"Betrayal." He spun, circling you as if you were marked prey. "I was cast aside as you will be. I did not betray the Jedi. I chose differently and they didn't accept that."

"You chose the path to darkness." Something sparked down your spine—foreign in its nature. Yet no matter how much you tried to pinpoint its origin, you came up blank.

"Desire," he replied, lips twitching when your eyes went wide. "The emotion you're fighting."

"Stay out of my head."

He took a step towards you—the hum of his lightsaber electrifying the air. "You're confused why you're feeling that way. You shouldn't be."

"Stop-"

"I can answer your questions." The palm of his hand reached for you—offering his touch. Promising peace in spite of the anger you felt. "If you'd like."

Fear seized in your chest and you stumbled back; your saber raised as your last line of defense. "Desire is the path to the darkside."

"And yet you feel it." The closer he stood, the more you felt his pull. A whispered promise tinged with the lust of more; the want for knowledge overshadowed by the truth of his beliefs. "You should feel all they make you push down. I can see that's what you want. Let me show you how."

Temptation ate away at your heart, claiming you in ways you'd never felt before. Yet the dread of what you'd been taught began to strike. Rearing in your mind with a vengeance that overtook what he offered. You flinched, eyes narrowed and hands gripped tightly onto your lightsaber as he took another step.

"No!" Your hand flew out, a push of strength bursting free. He slid back, his hand slamming to the ground to keep himself from falling.

That's when you saw it. His patience snapped, anger breaching the otherwise calm exterior he attempted to give you. This was the Sith that lay beneath his seduction. The man you caught glimpses of in your mind. He surged forward, saber striking down against yours hard enough to rattle your bones. Each hit felt as if you were battling something stronger—older.

You could feel the weariness in your body as you blocked and parried as often as you could. Spinning on your heel, you fell to one knee as he struck down a blow that resonated against the stone. Cracking it along the grooves of the center.

There was no mercy in how he battled. No offering of penance. He was your executioner come to life—the promise of death quick to fall from his tongue as he placed you in a corner.

He dragged you forward with a pull of the Force, crimson clashing with teal as you blocked his strike. And pride swelled in your chest at the sight of the frustration that crossed his face. This was not a fight as quick to the death as Khofar was. You would battle until your final breath and he seemed to realize that the longer you went.

"You die here today," you spit, struggling against his weight.

Pain sliced through your side, burning its way through your body as his lips pulled at the corners. Eyes alight in a way you'd never seen. He was amused by your fight—your willingness to die for the Jedi's beliefs. Yet you did the one thing everyone fell for on Khofar.

You underestimated him.

Yanking the small red blade from your side, he watched your face fall. Fear lacing your heart with a poison that held no antidote. This would be where you would have your last moment. The place he'd leave you to rot. But unlike what came before, he caught you in his hold, lowering you gently to the ground—his hand reaching to cup your face.

"You're afraid," he murmured, thumb tracing the top of your cheek. "You don't want to die."

Whether he could see it painted across your face or find it in your thoughts, the truth remained the same. You didn't want your story to end here. You couldn't fathom a death so small compared to what you'd been raised to believe. Jedi's were warriors. They were the protectors of the light; the keeper of peace.

Yet there you were, withering in the darkness and begging for hope.

"Let me in." His hand slid down to your gaping wound—pressing it gently even as you cried out in pain. "I can help you."

"You'll kill me." Even when you spoke, you understood the gravity of your situation.

He offered you salvation—safety within his hands—and yet you were willing to die. Teachings of your past suddenly felt minuscule as you stared death in the face. This would not be peaceful; you could feel the ravages of your injury begin to seep through your body. And he watched while you grappled with a choice that may very well set the path of your future.

Let me see your darkness. Let me help you control it.

His voice soothed the calamity in your veins. His touch a caress against your open robes—his skin hot against yours.

The look on his face—the clarity in his gaze—may be why you finally relented. Why you nodded slowly, fear traveling through every inch of your already broken body. He watched you with a desire that you'd only read about in stories. A feeling you'd pushed away at every waking moment. One that haunted you like the ghosts of this temple.

"Please," you breathed, hand clutching his robes.

Shifting you higher, he bent his head—his palm covering your wound—and pressed his lips to yours. Electricity streaked down your spine the moment you felt his kiss. His mouth was firm, yet soft in their nature when he gripped you closer. You gasped into it, hand cupping his face as he breached your mind slowly—gently enough to make you look past the act.

Until you felt it.

The warmth that bloomed beneath your skin when your body began to stitch itself together. He pushed the Force of his life through your veins—seeping it slowly into your heart. His thoughts melded with yours, memories of a past you never lived filtered through your mind. But he remained firm and solid in the way he kissed you. His tongue slipping past your parted lips to taste you, to take what he never got to on Khofar.

"I can give you more," he mumbled against your cheek, lips sliding along the curve of your jaw. "All that you want."

You would later blame his life Force, or the thoughts you were privy to. But the word yes slipped off your tongue with ease. A quickness that nearly left you startled.

This was forbidden. Every moment spent here would damn you to an eternity of punishment. Yet his touch felt delicious against your body as he pulled up your robes—spreading them open on the floor of the temple. You should have pushed him away. Dragged your lightsaber towards you and sunk it into his chest. And part of you wanted to.

Part of you ached to kill him.

Though no matter how hard you tried...you couldn't discern whether that stemmed from the throbbing heat between your legs. Or the violent echo in your heart.

His eyes caught your bleary gaze—pupils blown out and dark as he regarded you with a searing look you felt to your bones. "How do you want this?"

"I..." A burning heat spilled beneath the skin of your cheeks, spreading down to your chest. "I don't know," you whispered.

He smiled and you couldn't help but notice how he bared his teeth. Hunger etched on every line of his face. He liked that you were lost; that this was going to be the first and only time someone would touch you this way.

He suddenly felt the urge to claim you, call you his in every way that could exist within this galaxy.

Chalking it up to the ache in his body, he waited for your head to clear. "I can show you. Teach you."

A nod of your head set him off, he pulled at your pants until they pooled with the remainder of your robes. You lay bare beneath the moon—hands reaching to touch him—and felt that nothing this pleasurable should be wrong.

How could the Jedi claim a feeling like this as dark? How could having your needs be met be so horrendous to their beliefs?

With a gasp, you rose up on your elbows to watch him hoist your legs over the wide breadth of his shoulders. His fingers dug into the meat of your thighs—eyes fixed on the way you practically dripped onto the stone floor. You were given a second to breath before the oxygen was pulled from your lungs and his mouth sealed over your cunt.

"Maker!" Your body fell to the ground in a heap—head dazed as he laved his tongue between your slick folds with a need never shown before.

He groaned at your taste, the tang of you spread along his taste buds, and felt his body throb at the sight of you. So open, so willing to let him devour you whichever way he wanted.

The burning need from earlier began to build in your body, tightening along each muscle and pulling at your stomach. Your hand dug into his hair, fingers curling against his scalp as he sucked at your clit. And you had no choice but to moan—to let your sounds echo in the air and fall back down. If someone were to pass by they'd see you—hear you.

They'd bear witness to how you sank deeper into the darkness with a dazed smile on your lips.

A finger pushed at your entrance, curling into you slowly in search of something hidden within. You were wet—dripping down his hand—and he merely smiled into you. His tongue lapped against you as he sunk into you down to the knuckle. Dragging along your walls until your legs jolted—a cry ripping from your chest at the feeling of him brushing something devastating.

"There." Your head fell back, hips canting up into his face. "Yes. Fuck right there."

The wet echo of his fingers pounding into you drove you mad. He dragged you the brink with a merciless hand and you followed him with a gasped cry of bliss. Something broke within you—spreading through your body rapidly—as your legs shook and toes curled.

He groaned drunkenly into your cunt, eyes half lidded and cheeks stained the color of his lightsaber. You cried out when he sucked at your clit—curling his fingers mercilessly as lust clouded his vision. The unknown feeling you'd fought for so long began to eat at your body. Building along your spine, spreading through your stomach. Until you held no choice but to relent to its power.

"W-What's happening?" you whined, fingers tugging at his hair.

You weren't sure if you wanted to rip him away or keep him close.

The response you got was a heady moan muffled into your slicked thighs. Slick poured out of you, drenching the floor below. Your hips began to shift of their own volition—grinding against his mouth as you struggled for breath. For a semblance of peace against the war of pleasure that ripped you apart.

He sucked hard and the tension in your body snapped.

"F-Fuck!" you sobbed, thighs shaking and body bending off the floor.

Heat blinded you as white flashed behind your shut eyelids—a vibration unlike any you'd felt before now surging up and out of you. The stone floor cracked to the center; your strength sending a wave through the Force strong enough to break anything nearby.

He curled his arms around your legs, clamping down to keep steady. Even as the power rushed through him—tempted to shove him off and across the room. His tongue was a continued to lap at your entrance, drinking down every drop of that you fed into his open and waiting mouth. A broken moan ripped from your chest—body weary and sore—and yet you let him keep going.

Even as he licked until pain spliced up your stomach. A sharp discomfort you relished in.

"Tell me," he panted, climbing his way up your body—his lips trailing a wet line of kisses up your sternum. "Did the Jedi ever tell you about that?"

You grinned, hazy and languid in your newfound bliss. "I want more."

He smiled. "I can give you more."

Whatever convictions existed before you came here died in the back of your mind when his hips settled between yours. The heavy outline of his now hard cock was a firm press against your dripping cunt. It made you whimper. Made you needy. He watched you with glee in his eyes as you reached beneath his robes to feel him—the press your skin against his.

"Do you want it?" he asked softly, thrusting forward and tearing a moan from your throat.

"Yes," you gasped. "Please. I want it."

Moving your hands to rest above your head, he shifted his robes the best he could—the fabric soft against the inside of your thighs. You watched in rapture as he pulled his cock free; the sight of the red and leaking tip only serving to make your mouth water. The need from before now burning quicker. Brighter.

"Stay still," he murmured against your lips, stealing a kiss when you nodded.

Entirely at his will.

You felt him slide through your slick, coating himself with a raspy moan, before he pressed at your entrance. The head of his throbbing cock breaching you slowly. Stretching you with the slight flicker of pain. Only for him to push forward with a gritted moan. His forehead falling to yours as you gasped for air—for anything that might keep you latched to the surface of the planet.

"So perfect," he managed to bite out, his hips finally atop yours.

Your mouth fell open at how full you felt. How he pressed against your walls and carved a place for himself inside your body. Whatever path you might have taken before tonight vanished before your very eyes. This was always meant to be your future.

He is what you were led to.

"Okay?" His eyes met your blurry gaze—tears dripping down into your hair. "Speak to me love."

A ragged breath echoed in the temple. "'M good."

His lips curled up. "I'm going to move now."

"Will it hurt?" you asked, hesitancy lingering in your voice.

The grin bloomed into a smile as he shifted his hips back, thrusting into you slowly and striking against your walls. Pushing the spot he found before. Only this time the brief tendrils of pleasure burned through you like a roaring flame.

"Oh-"

"You like that don't you?" You nodded frantically, hands still obediently above your head. "Such a pretty thing. So willing."

"Yes," you whined, legs curling around his hips with each thrust.

The reverence from before slowly faded each time he plunged into your cunt. His groans muffled into the skin of your shoulder. He fucked you with a passion that would linger. A feeling you'd search for in the middle of the night—begging for the release you once had. His teeth scraped against your skin, fingers digging sharply into your hips, and you jolted when he shifted the angle.

Pounding down into you and pulling free sounds you'd never made before.

"All mine to have," he breathed against your cheek, lips catching yours in a messy kiss of teeth and tongue. "They would dare to throw away someone to perfect."

"Maker I'm gonna-" Your head fell back, eyes screwed shut as the tension began to build again.

"Yes," he gasped, cupping your ass to help your stunted movements. "Cum for me. Give me everything."

The pleasure eviscerated you. Slammed into your body with a vengeance and ripped every doubt you had about him from the very root up. He moaned against your chest as you came with a scream. Your thighs clamping around his and body curling up in search of his heat. A hand latched onto your back, holding you close, as you drenched his cock until it smeared on the inside of your thighs.

You couldn't find your way out of this maze. The darkness shrouded you in a layer of warmth—seeping into your body with ease. Yet that isn't what horrified you. That isn't what made the hair stand up on the back of your neck as he chased his own release.

What scared you was that you liked it.

You longed for it.

He came with a hoarse shout, spurting into you and filling you with warmth that you felt spread throughout your body. It consumed you. Welcomed you with a heady kiss and the promise of more. And you drank it down like the finest glass of wine.

The lingering echo of your Force signature still flickered in the background. You refrained from reaching for it. Content to remain in this river of peace that sank you down to the bottom.

His lips found yours, tongue sliding hotly into your open mouth. You returned his kiss with a fervor you didn't know you held. A wanting that now knew what the full extent of desire felt like. A need that would crave more.

"I-I liked it," you whispered against his lips. His cum slowly dripped out and around his softening cock. You yearned for him to show you again. "All of it."

"Good," he murmured. "There's so much more to show you."

"When?"

"Soon," he said, gathering you in his arms with a kiss to your forehead. "I promise my love. You'll know all of it."

You awoke to the echo of birdsong. The bright ray of sunlight blared down through the ceiling, turning the once cold stone beneath your skin hot. It burned you as you shifted, arm searching for the warmth of another that lay beside you.

Sometime in the night he began to tell you the history of what he knew. The people that once walked these temple floors. The Sith whose memory still echoed beyond time and space. This was their legacy. A path that you would soon take as your own. Yet the doubt of what it would cost still lingered at the edges of your mind; the reality you would soon have to face.

He would be hunted.

Sought out by the Jedi who would want revenge for what happened on Khofar. By joining him, you would be setting yourself up for a fate worse than death.

When your touch came up empty, your eyes fluttered open. Expecting him to be mediating somewhere nearby, you sat up still naked from hours before. A sore ache bloomed between your thighs, spreading down your legs. Each bite he placed on your skin remained tender to the touch, and you smiled at the memory they would incite.

"Hello?" you called, hoping to draw him back. To hopefully entice him for more.

Silence was all you were met with as you stood on shaky legs. Gathering your robe, you draped it around yourself—your lightsaber already clutched in your hand. You searched for his presence in the Force; picked through the life on this planet in the hopes of finding the one you recognized.

Only to be left with an empty voice.

An expanse of nothing.

Pain sliced through your heart, shattering a piece you didn't know existed. You watched it fall to the floor—breaking you open without mercy. Without forgiveness. What hope you had that he might find you again diminished as you gathered the rest of your robes and headed back to your ship still in the clearing. The truth of what occurred, now a solid belief in your mind.

Last night you offered yourself up to the darkside of the Force and this was your consequence.

To be left alone, waiting for your lovers return that would never come.

[spidey-webz]

505 | Logan Howlett

Summary: You're long gone and Logan only has the memories of you left. One evening, he decides to relive them again and almost feel you around him once more... (loosely inspired by "505" by Arctic Monkeys)

Pairing: Worst!Logan Howlett x f!reader

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, lots of angst, reader has died in Logan's universe, hints at masturbation, p in v sex, unprotected sex, dirty talk, light choking, breast play (a little), oral (f receiving), alcohol, use of petnames (bub, baby...), it's a little sad, happy end ig? , MOST OF THIS IS A FLASHBACK/LOGANS MEMORIES

Word count: 4.3k

Masterlist

Wade was on a date tonight. 

The apartment was strangely quiet without his roommate’s annoying voice. Blind Al was meeting up with friends too, so it was just Logan in the quiet space. 

A few weeks ago, he might have sought out the first bar he could find on an evening like this. But not today. Today, he just wanted to take time for himself. Watch some trashy sitcom on TV and order himself two pizzas just for himself. When would he ever get to experience an evening this quiet again? Wade’s chatter was continuously making his head hurt and he sincerely hoped that he would grow partial to it with time. Or else he might actually cut off his own ears in an attempt to stop this man’s mindless talk. 

Was killing someone because they talked too much a valid reason? 

The microwave in the kitchen let out a few “beep” noises. There were still some leftovers from yesterday. Greasy pasta seemed to be his main source of “nutrition” these days. If you could even call it that. 

Even though Wade was graciously offering him a place to stay, Logan didn’t want to overstay his welcome. He’d have to find his own apartment in due time. But he was still adapting to this world. 

Wade had tried multiple times to make him go to a bar with the intention of actually talking to someone. Find a friend or find a woman. 

But why would he do that? He had lost everything already. Helping Wade out with jobs for the TVA was one thing, but he didn’t want to socialise and meet other people. Back in his universe, it had brought him nothing but pain. He wasn’t going to risk someone else’s life again. Wade couldn’t die and Logan kept a friendly distance to all his friends even though they had been nothing but welcoming to him. 

The only person he would have cared about was you. Logan didn’t know if you even existed in this timeline, in this universe. But he knew the end of it all, so he would not come looking for you. Maybe if you had never met him, a few horrible things could have been prevented. 

Once he had sat down on the couch, plate in hand and putting on a TV show that he wasn’t going to pay any attention to, he tried to relax. Booze was the only option for him to feel calm. When all his senses were drowned out by the alcohol, he could allow himself not to think about you and the mistakes he has made. 

Wade insisted that he was a hero – a good man. He had saved people, he had saved this timeline, but the weight of his mistakes was only decreased and never really gone. 

Logan was a broken man. Nothing could fix him. 

His memories were weighing him down. Even now, in the quiet of his apartment, he felt like they were torturing him. 

There was one memory in particular that wouldn’t leave his mind. Losing his friends and his family had been one thing, but losing you had felt like the final blow. A death blow. 

Game over. 

His desperation always brought him here eventually. The sound of the TV being drowned out by his thoughts as he forced himself to focus on the good things. The happy memories with you, before all of it had been taken from him. 

He placed his plate down, rubbing over his temples. The thoughts of you wouldn’t leave his mind. No matter how much he tried, he couldn’t shake the feeling. It was rushing through his entire body, encircling him and pulling at his nerves. 

Your smell would always linger in his memories. Your voice would always sound through his head in his dreams and even now, he could remember it as clear as day. Logan was getting older, his memory got worse, but you would always linger in his mind. Sometimes, he managed to push the memories away, but you’d always find a way back. He didn’t want to forget you. He just wanted the pain to stop. 

Logan missed your late-night conversations together. He missed spotting the crinkles around your eyes whenever you laughed, holding your stomach and making him feel like the funniest person on earth. 

But now? The Wolverine wasn’t fun. He wasn’t a “fun” guy. He had been drained of it when you left him. 

He had buried his happiness with you.

Yet you wouldn’t leave his mind. Sometimes, on days like today, he allowed himself to think about you. Let the good memories flood his mind. Hold onto the relief they brought him, before it would turn into pain again. 

Logan closed his eyes as he laid back on the couch. His breathing calmed down when he tried to hold onto the glimmer of hope as he dove back into the memories of you. It was addictive and soon, he found himself engulfed in the feeling of you. 

The hint of a smile appeared on his lips as he pictured your face in the sun. Your pretty lipstick almost begging for him to ruin it. 

He remembered running his thumb over your lips, smearing its colour a little, before he leaned in for a kiss. You always tasted so sweet on his tongue, the taste often lingering even after you left. Logan was a tough man, not easily shaken, appearing strong on the outside, but whenever your hands found their way into his hair, his heart started skipping beats. Low groans drowned in your mouth and he revelled in the feeling of your body pressing against his. 

Even now, when all he had were the memories of you, it was all he needed to feel intimacy.

Logan laid down on the couch, allowing his thoughts to drift away. 

For a moment, it felt like he was back in that hotel room. 

The numbers 505 written on the door. Moonlight shining in through the windows as he spotted you spread out on the bed. Hands settled between your thighs and that teasing smirk of yours. It would always drive him crazy.

And it still did now, as his hands undid his belt buckle, his mind ready to let go of reality for a moment. He was ready to let the good memories of you in, reminisce about the highs you’ve shared with each other.

Logan still remembered the feeling of your body against his own. Breasts pressed against his chest, hot skin against hot skin, your pants getting faster as he brought you both closer to your release. So many nights spent in pleasure with each other’s bodies, but the night in that hotel room stood out to him. 

His body was exhausted from his last mission. But Logan would never be too exhausted to return to you. As soon as Scott gave him the all-clear, he was quick to step onto the first plane he could get. Go back to New York, back to that hotel you had agreed to meet in. 

It was always a back and forth with you two. Never putting a label on things, but being drawn to each other all the time. Logan had tried to resist you in the beginning, but it had been to no avail. Your smile, your lips… it was all so very tempting and now he had lost himself in you. 

The walls of the hotel were dark, only a few dim lights illuminating the space above his head. Logan could feel his heart beating faster. You always brought him to his knees, but he would never admit it. 

Not to anyone, not to you. 

The numbers 505 were written on the door in big, golden letters. His hands instinctively smoothed down his lumberjack shirt, taking a deep breath. It felt like his body was craving yours, in more ways than one. 

Logan knocked on the door, waiting for you to allow him inside. 

“It’s open.”

Your voice sent a shiver down his spine. 

When he entered the room, his eyes immediately searched for you. And there you were. Spread out on the bed, wearing nothing but a shirt that looked way too big on you. Your hands laid between your thighs, your skin illuminated by the moonlight shining through the large windows. 

“I’ve missed you.”

Logan closed the door behind himself, smiling at your words. He had missed you too. 

“I know,” he answered, turning the lock before he stepped further into the room. 

His senses soon became filled with you. He drowned out the rest of the room, the rest of the lights outside. All the business of his life and the world around him seemed to vanish when you were close. Close enough to touch, close enough so he could drown himself in you. 

The smell of your perfume. The faint smile on your lips. His eagerness to touch you. 

Logan had spent so many nights between your thighs already. He loved to watch you squirm as he held you down with his arms hooked underneath your knees, lips attached to your sensitive bud. He would never get enough of your taste. He would never get enough of your moans filling the room. Soon, he would be able to feel your soft skin underneath his fingertips again.

But he wasn’t going to rush it. Not today. Even though his body wanted to feel yours intertwined with himself. 

You sat up on the bed, leaning against the headboard and stretching out your legs. Your shirt moved up, revealing the lace panties underneath. Logan’s gaze caught them almost instantly, eyes roaming your body as if he was already planning where to touch you first. 

“I ordered something to drink for us.” You pointed over to the small table by the window. Logan loved whiskey, so you made sure to order some. For yourself, you had chosen a simple cocktail. 

“Very considerate,” he grinned. Logan filled his glass with a few ice cubes and whiskey, taking a strong sip before he placed the glass back down. The liquid burned in his throat, but he would always enjoy the thrill it gave him. Drinking was just the easy way to try and avoid dealing with what was going on in his head. 

“How was the mission?” You asked him. You were no stranger to the feeling of staying up all night, worried that something might happen to Logan. His regenerative abilities lifted your worries a little, but there were still so many bad things that could happen if he wasn’t being careful enough. It was still fascinating to see wounds close up so quickly on the man’s skin. Also, hickeys never lasted. They healed up within seconds, vanishing into nothingness. 

But it wouldn’t stop Logan from leaving them on your soft skin. 

His shoulders slumped for a moment, before he let himself drop into the soft armchair. Your question seemed to have motivated him to drink just a little more, so he reached for his glass again, downing the remaining liquid in one go. “It went well. No major fuck-ups. I’m just glad to be back.”

“Back with you” he wanted to add, but those words never left his thoughts. 

“I’m glad you made it back. Without any major injuries.” Even though that wasn’t really possible…

Logan laughed softly, nodding a little. “Of course. I always try to come back in one piece. Wouldn’t want to miss out on that sight.” He tipped the glass in your direction, before placing it back down on the small table. His eyes raked over your body once more, his cock getting hard in his jeans. 

He needed you. There was no denying that anymore. 

Logan pushed himself out of his seat, slowly walking over to the bed. Your excitement grew by the second and you couldn’t hide the smile forming on your lips. Your dreams had been filled with the man ever since he had left. His touch would always linger on your skin and the memories of him, pressed up against you, whispering lewd words into your ear… 

He sat down at the end of the kingsized bed, beckoning you closer with a small movement of his hands. You followed suit, sitting down next to him and before you could open your mouth again, his lips were on yours. 

Hungry. Passionate. 

Maybe even desperate. 

His beard scraped against your cheeks, his arm sneaking around your back and pulling you straight into his lap. You could feel his arousal in his pants and you didn’t hesitate to roll your hips against his own. 

A low groan got lost between your kisses and Logan’s hold around you tightened. Your hands explored his hard chest, all toned muscle, wandering further down until you reached his belt. It wasn’t hard to open it while you were still kissing him, the gesture so familiar by now. 

You had waited far too long to chase your pleasure again with Logan. And you wanted him to know how much you had missed him. How he had been the only one on your mind. 

“We need to get you out of that nightgown,” Logan mumbled. His voice had grown rougher – deeper. 

His calloused fingers slipped under your silk clothing, brushing over your soft thighs before he lifted the nightgown over your head. His eyes lingered on your breasts, his erection twitching underneath you. Another buck of your hips and you had Logan groaning once more. 

“Couldn’t stop thinking about you while you were gone,” you mumbled into his ear as Logan started to kiss your neck. His beard scratched against your skin, sending shivers down your spine, while he took his sweet time littering your neck and then your jaw with sloppy kisses. His lips felt good on you. Wherever they might be. 

Your hands curled into his shirt, pressing your naked chest against his clothed one. 

“Is that so?” He asked in return and while you couldn’t see his smirk, you could clearly hear it in his voice. 

Your teeth caught onto his earlobe and a hiss slipped through Logan’s teeth. His right hand got a hold of your hair, pulling you back, so you’d look into his eyes again. 

“Touched myself when I was thinking ‘bout you,” you smiled. 

The thought alone seemed to spur Logan on even more. A soft groan, followed by a smirk as he pulled your head back by your hair. He was gentle with it, but still determined. His eyes searched for yours, mischief sparkling inside them. 

His beard brushed over your exposed breasts, leaving a shiver in its wake. Goosebumps spread over your skin as Logan wrapped his lips around your delicate nipple. His tongue swirled around it, still holding you by your hair, neck tilted back, so he could just admire the view in front of him. 

“Got the sweetest body I’ve ever fucking seen,” he grumbled, giving your right nipple a little pinch. He could spend an entire evening just taking in every inch of you. He needed to memorise every part of your body. 

Tension started to build in your abdomen and you wanted to clench your thighs together, desperate to get some kind of relief as Logan played with your body – determined to make you sing in his arms. 

In one swift motion, he had you on the bed again, head in the thick pillows as he slid between your legs. His calloused fingertips brushed over your thighs, before he slipped them underneath the sides of your panties, pulling them down your legs and exposing your core to him. 

The sight in front of you was sinful. Logan had opened a few buttons of his shirt, hairy chest peeking out. You couldn’t wait to brush your hands over his chest again and feel his hard muscles under your palms. His hair was tousled from your kissing, his cheeks and lips a slight pink colour and the mischievous smirk on his face seemed to complete the picture. Your hands fisted the sheets when his tongue brushed over your sensitive nub. 

Logan was skilled with his tongue and he loved to show it to you. His arms hooked under your knees, holding tightly onto your thighs as he kept you spread out for him. Your hips bucked up against his mouth, so he pressed your hips back down again with one hand. “Stop squirming, bub. I will give you what you want.”

You could trust him with that. He licked through your folds again, savouring the taste before he continued flicking his tongue against your clit. Your back arched, hips trying to squirm, but he kept you firmly in place. Logan was eating you out like a man starved, relentless and desperate. His hips sometimes bucked forward, pressing his cock against the mattress for some sort of temporary relief.

He wanted to be inside you. But not without making you shiver for him first. His fingers dug into the plum flesh of your thigh, probably leaving a bruise or two. Your moans echoed through the room, hands clawing at the sheets as you felt your orgasm approaching. 

“M’close,” you announced, voice audibly trembling. 

“Let go, sweetheart. I’ve got you.” His deep voice seemed to rumble through your middle, your hips bucking up further when Logan loosened his hold on you. His tongue continued to flick against your clit relentlessly, his middle finger slipping between your folds and curling just right. 

Your high came over you in waves, followed by whines and moans and chants of Logan’s name. It sounded like music in his ears. He wanted to hear more of this as the night would go on. 

And he would. 

His fingers continued to press against the spongy spot inside you for a few more seconds, letting you ride out your high. When your breathing calmed and your head dropped back into the pillows, Logan pulled out his fingers from between your folds. 

“Look at me.” His voice was demanding and you didn’t hesitate to direct your gaze back at the man between your legs. His eyes stared into yours as he ran his tongue along his finger, cleaning your wetness off them. A low groan escaped Logan’s lips at the same time, his eyes filling with desire. 

He had waited long enough to feel you around him again. He’d enjoy every second of what was about to come. 

Logan did quick work of his clothes. Shrugging off his shirt, the rest of his clothes soon joined the pile on the floor. For you, it was a delight to just watch. The muscles in his arms flexed with every one of his movements. The scratches from the last time you had slept together were nowhere to be seen. What you could see however, was the fine line of hair travelling down from his belly button and ending in his underwear. 

Your legs still felt shaky from your previous orgasm, but you felt the need to press them together in anticipation. Having Logan’s tongue between your folds was just one part of the pleasure he could give you. 

Being apart from him always made you crave him even more. His touch, the taste of his lips, the feeling of his body weight on top of you… 

Logan moved to hover over you, hands firmly planted on either side of your head as he looked down at you. His hair was a dishevelled mess, but it made you all the more desperate to run your fingers through it. And you did, even if it was just to pull him down further, lips meeting his in a passionate kiss. 

You could feel his left hand moving up your thigh, gently urging you to spread your thighs further, so he could settle between them. His naked body was always warmer than yours and you felt enveloped in his scent. You could feel his cock resting heavy between your thighs, his hips moving ever so slightly to create a little friction. 

“Lo, please…” you whimpered against his lips. Of course, he could only smile at your words. He was always a tease, but he couldn’t ignore his own desires. His body had been burning with longing and now you were right where he wanted you. 

“Don’t have to ask twice, sweetheart,” he mumbled against your neck, placing a few soft kisses there before he sat up on his knees and pulled you closer to his middle. His hands gently travelled up from your ankles to your thighs, before he took a short moment to admire your glistening folds. “So desperate just for me,” he groaned, before he aligned his cock with your middle. 

Logan wanted to feel your walls clench around him again. The sweetest feeling in the world for him. 

His cock slowly parted your folds, filling you up inch by inch. A low groan escaped his throat and you held tightly onto his strong arms. 

You loved to have Logan fill you – the satisfying sensation of having your body adjust to him and then feel so full. 

His hands moved to your thighs, putting your legs over his shoulders as he started to thrust slowly into you. 

“I’ve missed your pussy so much,” he groaned, looking down at the sight in front of him. 

Your eyes were wide, arousal clearly written onto your face and your tits were right there for him to see. With every shallow thrust, they moved just a little, nipples perking up and tempting Logan to lean down and capture them with his lips again. 

“More,” you urged him on, hands starting to claw at the sheets beneath you. Logan was more than happy to comply, so his pace picked up. His cock hit your sensitive spot in just the right way, sending shivers through your body with each thrust. You could feel him deep inside you, just right against your cervix. 

Each movement of his hips brought you closer to release and Logan’s thrusts grew harder and more impatient. He lifted you off the mattress ever so slightly to reach deeper, making your legs squirm on his shoulders. 

“Feelin’ so good, baby.” His eyes darkened with lust and he moved one hand away from your hips to palm your left breast instead. Logan’s thumb expertly brushed over your nipple as well, causing your pussy to spasm around him. 

Your walls tightened around his cock, eliciting a groan from him once more as he felt you squeeze him so perfectly. Logan could usually do this for hours, but he hadn’t seen you in so long and your body knew exactly how to work him up just right. 

“I'm so close, Lo,” you warned him, nails scratching along his arms as you felt the knot in your stomach tighten. Your legs were shaking on his shoulders, announcing your incoming orgasm to him. 

His thrusts grew a little faster and he angled your legs closer to your body, hitting your sensitive spot over and over again in that position. Beads of sweat started to build on his forehead as he grew closer to his climax. Logan’s hand moved from your breast to your throat, lightly pressing down on it and sending another wave of pleasure through your entire body. 

With a corse voice, he leaned down to you, never stopping the movements of his hips. “I want you to come around me. I wanna feel your pussy milking me,” he groaned. 

His words finally sent you over the edge. Your orgasm came over you in waves and had you shaking underneath Logan. The spasms of your walls around him sent him over the edge too and you felt his warm cum filling you up bit by bit. His hands clawed at your hips, not enough to bruise you, but holding on quite strongly. 

“Shit,” he groaned, moving your legs to rest on his sides before he leaned down to capture your lips in a soft, but short kiss. His hand moved up to brush some hair out of your face, gaze searching for yours as he relished in the feeling of having you still wrapped around him like this. 

“Don’t stay away for this long again, Logan.” 

Your words sounded like a plea and he was happy to oblige. 

He would not leave you out of his sight for long again. 

Logan put an arm over his forehead as the memories washed away again. His skin was covered in sweat and he felt the tears well up in his eyes. All of this always made him emotional again. 

He couldn’t bring you back anymore, but he could keep your memories safe with him. Sometimes, it felt good to indulge them, other times it just hurt. This time, it had felt like a relief, but the pain was already waiting to wash over him again. 

Cleaning himself up, he eventually got up from the couch and went for a shower. He needed to feel the hot water on his skin, a small distraction from his thoughts. As always, he turned it up high enough to almost burn him. But it rinsed him clean of his worries for a moment. 

Of his longing for you. 

He should have told you how he actually felt about you. That it was more than just sex, more than a physical attraction… 

After his shower, Logan just wanted to curl up on the couch again and fall asleep there. Let the next day come and live it as good as he could, because what other choice did he have? 

The doorbell prevented him from heading to the couch immediately. Instead, he quickly put on some short pants and a shirt, before he headed to the apartment door to find out who would bother him at this time. 

His heart stopped for a second when he swung the door open and the person on the other side came into view. 

It was you. 

taglist: @nonamevenus

[importantstudentbusinessspy-blog]

Dragon Blood

Chapter 2: Against his best wishes, Jace learns more about you. When the dragonseeds arrive at Dragonstone and you follow them to Vermithor, he has two choices, intervene and save you from inevitable death, or let fate play out.

Pairing: Jacaerys Velaryon x Dragonseed (f) reader

Jacaerys Velaryon stood alone in the study, the flickering candle casting shadows on the maps and documents spread on the table. Even though he had dismissed you, your presence lingered in his mind.

He knew he had been harsh, more so than necessary. That was not how he was raised to treat the staff. Rhaenyra had always emphasised the importance of respect and kindness towards those who served them. Yet, your having Targaryen blood had triggered something within him, a defensive reaction he couldn't quite understand. Those purple eyes of yours kept flashing in his mind.

You were beneath him, a mere servant. But you were also a potential threat to his legitimacy. If his mother's intentions to raise a bastard army were true, your very existence could undermine his claim to the throne.

Jace paced the room, his mind racing. In this cutthroat world of politics and power, he could trust no one but himself. Only he had his best interests at heart.

He clenched his fists. He would secure his place as heir, no matter the cost. He would show the dragon seeds that he was to be their king, the one true successor of the Targaryen dynasty.

Jace returned to his maps, his resolve unyielding. He knew he had to play carefully, balancing his duty to his family and his ambitions. The dragon seeds would see him as their rightful leader, along with the rest of Westeros, and he would ensure that any threats to his rule were swiftly dealt with.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

As he passed through the corridors, Jace caught sight of you scrubbing the floors of the great hall, a knocked over goblet next to you, spilling wine across the stone floor.

"You clumsy fool!" A steward barked, grabbing you by the arm and yanking you to your feet. "Do you know how long it took to clean this? You’ll redo the entire hall or go without supper for a week!"

Jacaerys’ eyes narrowed as he watched you flinch, the tears welling up in your eyes, the stammering apology—all of it struck something within him. A pang of sympathy. But another emotion surged within—anger.

How dare someone treat a Targaryen, even a bastard, with such disdain?

He gripped the hilt of his sword. The urge to intervene was strong. But he remained in the shadows.

Only Targaryens should have the power to be cruel to their own blood. No lowborn piece-of-shit steward had the right to mistreat you.

As the man finally released you, leaving you trembling, Jacaerys’ gaze lingered on him. His expression remained unreadable as he turned away, continuing down the corridor with a twisted resolve forming within him.

You were a Targaryen, however distant, and deserved better than this. Yet, you were also a possible threat to his claim.

The image of you, frightened and mistreated, stayed with him. He knew one thing for certain: if anyone dared to harm you again, they would pay a steep price. Only he had the right to decide your fate.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Jace soared through the sky on Vermax as he made his way back from the riverlands after securing an alliance with the Tullys.

As he flew over the market square, his keen eyes caught sight of a familiar figure.

You were making your way towards the castle, a basket of fruits in hand. Your pace was slow and thoughtful as you walked past a group of commonfolk, most of them blonde surrounded by guards. Jace watched as you curiously eyed them before approaching and speaking to one of them. Whatever they said to you seemed to spark something in you, and after a brief moment of contemplation, you continued into the castle, following them.

Jacaerys landed near the dragon pit, slipping off Vermax and making his way stealthily towards the castle. He moved discreetly through the corridors, eventually making his way to the throne room. Hiding behind an entrance, he observed as Rhaenyra Targaryen addressed the gathered common folk, her tone authoritative and promising.

His mother’s intentions became clear as she prepared to lead the dragonseeds to the dragon pit. Jacaerys' heart sank as he realised her plan was to introduce them to Vermithor. It was a dangerous idea and could turn deadly.

Quietly trailing behind them down to the dragon pit, he finally spotted you among them, your eyes wide with awe as you stared at the horrifying creature. Your naive fascination bothered him. How could you and the others be so ignorant of the obvious danger in front of you? The sheer recklessness of it all made him roll his eyes.

His eyes lingered on you for a moment longer. He remembered seeing you being berated by one of the castle stewards just a few days ago. He could see now why you might be desperate to claim a dragon; to rise above the life of a servant.

Rhaenyra walked past the group, and out of the dragon pit, Jace hid behind one of the doors, out of her sight. Then he seized the moment. He slipped past the crowd, moving swiftly so as not to get noticed.

You felt a hand grip your arm, pulling you back from the crowd and out of the room, before your back hit the rough surface of a stone wall in the corridor.

You blinked, shocked to see the Targaryen prince's stern face staring down at you. "My prince!" you exclaimed, struggling to pull free. "I know I told you I wouldn't. But the queen—"

Jacaerys cut you off, his voice low and urgent. "You need to leave. Rhaenyra has led these people to certain death."

Your eyes widened. That didn't sound right. Rhaenyra was always merciful, at least as far as you knew. Always considerate of the small folk. Surely, she wouldn't lead them to a trap.

Before you could protest, the roar of Vermithor filled the chamber. A blaze of fire erupted from the dragon’s jaws, catching the first volunteer. The sight was horrifying as the dragon began devouring the rest of the screaming volunteers.

Panic surged through you as the full scale of the danger became apparent. Jace held you firmly, guiding you away from the chaos. His grip was unyielding, but it was a lifeline in the midst of the nightmare unfolding before you.

As the smoke and fire filled the dragon pit, Jace pulled you to safety, his face set in grim determination. In that moment, you understood the gravity of the situation. The danger was undeniable, and as you fled with him, a new awareness dawned on you. You weren't safe here.

Tag list:

@alwaysdaydreamingoffiction

@rav9n-16

@dracaryxzs

@jacaeryvardaddy

@ericasabe

[illyrian-dreamer]

And Then There Were None – Part 2

Azriel/fem!reader

Synopsis: In the lead up to the war, Hybern releases a catastrophic spell that wipes out all humans, sparing just one.

Abandoned in the desolate human lands, you scavenge to survive long enough to find your family.

Reluctantly, you are found by the Shadowsinger as fate intervenes to guide you under his watchful eye.

<<&lt;Part 1

Word count: 5.2k

Warnings: Death, blood, suggestions of miscarriage, suicidal themes

You woke in a bed as soft as the clouds, the covers silken with feathery pillows piled beneath your neck so plush your hardly felt them. 

A level of luxury you had never known could exist – and that’s how you knew you weren't home. 

Vision a blur, the room you woke to was dim, safe from the fire that crackled at the opposite end. Your vision reeled as it took in the space around you - an obnoxiously large bedroom. 

The haze lingered as you raised your hand in front of your face - a quick way to decide between reality or dream. If this were real, someone had done an awfully good job at scrubbing the dirt from your fingernails. 

But then a familiar ache throbbed as you bought your other hand from under the covers, and a stark white bandaged wrapped tightly at your wrist. Real then, and that fae male had indeed broken your wrist. The scars from your journey were faint now, but still there too. 

You felt for your stomach under the covers then, for any signs of your lingering ailment. They had changed you - thick cotton like padding within the fresh undergarment and the softest gown you had ever felt between your fingers.

You pushed the thought of who might have changed you from your mind. Healers - you hoped. 

Your skin beneath the gown was soft and oily, and smelt of salve. The healers had done well to heal you. Good, this was good. It meant you had a chance to return home, continue your search. 

Gods – the search, your family. You had to continue.

You were alone in this room, and it was night - all good signs. Perhaps with enough strength, you might slip be able to escape unnoticed…

With a slight dizziness, you swung your legs from the bed, toes pressing to the warm, rich wood - as if they floor was warmed from within. 

You wouldn’t dare to poke your head out the door - not in a house of creatures with heightened senses. 

The windows - that was your only option to remain unseen. 

Whether it was the delirium of the events days prior or the haze of exhaustion you were yet to shake, you didn't consider escaping into an unknown lands in nothing more than a nightgown was a fools choice, mortifying at the least. But survival called, your family called. 

Padding around the postered bed, you scanned quickly for your belongings . Clothes, waist belt, knives were no where to be found. 

The cupboard was empty, safe from a long black coat made from the softest velvet your had ever felt. Tying the fabric firm at your waist, you didn’t take the time to roll the sleeves that drooped well past your fingertips - clearly made for a much taller, larger form than your own. Black was good, especially at night, helping conceal the silky cream night robe that seemed to scream find me.

If you had the time, you would have marvelled at the  wall of windows - in shapes and sizes you didn't know a glass welder could blow. Arched in a row of three, each of them had smaller panes within - still large enough to fit through, and with latches. 

Perfect. 

You fiddled with the latch, the world outside dark and unmoving with no sign of light until you cast your eyes upwards. Fingers halting on the latch, your breath knocked from you chest as you observed the most brilliant array of stars you had ever seen. 

Were these the same stars as the human lands? How was it that such magnificent beauty was concealed from your own part of the world?

Another stab of loathing for fae found you then – it seemed even the Mother was versed in reserving luxuries only for them.

The latch clicked open, and you pushed gently against the pane, the window unmoving. Frowning, you pushed again, before trying to pull it inside instead. The glass moved on smooth, oiled hinges - and that’s when the howling began. 

As loud as a pack of wolves, yet that insistent noise was instead from wind. 

Fretting at the noise, you glanced behind you in urgency. Any second now they would come, the wind as good as any alarm. So with a strong grip on the window ledge, you pushed your head through, eyes squinting through the unforgiving gales. 

The wind almost knocked you, hair immediately whipping this was and that, eyes stinging with tears as you failed to see clearly.

Scanning as best you could, you saw no stairs of landings to climb to, no balcony from which you could hope to escape. 

And then you looked down.

It was instinct to back away, so fast that the back of your head knocked against the pane, and a quick profanity escaping your lips. 

You had never been so high up before. Never knew anything could be built so tall. 

With a roll of your stomach, you forced your head back out, avoiding looking anywhere below the horizon.

On the far left, hidden mostly by brick, was a distant glow of a city, the lights warm and flickering with glorious life. And between you and it - a river, it’s water the blackest of blacks in the night, besides from the reflection of the city that budded it’s banks. 

To your right - dark, intimidating forms of mountains and peaks. And with a quick flash below, far, far below, there was only night. 

Your gut lurched both from the height and realisation - it was suicide to try and escape. 

It took a moment to force your rigid muscles to push yourself back inside the room, hair strewn over your face and cheeks pink from the bite of the cold. 

“We don't usually advise opening the windows here,” a melodic voice spoke over the wind. 

Hissing in fright, you whipped your head behind you, to the most beautiful women you had ever seen. And beside her - the same blue siphoned male, his eyes aglow with hazel. 

You fished for your voice then, strained in your throat from days of not speaking, the rush from the wind and the awe of what and who stood before you fighting for silence. 

They were am incredibly handsome couple. 

Folded clothes in her hand, the blond simply placed the outfit on a spare reading chair, moving lightly to re-hatch the window behind you. You almost sighed in relief as the piercing howling stopped. 

“The windows are charmed to block out the noise,” she explained, her tone light and friendly despite the step of caution you took to distance yourself. “Well, don't you look good in black,” she perked, brown eyes scanning you, her smile sincere.

You looked down, the fabric of the coat drooping from your frame. 

“I stole this,” you said dumbly, before cursing yourself silently. 

The women laughed, and you could have sworn a slight smile pulled at the males lips too. 

“That’s quite alright, besides, you were awake before I could deliver you some proper clothes,” she gestured to the set she bought in, but you were fixed on those golden locks, the way they bounced when she moved, and that dress…

“I’m Morrigan by the way, but you can call me Mor.” If she caught you staring at her, she did not let on.

You frowned, senses returning, and you scanned the room again. Formalities, names, nicknames –completely unnecessary, unless…

“I must carry on with my search,” you said sternly, eyes darting between her and the blue-siphoned male. 

He knew. He would have told her.

Those large, towering wings pulled in tighter against his frame, and the male opened his mouth to respond. But Morrigon beat him to it. 

“You’re awake much earlier than the healers expected. They advised you may need a few more days rest.”

You tried to hide your panic, eyes scanning her, then the door, then where Azriel stood between it. 

Mor traced your eyes. “We are no threat to you,” she said gently.

You swallowed. “Then I am free to leave?”

Mor schooled her face into something softer, more sympathetic. “You may want to meet with out High Lord and Lady. I know they are eager to meet you.”

“Me?”

She nodded. “They wish to discuss your predicament.”

“Have they found my family?” you all but blurted, heart thundering with anticipation.

She shook her head then, her face falling more grave. “I’m sorry, I haven't any news.”

A gnawing at your stomach then - something was wrong. How long had they kept looking, had they found anyone? 

“How many days was I-?"

“Four,” the male answered, hands still clasped behind his back. There was no smile on his face, but it remained soft. 

“And up and about well ahead of the seven days the healers predicted! Quite the fighter you are Y/N,” Morrigan chirped.

You almost jumped at the use of your name. And then a scowl fixed on your face.

“My apologies!” More gasped quickly, and you missed the glare Azriel threw her way, Mor’s eyes meeting his with guilt. “Please forgive me, I forget that humans aren't accustomed to-"

“Mind reading?” you gritted, more exposed under the ridiculous ensemble of clothes you wore. You wish you could drown in the lengths of extra fabric. 

Mor wore a broken smile. “Of sorts, yes.” She paused then, fretting to fill the silence. “Would you like to change your clothes? They should be to your size.” 

You looked at the set neatly folded at the chair. 

“The healers have washed you, but we can draw you another bath if you’d prefer?”

Your cheeks reddened at the question, the male’s eyes politely finding somewhere else in the room to fix that gaze.

Was this their way of telling you that you smelt?

Humiliated and frustrated, your eyes narrowed on the male. “What is your name?”

Hazel flicked back to you, and he took a moment of silence to observe you before answering. “Azriel.”

You eyed him up and down, taking him in fully. Tall, large, muscled - your attempts to stab him would have been laughable. Delirious indeed. 

As he eyed you back, his gaze fixed your wrist, even while concealed beneath the velvet coat. “I am sorry to have hurt you.”

Civilised - far more civilised than you would have expected fae to be. 

You cleared your throat. “Well, I suppose I’m sorry for my attempts of murder.”

His mouth pulled into a polite smile, the apples of his cheeks glowing in the firelight. 

Mor chimed in then. “They told me you caught Azirel off guard, Y/N. Like I said - quite the fighter. Not just anyone can catch the Shadowsinger by surprise.”

Shadowsinger. As if at their mention, the furling, smoky shadows peaked from Azriel, and you let out a small yelp. It seemed it was your turn to be surprised. 

Without a whisper of a word, they withdrew into the Shadowsinger himself, as if scolded back into place. Azriel gave no hint of amusement as he kept watching you. 

Your eyes danced from him back to Mor, cheeks once again redening. 

“This is… overwhelming,” you admitted. 

Mor gave you a sympathetic smile, before placing a delicate, manicured hand on your shoulder. “A bath, then?”

You nodded, and she led you to the bathroom, candles lighting with the wave of her hand, and water now filling the marbled pool, steam quick to fill the room. 

You forget about Azriel in the other room as Mor closed the door behind her, marvelling at the arches and architecture, a new set of large windows in this room, this time facing the city. You padded there mindlessly, watching the twinkle of the town that beckoned. 

“Velaris,” Mor came to stand beside you. “Or, the City of Starlight. It’s location is well concealed, unknown by the other courts.”

You were reminded of the courts then, the brief lessons they had taught you at school. The divide of seven different courts, each ruled by a High Lord determined by their magic gifted the Mother and bloodline. Allies, enemies – it was complicated twining of politics and power. 

But you had never heard of Velaris. 

“This place is a secret?”

Mor nodded. “The true home of the High Lord and Lady of the Night Court. A paradise they keep concealed, untouched by others.”

“Why?”

Mor chewed her cheek. “It’s safer this way,” she said simply. 

“And you trust me with such information?”

Mor’s brown eyes warmed, but something sadder hid behind them. “It doesn't seem fair to lie to you about your own whereabouts.”

You nodded, eyes finding the city beyond again. “You mentioned the High Lord and Lady want to meet. Rhysand and Feyre?” Your head ached at the strain to remember their names, but the information found you. 

Mor smiled at their names, and you remembered the way the males had too when they first found you. Loyalty coursed through them like some kind of magic. If you wanted to survive, you would be sure to respect their hierarchy. 

“Morrigan,” you swallowed, bracing yourself for an answer. “Please, what do you know of the search?”

Mor stiffened, pausing for a moment. “The High Lord and Lady are on their way home to meet with you. They will tell you all they know.”

You eyed her carefully, your heart straining. “They haven't found my family, have they?”

Mor’s face of sympathy was beautiful, whether schooled or real. “I’m sorry, I really can not tell you.”

You swallowed once before nodding, eyes casting out to the city of Velaris, the name foreign in your mind.

“They are travelling as fast as they can, and should be here within a few hours,” she reassured. How or where from you didn't bother to ask. 

“A bath then,” you nodded.

Mor smiled tightly. “Should you need anything, just ask. This house - the House of Wind - is just as alive as you and I. You should only have to speak what you wish.”

You nodded, hiding the overwhelming thought of a magical living house as the pool of warm scented water beckoned you with furls of steam.

“A fitting name,” you murmured, remembering of the persistent howl that waited just outside those obnoxious windows.

Mor grinned, catching your every word. “Isn’t it just,” she called and she fluttered from the room, pulling the large, carved door closed behind her. 

You took a few moments of silence, again scanning the marble-splayed room you now found yourself in. Dream or reality, you were still yet to be convinced. 

That was, until your dropped your undergarments, the thick wads of cotton stained with specks of bright, fresh blood. A saddened whimper escaped you, and your hands instantly found your belly, phantom cramps pulling from within. 

You thought about calling for Morrigon, to demand an answer or to see a healer again. But deep down you knew, and that instinct to protect yourself, your privacy, was greater. 

A waft of essential oils blew your way, as if the house was beckoning you to bathe. Toeing the water, each of your muscles seems to relax and steam clouded around you. An uncontrollable sigh left you as you moved deeper and deeper, breasts bobbing beneath the water, the muscles in your abdomen glad for the relaxant. 

You had never had a bath like this, never indulged in such a level of luxury. Was this how all fae bathed, or just the ones so closely aligned with royals?

It was a jarring comparison to the tin bath in your family home, the steam quick to escape from the batches of hot water your mother boiled in the kettle when you were young. As you grew older, you would often forgo using the kettle, bearing the bite of the cold for efficiency, only treating the children when you bathed them.

A shock of panic found you as the pool dipped even deeper, and you shot from your toes back to the scooped edges of the pool, clinging to the edge. Obviously built for creatures much taller and larger than you, while you on the other hand had never learnt to swim. Not when your parents were so busy, and the creek behind your home merely ankle deep.

Bathe, change, and then you would have your answers - you reminded yourself. So you scrubbed with determination, dipping your head beneath the water and rubbing the pads of your fingers at your scalp too, washing away any remains of the taxing journey it took to get here. 

You would start your search fresh, start anew, even swallow your hate for fae if it meant the help of the High Lord and Lady of the Night Court. You could drink their wine and pass pleasant smiles if it meant they would aide you, if it meant your family returning home safely. 

———— 

You looked at yourself in the mirror, the black tunic and pants gifted by Mor fitting better than any of your skirts and dresses back home. The fabric was soft yet thick, protecting you from the cold, even while the House of Wind seemed to warm from within. 

There were slippers waiting by your bed, black also, and your skin seemed to glow from the oils from the bath. The face staring back at you was clean, yet tired, the bags under your eyes still a swell of purple. Forcing your shoulders back, you forced a stance of determination. You could do this, you could meet with the most powerful creatures of Prythian, and you would convince them to help you.

With a gentle knock at the door, a voice called. “It’s Mor.”

“Come in,” you answered turning from the mirror, hands finding the pockets on your pants.

Her eyes warmed at the site of you. “Black certainly does suit you,” she repeated, and you wondered about the comment from earlier. Loyalty to black, it seemed, was also a part of their strange culture. Perhaps something to do with the Night Court, and you wondered if the other courts found such ties to certain colours. 

“Thank you for the clothes. I will return them once-"

Mor raised her hand dismissevely. “We’d hear of no such thing. Are you ready?”

You nodded. “Are they?”

“Rhys and Feyre arrived a half hour ago. They await you in their office.” 

Mor seemed to want to take your hand, but rethought it, and instead raised a palm to the door. 

“Follow me,” she hummed before striding for the door, red gown trailing behind her. 

With a deep breath, you followed in silence.

————

“Here she is,” Mor cooed musically as she pushed the doors open to the office, the High Lord and Lady stopping their polite conversation with as they turned to take you in. 

Your knees almost buckled under their gaze.

That power, even as a human you felt it from many steps away, steely blue and violet eyes seemingly pinning you to your spot. A heavy dose of intimidation overcame you and your body faltered, even though their eyes remained soft, their smiles friendly. 

They both stood, Rhysand donned in a neat black suit, Feyre’s dark gown falling from her frame like liquid night. Gorgeous – an absolutely gorgeous sight the both of them were. 

“A pleasure to meet you,” Feyre spoke, her voice and as smooth as Morrigon’s, yet younger. 

“Welcome to our home,” Rhysand added. 

Blinking between the two, your knees almost groaned as you forced a curt bow. “Thank you, High Lord and High L-Lady,” you stammered. “For your hospitality.”

You waited for any sign of compliance from your bow - knowing that fae spoke a language of hierarchy and formality. 

But your were instead met with an informal sideways smile of Feyre. “Please, call us Rhys and Feyre.”

You nodded, although you couldn't see yourself respecting that wish. 

“Are you feeling any better?” Rhysand asked, violet eyes piercing, refusing to leave you. “We were told you had survived almost a fortnight on your own. That is very impressive.”

You weren't sure you’d ever get used to the unblinking ways of the fae as you blushed at his compliment. Had their parent’s never taught them it was rude to stare?

The smallest of smiles tugged at Rhys’s lips.

But you muffled your thoughts, forcing yourself to answer. “Feeling much better, thank you High Lord. You swallowed tightly, fishing for the right words to say. “And to your healers,” you added with rush. “Thanks to them too.”

“I am glad,” Rhysand smiled, moved back into his seat and gesturing for you to do the same.

“I’ve informed Y/N that you would update her on the search for the humans, to explain your own findings.” You could have kissed Mor for steering the conversation, desperate to hear what the High Lord and Lady had to say. 

Feyre immediately began fiddling with the fingers, before Rhysand took them in his own hand. You observed closely at the small interaction, Feyre’s nervous fidget, Rhysand’s immediate response. They seemed to speak na unspoken language.

Not good, not good, not good. Your nails instinctively settled into familiar wounds at your palms.

“Of course,” Rhysand answered, his beautiful features schooling into something more serious as his voice softened. 

Feyre’s eyes found you then, something like regret and sorrow burrowed within. In that moment alone, their difference in upbringing was at contrast. Rhys - ever the schooled socialite, tamed and controlled behaviour from years of perfecting courteous mannerisms. Feyre on the other hand – human, child-like sincerity shone through despite her pointed ears and occasional glimpse of canines. 

“I’m sorry to say that we have not found your family Y/N,” Rhysand said straightly. 

You nodded, assuming that had been the case. That didn't stop the sting in your eyes, or lurch of you gut. You clamped your lips against the wobble that already threatened.

“The truth is, we haven’t found a single human since finding you.”

Instantly the room began to reel, Rhysand and Feyre tipping slightly as your heart skipped to an irregular thunder. 

How could this be? You had been asleep for four days, between their armies and winged beings among them, how could they not find a single other? Your mind screamed a flurry of questions, but your remained stiff, only moving to grip the arms of your chair. 

Rhysand sighed then, glancing once at his mate who’s look of regret only deepened, tears shining in those grey-blue eyes. 

“It is with the deepest regret that we inform you we have traced a powerful magic from the lands of Hybern. A spell, rather.”

You forced your voice past the lump in your throat, past the bile that swarmed in your mouth. “What spell is that?”

Tears spilled from Feyre’s eyes, whatever control she had on her breaking into unmistakable grief. 

No, no don’t say it - your mind screamed. 

“As spell to kill all humans,” she whispered. 

You blinked. And the others watched, waiting.

You blinked a few more times.

"What did you say?"

Rhys's frown was pained. "It seems Hybern was intent on capturing your lands, and used a magic so strong it expelled humans..."

But Rhys's voice grew muffled as your vision narrowed, clouding with darkness.

And then it hit you.

It was as if someone had pulled the floor from underneath you. The room tipped unforgivably, vision blurring and stomach lurching with the lack of food in days.

A broken noise escaped you.

“Y/N, you must breath,” a voice spoke.

Panicked, laboured breaths wheezed from you, and you clenched your eyes shut past the horror of what they had told you.

Meek breaths passed your chest as you tried to speak. “I don’t-how, I don't understand.”

“Hybern has access to the cauldron, and we believe he used it to seize the territory of human lands.”

“It worked then, then spell? They’re gone?” You voice was hoarse, breathy with distraught. Tears had not found you yet, only an overwhelming dread laced with a flicker of denial.

Even while the room danced around you, you caught Rhysand’s tight nod, his face grave and solemn. “We are so sorry.”

Mor’s hand was gentle at your back, as an all consuming anxiety took over and you clutched at your head.

“Please do not touch me,” you rasped, audible wheezes catching in your throat.

Immediately her hand lifted.

“Dead, then,” you swallowed another rise of bile, raising frantic eyes to Feyre.

Broken eyes locked with yours. “I’m so very, very sorry Y/N” she whispered.

“My family, my siblings? Dead?”

She was crying, but you didn't care. You waited for the answer. All she offered was a nod. 

A broken, crazed laugh found you then. It was a cold, lonely thing, and you caught Mor exchange a look with her High Lord. There was nothing they could do except watch as you ran shaking hands over your face. 

You were trembling, eyes dancing frantically. No. No no no. This was unbelievable. You didn't believe them, you refused to.

“Impossible,” you scoffed.

“We wish it were, Y/N truly,” Mor said softly.

“Then pray tell, how it is that I survived?”

“We’re perplexed by you remaining, Y/N. We have no answer for it,” Rhys offered, a tanned hand stroking at Feyre’s back in practiced comfort. 

“Liar,” you snarled, standing so quickly your chair fell back. 

Liars - the lot of them, to tell you of the extinction of humans when you sat there alive and well in their home. 

Rhys’s eyes pinned you, as if expecting your outburst. “I can’t begin to imagine your grief Y/N, but we tell no lies.”

“I don't believe you,” you spat, hands curling into trembling fists. “You wish to keep me here, to trap me!” Anger rose within you. Typical fae tricks and fibs, that's all this was. 

“I would have thought the same thing if I were still human,” Feyre coaxed, wiping at her eyes. “I don't blame you for not trusting us. I truly wish we were lying.”

Something in her sincerity knocked you, cracking at your anger, demanding you to consider their words true. 

But your shook your head stubbornly, crazed by their audacity, distancing yourself from the devastation that loomed underneath.

“I will not stay here and listen to this.”

You heeded for the door, pulling on the handles with trembling hands, only to find that blue siphoned male waiting on the other side. 

Azriel.

His arms were neatly tucked behind his back, legs wide and ready as if waiting for you.

If only you had your knife.

“You will let me leave,” you all but growled, eyes darting from behind him back to his frame, looking for your way out. He bore no weapons this time , but it wasn't as if he needed them.

Azriel’s eyes softened. “I can’t.” His voice was soft and steady. “It’s not safe for you out there.”

Your fists clenched tighter. “I don’t care! I will not sit here prisoner, I need to find the truth for myself.” 

You made to step around him, but those rippled hands gripped you, from the shoulders this time. 

“Let go of me!” You struggled against him, but his grip remained strong.

“Listen to me. Hybern has sent an army and they sweep the human lands as we speak. I saw it for myself – if they find you, they will kill you.”

The integrity in his voice, deep down you knew he was telling the truth, even if you refused to believe it. Because believing it meant you had lost everything, everyone. It meant the cruelest punishment from the gods - not another day with the laughter of your siblings, the caress of your mother or hold from your father. No home, no love, no warmth - just a bobbing existence, with grief as your only friend. 

Perhaps that’s why you started sobbing, still trying to pry Azriel’s hands from you with his own. 

“I don’t care, I don’t care!” you cried, voice breaking as fat tears rolled down your cheeks. “I want my family!”

Azriel cast a worried look back to the others who could only watch with pained expressions. 

Mor sprung into action, fetching a blanket from a nearby room.

“You are liars, territorial murderers, the lot of you! How could you let this happen?” your voice was hoarse once again, your knees buckling as shock took over. 

Azriel moved with you, gently bringing you to the ground as you wept, your legs folding underneath.

The blanket was strewn around you gently, Azriel’s touch surprisingly tender. "I'm sorry," he murmured, his voice a strangely soothing balm against your turmoil. "I wish things were different. But your safety is paramount."

You wanted to fight against it, to push and claw and burrow in the bubble of denial, but you hadn’t any energy left.

Waking to an empty home, to empty streets, days of travel without another human in sight – perhaps you knew all along that this nightmare was real.

The room continued to spin as reality sunk in. Your family, gone. Your siblings, so young, so innocent. The humans wiped clean from the world. A full scale genocide, and you were the only one to survive it. 

"They were children," you wailed, your words a harrowing cry. "They were only children."

Injustice, isolation and grief was leaden on your chest, so constricting and heavy you thought you might die. 

“I-I can’t breath.” One palm braced on the wooden floor, the other against your heart as you began to pant. Eyes darting between the fae that watched on, you clutched at your chest, panic swarmed with bile. 

And then you made sick. 

Azriel's grip didn't falter, and someone moved to pull the hair from your stinging eyes. 

"Try to focus on your breathing, Y/N," a voice coaxed in your mind, male or female you couldn’t tell. "In and out, slowly."

But the air felt thick, suffocating, as if the weight of the world was pressing down on you. Each breath seemed to be a struggle against an invisible force, and panic tightened its grip around your heart.

That voice in your head again. ”Just keep breathing," it said gently, the voice cutting through the haze of your panic. "Focus on my voice. You're safe here, I promise."

The words were like a lifeline in the storm raging within you, and you clenched your eyes shut, clinging to it.

Rhysand approached cautiously, his expression a mixture of sympathy and sorrow. "Az," he prompted, and the male raised from his knees.

Rhysand crouched down in front of you, his gaze unwavering. "We'll explain everything after you've rested Y/N, I promise," he said, his voice carrying the weight of truth.

And as the room slowly ceased its relentless spinning, you found yourself clinging to that promise, holding onto the hope that amidst the devastation, there was still a path forward, however uncertain it may be.

The world outside was dangerous, filled with uncertainty and threats you couldn't begin to comprehend. And Hybern. He had killed your family. Your siblings, those sweet innocent children who you loved so dearly. Your parents too.

Sobs wracked through you again, your body giving out as you let out a muffled whimper of grief.

Strong arms slid from under you turning you over to cup you by your arms and knees. And then you were being carried, away from that horrible scene, from the mess on the floor where your world came crashing down. 

You clung to whatever you could, the blanket, Azriel’s shirt, you didn't really care – but you clung and cried. Even when you were again met with the softness of a mattress, even when the weight of the duvet being drawn over as it settled against your skin. 

In that tumbleweed of devastation, a rippled hand soothed you, coaxing you to sleep. You gladly let it, letting the horrors of the world slip away, even if only for a moment. 

“Just rest now. You are safe.”

And with a final thought, you sent a prayer to the Mother to not wake up to this nightmare.

A/N: Hey pals, thank you so so much for the love and support of Part 1!! I sincerely hope you liked part 2! <3 <3 Now would you like some fries with that angst? Because it'll only get darker from here. Again, I'll tag everything I can at the top of the fic, but please have a look at the warnings ahead, I would hate to hurt anyone <3 <3 If you'd like to join the tag list for this fic, drop a comment! Thank you so much for reading, mwa!!

[icallhimjoey]

Prompt idea either for your current fic or a random one shot! Soft!Joey was VERY much not so soft Joey in your dream and you wake up in a STATE about it. Now real Joey needs to rectify his dream world bad behaviour. Angsty Smutty fluffy whatever you think is best.

Love your work!

me: save this for something longer also me: no the girlies need it right now Wordcount: 1.5K

---

Boy Of My Dreams

“Come here, baby.” 

Joe was there.

Right there where you'd left him, holding the covers open for you when he heard you turn off the lights in the bathroom. 

“I’m fine. Was just a dream.” you immediately said, curling back onto your spot, close to him, but your back turned.   

Joe’s eyes were still closed as his hands roamed until fingers trailed up your back to hold onto your neck. To feel some kind of closeness, the laziest way of comforting his girl after a nightmare.  

“Talk later?” 

But his question went unanswered. No confirmation, no dismissal, because either one didn’t feel right. You let the words float and hoped they would float away, real far, hoped they’d make real distance as you both fell back asleep.

Occasionally, you’d have a nightmare that would continue the story of a nightmare you’d had years earlier. A dream you couldn’t even remember, hadn’t consciously thought of since that one morning after you’d woken up from it, but somehow it still managed to store itself away inside your brain. Somewhere deep down, a place you couldn’t reach by yourself, just... lingering there for you to revisit in your sleep eventually.

It happened very rarely, but the second you’d wake up, you’d realise, fuck, this was that same fucking nightmare you had had ages ago.

When you hadn’t even known Joe yet.

Hadn’t even known of his existence, let alone would have known the lines of his face like the back of your hand.

The plush of his lips.

The scruff of his cheeks.

His chin.

The way your mind would hallucinate awful things in your sleep that would feel so vivid and so real was absolutely terrifying, but the addition of Joe’s face made everything so much worse.

Your unconscious mind could play tricks on you.

You knew this.

But in your sleepy haze, the feelings were real. The emotions right there.

And that man who’d scared you years ago in this same nightmare now wore a face that you recognised.

Logically you knew it was an addition.

Something new that hadn’t been there before.

There was no way you’d also dreamt about Joe all those other times - every person in a dream was someone you needed to have seen before, you knew.

But still.

The hand that held onto your neck was of little comfort, and you knew it was silly, but your body still flinched and moved away from the man in your bed because he didn’t feel safe right now.

You hoped Joe wouldn’t react to the quick pull away from him. To the little shimmy you did to duck into your pillow a bit more. But you felt how he raised his head off of his own, likely to see through a squinty eye if you were okay.

“I’ll have forgotten in the morning.” you quickly reassured with a whisper into the dark, and Joe decided he was too tired to get into anything right now anyway. He’d leave it to rest and hoped that you were right. That the next bit of sleep would make you forget about any horrors.

Except it didn’t.

It took you long to fall back asleep, and when you eventually did, you slipped right back into the same awful narrative.

It was why, not that long after you’d woken up that first time, you shook Joe awake. Leant over him, sort of sweaty, big wet eyes close to his face because, you just... you needed to check.

Had to see for yourself.

To see if his eyes were normal.

Joe roused awake, confused and definitely not as alert as you were.

“What?” Joe croaked, a little freaked out by the way you frowned in panic as you searched his eyes. He saw how yours flicked between his left and right.

Normal.

Joe’s eyes were their normal big brown beautiful kind soft ones. Bit tired. Definitely confused. But not the evil pitch black giant orbs you’d just dreamt of. You immediately relaxed and fell back onto your pillow, sighing with relief. This was definitely one of the weirdest most disturbing ways to be woken up before six o’clock.

“What’s wrong?” Joe asked, voice still just as hoarse, as he turned his head to look at you stare up at the ceiling.

Why were you panting?

“Nothing. I... don’t worry, your eyes are normal.”

Just a dream. It was just a dream. Your nervous system just had to catch up to it.

“My eyes?” Joe was so confused. What the fuck were you talking about?

“You were...” you started, but shook your head instead of finishing the sentence. It was of no use explaining. Just a silly dream. “Never mind. Just...” you looked at the ceiling and even though it was dark, the rubbing of your eyes made you see spots for a second.

Joe watched as you gathered your thoughts for a second, and worry etched deeper into his features.

“Hey,” he whispered, concern thick in his voice, a hand reaching over that placed itself on your forehead. “I was what? What did I do?”

You then turned your head to look at him, moving Joe’s hand into your hair, and you immediately felt guilty. Joe looked far too bothered for your liking.

“Scary.” you admitted, scooting over closer to him. “But you’re not scary now. Was just a dream.”

For a second, that made Joe relax a little. You weren’t talking about him him, you were talking about whatever weird version of him you’d just dreamt about. One without normal eyes, apparently.

Joe accepted you into his arms as you cuddled up to him, finding his sleep warm body to curl yourself around, seeking closeness this time around, because Joe’s eyes were normal and comforting.

He was glad it had just been a dream.

But then, Joe’s thoughts caught up, and actually, Joe didn’t like that.

Joe didn’t like that at all.

Didn’t like how you dismissed a nightmare like it hadn’t affected you when it so very clearly had.

Didn’t like how hugging you tight also meant that he could feel how fast your heart was beating.

Didn’t like how, real or not, you’d been scared of him. Had felt real fear because of him.

He’d been the boy of your nightmare, and that was not okay.

“You had a nightmare about me?” Joe almost sounded hurt, voice small and soft. Like it was his fault that you were breathing the way you were right now. Like he had personally done you a great disservice.

Which wasn’t true, obviously.

It hadn’t actually been him.

“It wasn’t you.” you comforted, pressing your face into Joe’s neck, reminding yourself just as much as you tried convincing him.

“Hm?”

“Just looked like you.”

But that didn’t make it better. Not to Joe, anyway.

The way that you went from trying for a little distance before, to suddenly hiding yourself away into his skin didn’t sit right with him either.

“You okay?” he whispered, a hand trailing up your back as he asked it, ending at your neck where he held onto it like he’d done before.

“Mhm,” you confirmed, and took a big deep breath to hopefully slow your heartbeat down a little. “Need to calm down.”

“Do you want to talk about it? What did I do to you?” Joe didn’t wait for an answer to the first question. Just wanted to know how severe his crimes had been. How big his apology needed to be. How much he needed to comfort you.

But like before, when he’d suggested to talk later, you let the questions sit where they sat, and didn’t provide them with an answer at all. Instead, you just burrowed deeper. Pressed your nose into his skin a little harder. Hitched your leg over his thighs a little higher. Squeezed yourself around his middle a bit more.

Joe decided his crimes had been very severe. Maybe even life sentence sort of stuff. He tightened his arms around your frame, the hand on your neck letting its fingers slide into your hair a little.

“I’m sorry.” Joe murmured against your forehead.

That made your eyes water.

You didn’t want to talk.

That was okay.

Just needed comforting.

“You’re okay,” Joe whispered into your hair, answering his own earlier question. He placed a little kiss there too, eyes closed, determined to make you drift off back to sleep, and it made you whine.

“You’re safe,”you deserved more sleep, but nightmareless this time. No scary eyes.

“I’m here.” Joe squeezed tigther as he felt you relax. From the way you started matching your breathing to his, he knew it was working.

You could have a nice dream about him.

He could be the boy of your dreams. Good, postive, sweet ones.

“No one’s gonna hurt you. Go back to sleep. You’re safe. I’m here.”

The hand that held onto your neck was actually very comforting now, and your body fully relaxed into the man in your bed because; he was right.

No one was going to hurt you.

You were safe.

Joe was there.

---

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[muniimyg]

one: fuck it if i can't have us

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//

It began with a sundress.

Don't get it twisted just yet because the beginning of Yoongi's downbad era didn't begin with you wearing one... It began exactly 20 minutes after meeting you.

What a joke, right?

His friend, Seok Jin, had invited a group of people to his family's summer home. The summer home is near a lake and a small town. The shops often closed just before 7PM and that's when Yoongi saw you for the first time. As the group of girls ran to greet Seok Jin and them, you lingered a moment longer, staring at the sundress on display.

Your long hair blew in the wind like a movie. Your smile was gentle and the way it turned into a laugh took his breath away. As you take one more glance at the sundress, you make your way to join the group.

As everyone mingles and continues to roam around the town, you take your time introducing yourself to everyone.

That's the first thing Yoongi liked about you.

You took your time.

Your eyes looked into his a moment more than his heart was ready for. When your hands touched, he felt electricity. His eyes widened and if he wasn't so self-aware about his delusional mindset, he swears he heard bells.

The bells.

But then again, maybe that was just your voice saying his name. That's the second thing Yoongi liked about you. He likes the way you say his name. It made him feel something. It made him feel like someone.

Perhaps thats why Yoongi woke up at 7AM the next day and bought you the sundress. He knocked on your room door and left it in the bag. Half awake, you picked up the gift and laughed.

There was no note written or exchange of words during breakfast. Instead, there was you wearing the sundress and Yoongi's stolen glances.

Then again...

Maybe it was the summer air. Maybe it was the way the sun always set so perfectly behind you. Maybe... It's just summer.

Summer exists for the hopeless romantics. For the people that love with their entire hearts and feel the warmth of the sun beyond their skin. Perhaps it's the sunshine and all the couple-coded activities or the shared ice cream cones... Maybe it's the carnivals and outdoor movies... Who knows.

Whatever it is, summer's lovebug has bit and made Yoongi sick to his stomach.

It has to be today.

Your lips meet his before a simple “hello.” 

It irks him. 

His mind goes hazy, fighting to understand why he loves the way you kiss him so much but hates it at the same time. Was this it? Was this all he was to you? How could you kiss him like you missed him and not say anything? Did you not mean this? 

Did you not mean the way your lips crashed onto his with the kind of neediness he’s grown to crave? 

Did you not mean the way you slipped your tongue in, finding his, and somehow redefining kissing for him? It’s just so perfect with you. You kiss him so good. You kiss him just right. 

Worst of all…

Did you not mean it when you intertwined your fingers with his? How you hold his hand when you two kiss.. How you hold his hand when you ride his cock, grinding, moaning, and crying over how well he fits inside you? 

Oh. 

You must mean it.

Because if you don’t… He just might die.

Nothing devastates him more than the mere idea of you not wanting him back the same way he wants you. He craves for you in ways he can't even express with words.

You've bewitched him.

As you kiss him deeper, Yoongi breaks away from you like he's breaking away from a trance. He turns his head, backed up against the bathroom sink.

Real classy, by the way. Texting him to meet you in the bathroom while your friends are all wasted downstairs. But then again, why'd he even go upstairs and follow through? He was no better than you.

While you grow confused, an ache plunges into his heart. He hates doing this to you. He hates to be the reason why you could ever be confused with his actions because all he wants is clarity between you two. He wants it out in the open. He wants it to be crystal clear.

He wants you.

Yoongi catches the way your lips twitch. The way you gulp and inch away because you feel embarrassed. It hits you. The feeling of rejection... And he knows you well enough to notice how easily your feelings consume you. A part of him wonders if you know this about yourself... Do you know how much he wants to save you from yourself? How much he wants to give you constant reassurance and undying love? How much he wants to protect you and be your everything?

He wants it so bad it's beginning to ruin him.

To Yoongi, you're perfect. 

With that being said, he still acknowledges your flaws... Like the fact that you smell like a mix of sunscreen and vodka (which he hates) or that you are the most stubborn person he has ever met in his life. That's saying a lot considering his best friends are horny overgrown fuckboys in fiance. 

Yet, you take the crown. 

You win the title.

You are the only person in this world who can break his heart.

… And contrary to popular belief, Min Yoongi's heart breaks easily.

You must know it.

It's strange to Yoongi how quickly you switch up. How he knows any slight rejection from his end hurts your feelings instantly... But you react tough and cold to endure the agony that rots inside you.

So, he hates this. He fucking hates this.

God, do you even know what he would do to swallow his pride and just be what you need? What he would do to give up his self-respect and live to please you? What he would do to simply be yours?

It takes everything inside him to stand his ground.

Shyly, you place your hand on his chest. You feel his heart beating. It beats fast and loud like it's trying to tell you something. Feeling worried, you look up at Yoongi and ask, “Everything okay?” 

Yoongi places his hands on top of yours. Your eyebrows knit together from his touch. Like instinct, you try to pull away. Instead, Yoongi keeps your hand still. He holds them, rubbing his thumb back and forth against your soft skin. It’s comforting… But it scares you, to say the least. 

“___, I can’t…” 

That’s all he manages to say. Yoongi looks at you and it’s over. He’s lost in your eyes as if it’s the first time he has ever seen anything so fucking beautiful. 

You blink. 

“Can’t what?” you chuckle, looking down at his crotch. You tilt your head, wondering if he's just talking about his erection. “Are you not hard? It’s okay, bebe. I can help with that—”

“I know you can,” he huffs, “It’s j-just… It’s not that.”

Yoongi inhales sharply, eyes softening as he exhales. He looks at you... He really looks at you.

You gulp.

“What is it then?" you ask, trying your best to keep your tone consistent. "What? ... Are you ending this? I thought third times the charm? Hahahaa… I mean, i-it’s fine if you want out… I’m just confused why you want out. I don't want out—"

Feeling embarrassed, you pause. Your rambling won't change the way he is looking at you. He's looking at you so carefully. So lovingly.. It truly feels like an ending. Again, you attempt to drop your hands. Still, Yoongi holds them. 

“Yoongi—”

He holds your hands tighter. 

“D-don’t—”

He listens.

... And it’s odd. 

For some reason, you didn’t really want him to let go. 

“Is everything okay?” you attempt one last time. You ask this, completely unsure if knowing if for his sake or for yours. 

“No,” he shakes his head. “Far from it, actually. Everything is everything but okay.”

Your eyes widen. “Are you hurt? Did I do something—”

“Everything,” Yoongi begins his confession. “It’s everything but you. It’s everything but us.”

Suddenly, you realize you’ve been holding your breath. That’s what this feels like… It’s this weird anticipation that you never saw coming. But it’s here and it’s quite literally taking your breath away. 

“I’m confused—”

“I think I’m in love with you,” Yoongi confesses. His voice is gentle but stern. You hear every word crystal clear, yet you stand in complete disbelief.

“Actually, no… I am in love with you. I’ve known it for two summers now. I know it for the remaining nine months you ignore me. And I… I, uh… I d-don’t know w-what to do anymore. I’ve tried just about everything and everything…” he takes a second to pause, breathe in, and muster the courage to give you the rest of his heart.

“I'm out of ways of avoiding it. I've been trying to ignore this, and I just... I'm so tired, ___. I don't know what to do… I want every season with you.”

Your throat is dry.

Your hands tingle like they could go numb any second now.

God, there's a pressing feeling in the pit of your stomach and you aren't sure if it's because you're so nervous right now or if you just really have to pee.

Either way, you feel stuck.

You can't find any words to say and your mind runs through a million and one thoughts. From the very beginning, you always thought moments like these only existed in stories.

This couldn't be true...

This was a sick joke.

It has to be.

"Are you going through a heat stroke or something?"

He blinks at you. Realizing he's not kidding around, you put your guard up.

"W-why are you saying this?" you ask, practically choking on your words. "We're fine, Yoongi. You don't have to care about this more than we agreed to. You don't have to lie to—it’s summer! Come on! We have fun and—"

"___, I have never been so honest in my life!" he snaps, awfully offended. "You're not allowed to tell me how I feel. I just spent the past fucking nine months trying to figure my shit out—y-you... You can't tell me I figured it out wrong."

Unconvinced, you poke at his truth again. "Yoongi, seriously, are you fucking with me? This isn’t cool. You’re not funny.”

"Your birthday is my passcode. Do you think that’s cool? Am I funny for doing that?”

You snicker, “a little. Didn’t I do that? Why haven’t you changed it—"

“Take a wild fucking guess,” he hisses.

You tighten your lips. “I… I don’t—”

"I tried, ___. I tried so fucking hard for you. I swallow my pride every time you call me up. I pretend like it doesn't matter when you ignore me come September. I have done everything I possibly can to shove, suppress, and forget about my feelings... But I can't do it anymore. I don't want this anymore..."

In disbelief, you take a step back. "So what? You're done with me because you love me or some shit?"

"N-no! I'm saying I want more for us!" Yoongi hurries to explain himself. "I want us. I want everything, though. I want the morning texts. I want the dates. I want the anniversaries. ___, I want you twelve months a year—"

"And the sex?" you interrupt him, "what does this mean... For us then? For this arrangement?”

"Is that all you care about?"

A beat.

"No."

Yoongi takes a step toward you. "I can do it," he promises you. "I can fuck you all you want. I can eat your pussy out to your heart's desire. I can do and be anything and everything you want, bebe…”

"... So? What's with the confession? If nothing was going to be different—I'm still confused. Are you ending this or not?"

He laughs.

"No," Yoongi tilts his head and gives you half a smile. Your stomach twists and turns when he does this... You feel winded.

Was he always this handsome?

"Fuck, I’m so nervous my words are everywhere… No, ___. I’m not ending us. I could never do that to you... Or to myself. God knows I'd do everything to be with you... So, I'm changing the narrative. Yeah... Let's say that."

"Say what?"

Yoongi reaches to you, pulling you in by your waist. Resting your chin on his chest, you look up at him and bat your eyes. He'll fold, right? He loves it when you do this. Instead, he smirks and leans in.

Against your lips, he murmurs softly and slowly; "___, I'd do anything for you."

"Good. Then let's do this—" You reach to kiss him. “Let’s fuck.”

He stops you. “Do you not get it yet?”

You shrug. “Get what?”

Yoongi feels his heart beat faster and faster. You look at him, desperate to make it out of this conversation. Desperate to make it work—but your uneasy heart finds it easier to resist than to give in. 

So, Yoongi does it for you.

Yoongi does it first.

Giving in, he tells you; "Okay… You want to fuck? Fine. We can fuck… Under the condition that you let me be your boyfriend, because fuck it if I can’t have us.”

[stayteezdreams]

More Or Less Than Friends

Plot: You and Seungmin aren't quite friends, but you're not not friends. Feelings neither of you are sure about linger under the surface. Everything changes one night when you fall asleep at his apartment.

Pairing: Kim Seungmin x Gn!Reader

A/n: Prologue and Continuation of this scenario post. Section involving reader falling asleep in dorm is a slightly edited/extended version of the Scenario post drabble. A/n #2: I haaate how this ended but my brain decided to give up on me when I was almost done lol. I hope you like it anyways!

Requested By: Anon; I also just wanted to write it as well.

Warnings: Nothing I can think of :)

Words: 4,382

You had been Felix's friend for a few years before you met the others. It didn't take long before you became great friends with all of them, often spending time with them.

Well, most of them.

For some reason, unbeknownst to you, you and Seungmin never grew very close.

You could have conversations, and hang out, but never alone. It wasn't on purpose, there was just always someone else there. And it's not like he made you uncomfortable, it was the opposite actually.

You felt comfortable around him, you thought he was funny, cute and kind. He even made jokes with or about you sometimes, and it never felt rude. As if it was a gently way of getting closer to you. Though the distance never seemed to lessen between you.

After some deep thought, you were fairly sure you had a crush on him, or at least you would if you knew more about him. You wanted to be closer to him, but could never find the right moments. The two of you were never alone together, and even if you ended up beside each other, you never gave the other all of your attention. Through nerves or awkwardness you weren't really sure.

You didn't feel as though you had the right to call him a friend, and calling him and acquaintance seemed too cold. So, he was just Seungmin, the guy who had a place in your heart you couldn't quite understand.

Seungmin, though never showing it, felt exactly the same about you.

Ever since you became friends with everyone, he felt drawn to you, but always remained distant. Your presence almost comforted him, and he enjoyed seeing you. But he never showed it, barely even ever acknowledging you other than brief conversation or jokes, and he wasn't sure why.

Was he shy around you? Maybe. Did something about you make him uncomfortable? No, that's not it. He was comfortable around you, more so than he showed. He liked you. But he wasn't sure in what way.

There were times he would purposefully sit beside you, or walk near you, hoping maybe something would naturally bring you together after that. But any time the two of you almost started talking, or getting to know one another, something got in the middle. As if it wasn't meant to be.

Seungmin didn't understand what you were to him, but he wanted to figure it out.

So, he started to pay a bit more attention to you, focusing on the things you mentioned you liked and disliked. The more he did, the more he realized you two had in common. How had he not known you had the same favorite music, and shows, and books? Similar hobbies, or thoughts on the world. With every new fact he learned, the more he realized you were practically the different side of the same coin.

Was this why you never got close, yet were always comfortable around each other? You were akin to one another in more ways than he expected, was this why everyone said opposites attract? The more similar you are the more distance existed between you?

No matter how much Seungmin thought about it, the less it made sense. In his mind, he felt the two of you should be friends, maybe even best-friends, or more, yet you were....nothing? Not friends, not strangers, not even acquaintances really. You were an enigma in his life, that he truly wanted to figure out.

On days like this, what you wanted was to smile and laugh. So, you often made use of your friends for a distraction.

Your legs were heavy with the exhaustion of the day as you walked down the hall towards the boys apartments.

Knocking on Felix's apartment, you waited, but heard no answer. Pouting you pulled out your phone and texted Felix asking if he was home. Leaning against the wall, you let out a soft sigh after a few minutes. Trying the other apartment next door, and also receiving no reply you stood in the hall for a minute wondering what to do. The last thing you wanted was to head back to your own apartment. Your roommate was the last person you wanted to see.

You had no issues with each other, but she was overwhelming, especially on days like today. When nothing seemed to work out or make sense and all you wanted was to relax.

Rummaging through your bag you pulled out the spare key Felix had given you. You hesitated to go in, wondering if it might annoy them. I mean, they all said you could have it, even Seungmin gave a nod of agreement when Felix offered the key. You were at their apartments more often than not anymore anyways.

Sending the group chat a message warning them you were there, you made your way inside. You called out to see if there was indeed no one home. The apartment was silent and you made your way to the couch.

Flipping on the television you laid your head back and stared up at the ceiling. The day running through your mind again, only causing your heart to race with annoyance and stress all over again.

Groaning you looked around the apartment. Why did they all have to be gone today of all days?

Your eyes caught on a blanket on the edge of the couch. You recognized it as Seungmin's. Gently grabbing it and pulling it to you, you found yourself bringing it to your face. It smelled like Seungmin, a scent you had picked up on whenever he walked past, or sat beside you. As your heart fluttered you came back to your senses, looking around the apartment as if you might get caught. Your face was hot as you gently ran your hands over the soft fabric.

Lying down on the couch, and pulling the blanket over you. you stared at the television, not really watching, just zoning out. Having to wake up a few hours early to go to work today, your exhaustion was palpable. Slowly, you began drifting to sleep, forgetting you were trying to wait up for the boys.

When Seungmin came back from practice, the last thing he was expecting when he walked into the apartment was a guest.

His eyes landed on your familiar pair of shoes and he rose his brow in surprise, his heart palpitating. He knew he was the first one home as the others had more things to do at the studio before heading home as well.

You came and went as you please, and though Seungmin sometimes made comments as if it annoyed him, or making fun of the fact you basically live here to the others. He always liked when you were around, especially more so recently as his fondness and desire to know you grew.

Walking into the apartment, his eyes found you immediately. Seungmin seemed to forget how to breath as he saw your slumbering figure on the couch. As he watched you in silence, he was unaware of the fond smile that stretched across his face.

Softly and quietly, Seungmin set his stuff down before walking over to you. Kneeling down in front of the couch he noticed his blanket draped over your legs and his heart skipped a beat. Grabbing it, he gently adjusted the blanket so it covered more of you.

As he stared at you, he wondered why you came to the apartment when it was empty, and he couldn't help but worry something bad had happened. Wondering if the others knew you were here, he pulled out his phone, noticing a few texts to the group chat. Opening it, he saw your messages from almost an hour ago.

He felt guilty that you went unnoticed and received no replies. The way you spoke in the group chat was slightly off, making him assume he was correct. Something did happen.

Looking back at your slumbering face he let out a soft sigh. In moments like this, where Seungmin was looking at you, often when you didn't realize it, he always felt that same sense of regret. He regretted never getting closer to you.

He couldn't even call himself your friend without doubting it. But he desperately wanted to be more than whatever he was to you.

He really did admire you, he liked your presence, and your company. But he didn't acknowledge it enough. And he often wondered now, what things would be like between you if he did.

Would there be a chance to be more?

Seungmin sat on the floor by the couch for a while, keeping you company even if you weren't aware of his presence.

Suddenly hearing the sound of the others at the end of the building hall, Seungmin felt a sense of panic. He didn't want their loud voices and to wake you.

Without really thinking, he found himself scooping you gently into his arms and carrying you to his room.

Setting you down on his bed, you mumbled a bit as you readjusted. He stared at you with wide eyes for a moment before he let out a soft sigh, glad you had not fully woken.

Quickly going back out and grabbing your things from the living room as the others were unlocking the door, he escaped to his room before they entered.

Why was he being so secretive about your presence? They would eventually see your texts and wonder where you were, right? All he had to say is you were sleeping and tell them to be quiet.

Looking at you once more, now cuddling up to one of his pillows, he admitted to himself it was selfish. A selfish need to be the only one to see you like this.

As the apartment quieted down, the others escaping to their rooms, Seungmin gently settled on the bed beside you, sitting up against the headboard as he scrolled on his phone. Every once and a while he would steal a glance at you, checking to see if you were still asleep.

Eventually some of the others replied to your messages, asking when you went home. Seungmin wasn't sure if he should tell them you were asleep in his room or not. Should he just wait? Leaning his head back against the headboard as he thought about it, he fell victim to sleep before he knew it.

When you finally found yourself waking, you were confused to find yourself in a bed. Looking around in confusion, your heart jolted as you saw Seungmin beside you. His head leaned to the side as he slept.

Looking around again, you realized you were in Seungmin's room. You had never been in here before, but it was easy to see it was his, even if he wasn't beside you.

Why would he bring you in here? Had the others come back, was that why? So you didn't get woken up?

Your heart raced at the thoughts passing through your mind. Looking back over at him, you admired his sleeping face as butterflies swirled through your stomach.

Deciding he must be uncomfortable, you gently shook his shoulder, causing him to wake up. As his eyes met yours he sat upright, suddenly nervous. He hadn't meant to fall asleep, nor had he thought far enough ahead to know what to say when you woke up.

"Ah, you're awake."

You nodded as you sat up, "Did you bring me in here?"

Seungmin swallowed nervously as he nodded. "You seemed to be pretty tired and when the others came back I didn't want them to wake you."

You smiled at him and his heart flipped.

"Thank you."

"Did something happen today?"

Your heart skipped at the question. Was it obvious? You bit your lips lightly and nodded as you picked at the blanket still draped over you, "Long day."

He nodded softly, watching you. As you noticed how dark it appeared outside you sat up. "Oh... I should probably go, it looks like its pretty late."

Seungmin realized you were right, you had both slept until after sunset. He shook his head softly, speaking before really thinking.

"Its too late, you should just stay the night."

You stared at him for a second as your heart raced. "Stay...here?" He nodded silently. You added on shyly, "Would that....be okay?"

He nodded again before clearing his throat softly. "I wouldn't feel right letting you go home this late by yourself."

After a moments contemplation, you nodded. "If you're okay with it, I am."

He replied quickly, almost too quickly. "I am."

"Do you want me to sleep on the floor?"

He let out a soft laugh, "No, just stay there. The bed's big enough."

The air was a little tense as the two of you settled back into the bed. You were hyper-aware of how close Seungmin was now, you were back to back, but still close. And as nervous as this made you, you still felt yourself giving into sleep again.

Seungmin's heart was beating unevenly as he lied still beside you. He was filled with a mixture of giddiness, anxiety and disbelief. How had you gone to distant friends of sorts, to sleeping in the same bed?

The silence hung in the air until you both drifted to sleep. Both of you feeling that something had changed between you suddenly. You weren't sure what yet, but you were excited to find out.

As the soft morning light peaked through the windows, you kept your eyes closed as you embraced the comfort around you. Recalling where you were, your heart raced a little as you slowly opened your eyes.

Your heart jolted as you realized you and Seungmin were now facing each other, faces only a few inches apart. His hand was gently gripped your sleeve, as if he wanted to keep you close.

You swallowed nervously as you stared at him. You had the overwhelming desire to trace your fingers along his face as he slumbered peacefully. You took a few minutes to admire him, noticing every mark and spot on his features you hadn't before.

After some time, you realized how it might seem if the others woke up and you were here. That might not be a conversation Seungmin would want to have to deal with. Plus, would things be awkward between you if he woke up and found himself latching onto you?

Slowly, and gently, you pried your sleeve from his grip and climbed out of his bed. As he moved and mumbled a few times you froze, fearing he would wake up and find you practically straddling him as you tried to get out of the bed.

Finally managing to get out of the bed without waking him, you grabbed a sticky note and pen off of is desk and wrote on it, before sticking it to the pillow beside Seungmin.

You didn't want to linger in case things got awkward, but you did want him to know how grateful you were of his kindness. Sparing one more glance at him, your heart fluttered as you grabbed your things and silently left the apartment. As you left, you knew Seungmin was going to occupy your thoughts a lot more now.

Seungmin stretched as he woke up, before he suddenly remembered your presence. His eyes shot open as he looked beside him, seeing just an empty bed. Sitting up, he felt a sense of disappointment at your absence, before his eyes spotted the sticky note.

Picking it up, he read it over a few times, a small smile growing on his face.

'I wasn't sure if I should stay or not, but I didn't want things to be awkward with the others if they saw me here still. Thank you for letting me stay and being so nice to me, after the day I had I appreciated it more than you know. I'll see you later Seungmin. - Y/n'

Looking back to wear you had been laying, he recalled waking in the middle of the night to find you facing him, the moonlight from outside illuminating you in an almost ethereal light. He couldn't stop himself from gently tracing your features with his fingers, barely brushing your skin as not to wake you. He watched you for some time, before eventually falling asleep again.

Lying back down with a sigh, he pulled the blanket you had been using over him, your scent filling his nose as he did. Pulling it closer, he inhaled the scent and felt butterflies in his stomach.

He understood now, he did have feelings for you. You weren't friends, perhaps because the feeling that had gone unnoticed stopped him. But he wanted to be closer to you now, to explore the possiblities of what you could be.

Reading over your note again he decided he would do better, do more to get closer to you.

Before you knew what to say to the others, Felix had texted you asking if you were doing alright. Seungmin had told them that you had fallen asleep at their apartment, and that he let you sleep in his room so you were disturbed by the others.

You could tell he had not told them you stayed the night, or that he had carried you to his room himself. Things you wondered if he kept a secret to spare you from possible teasing, or if he wanted it just between the two of you.

The next time you saw Seungmin was when you were invited over to their place for game-night a few days later. When you arrived, Seungmin answered the door. And instead of his usual soft smile in greeting, he grinned at you, taking your bag from you as you slipped off your shoes.

His behavior towards you was more open and bright, and obvious to not just you, but the others. He asked you if you wanted a drink, before leaving to get you one before you could even answer. You looked over and saw the guys watching in amusement as they looked at you with a questioning gaze.

You shrugged your shoulders, as your heart fluttered, wondering if he really did feel the change between you that night like you had. Maybe you hadn't imagined it at all.

Throughout the night, you and the others were confused, yet intrigued by Seungmin's behavior towards you. He sat beside you, talking to you more often and open than he ever had. He brought you food and offered you a blanket, his blanket, when he thought you might get cold.

When he went to the bathroom Han turned towards you and began interrogating you. "Are you guys dating?"

"What?" You asked startled, "No!"

"I think he wants to though." Hyunjin added with a smirk making you throw a piece of popcorn at him.

Your eyes met Felix's and he smiled brightly before he leaned closer and spoke to you, "I always thought he had a crush on you and now I know he does."

You shush them before you sat back on the couch, ignoring their teasing gazes as Seungmin came back into the room. As he sat beside you, he grabbed the blanket on you and moved to cover himself as well, covered the two of you at the same time, side by side. Your heart jolted as butterflies filled your stomach.

When it came time for you to go home, you felt nervous as Seungmin lingered by the door as you slid on your shoes. You had said goodbye to the others and grabbed your bag. Seeing Seungmin slip on his jacket you rose your brow in question. Was he going out?

He met your eyes. "I'm gonna walk you home." His tone came out as though it was obvious what he was going to do.

"O-oh, okay." You smiled, your chest fluttering anxiously.

The two of you were silent until you walked out of the apartment and made your way down the familiar street you walked dozens of times.

Seungmin inhaled the cool breeze as he walked beside you, his arm almost brushing yours as he kept very little distance between the two of you.

"Thank you for walking me home. You didn't have too, but I appreciate it." You said softly and Seungmin nodded with a smile.

"I don't have too, but I want too." He said softly, his tone almost shy.

Your eyes met for a moment before you both quickly looked away. Silence lingered between you for a few moments as you saw Seungmin steal a few quick glances at you.

Slowly, you started talking, awkward small talk turning into casual comfortable conversation. Your steps slowed as you got closer, absent-mindedly wanting your walk to last as long as you could make it.

When you finally reached your apartment, you turned to Seungmin with a kind smile. "Thanks again for walking me home. Be careful on your way back."

He nodded with a smile, "I will."

As you started to turn and walk away Seungmin quickly spoke up. "Wait!"

Turning back to him he swallowed nervously as he fidgeted. "I was wondering if you were free tomorrow."

Your heart jolted as you bit the inside of your lip and nodded. "I am."

"Its smoothie day." He noted on and you realized what he meant.

Once every other week you and a few of the others would go get smoothies at a shop you all fell in love with a couple years ago.

Seungmin rarely went, so it was a pleasant surprise he was going this time. But underneath that, there was a mild disappointment. For a moment, you thought he may be asking you on a date.

You felt a soft disappointment in your chest as you nodded, "Right! I almost forgot" You chuckled softly. "I'll be there."

He nodded "Good." As he took a a few steps back, he motioned for you to head inside as he smiled, "Goodnight."

You smiled and waved softly in return, "Goodnight Seungmin."

As you headed inside, you felt an odd mixture of emotion. Excitement, bewilderment, bashfulness, all of it making you finally truly acknowledge something you had only allowed yourself momentary thoughts of. You definitely, had feelings for Seungmin.

You hoped the others wouldn't notice or point out how you seemed to dress up a little bit more today. You accepted your feelings for Seungmin had grown, though you weren't sure what to do about it.

Though his changed behavior towards you made you think he felt the same, you still feared maybe he had just finally accepted you as a friend. So you didn't want to get your hopes up too much.

As you approached the familiar smoothie spot, your phone buzzed. Reading the message from Felix you furrowed your brow in confusion.

'Enjoy your smoothies ;)'

'Okay, so Felix isn't coming, but what's with the winky face?' You wondered as you headed inside.

Looking around, your heart fluttered as you spotted Seungmin waiting nearby at a table. Looking around more, you saw none of the others, and suddenly realized what Felix's text meant. Did they all stand you up so you'd be alone together?

Swallowing nervously you walked over to him, your stomach filling with butterflies.

Looking up, Seungmin smiled before standing up quickly and pulling a chair out for you.

You smiled in thanks as you sat down. "No one else is coming?" You asked casually, trying not to show your nervousness.

Seungmin sat down and shook his head, appearing a bit nervous as well. "I actually asked them not to come."

"Oh?" Your heart jolted as your eyes widened a bit.

He met your eyes and smiled softly, obviously nervous now. "I kind of hoped we could make this a date...if you're okay with that."

You were silent for a brief moment as you processed what he said. unable to resist smiling you nodded, "I'm okay with it."

Seungmin studied you for a second before he grinned, relief washing over him. "Good. I- I really wanted to get closer to you, I mean I have for a while, but since...since that night you fell asleep at the apartment, I uh- I feel like..." He struggled to get out what he wanted to say as he let out a soft breath.

"Something changed?"

He met your eyes, a bit startled that you understood what he was trying to say. He nodded mutely and you smiled, "I felt it too."

You smiled softly at each other for a moment before you let out a soft chuckle. "It's kind of weird right?"

He chucked as he ran his hands nervously over his legs and nodded. "Yeah. I've never really knew where we stood."

You nodded, "Right? I wasn't sure if we were friends or what, but..."

"But?"

You tried to search for the right words, "But, I always felt comfortable around you, and wanted to be friends we just never seemed to get there."

He nodded in agreement. "That's how I felt too."

You both chuckled as you both understood you had more in common than you thought.

Seungmin started, slowly. "I think... I've been attracted to you since we met. I just didn't recognize it completely. And that stopped me from really getting closer to you even though I wanted too. But that night, I finally realized just how much I want to be around you."

Your heart was pounding as he spoke, your neck and face warm. "So now, we're...what?"

He thought for a second before chuckled, "I don't really know how to label it."

You resisted giggling as you hummed, "We don't have to label anything yet, but I do like where we are headed."

He nodded slowly, "Me too."

Slowly moving his chair closer to you, he cautiously moved his hands to intertwine with yours.

"So how about we start here? We are more or less than friends, with intentions to be more."

Your eyes moved from your intertwined hands to his eyes as you smiled brightly. "How poetic." You giggled, "I like it."

He squeezed your hand softly as he grinned at you, finally relieved knowing where he wanted to go with you, and how to start.

xx End xx

General Taglist:

@otsilliak, @brattybunfornct, @bahng-chrizz, @otakutrash669, @tinyelfperson,

@pinievsev, @teenyfinds, @everythingboutkpop, @shymexican, @stillwjk-channie-lixie @LuckyPainterTyphoon (cannot tag; have you confirmed your email yet?)

Stray Kids Taglist:

 @laylasbunbunny, @skz1-4-3, @prettymiye0n, @thunderous-wolf, @thedistractedwriter,

@briqnne, @dinossaurz, @staytiny2000, @msauthor, @vnessalau,

@dancinglikebutterflywings, @3rachasninja

Seungmin Taglist:

@hongjoongsprincess

-Taglist Form-

[songbirdseung]

puppy nanny / park sunghoon ☆

synopsis: with his busy life, he hired a dogsitter for his baby gaeul.

pairing: idol!sunghoon × dogsitter!yn

His days blur into a whirlwind of rehearsals, interviews, and performances, leaving little room for the simple joys of companionship. Yet, nestled within the chaos of his existence and career is a precious soul that demands his attention—a spul wrapped in white fur and filled with boundless love. Gaeul, his beloved pet.

Sunghoon knelt beside Gaeul, her soft fur warm against his fingertips as he gazed into her trusting eyes. The exhaustion of another long day lingered in the lines of his face. "I'm sorry," he murmured, " I know, I haven't been there for you as much as I should. It's just that things have been so hectic lately... and I've been pulled in so many directions."

My little baby titled her head as if understanding the weight of his words, her eyes filled with a silent understanding that tugged at his heart. "But I promise, things will be different from now on." Sunghoon continued, his voice tinged with determination. "You deserve to have someone here with you. Someone who can give you the attention and love you need. I'm going to find you a nanny. Someone who will care for you just like I do."

—

Sunghoon sat alone in the dimly lit studio, the hum of silence punctuated only by the soft click of his phone unlocking. With a heavy sigh, he opened his contacts list, fingers hovering over the screen as he contemplated his next move.

"Hey, Sunghoon," Jungwon's voice broke through the quiet, his presence a welcome interruption to the solitude that threatened to consume him. "What are you up to?"

Sunghoon glanced up, a weary smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he motioned for Jungwon to join him. "Just trying to find someone to take care of Gaeul while I'm away," he admitted, his voice tinged with a hint of resignation.

Jungwon nodded in understanding, settling into the seat beside him with an easy familiarity. "Actually, I might have someone in mind," he said, his tone casual yet tinged with excitement. "A friend of mine, Y/N. She's incredible with dogs—trust me, she has taken care of maeumi before."

Sunghoon's interest piqued at the mention of Y/N's name, his curiosity sparked by Jungwon's endorsement. "Really? Tell me more about her," he urged, his gaze fixed on his friend as he awaited further explanation.

Jungwon grinned, reaching for his own phone as he pulled up Y/N's profile with practiced ease. "Here, take a look," he said, passing the device to Sunghoon as he eagerly awaited his reaction.

Sunghoon's eyes scanned the screen, his interest piqued by the image of Y/N smiling brightly amidst a backdrop of lush greenery. As he read through her profile, a sense of warmth spread through his chest, a flicker of hope igniting within him at the prospect of finding the perfect caregiver for Gaeul.

—

Sunghoon stared at his phone, the soft glow of the screen casting shadows across his face as he hesitated, fingers hovering over the keys.

Sunghoon: Hi, this is Sunghoon. I got your contact from Jungwon. He mentioned that you might be able to help me with something important.

For what felt like an eternity, the silence of the room enveloped him, the seconds ticking by with agonizing slowness. And then, just as doubt began to creep in, his phone lit up with a new message, a beacon of hope amidst the darkness.

Y/N: Hi Sunghoon! Nice to meet you. Jungwon told me about Gaeul and how you're looking for someone to take care of her. I'd be happy to help!

Sunghoon's lips curved into a relieved smile at Y/N's response, a sense of gratitude flooding through him at her willingness to lend a hand. With renewed determination, he typed out his reply, his fingers dancing across the screen with newfound purpose.

Sunghoon: Thank you so much, Y/N. Would you be available to meet and discuss the details sometime soon?

As he hit send, Sunghoon felt a flutter of anticipation in his chest, his thoughts consumed by the possibility of finally finding the perfect caregiver for his beloved companion. And as he awaited Y/N's response, he couldn't help but feel a glimmer of hope amidst the uncertainty that had plagued him for so long.

Y/N: Absolutely! I'd love to meet Gaeul and discuss how I can help. When would be a good time for you?

—

The air hummed with anticipation as Sunghoon stood outside the quaint café, his pulse quickening with each passing moment. He glanced at his watch, the hands ticking closer to the appointed time, his heart racing with a mixture of nervousness and excitement.

And then, as if on cue, he spotted her—a figure approaching from the bustling streets, her presence a beacon of warmth amidst the chaos of the city. Y/N's smile lit up her face as she caught sight of him, her steps quickening with each stride as she closed the distance between them.

"Sunghoon?" she called out, her voice a melodic cadence that sent a shiver of anticipation down his spine.

"Y/N," he breathed, his own smile widening as he stepped forward to greet her, the weight of the world lifting from his shoulders at the sight of her.

Their meeting was a blur of introductions and laughter, the hours slipping away in a haze of easy conversation and shared moments. And as they lingered outside the café, the promise of friendship hanging in the air, Sunghoon couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude wash over him—a feeling that perhaps, amidst the chaos of his busy life, he had found a kindred spirit in Y/N.

But it was when they finally made their way back to Sunghoon's apartment that the true magic began to unfold. As they stepped through the door, Gaeul's excited barks filled the air, her tail wagging furiously as she bounded towards them with unbridled enthusiasm.

Sunghoon's heart swelled with pride as he watched Gaeul greet Y/N with a fervor he had never seen before, her eyes alight with joy as she nuzzled against Y/N's hand with unabashed affection. It was a sight that filled him with wonder—a testament to the special connection that had formed between them in such a short time.

"I can't believe it," Sunghoon murmured, his voice tinged with awe as he watched the scene unfold before him. "She's never warmed up to anyone this quickly before."

Y/N grinned, her eyes sparkling with delight as she reached out to stroke Gaeul's fur, her touch gentle yet filled with an undeniable sense of warmth. "She's a special one, that's for sure," she said, her voice soft with affection. "But I think she knows that she's found a friend in me."

— A month later —

As Sunghoon stepped through the door of his apartment, the familiar scent of home enveloped him in a warm embrace. It had been a long month filled with grueling schedules and endless performances, but as he crossed the threshold into the sanctuary of his own space, a sense of peace settled over him like a comforting blanket.

Yet, it was the sight that greeted him in the living room that truly took his breath away—a scene so tender and intimate that Sunghoon felt as if he were intruding upon something sacred.

There, bathed in the soft glow of the evening light, Y/N sat on the floor with Gaeul nestled in her lap, her fingers gently combing through the dog's fur as she whispered soothing words of comfort. Gaeul's eyes were closed in bliss, her tail wagging lazily against the carpet as she basked in the warmth of Y/N's affection.

Sunghoon's heart swelled with emotion as he watched the scene unfold before him, a rush of tenderness flooding through him at the sight of Y/N's gentle care for Gaeul. In that moment, something shifted within him—a realization so profound that it took his breath away.

For the first time, Sunghoon saw Y/N not just as Gaeul's nanny, but as a kindred spirit—a soul whose compassion and warmth resonated with his own. And as he stood there, silently observing the sweet moment between Y/N and Gaeul, he couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude wash over him—a feeling that perhaps, amidst the chaos of his busy life, he had found something truly precious in the form of Y/N's presence.

"Sunghoon," Y/N's voice broke through the quiet of the room, her eyes meeting his with a warmth that mirrored his own. "I didn't hear you come in. How was your day?"

"It's just... sometimes it feels like I'm drowning," Sunghoon admitted, his voice tinged with a hint of desperation. "Like no matter how hard I try, I can never seem to catch my breath. And I'm scared, Y/N. Scared that if I keep going like this, I'll lose myself completely."

Y/N listened intently, her heart aching for the pain she saw etched in Sunghoon's eyes. She reached out to gently cup his face in her hands, her touch a gesture of comfort and understanding that spoke volumes more than words ever could.

"You're not alone, Sunghoon," she whispered, her voice filled with an unwavering resolve. "I'm here for you, every step of the way."

—

Likes, Reblogs, and Comments are HIGHLY appreciated!! ☆

[readychilledwine]

The Cursed Ballet

Eris Week - Day 6 - AUs and Retellings

(Swan Lake)

Summary - As war with the Deathless God approaches, a new dancer entered Autumn turning Eris's world inside out.

Warnings - Beron, curses, Eris kind of being a male-whore to add interest later

A/N - Happy Day 6 of @erisweekofficial! So listen, I've written this 4 times and settled on it being a 3 part mini series. Otherwise, it got far too long, and I was worried people would lose interest. I love this concept, though, and I'm very excited to share it with you all.

🍂Eris Week Masterlist🍂Eris Masterlist🍂Master Masterlist🍂

Dividers by @tsunami-of-tears

Instruments being tuned as a stage was set were familiar noises to you. Especially now that your life has been flipped upside down.

You continued lacing the ribbons of your ballet flats, no one looking at you. No one even acknowledging your very existence. Why would they, though?

A human in the Autumn Court. A human who, to them, somehow stole the lead spot in this performance from a female who had probably been training 10 times longer than you have ever been alive. You were used to this, used to being forced to travel and perform since he came and ruined everything.

You'd been to countless places the last few years, cities you had never dreamed of seeing, people and Fae you never thought you would meet. He always forced you to come back to Prythian, though. You had danced in all the mortal kingdoms, in every court. Yet for some reason he kept you here, anchored to this place like a second prison in case your body was no longer enough.

Of the 7 courts, Autumn was your favorite to dance in. The beauty of the leaves, the crisp fresh air, the well maintained stage. It was all enough to distract you from why you were truly here. From the magic the plagued your body. You finished tying the slippers around your ankles, mind trying not to linger on the curse you and your older sister now shared. “It's fine,” you whispered. “You've danced in front of thousands of fae.”

Your warm ups were spent alone as well, the isolation you were forced to endure was the cherry on top of this curse. The first contact you'd have tonight was a tall, slender female looking you up and down before declaring they were ready for you to stage.

Eris groaned from his place in his family's play box. He loved the ballet, he loved the graceful choreographed dances, the stories told through music and movement, but he would be lying to himself if he didn't say he was annoyed. 

His recent flavor of the week had been whining in his ear for 72 hours, 48 minutes, and exactly 23 seconds regarding his father's demands for a mortal girl to be put in the role of Odette. 

His current lover was pretty.

But she wasn't pretty enough for him to listen to the complaints and crying day in and night out. 

Eris felt himself freezing as the human girl took the stage. Every movement was clean, exact, graceful. She may as well have been fae with the way she made it seem as though she was the music. He didn't clock his father's smirk, the look of sick satisfaction Beron had. 

“Pretty little thing, isn't she,” Beron said softly to him. “And so very talented for being human.” 

Eris nodded, “Does she.. look familiar?” Flaming red hair in a tight bun, long elegant limbs. Her nose, the shape of her eyes, all of it felt so familiar to Eris, yet he could not place her. 

That is, until the scene.

Eris looked at his father, the High Lord still smirking in his seat, “And why is one of his spies here?”

Beron rolled his eyes, glancing at Eris as the fae applauded, throwing flowers to the mortal girl. “He needed someone to keep an eye on her while he handled more pressing matters.”

“He, an all powerful sorcerer, could not handle taking a 26 year old human female with him to handle matters?”

“I've heard she's rebellious,” Beron stood as the girl exited the stage. “Besides, she requires water at night.”

Eris's eyes slowly shut, but he followed Beron, the understanding of that cryptic message hitting his heart. 

You tried not to be afraid as Beron Vanserra dragged you through the gardens of the Forest House by your upper arm. His son followed behind you two, refusing to look your way. “Please, you are hurting me.”

“I was informed you needed a heavy hand. He may tolerate your games, but I will not, girl.” 

It was a moment Eris would remember long after she was gone, his father throwing a mortal woman to the mudded ground. The noise she made on impact had him shifting from side to side, eagerly awaiting Beron's departure from Crystal Lake. 

“Watch her until it happens, she won't be able to leave the lake once it does. If she tried to run, kill her.” 

As soon as he was away, as soon as Eris knew they were safe, he rushed to her. “Are you alright?”

You could only nod at him, tears in your eyes as a nearly silent sob managed to make it's way through your throat. 

“Does she know you're here,” Eris asked gently. “Does Vassa know you're here?”

“No,” Your tone was firm. “My presence here is a trap. For your brother, Jurian, and her.”

Eris processed the information like a complex novel, “He's near, isn't he?”

You focused in on the curse that bound you to him, “Yes, but no. He's still trapped on his lake, but he can.. project himself for small amounts of time.”

Your eyes finally met his and Eris's whole world shifted and changed. 

The bond was dull due to only being able to half click into place, but it was there, creating a harmonious rhythm with his own heartbeat as the moon began to rise behind the two of you. 

He understood why you would need the lake then, what your curse had been. Glowing golden light surrounded you, engulfing your figure before dying out. 

And now Eris found himself trapped watching as his mate got into the water, defeat clear in even this form. 

“Rhysand,” he called in his mind. “We have a complication.”

He sent Rhysand what had just happened, sent him the image of you floating on the clear waters of the lake. 

“Be careful,” Rhysand's voice came back slowly. “Vassa says her sister's curse is more dangerous than her own.” 

But Eris didn't respond, his eyes on the swan that had taken the place of his mate. 

How absolutely cruel to curse Vassa to her bird form by day and to be a woman by night, but you a woman by day, swan by night.

Two sisters left chasing each other. 

A curse Eris now made his personal mission to break.

General Taglist:

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanagers @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho @mariahoedt @rinalouu @sarawritestories @starryhiraeth @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @cumuluscranium @loneliestluvr @eternallyelvish @azrielsmate3 @daughterofthemoons-stuff @meritxellao @aria-chikage @hungryforbatboys @lilah-asteria @fandomrejects @sleepybesson @tayswhp @itsswritten @milswrites @littlest-w01f

[damn-stark]

Chapter 21 Icarus

Chapter 21 of Moonlight

A/N- Someone makes a special appearance in this chapter!

Warning- Swearing, talks of pregnancy, violence and blood, ANGST!!, fluff, SPOILERS FOR FUTURE EVENTS OF HOTD, USING FIRE AND BLOOD, LONG CHAPTER.

Pairing- Aemond Targaryen x Velaryon!fem-reader, Cregan Stark x Velaryon!fem-reader

Episode/Pages- 449-452

(If you want to be tagged let me know)

————

As if kept apart for years with just distorted words repeating in his mind, and only able to cling onto the ghost of your scent to try and keep your memory alive, when night falls and you’re laying in bed, Aemond holds onto your waist with a tight grip as if he faltered even a bit you would slip from existence. He buries his face in your lap and occasionally you feel wet kisses pressed against your flesh.

His demand to be clinging when you returned from scouting is not something that bothers you, you quite enjoy him not being able to be without you. You find solace in the warmth of his hand when you navigate through corridors, and feel giddy when you catch his lingering stares that burrow deep within you as if he’s trying to grasp the fact that you’re by his side.

It’s all so sweet and you love it when Aemond is sweet. Yet you can’t help but start to wonder why he hardly let you out of his sight since you returned from scouting.

“Is something wrong?” You finally break the peaceful silence and stroke his hair.

Aemond remains as he is for a moment before he just slightly tilts his head up to look at you between the strands of his hair that stick to his face. “Does there have to be something wrong for me to be this way with you? It’s not uncommon for us to lie like this.”

“I know,” you say softly as you gently tuck his hair behind his ear. “It’s just…I don’t know…I feel like something’s wrong with you. Are you okay?”

Aemond holds onto your gaze and tries to brush you off, but those three words seem to cause him to fight an inner conflict that makes his eye soften and then harden before a swift conclusion brings tears to his eye, causing your eyebrows to immediately furrow out concern while your breath hitches out of surprise because he’s being so expressive.

“Aemond?” You whisper and slide your hand down to cradle his cheek.

Said man slowly pulls his hands off your waist to grab your hand on his cheek and press a lingering kiss on the heel of your hand, making you grow even more concerned.

“Can I just look at you for a moment?” He asks and your eyebrows knit together before you lean toward him and probe.

“Aemond what is it?” You have to keep probing before your concern kills you, but your dearest husband just sighs deeply and continues with silence while he makes your hands slip off his face as he sits up with his head hanging low.

You want to keep pressing him with words, but you use a more desperate plea by brushing his hair back with your hands before you grab his face and find his gaze to plead that way. Desperately and deeply concerned.

Albeit Aemond presses his forehead against yours and draws in a deep breath with his eye closed.

“My love,” you coo, and he keeps quiet for a moment longer before he pulls back to face you and finally speak about what's troubling him so.

“You are…” he trails off in a whisper and his gaze slowly slides off you.

“Aemond,” you whisper.

Said man’s gaze slowly drifts to the corner of the room and remains in the shadows before he blinks and looks back at you with a more determined gaze.

“You are to remain out of war councils,” he speaks in a voice slowly lacing with a coldness so you know that this is no jest. “You are to stop dueling and scouting. And most importantly you will not under any circumstance take part in any battle be it in the sky, on the sea, or the ground.”

Your concern falls as you’re struck with disbelief. “This,” you stammer. “This is some jest.” You shake your head. “It has to be because—it’s not funny, Aemond.”

He clenches his jaw and averts his gaze as he shakes his head. “No, it is not some jest. It’s how things will be from now on.”

Your eyes widen with that same disbelief still running its course within you as it doesn’t fully hit you just yet that what he speaks of is real.

“You…” you trail off to slide off the bed. Aemond quickly mirrors you and follows after you as you stride away from the bed. When he captures your arm you turn around with a look of hurt painted on your face—“Am I not good enough? I can try harder, I can. Just…don’t make me stop.”

Aemond’s gaze softens again and he grabs you with both hands now.

“No,” he rebuttals right away. “It’s not that. You are great, but—”

“Is it what Ser Criston said in the corridor?” You cut him off in a sudden burst of anger. “Because if it is, he doesn’t know what he’s talking about. He’s just some low-life knight who doesn’t know anything about Targaryens.”

Aemond shakes his head and swallows thickly before he interjects to finally give reason to his decision. “It’s a decision I made myself because I don’t think it’s safe for you to be out there while you’re with child. It’s a war, not some game. I can’t put you at risk. I won’t.”

A flicker of hurt passes through you, threatening you towards using sorrow to argue back, but the anger and frustration burst through, drowning out the sadness that built up at his words since he knows that being cast aside is something that wounds you deeply.

“You,” you mutter before you yank your arms out of his grasp and push him back over and over again with each word that leaves past your lips. “It’s always you. You. You. You! What about me?!” You bark and push him back one more time before you stand up straight with your chest puffed out, your lips parted as you heave, and your gaze spewing rage and disbelief that still lingers within you. “What about what I want, huh?! What about what I want, Aemond!”

“I just want to protect you!” He counters back but not in the same anger you display, he just feels frustrated because you’re not understanding. “I’m protecting you, don’t you see that?!”

“I can protect myself!” You hit your chest. “You've seen that! You can’t make me stand idly by your side! I will not be gawked at! I can fight,” you cry. “I can do it! I am something, I am someone! I have,” you exhale. “I have proved it. I have.” You nod gently as you lose that rage and agony returns.

“I won’t lose you,” Aemond’s voice breaks whilst his gaze is pointed at you as he’s feeling nothing but determination to defend his decision even if you keep arguing. “I won’t. I cannot lose you!”

You take a moment to catch your breath and process the agony behind his own words. When you have somewhat calmed down you step toward him and look at him softly. “You won’t lose me. I’m here. I will always be here with you. I’m not going anywhere.”

Aemond drops his head and draws in a deep breath. “You won’t. That’s right,” he whispers before he brings his head up and looks at you with a narrowed look. “I already told you. You will not take part in any fighting of any kind, or any war councils. You will remain Princess Regent, but that’s all you’ll be, no more Blood Dragon or Fire Demon. I’m sure you can do a lot of Regent duties even from here.”

You nod gently and slowly lower your gaze to try and find your thoughts on the ground. Anywhere really. Yet all that you can come across is more disbelief that leaves you saying only one single word that holds no meaning. “Alright.”

You then shove past him and as you grab your robe he questions your actions that you hardly give any thought to. “Where are you going?”

You stride to the doors and give your answer to the moist air. “The Godswood. Can I do that?”

Aemond calls out your name to retort your sassy remark, but you just leave your quarters in a huff. When you’re in the corridor you take a torch from the wall and pace down the corridors like a ghost haunting the castle with your mind still focused on your argument, and don’t snap out of your stupor until you’re outside with your feet in the cold lakes shore.

The cold water forces you to take in your surroundings and wonder what changed and why so suddenly.

Is it really because of what he mentioned? Or is it something else? Something far more complicated like him not thinking you’re good enough.

Why?

You don’t—you can’t just sit by with a plastered smile watching as the world goes on living around you like you’re some caged bird. You have to be more than that right?

Or maybe you’re not. Maybe you’re forever destined just to be unremarked and not amount to a thing. Just a forgotten name with a forgettable face.

Is that all you are to this world? To everyone you cherish?

You are more than that…

Cregan would think so. But would he have done the same thing as Aemond? You have to wonder as you look across the lake with just the stars as your company, unbeknownst to the fact that on a small hill that overlooks the Gods Eye, the soul you think of has you in his mind and wonders when he’ll have to stop depending on just his memories to see you again. He wonders how you are after the death of your beloved brother, and if you’re okay; that one is heavy in his mind because there’s only so much he hears about you and it's never what he truly desires to know. And it’s not like you can send each other letters anymore.

Even if you are so close to one another during this tragic war, it still feels like the same distance between Winterfell and King’s Landing stands between you since letters can’t be exchanged, and neither of you can see face to face even if you are so close.

Memories are all you have, and it’s why you realize that Cregan wouldn’t be much different than Aemond. Cregan is protective too, more stubbornly so. Which is why it’s not like you can go to him either, you would be stuck in the same predicament.

And the same goes for your mother, so there’s truly nowhere you belong now—

Maybe at the bottom of that lake…

Nevertheless, because of the silence that surrounds you at night, it’s easy to catch the sound of footsteps approaching, and recognize that they’re lighter than Aemond’s would be, so it’s not him. It can only be a select few, so you turn around and your curiosity is answered when you see Alys approaching.

“It’s late, why are you not abed?” You break through the sound of crickets singing in the distance.

“I wonder the same thing about you,” she redirects and then falls by your side before she continues. “Troubles with your husband?”

You draw in a sharp breath and turn around before you exhale slowly and walk over to a large rock to sit on it. “Tell me why you’re still here Alys. You’re a witch, I imagine it’s easy finding ways to leave these wetlands.”

Alys mingles by the lake for a moment before she turns around and drags her feet toward you to sit on a lower rock next to you. “This is my home,” she puts it simply. “Where would I go?”

You glance across the lake with a longing look and sigh deeply before sharing the first place that comes to mind. A place you haven’t dreamt of going to in some time. “Yi-Ti. I heard it's beautiful there, full of wonderful and bad people alike. It’s somewhere far, where you can be something...”

Alys steals a look at you before she sits up and keeps her eyes on the horizon. “Have you considered it? You have a dragon and money that a lot of people only dream about. I imagine it would be easy for you too.”

You swallow back the lump that grows in your throat and nod slowly as you look up at the endless sky now. “I could go to King’s Landing and take my son and leave to never return. It would be easy, I could be something there that I’m not allowed to be here.”

Alys nods gently in comprehension. “But it would be selfish,” she says words that go against her nod, words that cut you deeply. “Leaving it all behind because of what? A disagreement.”

You scoff as you drop your head. “No,” you mutter. “It’s…you wouldn’t get it.”

“Perhaps so. Then leave.”

You don’t know her so you can’t take apart her words and understand if she’s leading you on or being serious. Thus you slowly raise your head to look at her, catching her gaze already on you with nothing but sincerity. She’s serious, she’s pushing you to do what you want and that slight pressure is what makes you falter. Just enough for her to pick you apart.

“Why is it that you’re so dedicated to your Prince?” She asks and looks with a slight smirk playing on her lips. “Your dragon is not chained and you’re not chained, you may leave whenever you desire. Yet even with your mother on that throne you still stick by him, why?”

It’s simple. The answer is quick to come to mind and slip past your tongue. “Because he loves me selfishly. All of me, the dark part of me. Because loving him is consuming in the best way possible. Because he understands the inner workings of my conflicted soul and to let him go…would be like losing a part of my soul.”

Alys sighs deeply and doesn't fret to speak boldly. “And what about the Wolf of the North?”

You blink repeatedly in disbelief, and there in the depths of your chest, where your heart used to be is a faint jolt. Be it nerves or some reconnection to what you thought was lost, you don’t know. All you know is that you feel it.

“He,” you whisper with no control of your words, it’s easy to speak to her. Even if you don’t know her you know for some reason that nothing you say will be spread like a disease. “He has this way that he looks at me…like no matter how dark, how far, or how many people may be swarming him he only has eyes for me. He will always find me. He looks at me like he’s found salivation, hope. Loving him is exciting,” your words come easy, and a faint smile tugs at the corner of your lips. “Maybe it was because it was a secret, but…I don’t believe that to be true.” You sigh shakily and drop your head once again.

Alys hums and gently hits the side of her thigh before she quips. “I don’t envy you. Loving two people sounds exhausting.”

You shake your head to contradict her and try to say it’s the farthest thing from the truth, but you don’t want her to ask you to pick one so you stay quiet. Not because it’s hard, it’s easy. You truly, honestly, and deeply love them both.

You do. It’s selfish, yes, but it’s true.

“You can’t leave,” Alys returns your conversation to what you were initially speaking of before she sidetracked you. “Not to Yi-Ti, and not to King’s Landing. Not yet.”

You drag your leg up to prop your elbow on your knee and rest your chin on your hand as you look at her with confusion. “Why is that?” You probe. “At least in King’s Landing, I can be with my son.”

Alys draws out deeply and slowly meets your gaze. “Because then all of that wisdom that I let you see will be for nothing…”

You blink slowly in disbelief and sit up as your face goes hard. “What do you mean?” You ask in a threatening manner.

“Just that. I let you see the truth about your father and your mother's plan. It was me,” she reveals, and it clicks. That’s why she was so familiar. That’s why it feels like you know her, because of that vision in the fire that she gave you.

“Why?” You deadpan without blaming her for anything. You’re honestly thankful that she let you see the truth.

“Because you would have died otherwise,” she shares, making you scoff—“And that can’t happen yet. I needed you to go down a different path in life.”

“You know,” you interject and get up to look at the stars with an inkling of frustration. “I am getting sick of people telling me I am going to die, and trying to save me from it.”

Alys follows you to your feet and takes a step forward to grab your attention and make sure you’re meeting her eyes and not lost in the stars as she reaches deep within her to share what you need to hear. So you know that you don’t need to exhaust yourself to prove yourself. So you can see clearly what you are, what people like Aemond and your mother see, but you don’t. She wants you to know who you have been all along.

“Listen to me, I know how you feel. I have lived a long time, I have gone through the trials you are facing in life, and it’s why I’m telling you that you need to stop thinking that you’re lesser than you are. It’s not true. I saw it, everyone that resides in this castle saw it, and you know it.”

Your eyes water and for the first time since Jacaerys died those tears break out and roll down your cheeks. “How do you know?” Your voice quivers.

Alys’ eyes dig deeper in your watery gaze to connect deeper with you so you know that every word that is going to come out of her is the truth. “I know because there’s already whispers about you traveling throughout the Kingdoms. They whisper about the Fire Demon born to the Queen. The Fire Demon who damned the Triarchy. Fear is gripping onto them because of you. Because of what you are and what you were gifted with. The Princess who rose from the ashes. A warrior and so much more.”

The corner of your lips twitch to a smirk, but that pride that starts to rummage within you doesn’t get a secure hold of you yet. Disbelief and confusion still linger.

“That’s who you are,” she presses confidently. “But not all you will be.”

You tilt your head up as you start to grow smug.

“You need only keep walking down that path, if you steer away because of your own doubt and insecurity you will lose and everything that you fear will come true.”

Self-doubt whispers in your ear to not trust her, it sinks its claws deep in your flesh and wants to sabotage you. It threatens to. “How do you know? How do you know I won’t steer? Hope?” Your doubt speaks for you, making Alys raise her head and scoff.

“Hope is folly. Hope doesn’t make change, we do.” She speaks with confidence laced in every single word, reassuring you, and fighting off that doubt that gripped onto you until you don’t even feel it linger. You trust her completely and get rid of that doubt you carried about yourself and that tormented you after your argument with Aemond.

Alys sees that with a glimmer in your eyes and her own smugness only heightens. And it’s also because you choose to trust her blindly that she steps back and points to the Godswood in the distance. “Come, I need you to see something.”

She walks ahead while you linger behind and look back at the lake with a flicker of longing to see those grey eyes that paid your mind a visit.

Yet you don’t linger behind too long, you catch up to Alys and she leads you right to the base of the Weirwood tree where you’re face to face with the weeping face, and hear it again. The whispers from before. And like the other times, they are incoherent, but louder and louder, urging you to reach for the white-wooded tree. Yet no matter how inclined you are to come in touch with the dripping sap your eyes are the only thing you keep on the tree.

That is until Alys’ cold hand wraps around yours and she lifts it for you.

“Are you sure?” You ask as you drift your gaze to the corner of your eyes, and all she does is hum her response before she connects the tip of your fingers to the crimson sap that falls down the white bark.

Right away the whispering is silenced and a soft humming fills your ears with a melody you recognize as a haunting one from the book of songs and ballads Aemond gifted you. It slowly grows louder and goosebumps slowly grow along your skin while the red sap that runs down the bark grows thicker and flows down faster, covering your hand completely before it drops on the ground.

You follow the substance down with your eyes and there reflected on the surface of the thick sap is a pair of eyes that are not yours. This pair of eyes are sharper, they carry a venom in the blue of their eyes.

You want to identify who it is. You want to narrow your gaze to see if the answer will become clear, but then the gaze turns away and disappears from the puddle of red sap. You quickly look up to try and catch who it is you saw, but suddenly you’re transported to a battlefield stained with splotches of thick blood, littered with bodies both cut up and burnt and lively with bodies still alive and fighting. Night is turned to evening, and the sun is a raging red with all the smoke that pollutes the sky.

The pair of eyes you saw reflected in that puddle of sap now has a womanly body with gold-silver hair gathered in a long braid. She carries the Valyrian sword, Blackfyre, in one hand that’s stained with blood, and carries another object in the other, but that’s something you don’t see, all you know is that it’s leaking blood and that you grow insatiably curious to the point that you follow the woman in a stomping stride.

However, when you reach a large boulder right in the center of the battlefield and catch up to the woman, she slowly starts to peer back, but you can't stop storming forward. You can’t stop. There’s a certain ferocity that fuels your blood, one so hot that you burn but don’t hurt. The burning is delicious and enthralling. When you get to the point that you go through the woman you were following, the woman that was guiding you to that boulder in the middle of the bloody battlefield, you can see in a pool of blood around your feet that who you see looking back at you now is yourself.

You can see yourself clearly in that pool of blood, donning a black chainmail gown with a gold chest plate slathered in blood. Meanwhile, your head is covered with gold chainmail, and over your face are blood-soaked chains that fall down your face like a bleeding veil, and don’t hide the venom in your eyes that matches the woman you can now identify as Queen Visenya Targaryen. She was the one guiding you here, through the thick of the battle, and now you took her place. Now you hold the blood-soaked sword and…a head.

It’s you. All you. It’s your future. It’s not something that’s said, but it is something you know for certain. This is you. You stand on the battlefield and you climb up the boulder dragging the tip of Blackfyre against the stone. When you reach the top you stand over a battlefield that’s a lot thicker and bloody, filled with large men with grey beards, and others that all fight under the same banner as you; the banner that belongs to your mother, the Queen.

Once again nothing is outright spoken to you, but you know the context deep within and you grow proud, just like you grow proud of the head you carry. Albeit unlike the knowledge just given to you, this time you can’t identify the head you carry. They have manly features so you know they’re a man, young too, with blond-silver hair, and one brown eye that stares off at the ground because the other has an arrow punctured through it. Which only feeds your curiosity, but you don’t grow ravenous to put a name to the face, you grow enthusiastic and malicious as you tilt your head up and face the army of men.

“The Daring is dead!” Your voice booms, and when the attention of your men is given to you, you throw your hand up to show off the head like a trophy and all the men cry out cheers.

“BLOOD DRAGON!”

“BLOOD DRAGON!” Is scattered around the field and more goosebumps grow along your skin.

“FOR—“ you cut yourself off as a large shadow is cast over you, and when you roll your head back to look up, you catch a small dragon torpedoing to you with its mouth open. Yet even if you see the dark she-dragon filling her mouth with fire as she comes at you, you don't run because you know Astraea is behind you and flying directly toward the threat to protect you. And you especially don’t try to take cover or shield yourself from the fire because you know you won’t burn. You welcome the rain of fire with a wicked smile.

Nevertheless, as the dragon fire bathes you, suddenly the hot blazing flames are not what hits you. Suddenly you’re smacked with a sharp and bitter coldness that forces you to turn your face away to shield your eyes.

After the breeze passes you slowly drop your hand, open your eyes, and get greeted with a fresh blanket of snow in every perimeter your eyes can see. When you fulfill your need to lift your head, you’re now hit with a wave of emotions that is not laced with venom; all the emotions are warm and blissful which make your heart swoon rather than race with malicious excitement because what you see is joy.

There’s no question about it. You’re overfilled with joy as you see a young man with dark brown curly hair wearing thick and warm winter clothes, and a thick grey fur cloak clasped over his back.

“Mother,” a soft voice speaks and you can’t help but gasp at the sound of his voice that you know deep in your bones does not belong to Aerion. This young man is different, younger than your Aerion, but he is still your…son. Your youngest boy. You know that, you feel that deep inside you. He calls out to you from where he stands in front of a large Weirwood tree in a familiar Godswood up North.

“My boy,” you whisper softly and he drops his clasped hands before slowly turning to you, causing your breath to catch in your throat when you meet his big soldem grey eyes.

“You…” he trails off and flashes you a charming smile. “Look at you.”

Tears fill your eyes and before you know it you march over to him and the first you do is grab his face. “Look at you,” you redirect and caress his cheeks, making him drop his head to hide his timid smile.

“<Please stop crying>,” he whispers in High Valyrian. “<We’ll meet again. When our time comes.>”

He lifts his head and his eyebrows furrow as his gaze grows just as serious as a man you know.

“<You look like your father>,” you comment as you study his face.

The young man scoffs and grabs your hands you keep on his face. “<Listen>,” he says and makes you find his gaze.

“<Let me look at you>,” you plead, making a warm smile melt that ice-cold expression. “<How can I see you again? How can I be certain that our paths will cross?>”

The same serious expression returns to his features as he gives you an answer. “<You must go home, mother. You will come across a crossroads again. You’ll know it when you get there, and when you do, you need to go home…back to her. That’s where you belong, she’s never forsaken you. Neither of them ever did.>”

You nod even if deep inside you don’t know if you mean it. How can you with the shattered heart that she took part in breaking?

“<After that you must deliver them to victory. Lead them. Be the great fire, for Winter is coming, Mother, and we need to light the way for The Prince that was Promised.>”

He then points his finger to the side and as you follow the direction he points to you don’t come across the thick of the forest that fills the Godswood, you see an endless dryland horizon that is cast by a blazing sun and there sitting in the midst of the drylands is a woman sat with no clothes, she’s nude, and giving her back to you.

Yet even if her back is to you, making her unidentifiable there’s a sense of familiarity—no, that’s wrong, you have seen her before in another vision. You know her. And this time she carries with her three hatchlings; a black, a green, and a cream-colored hatchling that all cling to her.

There she is, The Prince that was Promised. And then she isn’t. All of sudden you’re back in the cover of night at the Godswood of Harrenhal, feeling an emptiness, and a deep aching longing to be returned to your youngest son.

“Let me see him again,” you break the silence and spin around, coming face to face with Alys. “Please. One more time.”

Alys shakes her head stiffly. “No. You will meet again.”

You swallow back the lump that grows in your throat and even if you want to argue you just keep your head down and accept it, letting a silence seep in.

“You know what you must do. You know your place now,” Alys interjects as she reaches over and grabs your shoulder to make you slowly find her gaze.

“I’m a woman. How can I lead anyone?” You place doubt in yourself and your place.

“I already told you why you can lead. You know who you are at this point of our story,” she reassures you as she holds your gaze intently. “Don’t underestimate faith, Princess. They see you, the Princess unscathed by fire, and they see all their prayers answered.”

Without speaking a word you ask with your eyes alone if she’s sure, and without saying a word in return she looks at you with a hint of smugness mingling in her smirk.

You hold her gaze as you draw out a deep breath and push out all the lingering doubt with it to mirror her smirk in the darkness of the Godswood.

——

*4 MONTHS LATER*

It’s been four months of being in the Riverlands, at Harrenhal, which has not turned out to be so bad with Alys becoming your best friend. You’ve been inseparable since that night at the Godswood, much to Aemond’s dismay. And the only thing you can say since those four months is how much you hate about being away from Aerion for so long.

It’s been four months since you’ve seen his little face and his little smile, and it’s been four long months since you’ve heard a single word of him. All you know is that he’s 9 months old now and probably spoiled rotten by your mother. Vanessa hasn’t been able to send anything on any matter, nor can you send a raven asking for an update because of the tension between the fractions. You’re left in the dark with only Alys’ reassuring word as an offer.

She says you’ll see Aerion soon, and you believe her. You wish she could say more, you want to know more, but she can only tell you so much because she says that knowing too much of the future is a burden you don’t want. And you don’t argue about it either, you know Helaena, and you know how her dreams weigh down on her. And with everything already going on, you don’t want to carry that on your shoulders, so you don’t bother to ask about the future, it’s already changed you as it is.

You can’t say it hasn’t, because it has. It’s changed your fight. Once you fought for your own selfish desire to stay alive; and yes even now that instinct still resides within you, but there’s also something else that lives within you; a need to fight for something grander.

You must light the way and so you shall. That’s what you’re meant to do. That guarantees that the future of your house, your bloodline, and that of your family's bloodline, flourishes. That guarantees the birth of the Prince that was Promised. But how can you leave Aemond?

You could leave on top of Astraea any time you wanted, Aemond can’t chain her and he wouldn’t follow you to the Red Keep, but…you can’t find the need to leave him. You can’t part from him, and you can’t fathom the thought even if he’s changed as well.

Being at Harrenhal seems to have made Aemond paranoid, and more protective, and has him lost in thought a lot of the time which only leaves him more erratic. He’s more violent and prone to bursts of anger. Have you made it easier? You can’t say you have. You admit it. You’re still upset about what he forbade you from doing, of keeping you like a caged bird unable to be part of any war councils. You’re not riddled with those insecurities that once took a hold of you before, but he still has you trapped and estranged from anyone who wanders too close. You’re like his shadow, or some tapestry only good to admire. That’s what you are to him. All he lets you be to everyone accompanying you.

Yet that’s why it’s easier to hide in the shadows with Alys. No one bothers you there, only each other.

“You were right,” you tell her as you come to a stop on the balcony that overlooks that massive grande hall and see Ser Criston and Ser Gwayne preparing to leave with the army of men, but without Aemond and you.

It seems last night they had an argument about what it is that needs to be done. Food is starting to run short, horses and men are dying to sickness and hunger, and forging parties have to go past burnt fields and burnt towns alike to try and get what is needed.

Yet no matter how many forging parties leave, none return. And those Western men, well, Cregan and the Northman have really made a name for themselves when they joined forces with the Rivermen because they demolished the Western army. They took heavy losses, but at the end of the battle that the men call the Fishfeed, banners for the Queen are all that were seen.

You wish you could see the glory, but the best you could do was hear about the glory through the mouths of people who weren’t there, and Alys who paints a much more gloomy picture. Yet it’s through those words that you can say the Battle by the Lakeshore impacted your stance at Harrenhal; the glory that Aemond wanted to take from Daemon did not even grow twice the size, it was just a sad attempt that failed miserably.

And even then he refuses to leave, you can assume that’s why Ser Criston and Ser Gwayne are taking the army. There’s no need for you to be here anymore so you can only imagine they’re going to join the Hightower army now. If the Rivermen and the Northmen allow them to that is.

“You should bid your farewells,” Alys suggests as she stands by you and watches over the same scene below.

“Should I really?” You quip and press your hand on your swollen belly as you drift your gaze to focus solely on Aemond. And even if tension lies between you that has turned you both distant, you still look at him like he’s the brightest star in a sky littered with smaller and duller stars. You admire the way he stands so poised and has his jaw clenched, flexing his sharp features. You admire the way he silently damns the men with his pointed glare. And you smile softly like you do when you admire the brightest star; the morning and evening star.

“You know how much I detest Ser Criston,” you grumble to Alys. “I’m actually thrilled he’s finally leaving.”

“What of Ser Gwayne?” She then brings up. “He’s quite charming.”

You drift your gaze to her and slowly but surely realize she’s right so you push yourself away from the balcony and turn away, at that moment missing the way Aemond lifts his gaze and catches the way your gown twirls as you turn away. When you’re in the corridors and know that no soldiers are lurking in the shadows you interject. “Will it bode them well to leave?”

Alys’ gaze falls on you and she responds but with a question. “What do you think?”

You draw out a deep breath and share your running thoughts. “With the Northmen and Rivermen now standing triumphant, I’ll say they will be walking into a field of fire they won’t be able to evade.”

Alys stays quiet so you continue sharing your piece of mind. “If I had been at that council I would have advised them to do as Daemon did, take the host around the enemy and evade a fight to be able to join forces with the Hightower army. Lands there aren’t destroyed, there’s food and more horses for the taking.”

Alys turns her head as you do and you catch a proud smirk on her face, showing that she praises your response.

“Alas, you were not there. Don’t worry yourself of their struggles anymore,” she says as you both continue to look ahead.

Once you reach the great hall where Ser Criston, Ser Gwayne, and Aemond are, they all stop what they’re doing to give you their attention.

“I have come to bid my farewells,” you tell the pair of men ready to march. “Good luck in your battles to come, Ser Criston. I hope we see each other again,” you lie straight through your teeth and offer him a sweet smile before you glance at Alys to flash her sly smirk.

In return, she offers you a slight nod that you alone catch before you slide your eyes back to the knight and lift your hand to offer it to Ser Criston Cole.

The second the knight catches what you seek from him, his eyes find Aemond to speechlessly ask for an excuse to not do what you want from him and what will make him bow to you, but Aemond only backs up your request by lifting his chin and expecting the Knight to go ahead.

And thus, the Knight lowers his head from its ever so prideful hold, letting his gaze fall on your face for a second, and in doing so making you lift your nose in the air to show off your power over him because no matter if he’s a forced to be reckoned with and a legendary swordsman, all that amounts to nothing compared to you. You will always be above him in every way, and he hates that you are, he hates knowing it, and he hates seeing it on your face as you look down on him with the thick gold circlet around your head gleaming against the ray of sun that shines over you at that moment. As if the gods themselves approved of you’re holier than thou status in this world.

Then again, nothing outshines the wicked mischievousness that plays in your eyes as his gaze falls on your hand decorated with expensive rings. When he takes your hand he does so with the most delicate touch, not because he thinks you’re delicate, but because it’s eating at his pride. That’s why he's hesitant and slow as he bends down and presses his lips on your knuckles. All while you lower your head, making the chains attached to your circlet lightly clink against each other whilst your eyes show off the smugness you can’t show off with a smirk.

Once Ser Criston has done his part he pulls his hand away and stands to his given height. Yet you’re not done tormenting him yet. You proceed to step forward and press a light kiss on his cheek.

“Thank you, Princess,” he’s forced to say.

You pull away and offer him a teasing smile you manage to play off as sincere.

“Farewell, Ser,” you offer him one last time before you roll your eyes away and face Ser Gwayne with an actual sweet smile. “Good luck to you Ser. I hope you see many victories.”

Ser Gwayne offers you a warm smile and he willingly takes your hand to press a kiss on your knuckles before you offer him a gentle kiss on his cheek.

“Please tell Daeron we send our greetings,” you tell him before you go. “And that we’re looking forward to joining forces with him and Tessarion soon.”

“I will,” he assures you and presses his hand on your belly. “You take care, and learn a new song so I may hear it when we reunite.”

You flash him a grin and nod in agreement before you reach over to give his arm a squeeze and then step away. After you offer both men one last look you then turn with the intention to leave, but first steal a glance at Aemond, catching his gaze on you so you let your own gaze linger on him.

“Come find me at the Godswood later,” you break the silence that was between you. “Okay?”

A flicker of relief and shock flickers in his gaze as he’s not hesitant to nod in agreement, letting you offer him a genuine and sweet smile that he doesn’t take for advantage. He cherishes the smile you offer him, the smile now rare to see directed at him. A smile so captivating he can’t help but admire you and almost leave it all behind to follow your lead at that moment as you finally walk away.

Yet even if his body turns towards you as you get further and further away, he doesn’t follow after you, he stays put and keeps in mind your invitation to go find you later.

“Has there been a sighting of Sunfyre?” You ask Alys as you make your way to the Godswood while the men that occupied the castle slowly file out. “The Golden Dragon?” You clarify.

“No, not beside the time he flew away from Rook’s Rest.” She says news you already knew but still welcome to let an idea form in your mind.

“He lived by miracle, which is great, but we’ll have to kill him,” you mention your idea. “Or his rider. Whichever it is, we can't let them reunite. The Blacks may have the numbers, but a dragon with a dragonrider is still a threat. And with the crown having the people against them, regaining Sunfyre is an advantage we can’t have.”

“What do you suppose you can do from here?” Alys remarks, making you slowly look at her with an annoyed look before you scoff and retort.

“You want me to leave you alone?”

Alys tilts her head and her lips turn to a slight smile. “I could never forget you for as long as I live.”

“Memories don’t make you laugh. I make you laugh, me,” you quip and she scoffs before she leans towards you and bumps into your side.

“I already told you…”

“We’ll never be out of each other's lives,” you finish for her since she’s already assured you of that piece of the future. “I know, but…”

“You can’t avoid your mother forever,” she adds for you, making you drop your gaze as you keep walking—“it’s not possible with the state of things.”

“I can’t leave Aemond,” you mutter and look back at her with a conflicted gaze. “He needs me too. I need him.”

“What of your son?” She counters with a comment that makes you go quiet and sorrowful all the way to the Godswood, and when you’re sitting on a boulder a few feet away from the Weirwood tree.

You can't seem to break the solemn silence that Alys cast over you as all that occupies your mind is guilt for the little one who hasn’t felt his mother’s warmth in 4 months because you can’t stop being petty, and have all your attention centered on your husband.

Aerion deserves better than that. He deserves a mother who’s there for all his needs, for all his firsts as he nears one years old, but instead, you’re here still trapped and foolishly dedicated to a man you have a strain with. You’re being selfish and meanwhile, he’s growing up without you.

“Here.”

You lift your eyes off your hands and look up to see Ser Jason approaching you with a beautifully decorated cord in his hand—“So when you miss your son you have this to remember him by when you’re apart,” he continues sharing as he comes to a stop in front of you and shows off a beautiful cord decorated with beads, shells, and an orange pearl.

“I just know how much you long to see him again, and well I thought it would be nice,” he begins to ramble nervously. “My own mother made one for me so I could remember her when I was away. Of course, I was young but it was reassuring.”

You blink repeatedly as your cheeks begin to burn out of heartwarming disbelief. “Oh,” you gasp and carefully take the cord. “Thank you, Ser. How sweet,” you coo and gently brush your thumb over the enchanting orange pearl. “How beautiful. Are you sure? This pearl…it looks rare.”

Ser Jason nods rapidly and then takes a seat next to you. “Yes, I’m sure, and it is rare, but who better to have it than you?”

A smile creeps on your lips. “Thank you, Ser, you’re sweet. And,” you pause and swallow thickly, feeling that smile fall all too fast. “I’m sorry for having you stay here,” you finally address the guilt that you carry about him. “I know it’s not ideal, it's always so gloomy here, and resources are running scarce.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he lets the word slip, making you giggle which in turn causes him to catch what slipped out of his mouth—“Forgive me that’s no way to speak. Sorry.”

You shake your head. “Do not worry, Ser. It’s alright.”

Ser Jason keeps his eyes on you for a second longer as he quietly scolds you for not really correcting him the way you should, but since you don’t add on the matter he leaves it be and instead continues with what he was going to say. “I’m your sworn protector, my place is by your side even in the darkest of days.”

Your eyes soften and a smile slowly reappears on your face.

Yet like before the smile is all too short-lived when suddenly a booming voice rips through the Godswood. “YOU!”

Your eyes snap up and there stomping over is Aemond with rage twisting his face and keeping his focus locked on the man sitting next to you.

“Who do you think you are?!” He barks out. “Leave her alone!”

You stand to your feet and as you reach out to try and stop his blinding rage, Alys grabs your arm and pulls you towards her whilst Aemond reaches Ser Jason and rips him off his seat to drag him back against a wall.

“Aemond!” You bellow out. “Stop it!”

Said man wraps his hands around Ser Jason’s throat and slams his head against the stone wall, making your eyes widen with horror and confusion as to what brought this on. Ser Jason was only being nice, he wasn’t even touching you, he was just sitting next to you. That’s all!

“Aemond, leave him alone!” You try to get him away from your sworn protector, but it’s like he can’t even hear you, like once again he’s lost in a completely different world than yours.

“You’re nothing more than a bastard,” you hear Aemond sneer at your sworn protector. “You are nothing. You will never be anything, do you hear me? Do you?!”

Ser Jason manages to bring his hands up and tries to pull Aemond’s hands away, but your husband only tightens his hold, making the knight start to gasp for air.

“Do you think I’d let you get away with it?! Do you think I would let you hurt her?! Kill her?!” He keeps exclaiming and once again slams him against the wall so hard Ser Jason groans at the impact. “She’s mine,” Aemond growls. “I won’t let you hurt her!”

“Aemond!” You cry out and rip away from Alys to run over and try to pull Aemond off Ser Jason, but when Aemond feels your hands wrap around his hand he doesn’t even turn his rageful glare toward you. It’s locked on the man before him so he doesn’t see that it’s you, he just swings his arm back so hard that you lose balance and hit the floor on your side, feeling a flash of fear when you’re on the cold ground.

“Alys,” your whisper trembles and it’s at that moment when your voice hits his ears that Aemond snaps out of his blinding rage and finally sees you frozen on the ground, whilst the woman you called for rushes to your side and is quick with her efforts to help you.

“Here let’s get you up,” she insists in a hushed tone as she grabs your arm to help you to your feet. When she starts to be overbearing and examines your side, your fear slowly fades away and you’re left with a stinging pain on your side and palms.

Even then you try to play it off as you’re in disbelief as to what just happened. “I’m fine,” you try to assure her. “I think I just scraped my side.”

Alys doesn’t see any blood coming out from your sides, nor does she notice any coming out from between your legs so she then grabs your hands and yanks them towards her, noticing at that moment that your palms are the only ones that are bleeding.

“Not fine,” she quips.

You pull your hands away from her grasp and insist otherwise. “I am fine, just tend to Ser Jason. Please,” you press with both your words and your eyes.

Alys seems hesitant, but when she glances back at the man behind her standing in horrified disbelief as to what he caused, she gets the hint of what you want to do and does as you said.

However, even when she walks away with Ser Jason, you fail to face Aemond. Your mind is running wildly, bouncing from thought to thought and feeling to feeling as it’s all in shambles not knowing what to do or what to think next.

All that’s clear is that Aemond hurt you. He might have not meant it, but he hurt you. He did. And it might not hurt, it may not scar like when he accidentally slashed your cheek, but the scrapes sting and you remember the short-lived fear that you had because of the twins you’re carrying.

“I…” Aemond trails off and you hear him stepping toward you. “Are you okay?”

Those words. Those damn words always work to bring out your emotions and this time it’s no different. Yet rather than feeling cared for when he asks, you instead feel…anger. Anger that only heightens when you finally look up and meet his gaze filled to the brink with tears, worry, and guilt.

“I…” he trails off again and once again he steps towards you, but this time without stopping. He reaches you and his eyes wander your body for any blood. “I didn’t see you. I didn’t know…I,” his words quiver and he finds your gaze, finding nothing more than anger in your eyes. There’s no warmth that lets him feel reassured, that lets him know you’re truly unaffected by the accident. All your anger is accumulated in your eyes at this very moment and it all stares right back at him in the face. There's not even angry words that escape you that help him work this out, which actually tells him a lot more than words ever could.

At this moment, as you glare at him, and he looks at you, he sees a decision. He sees the path that you both walked down hand in hand coming to a crossroads and breaking you apart by your choice alone. If it was up to him he would always choose to walk down the same path hand in hand, but he sees as clear as day that you’re drifting down a different path.

“I’m returning to Aerion,” is all that your anger lets you say, and it’s all that you actually want and need to say to express your resolve.

There’s no more confusion or disbelief. Only anger and resolve. Where there was once hesitance to leave Aemond, now there’s an urgency to leave. Which is why you swiftly spin around and storm away toward your quarters to try and get the belongings you can carry. You’ll have Ser Jason bring the rest by horse. You just can’t and won’t stay. No matter how much he starts pleading and spewing out apologies.

“You cannot go, your place is here with me,” Aemond says after you, but you don’t respond, you just pick up your pace.

“Are you listening?” Aemond calls out in response to your silence. “Where will you go?!”

“To my mother,” you snap back, making him lunge forward to grab your arm and turn you around to face him.

“You will be a traitor,” he sneers with his anger returning but faltering all in the same while.

“Then kill me. You can’t burn me, so you will have to kill me, Aemond,” you counter spitefully before you tilt your head and become bold. “Because I am a traitor. Before I found out my mother lied I was sending her letters about the plans you and your Green council made.” You snicker and feel a smirk twitch on your lips. While Aemond blinks in disbelief and lets you go as he tries to search in your eyes if you’re lying just to have him let you go, but all he sees is sincerity. You’re speaking the truth and when he realizes that his lips part and a breath escapes him.

And even if the sadness in his eye makes you falter, and aches your own soul, you don’t let it take over. You can’t stay a moment longer, this is not your place anymore. Not after what he did, so after a deep breath you slip away from his hold and return to your raging path.

Once you reach your chambers you don’t hear him after you so it’s easy to collect your immediate belongings and stuff them in a bag. He’s not trying to stop you like before, he’s not snatching your things out of your hands so it’s all easy.

However, as surprised and relieved as you are that there’s no fight. It was too easy indeed because the moment you turn around with the intention to walk out, the door is slammed shut and you hear a key turn before you hear something blocking the door. And since only one person was after you trying to stop you from leaving, you realize your revelation didn’t affect Aemond the way you wanted it to. He didn’t care in the grand scheme of things.

“Aemond,” you call out with confusion and drop the bag to run to the door and try to open it, but it’s locked and you’re met by an overpowering force. “Aemond?” You call out again desperately.

“I…had an inkling you were never loyal to our side. Not until you found out the truth,” his voice travels through the wooden door. “You always detested Aegon, and I always knew you had a blinding loyalty toward your mother, so as shocking as it is to hear you admit it, I expected it.”

You try to open the door again but when you’re met by the same force you tap the door with your palms. “Then just let me go. Aemond, please.”

Something presses against the surface on the other side before he speaks softer. “That was in the past, It doesn’t bother me all that much. What bothers me…what I cannot stand is you leaving, because if you leave and something…happens when I’m not there to help you I’ll lose you…” he trails off and a thump hits the door. “I don’t want to lose you.”

“Aemond,” you whimper and drop your forehead against the door. “Please, my love. Please don’t lock me in here.”

“I will leave men here to make sure that nothing happens to you and make sure that you stay here. They will also guarantee that the witch brings you food and cleans what it is that needs cleaning while I’m out okay?” He says through the door. “I’ll return soon.”

Your eyebrows furrow. “Where are you going?” You query.

Silence follows for a moment before he responds. “We’re surrounded by traitors. It’s time they pay the price, and once word reaches Rhaenyra of what is happening, Daemon will come to meet me so I stop burning their allies' lands. That’s when I’ll finally rid this world of my uncle's existence. We can win after that.”

“Aemond,” you cry out as you shake your head against the door. “Please, please don’t do this. Please.”

You hear him sigh before he speaks quietly. “I love you. There’s no one I love or could ever love more than you. It’s why I’m doing this. It’s for your own good.”

Tears slip out of your eyes while your chest clenches as you start to realize that nothing you say will change his mind. All the pleading will amount to nothing at this moment in time because he believes that what he’s saying is right. He believes that he is doing right by you.

But he’s only hurt you more, doesn’t he see that? Doesn’t he hear it in your desperate pleas?

“Aemond,” you whimper.

Said man doesn’t respond with words, his shadow lingers under the door frame before it departs as you hear his footsteps recede.

“Aemond?!” You call out louder and pull your head away from the door. “Aemond?!” You cry out with tears streaming down your cheeks. “Aemond! Let me out! Let me out! Please! Let me out damn it!”

Yet no amount of shouts or desperation changes his mind. He leaves you trapped in your chambers. He leaves you alone in Harrenhal as he mounts Vhagar and ascends the skies without you.

.

.

.

.

Tagged- @namelesslosers @stargaryenx @chainsawsangel @lauftivy @winxschester @cloudroomblog @llarue @padsdarlg @sofietargaryen @gracielikegrapes @dreaming-of-the-reality @itzelpeyton @patdsinner33 @mrsdominickstark @elaena-aerrin @todoroki-slut @snh96 @urmomsgirlfriend1 @nifujiswhore @sweethoneyblossom1 @kaetastic @lightdragonrayne @squidscottjeans @oh-you-mean-me @wallacewillow0773638 @icefrye19 @thescottpack @fiction-fanfic-reader @crazymusicgirl104 @r-3dlips @strangersunghoon @just-pure-trash @ethereal-athalia @missyviolet123 @callsignwidow @xunquish-blog @tabathastan @weepingfashionwritingplaid @answer-the-sirens

[taeminsung]

♡ ˚⁎⁺˳ ── enchanted..

pairing ||  minho x reader summary || when a change in his usual routine meant meeting you, minho couldn't help but be enchanted to meet you. genre/s || love trope. fluff. romance. angst. trope || love at first sight masterlist || stray kids as love tropes mina’s notes ||  sorry for the delay! life was hectic and writers block sucks. please enjoy ♡ 

Routine was something Minho thrived in. Something about the consistency of his day in the mornings caused the inner calm to be brought to the surface before the hectic schedule of his afternoons and evenings made his peace disappear. It’s why he loved the short walk to the same coffee shop with Seungmin where they ordered their usuals, before heading off to the company building.

Until the day he walked into the café with Seungmin in toe, that his life changed without him knowing it. The sound of an unfamiliar voice filled his ears, what can I get started for you? it asked. So quickly did his attention snap to you, someone new to the place he made a part of his life. When his eyes finally landed on you, your smile took his breath away. It melted away something in his chest that he didn’t know existed. You were like a ray of light in the darkroom that he’d been stuck in for some time. Excuse me? your voice rang out again, softer this time. Seungmin nudged him with a knowing smile before placing their usual order and pulling his older brother away from the forming line.

When schedules pulled them out of their usual routine, Minho couldn’t stop the small frown that kept appearing on his face in between the different activities. Why wouldn’t he stop his mind from drifting back to you? The encounter with you didn’t last more than a few minutes, yet he thought back to your smile and soft voice. The color of your hair and how it framed your face. Minho wanted to know more about you. What were your hobbies? Did you listen to their music? Catching the eyes of Seungmin in the mirror, he only grew more frustrated at himself knowing that once this small break was over, the same conversation with his younger brother would be brought back up.

On the next flight, he couldn’t stop kicking himself once he realized that he never caught your name either. How could something he deemed so small be the only thing that consumed his mind outside of lyrics and choreography? What was it about you that kept him in this state? The lingering questions kept him up. Did you recognize them? Was there someone else in your life that you care for? What else did you do? Minho would ponder these questions while he finally got to lay in his own bed wide awake, cursing himself because he knew that the schedule would continue to take him away from you.

Why wouldn’t he bring himself to stop thinking about you? All he could dream about was showing up at your door, flowers in hand, confessing to you all the thoughts that occupied his mind since that moment he laid eyes on you. Maybe it was for the better, this, longing love for someone he didn’t even know, but that didn’t stop him from imagining what your lives would be like together. Tossing and turning, he pulled out his phone to see their schedule for the next few days, only signing when he realized how much they had going on. What if the small opening at the end of the week allowed him for a fast stop at the café just to see you for a second. Yeah, he was out of his mind.

Opening the door, the next morning, he felt the bubble in his chest seconds before your voice rang out into the quiet space. He knew it was early when he dragged Seungmin out the door, but he didn’t want to miss the chance to see you. You should ask for their name, Seungmin had suggested on the walkover. When Minho saw the same smile as before etched on your face as you greeted them asking again what you could get started, he melted a little bit. Without answering your question he instead replied with, What’s your name?, leaving Seungmin to scoff in disbelief. The soft giggle you let leave your lips made Minho’s knees grow weak as you answered, y/n, bowing slightly to him.

While Minho monitored the member's dance practice, he couldn’t focus as all that possessed his mind was you. y/n he thought. A pretty name to match the pretty face. He was going crazy. His mind wouldn’t let him do anything besides daydreaming about what a future with you looks like. Yet, he knew that Chan was about three seconds away from smacking him or kicking him out of practice until he could be fully invested. Why did you have this effect on him?

Minho’s new routine was getting to the café a little earlier than he did before to ask you one new question a day as a way to get to know you. It was obvious to everyone that he was putty in your hands while you pondered his questions every day, indulging him in making sure that no answer was a one-word answer even though you could have easily replied that way. Was this feeling mutual? What was he feeling? When you smiled at him, all he wanted to do was gift you the world. When you giggled at something he said, all he wanted to do was kiss you.

When an off day finally arrived, Minho followed his usual schedule of going to the café to see you, only to find that you weren’t there, which was the first time since he’d met you that you were there. You had become such a constant part of his days that it felt like everything in this day would go wrong. Making it back to the dorm, he watched as the others shuffled around, filling a picnic basket with food and collecting blankets. We wanted to hang out by the river today, Felix said as he ushered Minho back out the door. The other members are going to meet us there, Felix happily provided more information as he continued to push Minho down the street.

As they approached, Minho couldn’t help but think this would be a great place to take you on dates. Lounging with you, head cuddled into his lap while he plays with your hair, enjoying the weather and the company of each other. So badly did he realize that if he wanted all of these moments, he kept dreaming to come true, he needed to find time to confess to you.

A soft giggle floated across the open space between the rest of the boys and him, bringing his attention back from his daydreams to, well you who was sitting with Seungmin. His feet stopped working as he stared at you. The way you seemed to be glowing under the sun as your laugh caused your eyes to close while you tipped your head back. Gods you were breathtaking. An angel on this earth was placed into his life to bring joy back into it. Seungmin invited them, Hyunjin said as he appeared out of nowhere to grab a few things from Felix. Said something about not wanting to get up so early anymore. Felix just laughed as he continued walking past the stunned Minho. Truly he didn’t know if he wanted to smack his younger member or thank him a million times over again for this.

Then your smile turned towards him as you waved over his way, causing his feet to move without thinking about it. His hand extending down to you before asking, walk with me for a minute? A shy smile pulled at his lips when your hand slipped into his and didn’t let go once you were standing and walking with him. Hope bloomed in his chest that maybe, just maybe, you felt the same way too. Stopping near the edge of the river, he finally turned to face you. The person he was so madly head over heels for. I’m glad Seungmin invited me out, you said looking out over the water, I haven’t made a lot of friends since moving here, so it feels nice to be included. Oh, how his heart ached. He couldn’t understand how someone like you hadn’t made friends yet, but he was practically glad for this little selfish moment of getting you.

I’m more than happy you could come, Minho started, pausing when you looked at him, a smile spread on your face. He felt weak in the knees just looking at you. How had you already made him this crazy over you when he hadn’t even confessed yet. I like you, he blurted out, I have since the moment I met you.

It felt like he no longer had control of his tongue or thoughts. The first day we went into the café, I was so enchanted by you. You are all I can think about in every moment. The words kept coming out of him with no sign of slowing down. Only becoming easier when the look in your eyes seemed to encourage him to continue. I just kept hoping that our story didn’t end there, Minho said before whispering, I just hope you feel the same. Slowly your fingers laced with his, tugging him slightly close to where you stood. I was over the moon when Seungmin invited me because it meant I got to spend time with you outside of the café, you said quietly, I’ve liked you since the moment you walked through the café doors.

The hope that was blooming in his chest burst, forcing him to smile while ducking his head. There it was. The words he so desperately wanted to hear. You like him, he thought before looking back to your face and gently tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. Can I kiss you?

from mina with love ♡ ˚⁎⁺˳ ── thank you for reading! ♡ tag list || @orchid-mantis-petals; @i-dontevenknowman; @deadcrow-donteat; @turtledove824; @hhwangsmoon; @kidrauhlschik; @jazziwritesthings

[elysiaheaven]

𝗛𝗮𝗽𝗽𝗶𝗹𝘆 𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿 𝗮𝗳𝘁𝗲𝗿..? -𝟯𝟬-(The Fox's Wedding)-End ?

The day came when you were supposed to be discharged. The room was quiet, the air still, when Bailu entered, her small figure barely making a sound. She approached your bed, eyes bright with hope. "Are you awake?" she whispered, peering closely at you.

But before she could get a proper answer, your instincts took over. Panic swelled within you, and without thinking, you tore yourself from the bed and ran. You didn’t know where you were going, only that you couldn’t stay. Not like this.

Later, Feixiao received word that you had disappeared. She listened carefully as the messenger explained what had happened, her expression calm yet unreadable. "So, she ran away again…" She leaned back, arms crossed, her eyes narrowing in thought.

One of the knights beside her shifted uneasily. "Should we send someone after her, General?"

Feixiao shook her head slowly, a thoughtful look crossing her face. "No… let her be for now. Y/N needs to decide what she wants for herself today. Maybe this is her way of finding her answer."

She gazed out of the window, her mind heavy with concern but understanding. "Sometimes, people need to run before they can face the truth."

Jiaoqiu sat in his recovery bed, the faint light from the window barely making a difference to his sightless eyes. His once sharp gaze was now a thing of the past, but his other senses were heightened. He could feel every shift in the air, hear the softest rustle of the leaves, and, more importantly, he could sense the emptiness in the room—your absence.

Rayne had just delivered the news, her voice hesitant, as if she were unsure how to tell him that you had run away.

He tilted his head slightly, a small, weary smile forming on his lips. “Such a devious little kitsune…” he said, his voice low but filled with a strange affection. “Always slipping through fingers like sand.”

His hand lifted to his face, tracing the bandages over his eyes. Even though he couldn’t see, he felt you in his mind, as if you were still lingering close, as if you were just out of reach. He knew you ran because you were scared, perhaps even ashamed. But he didn’t blame you. How could he? He understood the pain you carried, the burden of your existence.

“You’ll come back to me,” he murmured softly, his voice carrying a certain patience, as if he had all the time in the world. “It will take time… but you will.”

He leaned back into the bed, sighing deeply. There was no rush. He had been through so much already, and so had you. You were both scarred in ways no one could truly understand, but he wasn’t worried. You would return, as you always did, like a fox returning to its den.

“Feixiao tells me you’re healing… slowly, but surely,” Jiaoqiu continued, as though speaking to you directly, despite the distance between you. “Maybe you’re out there… running, hiding. But I know you’re trying to find yourself.”

He smiled again, the expression soft but full of understanding. “I’ll wait. We still have time.”

He rested, his thoughts wandered to the letter you had written, the words you had left for him. He had not been able to read them himself, but he had heard them—your voice, so full of emotion, so full of something he couldn’t quite place. He clung to those words, knowing that they were his connection to you, a promise yet to be fulfilled.

“Come back when you’re ready,” he whispered, closing his eyes, sinking deeper into the quiet darkness. “We still have so much to say… and so much more to live for.”

A few days passed.....

It was confirmed...Jiaoqiu's eyesight can't be cured. Even if it's cured it would be only temporary plus, these are not advised for long-term species..

And he was unfortunately a foxian.

Feixiao met him, As he was hearing the sound of waves to...give him her promise.

An eye for a eye.

Jiaoqiu's mind was filled with something else too.

You.

"General, Can you..tell about her...medical report?"

She hesitated but Jiaoqiu wanted to know everything in full detail.

Feixiao read from the health report, her voice growing heavier with each passing line. She described the extensive damage: deep cuts, wounds that had left marks of immense suffering. Each detail was a testament to the severity of the injuries and the relentless pain endured. The gravity of her words was clear, each one weighed down by her sorrow.

When she reached the section detailing the poison, Feixiao’s voice faltered. The report spoke of the poison’s cruel effect—how it slowly and painfully ravaged the patient’s insides. Feixiao’s eyes filled with unshed tears, her distress palpable as she continued, her voice quaking with the weight of the revelation.

Jiaoqiu's reaction was immediate. His hand went to his head, clutching it as if to steady himself against the crushing realization. The poison’s grim effects had struck him deeply. He looked away, unable to confront the full reality of what Feixiao was revealing.

In the silence that followed, Jiaoqiu asked quietly, his voice almost a whisper, "Did she really take poison too?" The question hung heavily in the air, laden with disbelief and despair. His gaze was distant, lost in a maelstrom of regret and sorrow.

He then turned further away, his expression one of profound self-reproach. His internal struggle was evident, and he questioned in a choked voice, "What kind of man am I?" The question was a desperate plea for understanding, a reflection of his deep-seated remorse over the suffering that had unfolded.

Feixiao's heart ached as she watched Jiaoqiu struggle with the weight of guilt. She took a deep breath and spoke softly, her voice steady despite the storm of emotions raging within her.

"It wasn't your fault, Jiaoqiu. None of this is on you." She tried to offer him comfort, to lift the heavy burden he was placing upon himself. Her words, however, seemed to fall on deaf ears.

Jiaoqiu remained silent for a long moment, his hands still cradling his head, eyes closed as though blocking out the reality of the situation. Finally, he spoke, his voice low and filled with weariness. "I… I just need to be alone right now, Feixiao. Please." The words came out strained, each syllable laced with exhaustion, as if he had fought this battle a thousand times within himself.

Feixiao hesitated, torn between leaving him to his thoughts and staying by his side. "We haven't found her yet…" she said quietly, her eyes searching for any sign that he had heard her. "But I know she’s out there… watching, somewhere. Stalking. Always watching."

Unbeknownst to them, you were indeed there, lurking in the shadows, watching the entire exchange unfold. Your gaze remained fixed on Jiaoqiu, your heart caught in the same torment that haunted him. Every word, every movement was etched into your mind as you observed from afar, torn between the urge to reveal yourself and the need to remain hidden.

You kept your distance, carefully avoiding being seen, yet your presence lingered like a specter in the background. Watching. Waiting. Stalking.

You couldn’t stay away any longer. Each step forward, though painful, pulled you closer to him. Even though Jiaoqiu could no longer see, he recognized you instantly—your uneven footsteps, the way you groaned quietly with every step, the sound of your labored breathing. It was as if his senses had adjusted to your presence, like he could feel you coming before you even got close.

"You… Where were you?" His voice was soft, heavy with relief, yet tinged with an unspoken worry.

You hesitated for a moment, standing just a few feet away. The pain in your body was nothing compared to the turmoil inside your heart. "I… I couldn’t be here," you whispered, your voice trembling. You started to turn away, wanting to retreat back into the shadows, but before you could take another step, Jiaoqiu’s voice stopped you.

"I’m glad you’re alive," he said, his voice steady, though laced with a sadness that broke you. "But… I was a mistake." His words came out in a breathless sigh. "I promised to protect you, to take care of you, and now look at me. I’m blind… I can’t do anything for you anymore. I can't even look at you to see if you're alright."

He held his head in his hands, fingers running through his hair in frustration. "If I’m such a mistake… if I’m so ugly in your eyes now…Is that why haven’t you hugged me yet?" His voice cracked on the last few words, a vulnerability in his tone that shook you to your core.

That was all it took to break the dam inside you. Tears spilled down your cheeks as you rushed toward him, wrapping your arms around him from behind. You buried your face into his shoulder, sobbing as you clung to him tightly. "Jiaoqiu… I love you," you cried, your words coming out between broken breaths. "I love you… I always have."

Jiaoqiu froze for a moment, as if stunned by your words, before slowly relaxing into your embrace. His hands reached up to touch yours, holding them gently. Even though he couldn’t see, it felt...connected.

You backed away slowly, your hands slipping from his grasp. The warmth of your touch left him, and Jiaoqiu, sensing the sudden absence, whispered desperately, "Without your touch..." His hand reached out blindly, trying to pull you back toward him, but you stepped farther away.

"No!" you screamed, your voice filled with anguish. "It's because of me you ended up blind!" You held your head in your hands, trembling, overwhelmed by guilt. Every part of you ached, not just from your wounds but from the weight of what you believed you had caused.

"Stop blaming yourself," Jiaoqiu’s voice broke through the air, filled with pain, but there was something firm in his tone. "It’s not your fault."

But his words couldn’t reach you. Your mind was spiraling, consumed by the idea that you had ruined him. "No, no, no," you murmured, rocking slightly as tears streamed down your face. And then, suddenly, an idea formed—a desperate, wild idea. You gasped, clutching your chest.

"Jiaoqiu," you cried out, your voice frantic, almost manic. "There’s still time! You can heal yourself... It's not over yet!" Your eyes widened with a twisted kind of hope. "There's still one more day... one more day before the 20 days are up. I’ll ask Feixiao... I’ll ask her to kill me. If she feeds my soul to you, you’ll live! You’ll be healed... You’ll eat again, see again, heal others again!"

You were smiling now, even as tears continued to flow. The idea seemed like salvation, a way to undo the damage, to give him back everything he had lost. You rambled on, the words spilling out as if they were your last lifeline.

Jiaoqiu remained silent, his face unreadable. His lips parted slightly, and when he finally spoke, his voice was low and cutting. "You really are the goddess of betrayal," he said, almost bitterly, shaking his head. "You’d sacrifice yourself without even asking... And you think I’d accept that?"

You froze, staring at him through tear-blurred eyes, not understanding, not comprehending why he was rejecting your plan. "But... you could be whole again," you whispered, almost pleading. "You could—"

"Is that what you think I want?" Jiaoqiu interrupted, turning his face away from you, his expression distant, filled with sorrow. "What did you see when you decided I would want to devour the person I love...?"

Your voice cracked as you asked, painfully, "Why are you doing this?" The confusion in your eyes was unbearable, but the weight of his words lingered heavily in the air. "What do you mean by calling me the goddess of betrayal? Am I really that…?"

He sighed deeply, his face filled with sorrow, but he stood firm. "Yes," he said quietly, almost like a whisper, "you are… but not in the way you think."

"Stop," you pleaded, shaking your head, unable to bear the truth behind his words. "Please… stop."

But he wouldn’t. He couldn’t. "How long are you going to keep betraying yourself?" Jiaoqiu’s voice rose, but it wasn’t out of anger—it was pain. "Your feelings, everything you are… you're betraying it all."

His words struck deep, and you staggered back, trembling. "I'm not… I'm just trying to fix things!" you cried out. But Jiaoqiu’s expression softened into something unbearably sad as he stepped closer to you.

"And if you keep doing this…" he paused, his voice thick with emotion, "you're not just betraying yourself… you’re betraying everyone around you."

He closed the distance between you, and his hand reached for yours, even though he couldn’t see. "Do you really want me to live in agony? To know that the last thing I ever saw was you… in a bloodied, broken version of yourself?"

You couldn’t answer. You felt the weight of his words crushing you.

"I would rather be blind," he continued, his voice now softer, full of a resigned tenderness, "and just listen to you—hear your voice, your heart—than live knowing that you died… for me."

His words shattered you. You choked back a sob, realizing how deeply he felt for you, how much he didn’t want to see you gone. You collapsed, your legs giving out beneath you as tears fell harder than ever. All this time, you had thought sacrificing yourself was the answer, but in his eyes, it was the ultimate betrayal. You hadn’t just betrayed him—you had betrayed the love that still existed between you.

Jiaoqiu knelt beside you, reaching blindly for your trembling form. He pulled you into an embrace, resting his head against yours as you cried into his shoulder. "Please… don't leave me," he whispered, the pain in his voice cutting through every other sound. "I don’t need you to heal me, Y/n… I just need you."

Jiaoqiu, holding you close, felt the weight of your despair. His voice, strained and gentle, broke through the turmoil of your thoughts. "Why do you want to die?" he asked, his hands trembling slightly as they rested on your shoulders. "Tell me."

You sobbed, trying to make sense of the pain and guilt that overwhelmed you. "I killed everyone who trusted me," you cried out. "I couldn't save them. I couldn’t be useful. I couldn't be of any help to anyone."

Jiaoqiu’s grip tightened, his breath hitching as he fought against his own rising anguish. "Stop wanting to die," he pleaded softly. "You deserve to live. More than those who tormented you, more than those who hurt you."

Your cries grew more desperate, your voice raw with emotion. "I'm a mistake. Look at yourself—you're in such a worse state because of me. It's all my fault. I made a mistake, and it’s eating me alive."

Jiaoqiu's expression hardened with determination. "No," he said firmly. "You didn’t do anything wrong. This was my fault, not yours."

He pulled you into a tighter embrace, as if trying to shield you from the weight of your guilt. "You need to understand," he said softly, "if you want to pass away, I will respect that decision. But if there is still a part of you that wants to live…"

He paused, his voice breaking as he leaned in to kiss you. The kiss was tender, full of unspoken promises and shared pain. When he pulled away, his eyes, though blind, seemed to see into the depths of your soul.

"In that case," he whispered, his voice gentle and filled with hope, "will you still consider living? Will you marry me? Let’s have a proper wedding this time. A good one."

Your tears mingled with his, you gently pressed your forehead against his, feeling the warmth of his breath against your skin. The intensity of your emotions was palpable, and you took a deep, shuddering breath before speaking.

"Jiaoqiu," you said softly, your voice trembling with emotion, "if you want to get married, you have to let me take care of you. I need to be there for you, to heal you."

His face a mix of pain and tenderness. "But I might be a chore," he replied, a hint of a smile playing on his lips despite the gravity of the situation.

You couldn’t help but let out a gentle laugh, a sound filled with both sadness and relief. "We’re both stubborn," you said, your voice breaking slightly as you continued, "neither of us wants to accept help because we don’t want to be a burden. But maybe… that’s why we’re perfect for each other."

You leaned in and kissed him tenderly, your lips brushing against his with a mixture of love and sorrow. As you pulled back, you saw his ears perk up, his expression softening as he took in your words.

"Let me take care of you," you whispered, your voice filled with both resolve and affection. "If you let me, we can get married. Let's heal together..."

Jiaoqiu’s arms wrapped around you, holding you close as you both took in the moment. The weight of your shared struggles seemed to lift slightly as you embraced, the two of you finding solace in each other’s presence.

You nuzzled closer to Jiaoqiu, your voice barely above a whisper but filled with nervous joy. "Am I still your wife?"

A small, tender smile tugged at the corners of his lips. "Yes," he replied softly, his voice warm and full of affection.

Overwhelmed, you wrapped your arms around him in a tight embrace, holding him as if you’d never let go. The love you both shared felt even more profound now, having weathered the storm of suffering, and found each other again.

With a newfound determination, you tried to stand up, eager to move forward—quite literally—with him. But your legs, still weak from all you had endured, betrayed you, and you wobbled. Jiaoqiu instinctively reached out to catch you, but with his sight gone, he too lost his balance. Both of you fell, landing in a gentle, tangled heap on the ground.

For a moment, there was silence. Then, you both started to laugh, soft chuckles at first, then louder, more genuine. It was a release, a shared understanding of how far you'd come, even if the path ahead was still fraught with obstacles.

"We have a long time to practice, don’t we?" you said, your voice filled with lightness despite the gravity of the moment.

Jiaoqiu smiled, nodding slightly. "Yes, we do. But we’ll get there."

You leaned forward, a playful glint in your tear-stained eyes. "There’s nothing that would make me happier than helping you. It’s my turn now, Jiaoqiu." Your words held a tenderness, a love that ran deeper than any trial you had faced.

You caught his hand in yours, guiding his fingers through your touch, your warmth. You stood, determination in every step, and turned to face him. "Trust me," you said, your voice steady, full of conviction.

Jiaoqiu hesitated for only a moment, his hand gripping yours a little tighter. Then, he nodded, his trust in you complete, his heart open.

Slowly, you led him forward, his steps unsure at first, but with each movement, you both found a rhythm. There was no rush. The road ahead was long, but you were walking it together. You smiled, knowing that now you had the time—time to heal, time to love, and time to rebuild a future where you could both finally find peace.

Bailu carefully wrapped bandages around you, her gentle touch contrasted with the sharp pain you felt. Each layer was a reminder of your struggles, but also of your resilience. The bandages covered your neck, arms, and feet, a protective cocoon that made you feel both vulnerable and strong.

Once she finished, you donned your kimono, the fabric soft against your bandaged skin, a symbol of renewal and hope. You glanced at Jiaoqiu, who stood beside you, his expression calm but filled with unspoken worries.

"Shall we both seek the road of love we lost sight of?" you asked, your voice steady and inviting.

His lips curled into a small smile, one that filled your heart with warmth. "Sounds like a plan," he replied, his voice laced with determination.

Taking his hand, you guided him gently, your fingers interlocking like a promise. With each step, you could feel the bond between you strengthening, a thread woven from shared pain and healing.

Together, you made your way out of the hospital, stepping into the world that awaited you. The sun greeted you, its light filtering through the trees, and for the first time in a long while, you felt a sense of peace.

You walked side by side, you whispered, "No more shadows, only the path ahead." Jiaoqiu nodded, and you could sense the hope in his heart, echoing your own.

together..

[upside-garden-of-dreams]

Sunshine Boy, Golden Love [Hybrid!Jake x Reader]

Genre: fluff

Warnings: none at all~

General info: Reader is kept pretty gender neutral, Jake is a golden retriever puppy/dog boy, please excuse the typos

[More puppy Jake]

There's something about this boy and his cuteness that made my brain flare up with these couple hybrid ideas! I craved some more petting Jake's ears, so this came into existence Do take a read and enjoy this little story ~! 🐶💛

Silky golden locks danced around your fingers as you and Jake laid facing each other in bed.

Floppy ears twitched with every delicate movement of your hands atop his head.

Your adorable puppy boyfriend hummed in enjoyment, tail wagging and thumping on the cushioned matress.

But then, the most wonderful duo of words escaped your mouth:

"Good boy~"

Jake's heart leaped and fluttered inside his chest, cheeks dusted a pretty pink. Brown eyes looked at you shyly.

On the outside, it seemed your lover wanted to stop you from continuing your train of thought, but his excited tail betrayed his bashful act.

"Such a good boy, the cutest puppy ever," you mushed his cheeks to make him pout slightly, "Adorable doggy, yes you are!"

One peck.

Two pecks.

Three pecks.

And then, a multitude of kisses were peppered along his heated cheeks and puckered lips.

"My cutie boy!"

"Jakey, you're too adorable!"

"The Goodest Boy to Walk on Earth~"

"Good pup! Aaaah, I wanna kiss you so much!"

With every new compliment, a rainfall of sweet and playful kisses landed all over his handsome face.

The dog boy became overwhelmed. Internal vibrations of joy and adoration sparked his entire being until...

A high pitched whine of "More~!" tore through his throat before he grabbed your waist and threw himself back into the fluffy blanket under him, bringing you in tow towards him, making you stradle him as you seeked to continue your ministrations.

Such was his excitement that this embarrassing instinct manifested.

Tongue out, short pants of excitement, and the swishing of a tail going a mile a minute gave him away.

You lost no time in peppering even more kisses all over his cute face while massaging the base of his ears with more enthusiasm.

Seriously, he'll give you a heart attack with the amount of cute aggression he's making you feel right now!

"My Bestest Boy Ever, Jakey! I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you!" On and on you repeatedly professed your affection.

With every proclamation of love, a new kiss was placed on his lips, leaving the poor dog boy drunk and dazed from such indulgence.

The dummy look on his face as his brown eyes looked at you made it seem like hearts were floating all over his head.

All cute laying there, tip of his tongue peeking from between his lips, hair and ears a mess from all the petting, golden tail ever revealing his emotions....

It's impossible for someone to be this adorable!

With a soft smile, your lips landed on his one more time. Adoration and love making the gesture last longer than before.

Once separated, Jake could not control his animal side, that ever embarrassing pull taking control of his mind before he could stop it.

A long swipe of his tongue crossed over your lips towards your cheek.

Jake licked your face in a trance before reality downed on him a second after. It felt like lightning stroke his spine from how he flinched and froze in place, tongue still out with the lingering taste of you taunting his senses.

Mortified, his wide eyes examined your next move. The mirage he was in broke like a mirror with no hopes of being repaired.

However, it's you he just licked, it's you who witnessed his slip into the more mindless side of his self.

With you, there's nothing to be insecure about

Sure enough, your lips turned into the brightest smile ever, hugging him close to your chest as you giggled.

Jake immediately returned to his dreamland of love while squeezing you back in happiness. Tiny laughs of his own escaped to create a beautiful melody alongside your giggles.

Gentle hands pushed back the hair on his face to look into his eyes, "You're so adorable, Jake~ Perfect as you are~" You said with a smile.

Your boyfriend couldn't help but fall in love all over again as your confession shot an arrow straight to his heart.

With the way his smile relaxed into a peaceful one and his thumbs rubbed circles on your skin, it was evident your comment touched him.

" Wouldn't change anything for the world. "

What option did you give him, other than to seal your pomise with a tender kiss?

[ END ]

GOLDEN RETRIEVER!JAKE IS JUST TOO ADORABLE, I HAAAD TO 🥺💛 may more hybrid thoughts come to mind 🙏🏻 Hope you enjoyed! Feel free to like, reblog, and comment~

[welcome-to-puppet-hell]

Smile - (OneSided?)Wally Darling x Puppet!Reader

One can tell a lot about someone based on their smile, Wally thinks. Can tell who actually likes you—a wide and warm spread of a mouth, showing something genuine and honest—and who just tolerates you, at most, based on how small their smile is. Even in the neighborhood, Wally is able to distinguish how a neighbor might feel about him, just based on a smile.

Something Wally noticed about you, right away, is that you don’t smile all the time. Even if you’re smiling for customers entering your bookshop, it doesn’t always last long—unless it’s with neighbors you’ve decided are worth smiling for. Unlike the other neighbors, you don’t put on smiles or airs. You wear all your emotions on your sleeve…which is, admittedly, quite a feat considering you exist as everyone else does.

(As a puppet.)

But one day, Wally is watching you talk to Barnaby.

He was a bit distracted by a book about a painter—a man haunted by night terrors and other horrors from his own mind, but still saw the world so beautifully—when he heard you let out this laugh. 

He is drawn back to reality right away, his eyes immediately darting to land right on you. You are still laughing, this beautiful mix of giggles and snorts and a bit of gasping, while hugging your belly and your eyes clenching closed as your mouth widens in this smile—this grin that glows like sunshine, in a way that slams him right in the chest. It occurs to Wally then, not for the first time, that you are beautiful. He always thought so, since his eyes first found you; but it’s all so different now that you’re so close, now that you’re finally in the neighborhood, now that you’re finally within reach after all this time. And your beauty absolutely shines when you smile.

(I just…I wish…so badly…) 

Barnaby watches you with a lazy smirk, his eyelids hooding over to emphasize the mischief in his expression. He bends his elbow right on the counter and leans in a little towards you, his smirk widening a little.

“What’s this? A laugh? At one of my jokes?” He teases. “I thought you said my jokes are so awful that I should be in prison.”

You let out another laugh, then open your eyes to smirk up at him. “And they are! I’m not wrong. That joke was particularly heinous, in fact.”

“Was it?”

“Indeed, it was. I only laughed because I feel sorry for you.”

“Oh, do you?”

“Yes, I find you very pit-i-bull.”

Barnaby’s face falls as he gapes at you, his mouth drops open. You merely smirk up at him, your arms crossed over your chest. Despite being rather short, at least an inch taller than Wally, you look up at Barnaby with no fear or hint of intimidation over his severe height. Wally swallows into his rather dry throat, his hands clenching as his whole being fills with warmth. Gorgeous and brave, you really are the full package.

I just wish, he allows himself to want, if only for a moment. While it’s safe to linger on such thoughts. I wish you would smile like that for me. Just once. Just a little bit.

Suddenly, Barnaby lets out this choking sound, while grasping his throat.

“I think that one did it! Finally found a joke terrible enough to kill me,” he keeps gasping dramatically, spinning to lean back against the counter, one paw over where his heart rests in his chest. As he continues his fake cough, Barnaby’s eyes roll to land on Wally, his expression turning playful. “Little buddy! Remember me as I am…!”

Wally finds his own smile widening, despite the sting in his chest. He steps forward to join in, falling into his role seamlessly.

“What’s wrong, Barnaby?” he asks, his tone innocuous.

“What’s wrong is that a murder is being committed—and they’re the culprit!”

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic, Barn!” you say, still grinning. “A killer joke won’t hurt you.”

“Ah, it just keeps happening! Will my suffering ever cease—?”

Wally’s grin widens, amusement bubbling in his chest and growing as he watches Barnaby rolling on the floor in “pain” and you continuing to laugh. His eyes catch the width of your smile and immediately, his insides begin to melt. All the words he knows he should say—like a script he’d long memorized—freezes in his throat. His hands squeeze tightly around the book he’d previously pulled off the shelf, one consisting of paintings made by that sad Dutch painter with the one ear. Despite the smile forever glued to his expression, every inch of him begins to tremble, his hands itching to hold yours, just for a moment, just once—

(“Waliford?”)

Wally Darling freezes in place, all thought turning to static.

(“What are you thinking?” The voice reaches his ears, despite the distance. Something inside him turns to ice and pulls, almost choking him. “I know you are not thinking of breaking The Rules…are you?”)

No. No, I can’t.

He swallows and turns away before anyone notices.  

But you do. A frown settles back on your expression, your brow furrowing to narrow your eyes.