#The Simple Life of an Abandoned Lady

[waaanderingluna]

🥀 𝕮𝖆𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖊'𝖘 𝕶𝖊𝖞 𝖙𝖔 𝕬 𝕳𝖆𝖕𝖕𝖞 𝕷𝖎𝖋𝖊

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《𝚆𝙴𝙱𝙽𝙾𝚅𝙴𝙻》

[queers-gambit]

Perpetual L's and Overwhelming Dubs

prompt: slutty stranger bathroom sex on a train.

pairing: Tangerine x female!reader

fandom masterlist: Bullet Train

word count: 3.7k+

note: are all our safe words pineapple? i need this man to rail me, you know, for science. yep, that's right, Cherry has a new fixation! aren't y'all so lucky?

warnings: author has brain rot, smut (public, strangers, unprotected), obviously cursing, PWP.

Japan was bright, you decided with a soft smile on your lips; looking around the train station glowing in neon lights; some blinking, some colored, all fluorescent. People milled around every inch of the place, all walks of life from school children to professionals with briefcases, talking on the phone, running to make their departure. Couples held hands, families took meals together, and a few meters away, a little girl screamed when her brother stole her Momonga plushie.

You must've been enraptured with all around you that your shoulder bullied into someone else's on the platform, making you gasp an instant apology in Japanese. However, the man you had collided with just offered you a stoic look up and down, letting his lips pull in a half-smirk, checking in English with a thick accent, "My apologies, love. You all right there?"

"Yeah, I-I'm so sorry, I wasn't paying attention," you bid with a small smile.

"'S all right, pretty ladies like you can run into me all day," he smirked, eyeing you up and down before following after his snazzy-dressed companion - who slapped his chest forcefully.

"Leave the girl alone, mate," the man reprimanded. "Sorry, miss, he gets it in his head he's God's gift to ladies."

"It's really okay, it was my fault for not watching where I was going," you assured the men, glancing at your watch. "I'm so sorry, but I really can't miss this train. Safe travels, gents!" You bid, offering a simple wave, then scurried off - trying not to double back for the man with a mustache.

God, was that man handsome! Like, illegally handsome. Hauntingly handsome.

You'd even go as far as to say he was devilishly handsome! Those eyes? Beautifully clear blue, alluring, drew you in and held you captive. His cologne? Absolutely heavenly, borderline intoxicating. And he was built like a fucking mountain - tall, broad, slender hips, bulging muscles that looked as if they would rip his button-up.

Shaking your head, you rid yourself of the body-heating thoughts about the stranger you had just barreled into. Being horny got you nowhere, but being perpetually horny... Was the biggest fucking L. Sure, you could rub one out; you knew where the clit was and how to stimulate to your own pleasure (unlike most men). But it was something about a man sweating over you, thrusting into you with abandon; creating a mess in your guts, mind, and chest.

Yeah... You needed to get laid, you were fucking drooling over some stranger you had a 23-second interaction with.

However, upon entering your train and locating a seat in the hopefully peaceful quiet car, you mindlessly downloaded Tinder to pursue at your leisure, but only a few swipes in and you were exiting the app and deleting it (again) from your phone. The train was ready to depart the station, you cracking a bottle of water, looking back on your two-week Japanese excursion your job had sent you on.

And now, you were finally heading to your last stretch of meetings, requiring you to purchase an overnight ticket on one of the available bullet trains. Seemed the fastest, simplest, and most affordable way to travel - skipping out on upgrading to first class. Economy was just fine, you decided, perhaps doubting yourself when your eyes widened when you caught sight of the two strangers you ran into on the platform finding their seats a few rows up. There was a third man with them now that was left slumped in a spare chair - probably drunk off his arse, based on the man's grungy, disheveled look.

You tried not to thinking about the handsome stranger, but he was just a few rows up from you! God, you could practically smell his cologne from here, letting your mouth water slightly.

Yeah, perpetually horny was the biggest L - like you said.

Your thighs squeezed together as you crossed them, hoping the pressure was enough to relieve the build-up of warmth in your belly and cunt. Your headphones were placed, your attention diverting out the window, and tried to imagine if nobody else was in this fucking carriage - he could take you here and now.

After a few stops, your empty water bottle sought revenge against your bladder and ushered you to the closest bathroom. It wasn't as tight a squeeze as airplane bathrooms, but it was still a small facility to use. When done, you washed your hands as a knock sounded at the door, calling in Japanese, "Just a second!"

After unlocking the door and opening it, you actually flinched back slightly when the man from early with the '70s pornstache was stood directly in front of you.

"Well, don't you look like hell," you mused slightly.

"All in a day's work, love," he answered, stepping out of your way to let you exit the bathroom. He looked you up and down, asking, "So, uh, where you headed?"

You told him your stop, asking him the same. He told you, your mind doing mental gymnastics to understand that you both had a good bit left on this train... Surely, anything could happen.

"I'll let you, yeah," you half-smiled awkwardly, moving out of his way fully to give him access to the restroom.

"You know..." He trailed, pointing at the empty lavatory, "Could fit two."

You chuckled, "Yes, but I'm finished now - you go on."

He hummed, glancing up and down the train car - spying through the windows of the conjoining connection each car had. When he faced you again, he took a slow, calculating step forward, "That's not exactly what I meant, sweetheart."

You feet took a slow, calculated step back to find the wall, his smirk broadening. "Then how about using your words like a big boy and tell me what you meant?"

"You look like a smart girl, sure you can figure it out, yeah?" He leered over you, either foot standing between yours, nearly pressed into you but far back enough that he could maintain eye contact.

You pouted at him, "I don't read minds."

"Not sure it's me mind yah gotta read," he perked a single brow, glancing out the window again. "Now, I'd love t'stand here and ravish you the way I've wanted since you bumped into me earlier, but maybe exhibition isn't your thing."

"Judging me now?"

Now, both his brows slowly rose. His teeth poked out from between his smirking lips, praising, "Naughty girl."

"Maybe you're the one a bit nervous, hmm?" You quipped, boldly reaching forward to palm his cock - already half-hard. "What's wrong, mister? Don't want people seeing you so, hm, submissive?" You gave a cheeky flex of your hand, his hips bucking involuntarily.

"You fuckin' minx," he chuckled, hands to your waist now. "Get in that fuckin' bathroom or I might just have to give this whole fuckin' train a show."

"Better start charging them all," you whispered, hearing his growl before pushing his chest back to give you a little space. "You do this often, then? Proposition strangers into dirty bathroom sex on public, moving trains? Hmm? In a foreign country? Seems terribly disrespectful, don't it?"

"Sweetheart, the thoughts in my head about what I want to do to this body - those are disrespectful," he smirked. "Wanna tell me I'm not truly tempting you? You would've left by now," he pointed out, making your chest feel warm from the embarrassment you felt suddenly. You smirked and twiddled your fingers at him in parting, turned, and just before you could step away, you felt his arms lock around your waist. "C'mon, darlin', don't be like that," he hissed in your ear, your visible smirk spurring him on. "Not about t'beg yah, princess, get this pretty li'l arse in this stall."

You folded.

Being perpetually horny was an L, sure, but being propositioned by a handsome, hulking, muscly stranger was for sure a Dub, right?

You turned in his arms, lips only centimeters apart; breathing the same air, hand on his chest to ease him back into the bathroom stall. He grinned in triumph, and the moment you were over the threshold, still maintaining eye contact, he reached around you to click the lock in place.

"C'mere," he growled, surging forward to bring his lips down to yours finally - and just like that, your panties were done for. You moaned instantly, feeling something akin to relief when his lips molded against yours; all but immediately sweeping his tongue against the seam of your mouth.

Letting him in was mind boggling; literally making static fill your brain as your hand lifted to hold the back of his neck, threading into the hair at the nape of his neck. His mustache was stiff, wriggling in an irritating fashion against your upper lip and nose, but you didn't notice - too engulfed in the way he domineered every rational thought. His hands both pressed tightly to your ribs, then waist, down your hips, around to your arse - like he couldn't make up his mind where he wanted to touch you. So, he chose to touch you everywhere.

He was intoxicating; feeling drunk on his taste, smell, touch. He was warm, his curls a bit greasy but still shocking soft, and his lips - plush, welcoming, anchoring. You didn't even know his name, but you didn't need to! All you needed was exactly what he was doing: holding complete control over your heart, mind, and cunt.

Your stranger pulled back suddenly, offering a skeptical look, "There's no boyfriend, fiancé, husband I'm gonna have to look over my shoulder for, right?"

"Not since about 6 months ago, no. Do I need to ask you the same?"

"'Course not," he mused with a grin, kissing you again - but just a degree softer. Now, both his hands rose to caress either cheek; his tongue wagging against yours in more controlled caresses. One hand dropped slowly to hold your neck, pulse quickening, and your stranger smirked, muttering against your lips, "Cheeky girl."

You pushed him back half a step, offering him a once over before confidently reaching down for the end of your shirt and pulling it off over your head. Your companions mouth fell open when you revealed yourself to him, smirking as you opened your jeans to show a hint of the lace panties you wore. You told him your name, earning a confused hum. "My name," you explained, "figured you need to know what to moan." His tongue swept over his lips. "Gonna just stand there?"

He chuckled, checking his watch, then started unbuttoning his waistcoat. "Tangerine," he spoke simply.

"That your safe word?" You asked, shucking your jean clean off after toeing out of your shoes. "Hm, mine's pineapple."

"'S my name, love," he chuckled, opening his button up to reveal exactly what you thought - plains of smooth skin over rigid, bulging muscles. "So you know what to scream," he smirked.

You paused, stood in your panties, bra, and socks, asking through a small chuckle, "You're telling me, your mother carried you all those months in her belly, pushed you screaming - bloodied - into the world, looked at yah, and said, 'yeah, he looks like his name should be Tangerine'?"

He peeled his top half naked, your throat swelling close; swallowing harshly to clear your mouth of the overflow of salvia. Slowly, he moved closer to you, once again leering over you. He reached out for your neck, not too tight or aggressive, but forceful enough to tilt your head back. "'S a codename, love," he explained.

"Ah, so can't reveal the government."

"Exactly."

"The fuck kinda job you got that requires codenames?"

"The dangerous kind," he smirked, "wanna keep running your mouth or put it to other use?"

You chuckled and reached for his trousers, holding his eyes with yours as you easily unfastened him and hooked your thumbs into the waistband of his briefs and suit pants. His mouth parted slightly when the cooler air hit his exposed cock, asking, "Safe word?"

He snickered, "Pineapple's fine, love," he sounded far too amused, watching you get on your knees in front of him, "but I doubt we'll need - Oh, holy, fuckin' good God," he seethed through clenched teeth when you eagerly took him in your mouth.

He was bigger than what you were used to - like a full double the size your previous partners had been. He was longer, thicker, and Goddamn, was he sweltering in your mouth. You wondered how long it had been for him, feeling your panties dampen as you felt exhilarated to show this man with a "dangerous job" exactly what your mouth could do - and why he'd never forget your name.

"Oh, there's a good fuckin' girl," he groaned, collecting whatever hair he could in a makeshift ponytail; looking down his nose to watch you. His cock was overwhelming, but you were determined to earn the pleasure he would surely bring; mouthing around his cockhead, using one hand to pump what didn't fit, the other alternating between holding his hairy thigh for balance and cradling his balls.

A few times, you held his eyes with yours as you removed his cock with a pop; licking his shaft up and down like it was a popsicle on the Fourth of July. His jaw would clench each time, sputtering his breath. His veins were pulsing, prominent under the skin; making your cunt contract as his throat bobbed as he swallowed harshly, groaning.

"Li'l too good at this, baby, Goddamn," he breathed, chuckling to himself as he retracted his hips while holding your jaw. "All right, all right," he chuckled, "made your point, love. Get up here 'fore I lose my bloody mind."

You pouted, "I quiet like it down here."

"Darlin', I'm about to bust - "

"Isn't that the point?"

He chuckled and reached down to help you up, instantly searing you in a wet, messy kiss as he backed you into the sink counter; tasting himself on your tongue. It was erotic, something you were vastly not used to - no man ever being okay with you kissing them after having their dicks in your mouth.

But no, this Tangerine fellow was obviously built different.

One hand anchored your waist, the other dropping to toy with your panties gently; petting the waistband before sinking his hand lower. You shuddered lightly when his finger swept through your wet folds, both groaning in pleasure when he sunk knuckle-deep. "Feels so good, love," he praised, your legs widening your stance to let him better access; hand fully disappeared into your panties. "So fuckin' warm, yeah," he breathed, increasing his speed so he pumped aggressively. He didn't need a second finger, he was chasing your orgasm - purely focused on the way you withered before him.

"Tan," you whimpered, gripping his assaulting arm as he found your g-spot and chuckled darkly.

"Got it, there, did I? Yeah, let's see what you've got, love, c'mon."

You whined in your throat, leaning into his chest as your legs began to quake. You didn't get a chance to warn him, feeling that overwhelming urge to urinate - gasping loudly and needing him to support your body as his finger jabbed your g-spot to the point you were gushing into his hand.

"Oh, fuck yeah," he encouraged, stimulating you further; loving the feeling of your squirt in his cupped hand, "keep goin', good girl, that's it, yeah? I got yah, good girl, there you go."

You grunted when he slowed his hand to the point the heel of his palm ground into your clit. Feeling overstimulated, your hand slapped to his meaty forearm, meeting his eyes with a glare, begging, "Okay, okay, okay, you made your fuckin' point."

He grinned, "Didn't know I had that affect on you, love. Huh?"

"You could've offered to fuck me when I ran into you earlier and I would've bent over - right there and then," you whispered against his lips, licking into his mouth right after; making his own mind go blank.

"Feelin's mutual, doll," he nodded, using both hands to shred your lace panties from your hips with a shrill gasp. "Keepsake," he teased, showing you the ruined fabric before dropping it.

You offered him a coy look before turning around for him, not needing the instruction; meeting his stare in the mirror. Bracing yourself against the sink, you slumped over it, making him groan.

"Fuck, doll," he whispered, admiring the view and smoothing a hand over one bare cheek. "Just look at yah, ready fa' me, just drippin'," he bit his lip, giving a few pumps to his length as he looked you over; other hand toying with your weeping hole. He growled and slid his cockhead up and down your slit, both shuddering lightly; moaning in union when he notched himself at your entrance. His eyes met yours in the mirror, his mouth parted, slowly sinking forward to the fucking hilt - making you feel impossibly full.

"Oh, Jesus fuck!"

He chuckled, shifting his hips, "Keep it down, love, don't need anyone bangin' on the door, interrupting us, huh?"

"I'll be quiet when you get a smaller dick."

This made Tangerine genuinely snicker, "Fair enough."

"Fuck's sake!" You yelped when he suddenly pulled back, surged in, and started his own rhythm. Through the mirror, you saw the concentrated, cocky expression he wore; looking purely focused, mesmerized by the way his cock would disappear within you, only to reappeared - soaking wet, glistening.

"Feel's divine," he hissed, the grip on your hips sure to leave bruises. "God, this pussy's made fa me - grippin' s'fuckin' tight. Who was the idiot who let this go, huh?"

"Really wanna talk about my ex now?" You panted.

"Nah, don't need to - 's mine now," he grit, one hand letting go of your hips to bring down on the meat of your bottom. "Hear me? Huh? Fuckin' mine now," he pommeled your arse a couple more times. "Like that, huh? Don't you? Feel you fuckin' squeezin' me each time."

"Yes," you moaned. "Fuck, yes, yes, God, you feel fucking amazing."

"Keep talkin'," another slap that made you squeak.

You were nervous 'cause you never considered yourself the best at dirty talk, but still tried, "So fuckin' good, makin' me so wet. Fuck - never had cock like this, so good - so deep, so big. Don't stop," you whimpered, his feet repositioning to allow himself a new angle and speed to drill into you. "Fuck, yes," you moaned loudly, encouraging, "harder, please, yes, yes, yes! Just like that!"

The motions cause ripples across the flesh of your bottom, thighs quaking. You pushed your hand down your front, your partner groaning at the sight as you found your clit and started massaging; the contractions squeezing Tangerine's cock tightly. His one hand traveled around the front of you, sliding up to yank your bra from your breasts; palming one with fever before tweaking your nipple between his thumb and pointer finger.

"Fuuuuck, Tan," you whined, moaning. "Don't stop, please, 's too fuckin' good!"

"I've got yah, darlin', almost there," he grunted, folded a little more over your back so he could fondle you roughly. "Naughty fuckin' girl, lettin' me bend yah over like this - don't even know me. Just knew you needed my cock, huh, love? Ain't that right?"

"Yes," you moaned, orgasm fast approaching.

"Probably let me do whatever I wanted t'you, huh?"

"Fuck yes, whatever you wanted, however you wanted me!"

"At's a good girl," he grit. "Takin' me so well, so fucking good. Need this pussy again, hear me? Fuck," he panted, increasing his speed to an erratic pace, "need a taste, need yah t'squirt on me again. Need this pussy in all positions." He bared his teeth, increasing his speed, hissing, "Lemme hear you scream, love. Wanna hear my name. from that pretty fuckin' mouth, c'mon."

"T-Tan, fuck, Tangerine, I-I'm right there, I'm so close - OH FUCK!" Your orgasm made you reel back into his chest, milking yourself on his impaling cock. You gasped, mouth left wide as his hand constricted around your throat, his mouth hot against your ear; biting and licking as he grunted forcefully.

He gasped in your ear, moaning your name on a short repeat, shuddering as he stilled himself; coating your wet interior with his thick ropes of hot, heavy cum. Your eyes were closed, head tilted back to his shoulder; his lips actually soft as he planted several kisses along your neck (that he released) and shoulder. "Holy fuck, doll," he whispered, chuckling in disbelief. "'S a li'l too good."

You smirked, "Yeah, I've heard that before, you're not the first t'tell me."

"Ah, way t'ruin it, doll," he joked, making you chuckle breathlessly. "All right?"

"Mhm," you sighed, eyes opening. "You?"

"Never better," he mused softly, sighing as you both tried to regain your breath. He let out a single grunt as he held your hips, pulling his cock free; releasing a gush of cum from you both to drip from your cunt. As you both redressed, he eyed you for a moment, then mentioned, "Listen, love, uh... Don't miss your stop."

"I wasn't planning on it?"

"Good... Just..." He sighed, closing up his shirt. "Make sure you get off this train."

You stared at him for a moment, pondering, "This have something t'do with that 'dangerous job' of yours?"

"A bit."

You hummed, zipping your jeans back up sans panties. "Why don't you get off, too?" You asked softly.

"Can't, darlin', got a job t'finish."

You nodded, "Then be careful, yeah?"

He nodded in return, reaching out to pull you in close. He took a second to look you over, smirking slightly, "Worried about me, are yah?"

"I don't even know you."

"We'll change that," he eased. "Your phone?" You offered a small look before sighing, reaching for your phone, unlocking it, and offering it to him. He typed for a moment, a distant buzz heard from his own phone, then handed it back to you. "I'll call you up sometime, love," he smirked, watching you reach back to unlock the door.

"You better," you mused, letting him press one more searing kiss to your lips. You hummed, pouting slightly and telling him, "Behave, or we'll go at round two."

"Don't threaten me with a good time, darlin'," he pocketed your shredded panties with a cheeky grin.

"You still owe me for those," you pointed.

"Send a bill, I'll make it up t'yah."

You smirked, "No bill, but I'd take dinner."

To your honest shock, a sort of... Contemplating, soft expression took over his face, nodding, promising quietly, "I'll call yah, darlin'. Just make sure you answer."

[ part two: Shower Shenanigans ]

requesting rules and masterlist

Bullet Train masterlist

[starry-eyes-love]

Lord of the Manor

Main Masterlist     Joel Miller Masterlist

Pairing | Joel Miller x F!Reader- AU, no outbreak

Summary |  Joel Miller is Lord of the Manor, and you are the woman who has been helping him for years in raising his two daughters. Joel, holding a matchmaking party, decides to dance with every maiden in the room, everyone but you. After seeing him do this, you are exhausted and jealous, so you leave the party early. Joel notices your absence and follows you down the dimly lit hallway, where you confess your feelings for him. It ends with him telling you he wants you in his bed.

Word Count: 4.2 K

Warnings | 18+, Minors DNI, Smut

Language, M! (Handjob)- you walk in as Joel is pleasuring himself, kissing, sexual tension, slow burn, references to customs in society with Lord of the Manor, the lady (you) is common folk, a slight sprinkle of angst throughout (but it ends with a happy ending), kiss and reference to sex.

A/N: This started as a drabble, and then this happened. It got away from me, but that's ok. I’m thinking about continuing their story, but I can't decide. In the meantime, Enjoy!

Images by CAImages Dividers by @saradika-graphics

Joel slowly backed you up against the wall, caging you against his body as his hands slowly roamed over your curves. He moved down your neck, softly kissing and nipping your sensitive flesh, enticing moans from your mouth. “Shhh, you got to be quiet, baby. I don't want anyone else to hear you. Those moans are just for me.”

You hated parties ever since you were a little girl. Women always took hours dressing, fussing over whether a proper suitor would ask them for their hand at a dance. Meanwhile, on the dance night, men would stand and ogle over women as if they were prized cattle for auction. You had convinced yourself for the longest time that attending these parties would be a mistake, especially since you were never the one chosen for a dance. Yet here you were, fussing over your hair and makeup because Joel Miller, Lord of the Manor, extended you an invitation.

You weren’t like all the other maidens at the party, coming from rich fathers, lords that ruled over the lands.  You were a common folk woman, taken in by your father’s friend to be raised in a proper household after your parents died.  Your foster father felt guilty just abandoning you when you were young when his best friend died of a horrible fever that swept through your village and created a lot of orphans.  But that was what you were: an orphan, someone without living parents, and someone none of these men thought suitable as a wife or even for a simple dance.  

You thought that maybe things would be different with Joel Miller, especially since recent events, but as the night went on, you started to feel your hope dwindling. Like every other dance you attended, you found yourself stuck on the side of the dance floor. No man approached you or requested a dance from you all night, especially Joel.

Joel Miller was an eligible bachelor and a man of many talents.  He was older and a widower, his wife dying young while she gave birth to twins, both daughters, Ellie and Sara.  Joel, raising his girls on his own, had stepped away from the duties of the Kingdom to choose an ordinary life as a farmer for a while.  But two years ago, when his father became ill, he was called back to the kingdom to perform his duties as the only living heir to his father’s kingdom. 

Joel wasn’t like the other men here; he was older, a man in his later 30s, strong and capable.  Word had it that when he took a woman to bed, he focused on her pleasure instead of his own, something that was unheard of, especially in this day and age.  He treated women as equals and couldn’t stand when anyone did anything less. Most days, he was seen in the courtyard with his daughters, with light and playful banter going back and forth between them.  He cared, and everyone knew it.  He also hasn’t picked a suitable wife, which many had frowned on with him. But how can you force love?

You had gotten to know Joel over the last several years, being the woman who helped raise his daughters when duty called him back to his kingdom. You were always pleased to speak with him, and he always treated you with mutual respect and dignity, often unheard of in these parts of the world.  Over the past six months, Joel teased you, joked with you, and even looked at you like only a husband would look at his wife.  

At first, you were shocked to see Joel looking at you with stern eyes, drinking you in like you were his favorite meal. But when you accidentally walked into his bedroom, returning laundry, and found him sitting on his bed, stroking himself to obtain pleasure, you discovered that you were no longer the only one who was nervous.

“Oh, I am so sorry, Lord Miller. I didn’t know you were here,” you had said, shocked at the sight before you.  Joel was sitting at the edge of his bed, thrusting up into his hand, trying to pleasure himself in the most personal way.  His cock was thick and large, swollen with veins that ran down the underside of it.  His balls were plump and hung heavy below him, desperately needing to be drained. The sexual tension was thick in the air, especially when you glanced down and found Joel throbbing in his hand, probably seconds away from relief before you walked in.

Earlier, Joel was with you in the garden, and you teased him about his love for roses even though you knew he had planted them for you.  The light banter was fun back and forth, with somewhat of a charged sexual energy in the air.  You had suddenly injured yourself, cutting yourself on the thorns as you pulled weeds from the ground. Joel stepped up immediately and took your hand to examine the injury. When he determined that you were alright, he kissed your hand sweetly and told you to be more careful.  As Joel left, you noticed him re-adjusting himself in the front and disappearing in the Manor.  That was 15 minutes ago, and now you were face to face with a man who was moments away from his pleasure release.

As you stood there, you stared at Joel as he panted, holding himself on the brink of release. You didn’t know what you should do or how you should behave. It was obvious that you were the cause of some of his pent-up frustration. You wanted to put your mouth on it and feel it swell against your tongue, but such behavior was not deemed worthy by someone like you. But yet here you stood, looking at Joel panting, unable to look away.

Joel flared his nostrils, breathing deep as he twitched in his hand. It had been a long time since he had properly bedded a woman, and right now, he desperately wanted to fuck your cunt. You were the cause of this moment.  You had been teasing him all morning, and then you got hurt, and he helped you.  He barely could contain himself before he got in his room and ripped off his pants to start thrusting in his hand. Joel has wanted you for quite some time but has never voiced it.  But now, you were standing there looking at him with wide eyes, pupils dilated slightly from your arousal.  Joel knew he shouldn’t, but he couldn’t help the statement when he heard you apologize again for what you saw. 

“Joel, I-”

“Baby, don’t apologize, please. Now, either get over here or shut the damn door when you leave.”  Joel didn’t mean to snap, but he was right on the edge, borderline of it being painful. Joel had already edged himself a few times and desperately needed to come. When Joel saw you momentarily hesitate, he stood up and approached you.  Feeling embarrassed, you immediately retreated and left, gently shutting the door behind you.  As soon as Joel touched himself again, he was coming all over his hand at the memory of you standing there looking at him with wide, lust-filled eyes.  That night, you made yourself come three times on your fingers alone, just at the thought of Joel’s cock inside of you.

It had been a week since you walked in on Joel in his bedroom. At first, you tried to avoid Joel, but eventually, you couldn’t, especially when he requested you to bring him his supper in his room as he worked.

“Please forgive me, my lady, for the other day. I don’t know what came over me,” Joel had said, apologizing for his behavior as he glanced at the kingdom maps on his desk in his room.  

“It’s okay, Joel, I don’t mind,” was all you could respond. How can you tell him you’ve never come as hard as you did from seeing him? Within the week, everything was back to normal between you.

Another week passed before Joel announced that he would host another dance again. Joel didn’t ask you to work the event this time; instead, he asked you to attend as one of his guests. You had agreed, hopeful that maybe this time he’d be the one to ask you for a dance.  

So, like all those times before, you had spent all day getting ready.  You had several lovely dresses in your wardrobe to choose from, all gifts from your foster parents. 

While growing up, you were required to attend dances as a guest, hoping that a suitor would eventually ask you to dance one day.  But as the years ticked by, more and more men stopped looking your way at these dances.  The biggest reason was because everyone knew you were adopted and were not of pure royal blood. Ordinary women, or common folk, were never allowed to marry those with money.  You knew Joel didn’t take societal customs seriously, so you were hopeful that tonight would be the night he’d ask for your hand at a dance.

But as the night went on, it appeared your dream wouldn’t come true.  You watched Joel dance with every other woman except for you.  To his defense, he never once walked up and asked for anyone's hand at a dance. All the women introduced to Joel were from the maiden’s brothers or fathers, hoping Joel would settle down and wed one of them. Being a true gentleman, Joel never argued with the men, and he always smiled at the women while extending his hand for just one dance.  But he never danced with you or even glanced at you once tonight. You were invincible to everyone, including the man you secretly had a crush on. 

You assumed you could just leave after seeing Joel escort another woman to the dance floor for another song. You slowly backed away, finally turning to go after a few steps. When you got to the hallway to head back to the sleeping quarters, you paused and hoped you'd find someone standing there asking you if you could have a dance. But when no one turned to look at you, you knew that tonight was a mistake. No one wants to dance with a commoner like me.

And that was what you were, a commoner, a woman men weren’t interested in because you had no royal blood.  It didn’t matter that your foster parents were of royal blood. You were still just ordinary folk. And ordinary folk do not get to dance with the Lord of the Manor, no matter who that person is.

As you walked down the dimly lit hallway, the soft murmur of the party downstairs slowly faded away into silence as the heaviness of your heart took root within you. You were dealing with a turmoil of emotions. Your heart ached with exhaustion and jealousy of the events from this evening and how everyone else appeared to have a good time. 

You wished you could have danced by yourself, but laws and customs forbid a woman to dance without a proper escort from a man. A woman also cannot go up to a man to ask for a dance, or else you would have asked Joel. The only people who could request a man to dance were other men extending the hand of their daughter or sister, and you didn't have anyone like that around for you anymore. You, indeed, were all alone in this world.

You were about halfway down the hallway when you stopped to lean against the cool wall, taking a deep breath to steady yourself. The air was heavy this time of year with the scent of roses from the garden. Usually, the smell would calm you and remove any heartache you'd have. But not tonight. It felt almost suffocating tonight as it reminded you of what you couldn’t have, Joel.  

When Joel heard that roses were your favorite flower, he ordered his gardener to plant different colors and species around the entire manor. Usually, the gardens would wipe away your tears when you felt lonely, but tonight, they were the cause of your heartache and tears, and because of this, you silently wept. You were so lost in your thoughts that you didn’t hear his approach. 

“Are you well, my lady?” Joel said softly, approaching you slowly in the dimly lit hallway. Your head was in your hands, and your eyes were wet from your tears. When you lifted your head to look at Joel, he took in your face and immediately felt concerned for your appearance.

"Why are you crying, my lady? Did someone hurt you?" Joel asked, his voice gentle yet firm.  He wanted to know who had upset you, and if he found out that another man had placed his hands wrongly on you, Joel knew he would end that man’s life himself.

You lifted your head higher to face Joel. Your emotions won over to reason in answering him appropriately. "Do you need to ask, do you not know?" Your voice trembled, frustration spilling out before you could stop it. 

"I’ve watched you all night, Joel. You were smiling, laughing, and entertaining every suitable maiden who batted an eyelash at you. Do I need to remind you of our customs and what a Lord must do, especially when choosing a bride?”

“I did my duty as Lord of this Manor. I danced with every woman attending tonight.” Joel spoke, confused as to why you would ask him your question.

“Really? Do you honestly enjoy treating me like this?”

Joel’s eyes widened, surprise mixed with his frustration flashing across his face. “What in the hell are you talking about?"

"All night, Joel. All night, I’ve been a silent spectator to your affections. Do you even care?”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean? Do I care? What the- I’ve danced with every available maiden tonight from God's know where. I’ve done my duty.  Who gives you the right to criticize me for my actions when I’ve done nothing wrong, especially when I am Lord of this Manor.”

"But you did!" you interrupt, frustration boiling over. "I was standing there all night.”

“Tell me, woman, to whom did I neglect my duties? Tell me. I’ve danced with every woman in that hall, every woman who is worthy of a man like me, Lord of the Manor.” Joel shouts at you, not understanding why he is entertaining this argument. 

Joel Miller was always someone who spoke with reason and with knowing the purpose of the discussion.  But right now, Joel had no idea of the purpose of your anger or frustration nor where this argument stemmed from.  Somehow, this argument felt very personal, even though it shouldn’t have.  Joel was the Lord of the Manor, and he demanded respect.  It puzzled him why he seemed to tolerate this disrespectful behavior from someone who wasn’t even his wife.  A woman should never raise her voice to a man. The only time she could, if she could, would be when she was talking to her children or husband, and you were neither of those. 

“And what am I, Joel, huh? What am I?”

“You’re a woman,” Joel shouted and then froze, finally realizing his mistake.  He danced with every woman attending that was available, everyone but you.  You weren’t there tonight as a working woman.  You wore a beautiful dress with your hair pinned up properly instead of down off your shoulders, and your makeup was neat and stunningly beautiful.  You weren’t wearing your working ensemble, meaning you were a guest at his party.  A guest that he gave a formal invitation to, no less than three weeks prior.

“Do you even know how I feel about you? Do you even see me?” Your voice was trembling with the weight of your confession. "I've felt it for so long, me and you, wanting you to properly see me as the one you could be happy with, a wife. Do you even know how much I love you?"

Silence stretched between you both, lacing the air thick and heavy with it. For a moment, admitting your feelings for Joel felt freeing. But as the silence continued, your heart immediately sank. You realized that maybe Joel didn’t reciprocate those feelings. 

When you glanced up at Joel to look at his face, you noticed that he had a stone-cold look in his eyes. Joel wasn’t saying anything, nostrils flaring, as he ran a hand over his face while taking a step back and exhaling.  When he placed his hands on his hips and shook his head while glancing at the floor, you felt embarrassed at what you had just done. Even though Joel was friendly to you in private, constantly teasing and flirting with you, you were still the help and common folk. And that was something that no man could ever see past.

You momentarily reached for Joel to comfort him, but as you did, you saw that he had taken a step backward, away from you. Your hand froze in mid-air, and you quickly placed it at your side. As the silence continued, you felt your cheeks flush with embarrassment. 

“Please forgive me, my Lord. I don’t know what came over me tonight for speaking in such a raised voice.”

“And for voicing such inappropriate things to the Lord of the Manor,” Joel said, still not looking up at you.

“Of course, my Lord. Please forgive my words-”

“And your mouth,” Joel mumbled under his breath yet again.

“Yes, of course, my Lord. Please forgive my words and my mouth for speaking out of turn. I don’t know what came over me.”

Then, Joel looked at you and said in a commanding voice, “Make sure you never speak to me like that ever again. I am the Lord of the Manor, and you better remember that before you stand there in my house and accuse me of things you have no right to say. To disrespect me when I’ve never once disrespected you.”

Joel went to step towards you, anger seething in his mind, but as he did, he saw you flinch and take a step back. You were shaking, closing your eyes while saying quickly, “My apologies, my Lord, it won’t happen again. Please, no lesson is required for me to remember this. I’ll- I won’t open my mouth again, please.”

Joel froze mid-stride. What were you talking about? Slowly, Joel touched your chin, tilting it toward his face, giving you the soft but firm command to open your eyes and look at him.  When your eyes finally met his eyes, he saw your fear of being struck by a man. That was something that Joel Miller, Lord of the Manor, never did. Who has hit this woman for just opening her mouth?  

Joel has never once laid a hand on any woman who has worked for him, been related to him, or been in his bed. It truly upset Joel that you have not received the same respect in return. That someone has delivered punishment and force when dealing with you. Joel became angry at thinking someone would strike such a beautiful soul.

As Joel studied you, you felt your cheeks heat in embarrassment. It was one thing for him to glance at you and another to study you so intently, as you wore your emotions on your sleeve.  You glanced down at the floor, submitting to the man before you. Whatever his choice of punishment was going to be, you knew better than to look him straight in the eye.

“Baby, please, look at me,” Joel whispered, gently cupping your cheek.  When you finally glanced back at him, he softly smiled at you. 

“Darlin’, no lesson is required, and for the record, I will never hit you. I- fuck,” Joel whispered, running his thumb over your cheek gently. You were looking at him with such gentle, soft eyes. You wanted him to close the distance and to kiss you, to see you in front of him as the choice of a life and not just someone of hire. 

"Is what you said earlier true? That you love me, baby.” Joel spoke with a soft but steady voice. 

"Yes," you whispered, your throat feeling tight with emotion as another tear slid down your cheek.

It only took two seconds before Joel’s thumb swiped the tear away. He looked at you with such tenderness that it took your breath away. "I had no idea, baby," he murmured before his thumb brushed away another stray tear. "I’ve been a fool, and I’m sorry."

You shook your head, tears welling up in your eyes at the tenderness he was showing you. "Joel, I—I’ve always seen you, and I'm sorry."

“Shhh, baby, it’s ok,” Joel whispered as he slowly leaned in, giving you ample time to pull away. But you didn't pull away. Instead, you tilted your head up, your heart pounding as Joel’s lips brushed yours in a tentative, gentle kiss. It was a kiss of unspoken emotions, long-suppressed desires, and a future that suddenly seemed possible.

When Joel finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, breath mingling with yours. "I love you too," Joel said softly, his voice filled with hunger and desire. It was in that moment of his confession that you relaxed. When Joel’s lips met yours again, he gave you a hungry kiss.  Joel licked into your mouth, tilting your head back as he finally claimed your lips the way he did the last time he kissed his wife. Joel had made up his mind; you were the woman for him. He didn't know how it would work with societal customs, but that was not his concern tonight. Tonight, he wanted you in his bed, underneath his body, as he made love to you.

Joel's kisses were full of lust and passion, full of emotion for denying you for so long. And you met him with equal hunger back, wrestling your tongue against his, telling him what you were feeling through actions.

Joel slowly backed you up against the wall, caging you against his body as his hands slowly roamed over your curves. He moved down your neck, softly kissing and nipping your sensitive flesh, enticing moans from your mouth.

“Shhh, you got to be quiet, baby. I don't want anyone else to hear you. Those moans are just for me.” Joel whispered as he slowly trailed his tongue up your throat, softly kissing and nipping your neck. 

“Please, my Lord. I can't; it feels too good.” You mumbled as you let out another soft moan. 

Joel growled at your admission, his cock impossibly hard against his pants. It's been a long time since he's had this much of a reaction to a woman who was fully clothed. He needed you underneath him, in his bed right now, but he was trying to be a gentleman.

Joel gave you a few more passionate kisses with his mouth, and when you whimpered against him again, he felt his resolve crumbling.

“My lady,” Joel whispered as he rested his forehead against yours, “you will be the death of me and my gentleman ways if we don't stop.”

Then, Joel took a step back, placing some distance between you both for a moment to clear his head. You straightened yourself, flattening the slightly rumpled dress. 

“My apologies, my Lord, I-”

Joel raised his hand, silencing you from continuing. After another moment of silence, he took a long breath before continuing. “I am a man of honor, and I will not disgrace the honor of a woman in the hallway of my manor by engaging in inappropriate actions that only a man and a woman married should do. But, if I could be so bold as to say, my lady-” 

Joel then slowly reapproached you, gently cupping your cheek as he gave you a tender kiss to your pulse point while whispering, “I want to fuck you in my bed later if you have me.”

As Joel slowly pulled back, he gave you a smirk. He noticed your cheeks were flushed a lovely rosy shade, which was both a combination of arousal and embarrassment at his bold statement. He also wondered if your cunt was dripping wet from the combination of his kisses, language, and the sheer presence of him being around you. 

“But first, my lady, I would like to court you properly. I do not intend to shame your name based on mere animal instinct. But I do intend to bed you properly when the time comes if you'll have me.”

“Yes, my Lord, whatever pleases you,” you whispered, trying to get your heart rate under control again.

“You please me, my lady. Now come, let me escort you back to your bed chambers.”

Joel gave you a delicate kiss to your hand when he delivered you back to your bed chambers, telling you to dream of him. As you closed the door behind you, your heart raced in your chest; you couldn't believe the events that transpired for this evening.

Joel Miller was many things, both kind and gentle but also rough and forceful. You couldn't wait until the moment came when he'd take you in his bed properly. You also couldn't believe it, but you were falling harder for Joel Miller, Lord of the Manor, more each day.

End Story

[squiblez]

Thinking about Rocky Rickaby

thinking about how he's probably so touch starved he'd melt at a simple hand hold

thinking about how if he had a girlfriend he'd be the overly chivalrous type

would hold open doors, put his jacket over a puddle, call her "lady love"

would 1000% serenade her with poetry and violin

would be a giddy mess from a peck on the cheek

thinking about how he'd be terrified of being abandoned

how he's never loved someone so implicitly and he's horrified just imagining life without them

how his significant other would have to reassure him they love him

coupled with cuddles and tail twining

thinking about how Rocky would genuinely be such an amazing boyfriend, flaws and all

[eldritch-spouse]

That is a very generous offer Jonesy but I don't want to live on an island. I'm happy enough here. Now if you'll excuse me I need to-ah! Jonesy. Please let me go.

[Ambiguous reader]

TW: Kidnapping

" Why... Whatever do you mean? "

The throne looks entirely perplexed, as if nothing in this world could have prepared him for a rejection that, from your point of view, is anything but surprising.

All of your interactions thus far with this 'celestial' have been nothing if not positive. Jonesy, as he calls himself, is a positive force in your life. You're one of many 'lessers' who this Mother Miara entity he speaks so fondly of has selected to be judged for a certain period of time. Initially, the fear of what this might entail kept you defensive, but Jonesy's 'judging' honestly seems to consist in him inviting himself into your daily routines and generally being helpful.

Convenient enough that you decided to go along with it.

Maybe that's being a little harsh, you did grow to enjoy Jonesy's company, a little bit. He's pleasant enough, polite, seeming to have your best interests in mind, even if he doesn't understand that he no longer has the level of authority angels might have once had over humanity. And, most of all, he always brings small trinkets when he visits. Sometimes it's a new decoration for your home, other times it's some thingamajig he doesn't fully understand and wants you to explain to him under the guise of a simple present. Two of his gifts stand out to you.

Jonesy once gave you someone's personal phone. It was still locked and entirely undamaged, he likely picked it up somewhere. Lessers like theses things, he had proudly said, I found another one for you. He looked offended when you suggested he deliver it to a police station, so you dropped the subject and quietly took care of it yourself. Another time, the throne showed up with a gorgeous, reflective feather. He sounded a bit vague when you prodded for its meaning, but it looks harmless enough. You've decided to put it in a little case, to which Jonesy recommended that you sometimes take it outside with you.

You were never overly touchy with the angel, didn't think you should be. Jonesy is easy on the eyes, in his own bizarre sort of way, but he exudes authority in equal amounts to safety and comfort, so it felt inappropriate to simply take that step. Nevertheless, impulse once made you comment about the quality of his fur, the few times he'd wear something a little more 'casual', and Jonesy said nothing for a few moments, before placing your hand on his chest and letting you feel the expanse of softness there. You had never experienced something like it before, your fingers sunk into it yet it felt so incredibly light, so cozy, as if you could just lay your head upon it and have the best rest of your entire life. Neither of you said much of anything to each other for the rest of that particular visit.

He appears to like animals too, which is something you find very appealing in people. A few times now, he had this super beautiful cat -It was very large, some kind of maine coon?- With fur as white as his own and these wide eyes that seemed just a little too involved in anything around itself. Jonesy carried it with the utmost care and would regularly talk to it, calling it 'lady'. It made you smile, though he would always hand the feline to another celestial before properly greeting you, removing any chance to interact with it.

He's definitely weird.

But, perhaps, you could call Jonesy a friend in your little life.

Being friends with him doesn't mean you're about to abandon everything you've built and those you love just to join an island far away and be in some sort of paradise cult. Even if he's right about it being the best decision you could ever make, even if you'd live your best life there and be incredibly fulfilled, without having to bare the weight of your society's expectations on your shoulder- It's just not your home. It's not where you think you belong, and it certainly doesn't justify leaving your family and friends behind.

" I mean exactly what I said, Jonesy. " You shrug, finishing the basic omelet you were trying to make when he nearly pounded through your door in his excitement to see you.

You suppose these 'wonderful news' are why he didn't waste a second before dropping that bomb of a proposal on you.

" Dove, are you listening? Mother Miara herself has judged your profile and deemed you worthy of joining us in the most sacred location of Earth! "

You really just want to eat and end this conversation. " Jone- "

" Do you not wish to be welcomed into Lady Miara's arms? She will make you the best version of yourself, you will never know misery, you'll be surrounded by prosperity and harmony. I would help guide you- "

" No! " You interrupt, a lot more forcefully. " No, I don't want to go to some remote location and abandon everything I know, excuse me if that sounds crazy to you. I have people here who need me, okay? I have a community I belong to, I like having my own place with all the stuff I own. I like going to places you won't find on an island, Jonesy. I'm not going anywhere. "

He's motionless after your outburst, maybe in shock, maybe trying to make sense of your reasoning. You decide to soften the blow.

" Listen, I'm very flattered. It sounds like a great deal that I know many people would take. And good for them! I'm not one of those people, I'm sorry man. "

The kitchen suddenly seems too small and crowded. After a very tense silent that absolutely rips the hunger out of you, he finally speaks.

" You poor thing. " The throne murmurs, making you rise a brow. " You don't think you're good enough. You feel that you must be tied down to this frivolous nonsense in order to have meaning in your life. You could never be more wrong. "

Frustration bubbles by now. " Jonesy, can we not have this conversation right now? "

" It's quite alright, I see now. You'll need a lot of help to overcome your mind's delusions. Fret not, I'll take it upon myself to clear them. "

The celestial advances as he speaks, resolve radiating off of him. You barely get to turn away before he bodily picks you up. With little effort, as if you weighed less than the very trinkets he'll occasionally bring around.

Angels... Angels don't hurt humans unless they have to, right? It's not in them to be malicious... Right? Jonesy wouldn't hurt you.

He won't.

You hope he won't.

" Wh- What are you doing?! Put me down, please. " He doesn't. In fact, he walks outside. " Please put me down. "

" Silence lesser, be graceful about this blessing. "

You can't see them, but you can hear another celestial waiting for Jonesy, making a noise of confusion.

" Are they wounded? " The new one questions.

" No, just blinded of reason I believe. "

The nerve.

" Unfortunate. "

You're handed off rather easily to a larger set of hands, unable to see the face of this stranger before they run a hand through your face and the ability to see is quite literally taken from you. It's enough to make you freeze.

" Quite. I know they'll find a better home with us however. "

You dare not move when they take flight, knowing it'd be certain death to squirm mid-air, blinded, and horrified.

[threepandas]

Bad End: Pray

Faith should not be transactional. Bartered to the highest bidder and sold as the winds shift. Bought with miracles and blessings. Heaped upon powerful champions and gifted at the sweet words of avatars. Perhaps it is old fashioned of me. Or maybe it is "naive" as I have often been accused.

To be honest, I am just not used to The Divine being so active.

Perhaps it is loyalty. Perhaps it is... faith. I do not know. But I can not imagine being swayed from the Goddess I serve. Not when... unlike BEFORE? I can... can actually FEEL Her presence.

I still laugh in disbelief sometimes. In AWE. Can you even IMAGINE? Sitting there, head bowed in prayer, in that quiet little temple of nowhere special, and... while expecting NOTHING? Feeling... feeling love. A gentle, all encompassing, hand that picks you up without moving you. Cradles your soul like a beloved child.

There aren't really words to explain what it feels like. It's somewhere between talking in circles, poetry, and gibberish. But BEAUTIFUL. So utterly, utterly beautiful. I can not comprehend why anyone would ever turn their back on her. Could EVER be bought with showy trinkets and bits of gold. Party tricks.

I am an outlier, in that regard.

Only myself and the Elders remain.

No one comes. Not to worship, not for blessings or wisdom. Not even to rest from the rain. Our humble temple more quiet then it has ever been. There was always SOMEONE. We are, after all, a temple too our Lady the Nox Viatoris. Keeper of those who travel at night, in places of peril, or should the worst occur... their soul's too safe resting. (Also, several small and fluffy nocturnal animals!)

"Night" was rather loosely defined, too. It honestly meant any place of low lighting. So a deep valley or cave worked too. Under belly of a city. Sewer system. We had smugglers, on occasion. They were generous. Honestly quiet devote. And as long as they didn't break the tenets of Our Lady's teachings? Well... what Oddly Weathy Worshiper with Working Knowledge Of Sewer Systems!

It was a well known joke. Everyone ignored them.

But one by one... they stopped coming.

The locals who's families had worshipped here for generations. The merchants who always came "just in case". The smugglers who "could use a bit of luck". Random travelers, guided by our Lady to a place of safety. I began to hear scoffs, as I went into town, from the younger generations. Get "concerned hints" from aunties and uncles I had know all my life.

Fellow priestess started too... drift away.

First seeming distracted, praying more, then praying less, going for longer and longer walks, their ceremonial robes getting increasingly half-hearted, then... after the final, damning stage of "staring off towards town a lot"? They would leave. Some with excuses. Others with vitriol. Our home colder and colder for each one gone.

The Elders heart's were breaking. They were watching the slow death of the only home they had ever known and could do nothing to stop it. The temple was dying. The children they had raised, the little ones who were all but grandchildren, abandoning them without second thought or simple discussion. For some whispered promise of foreign gods.

But I? I intend to stay, no matter what.

I who had been born to travels that did not want me, here in this temple that DID. Loved by these walls and this Lady. Who was given a second chance when my first ended so abruptly. Who would walk with Her one day. Proudly and with love. This was my home. Even if I had to take care of it by myself, I WOULD.

Things in town grew... vitriolic. Tense. Like a simmering heat had spread across the street where once, cool water flowed. It lurked beneath the surface. Volatile and burning, as bright colors seem to spread like sickness across the town. They felt... aggressive, somehow. Those colors. As though anyone NOT wearing them must answer for the crime of it.

I had them pushed upon me.

Again and again.

"It's cheerful!" "Look how bright and sunny they are!" "You'll look GREAT!"

I served a night goddess. The brightest color I was allowed to wear was off white to represent the moon and stars. Night blooming flowers if I could find them and justify it. It wasn't a matter of PREFERENCE. They KNEW this. I could NOT wear their gifts. Not the clothes. Not the jewelry. Not the decorations. None of it. Especially not with...suns... on it.

It was then I did more then just suspect. As I held the most recent gift, pushed upon me by well meaning friends. Struggling to remain patient. The sun sewn into the cheerfully dyed fabric MOCKED and sneered. Gaudy and ugly to my eyes. I turned, back to the temple, the rest of my shopping forgotten.

It could wait.

When I returned? I showed the Elders what I had been handed. Elder Antilla going so pale she nearly fainted. It was all that they had feared. At last, one of the major players had decided to swallow our tiny region whole. We were nothing but a small regional faith. Our Lady a weak but kind Divine in the grand scheme of things. She took care of us.

Could not offer us miracles and silks, honey and splendor. But she could love us. Protect our souls and guide us. The stronger Gods? Oh, they could offer SO MUCH more. Tempt and sway away Her faithful. Starve her into nothingness as they strip her of power. Consume her, as they had so many others before.

We had been safe.

Because we were far away and of little interest, tucked away between mountains that lead to nowhere of strategic worth. Few people to even convert. But seems... our time had run out. One of them had come for us. And oh... oh how EASY it had been for them to pour their power and wealth into swaying our faithful away. Buying their souls for a pittance of power and a laugh.

We had to sit down.

The mood grim.

The Elders would not live much longer, I knew. Perhaps that was why they were ignored. That, or the other God knew they could not sway them. They certainly would not sway me. I refused. Even if I had to worship alone. Became some cultist in the woods. I would NOT leave Her.

I prayed.

The silence felt deafening. But at least I was not alone. My Lady's arms held me close. As though trying to shield me from the world. Shaking, tears of grief that left no marks, dropping one after another upon my hair and skin. Suddenly the arms around me tightened in alarm. Pulled, as though commanding me to stand. To be ready to run. There was FEAR in that action.

I was on my feet at once. Turning towards the open air of the entrance.

Up the road, old and worn with the passing feet of countless travelers, came the crisp step of expensive boot leather. The rustle of leaves, the chirping of birds, all of it, seemed to hush as the sound of footsteps got closer. As though nature itself was afraid to draw attention of whatever was coming.

It was the light that changed first. No longer coming from just above us, yet somehow? It still was. The mid-day's sun was bright, cheerful, yet perfectly ordinary. Natural in the way countless summer day's have been. But the light coming from up the path? Low and shifting like a lantern swings, in a way that can only be ORGANIC?

It BURNED.

The sort of light that purges all in its path. That blinds and maims and burns. So hot everything becomes cold, as nerve endings char away. Like the blinding light off winter snow. Pale and reaching. Hungry. Consuming. W...What WAS that? It was getting closer. I backed deeper into the temple. Towards my Lady's idol.

The hush grew louder and louder, in it's terrible absence of sound.

The light brighter, as whatever IT was, got closer.

My eyes could see no shadows, so it probably wasn't real light. It hurt to look at. Yet it didn't hurt in the way staring at bright lights SHOULD hurt. It was painful because it had... claws? Thorns. Jagged, dragging edges that ripped at the something in me that SAW.

I could See because I needed to See, I think.

She NEEDED me to know what stood before me was not merely a man.

And THAT? That is the form it took. The liar and thief. A burning monster at the threshold of my home. Dressed in the finest silks and satins stolen faith can buy, the jewels glinting from his belt enough to buy several small nations. THAT was not a man. It just looked like one. Wore the face of one.

High Priest? Champion?

Goddess help me, an Avatar?

They were enmeshed. Woven so tightly they were all but an extension of the Divine. And it BURNED. Bright, holy, and terrible. A Sun standing before the Moon's own temple, with purging fire in its heart.

"Hello, little Thing. You've been quite stubborn, haven't you?"

They didn't raise their voice, yet still my bones felt like they rattled in my skin. The few windows we had, shook. Light fixtures swayed. I... I was afraid. I would NOT cower, but oh, Lady, I was afraid. His voice felt like the desert sighing against my skin. The edge of a threat.

"I lay out treats and you do not come. I invite the town and you will not hear me. You brothers and sisters kneel at my feet, yet you? You spurn me, too give your loyalty away for nothing."

I watch as he casually reaches to the air to his side. As though accepting something offered from someone who is not there. A cigarette. He tucks it into his mouth and cups the end, his finger glowing brightly as he lights it.

He takes a drag then exhales.

Letting the smoke whisp, rudely, past the unspoken barrier between us and into the temple proper. It's scent mixes discordantly with the incense. Making what was once lovely a cloying and choking mess. I watch him smirk as he takes another drag. Send more smoke inside.

His disrespect is deliberate.

"What can the festering night give, that the loving embrace of the day can not give better?"

His smirk rolls into the mimicry of a laugh. The monster's head tilted as though to consider my reaction even as the empty sound echoes against the temple's walls. It has the depth of a laugh track. The warmth of one. How... HOW has this CREATURE fooled ANYONE? Destroyed us so utterly? It is cruel.

"Ah~ so THAT'S what it is, you precious little Thing." He whispers, somehow the most terrible sound he has made so far. The power of it drags against me covetously, lingering like hands. "True Faith, given freely. You really do love her so, don't you? That wretched, unworthy, Nothing. Little Thing~, you should love ME instead."

It ended in a croon. As though trying to entice me. But all I could hear was static. The pounding of my heart as fear released adrenaline into my body, bringing the world into hyperfocus. "Me"? My ears had not deceived me, right? That THING in mockery of man's form... said "me"?

Oh, Nox Viatoris, our Lady who guides us, on darkest paths in deepest night... h.. hold my soul with kindness. Walk with me, on this broken, troubled path. That I may not face it alone. I... I am scared.

That... That was An AVATAR.

The extension of the Divine upon this mortal world. Not nearly their full power, but even a fraction of the INFINTE? Is beyond mortal capacity to fight. Only Avatars could handle other Avatars. On rare occasions, Champions, should they band together. But I... I was just a priestess. A humble child of nowhere.

Oh Goddess.

I back up. My back hitting the alter. I... I was probably going to die here. Our faith, wiped from the face of the map. I finally understood. He had come to stomp, like crushing ants, on what few hold outs dared linger at the fringes of his domain. Sent his Avatar to convert and destroy.

Our home would be nothing but rubble, wouldn't it? Generations of faith, gone. Our history, burned before his uncaring purge. At... oh Goddess, dear Lady, at least I would walk that final time with her. Could return the kindness she had shown so many. He was going to kill her. Kill US.

I...I refused to let her die alone.

Against my back, I felt the cool warmth of my Lady, leaning against me. Her unseen arms around me in comfort. For me or herself, I could not tell. It did not matter. I stood taller. Head high, shoulders back, feet shoulders wide. Shaking, yes, but unwilling to cower.

If I died today, I would walk proudly with Nox Viatoris.

The smile had slipped from the Avatar's face as it blankly regarded the spot directly behind me. Like a puppet sliding back into default in that absence of commands. I briefly wondered... who had he been? The faithful man, who gave up his form? Who was hollowed out and USED? He was beautiful. Had he been asked?

Or had he had this terrible thing inflicted upon him?

I would never know.

"That's rather annoying, you useless little parasite. She and I were having a conversation." The puppet's, the AVATAR'S mouth, barely moved. "Can't you go check on those wastes of space of yours? The ones that you've only barely managed to keep? They should be dead soon, you'll need to do your job. I'll take Good Care~ of this bright little soul. Don't bother coming back."

"No need." Came the deceptively soft rasp of the high priest. His normally kind face colder then I had ever seen it. Fierce and determined as he lead the other elders from the where they had been meeting in the gardens. Had the Goddess called them? Or had they simply sensed something was wrong?

"I am afraid that although the temple is said to be open to all, that is not, in fact, strictly true. Those that come here with malicious intent are not welcome. Nor those who come to cause trouble, intent regardless. YOU have caused grief and pain here. We do not welcome you to these halls. Please go."

Elder Lilam was subtly pushing me towards the back of the group. Their eyes somber as they met mine. I... I did not cry. There would been time for such things later, I hoped. I nodded back. Understood. Went, softly, on quiet feet. Past the alter, into the back, down the main hall on swift but not running feet.

To the back, where the wanderers bags were. For those our Lady calls suddenly to travel. To wander the roads in search of lost travelers in need of aid. I grabbed more then my fair share of bags. I... I did not suspect I would be coming back. Then into the back gardens. Where we grew herbs and vegetables for the kitchen.

The front of the temple SHOOK.

A terrible burning light. Heat and death. I barely kept my feet under me. Broke into a sprint. Away from the only home I had ever known. The Elders I was certain our Lady now walked to their rest. Towards the mountains and forests I had explored all my life. I... I could only hope they would protect me.

In my chest, the mantle of High Priestess settled. Heavy and mournful with our Lady's grief. I would have to carry the weight. There was no one else now. They were gone. With her. They had done all they could.

Felt their sorrow, their love, and it was all I could do not to let my tears blind me.

I needed to see the path. Could not risk missteping even once.

Behind me, down further below, and now hidden by the trees, I heard the temple crash and shake. As it was torn apart. Pillar by pillar, room by room, lifetimes of love and memories were destroyed. The murals painted in my childhood were surely gone by now. The hand carved doors that had lasted for centuries. Paint splatters and embroideries from generations of youth who had grown to call that place home.

Gone.

All of us, gone.

I ran.

I ran and I HATED myself for running. What could I DO? What could I POSSIBLY hope to DO? All I had left was to survive. Too carry them forward. It hurt. Worse then any breaking bone or burning skin. I couldn't even cry. I... I didn't have the TIME.

I hit the tree line. Didn't dare go too much higher. Didn't know if Avatars could fucking fly. Didn't want to find out the hard way. So many things I did not do. Was there anything left I DID do? Was GOOD for?

There was.

The shadowed place between two mountains. Mid-day had past. Afternoon was meandering towards days end. It would only get darker from here. Ha ha... where was this? When we need it? Oh, I knew. The monster timed his arrival well. At the height of his power.

But this was MY house now.

He may be stronger then me? But that meant NOTHING. I did not need power here. I needed SUBTLETY. A whisp of nothingness of a breeze of shadows. I could feel him, slow and steady, arrogant in his assumptions, pursuing me. He really did know NOTHING about those he destroyed. We were beneath his notice.

I hope the hubris burns as he chokes on it.

I slip between the mountains, into that deep rift of a valley, more crack then anything, and... VANISH. I am One with the Night. A traveler on Her path. Safe in her care. Sideways and one step removed from reality, as I race forward. No longer stumbling over uneven rocks and clambering on unstable terrain, the path beneath my feet is soft and smooth. I grin, as far away, that bastard falters.

"Oh, you clever little Thing. I forgot you still had tricks. Amusing~"

"It won't keep you from me though, I WILL have you in the end. And you will worship ME. Look only upon ME. And you will be my favorite, I think. I am going to chase you down, little Thing. So go ahead and pray. It will do you no good."

"You are going to be MINE, beautiful in the sunlight. You have no choice."

[theewritingroomm]

A Wasteland Reunion

Summary: It's been more than 200 years since you've last seen your cowboy. Pairing: Cooper Howard x Reader Word Count: 1,070 (a drabble? what's that?) Warnings: mentions of violence, swearing, A/N: Part of The Cowboy & The Movie Star series, a part 2 if you will. Let me know what y'all would like to see from this series. What snapshots would y'all like to see?

I do NOT consent to my work being translated or published onto third party sites - including AO3 and Wattpad.

A layer of dirt and grime covered every surface of the Red Rocket Gas Station. Outside the sun blazed down, covering the Wasteland in a blazing heat. The wind gave an occasional whistle as it blew more dirt into the gas station’s broken windows. Though you were paying attention to none of that, you were focused on the sound that should not be there. 

The thumping of heavy footsteps on broken concrete. 

So with your back against the checkout counter you reload your gun and cussed Ma June. If this ‘simple favor’ didn’t kill you, you were going to ring the older lady’s neck. 

As the heavy steps get closer your finger tightens around the trigger of your gun. The old bell chimes above the door and heavy footfalls turn into light steps as the newest customer to the Red Rocket navigates around the debris littering the floor. The footsteps grow quieter as the person heads towards the other end of the gas station. 

Taking the opportunity, you slowly crawl towards the open door a few feet to your right. The manager’s office was threadbare, a simple desk and chair sat in the middle of the room with a few filing cabinets sitting behind the desk. It did not offer many hiding places, however you had no interest in hiding. You were interested in getting the piece of tech Ma June was searching for and getting the hell out of the Red Rocket. 

After waiting a moment, with bated breath for the sound of footsteps to draw closer. You were surprised when they never did, coming to the conclusion that the person must have left. Likely abandoning their search when they came up empty handed. Not that you minded, The less people here, the less bullets you would have to use to make it back to Filly. 

Pushing the other person from your mind, you began going through the drawers of the desk. Where you found a handful of plastic forks, a loose cigarette and four caps. With another glance to the open door and a pause to listen for steps, you turned your attention to the filing cabinets behind you. 

The first cabinet was a bust, holding nothing but trash. You had moved onto the second cabinet, only starting to pull the first drawer out when the hairs on the back of your neck rose and a pit of dread opened in your stomach. Before you could turn to inspect, the hammer of a pistol was pulled back. The click echoed off the walls of the dusty gas station. 

“My, my,” A low voice drawled out behind you. “What’s a pretty little thing like you doin’ all alone out here?” 

The voice was low, gravely, distinctly a man’s voice. It trickled down your spine like ice water, setting off every nerve ending within you. But deep down, there was a familiarity in the voice. A familiarity that had your heart tightening in your chest. 

“Just surviving,” you replied., hand tightening around your own pistol. “Wasteland’s a rough place.” 

You tried to keep your voice level, not wanting to give away any of your intentions or give the stranger a reason to pull his trigger. At this point you were ready to call this mission a bust, sure that the tech Ma June was after was not worth your life. 

“Stand up, leave your gun on the ground” the man demanded, leaving no room for arguments. 

Complying with the man, you left your gun in the dirt and stood. Muscles aching and protesting from being squatted for so long. Once fully stood you began to turn around. Wanting to see the man who was likely going to shoot you down. 

The man, no, the ghoul in front of you was menacing from looks alone. A long, leather trench coat covered the rest of his outfit, an ammo belt stretched across his chest, and a weathered cowboy hat was pulled low on his head. A sneer stretched his lips across yellowing teeth and fire burned in deep brown eyes. 

As you locked eyes with the Ghoul a weight of emotions crashed into your chest. If silence hadn’t consumed the gas station you would have thought he shot you.

“Cooper?” The name fell from your lips before you could stop it. 

The sound bubbled in the space between the two of you. Growing with the tension in the room before popping with a deep growl from the man. 

Quicker than you could realize, he was on you. A heavy arm pushing against your throat as he slammed you against the hard metal cabinets behind you. A handle dug harshly into your hip, surly going to leave a bruise. However, you could not find it in you to care. Not when Cooper Howard was standing before you two hundred years after you had seen him last. Two hundred years after you were sure he had died.  

“How do you fuckin; know that name?” He growled, pushing his forearm harder against your throat.

“Coop, please,” You coughed out, struggling to breath past the pressure Cooper was putting on your neck. “It’s me.”

His eyes darkened, a predator staring down at you. “Bullshit.” 

The arm not holding you to the cabinets began to raise, The metal of his gun was cold as he placed it to your temple. 

“I’m only gonna ask one more time.” He pulled the hammer back with a sickening click. “How do you know that name and why are you wearing her fuckin’ face?” 

He was nearly shouting at the end of his question. Fury beginning to take over his composure. 

Knowing you only had one more chance to prove to Cooper that you were standing in front of him, you dug into your memories with Cooper. Going back to a place you had long wished to go back to.

“I told you I loved you for the first time the day the bombs dropped,” you choked around the words, “I had a meeting at the studio and you were getting ready for a birthday party. We were standing in the driveway and you were wearing that damn cowboy getup, but I couldn’t wait anymore so I blurted it out.” 

The fire in his eyes diminished as another emotion took over. With a small sigh, your name escaped his lips in a whisper. Like a prayer he had long since forgotten.

[cillianmesoftlyyy]

Wary Sailor Pt. 2 | Matthew Joy x fem!reader

summary: Second Mate Matthew Joy goes out on a whale hunt and even after a successful chase, he can't seem to feel satisfied. Something's weighing heavily on his mind. While alone in the harpoon boat, trouble comes to call.

warnings: Aiming a gun at someone, talk of violence, smut, oral (F receiving), penetration, dubious consent (weird circumstances), unprotected sex, Matthew's abandonment issues lol.

word count: 2763k+

Tucumcari- Goodnight, Texas 🎶

Lady May- Tyler Childers 🎵

Note: The lyrics that I included are from the old whaling song Maid of Amsterdam.

*Pt. 3 (and maybe 4???) coming soon!

The men were deployed into the smaller whaling boats, each boat armed with a harpoon and dense cord. Matthew stood at the back of his boat to steer it away from the ship, navigating the aggravated water. He forced himself to think about the whales, keeping his mind inside the boat… but the girl’s eyes appeared like stars in the corner of his vision at all times. 

“Joy!” One of the rowers was yelling at him, snapping him out of his trance. “Joy, focus! Don’t go soft on us all of a sudden, eh?” 

Matthew grimaced as the grisly sailor chuckled. He steered them out to open water, following the Captain's boat as per his orders. While he couldn’t see their bodies in the water, Matthew could hear the loud vibrations of sound the Sperm whales made as they spoke to one another. He could also hear Owen yelling out commands to his men. The harpoonist prepared his weapon. Matthew directed his man to do the same. 

“Steady now!” He advised his men as they waited for movement below the surface. Striking the whale was simple compared to the rest of the exhausting process. Matthew just planned on keeping his men alive but whale oil was also a necessity that he was willing to sacrifice for. He wasn’t a greedy man by any means, he’d lived in poverty all his life. His life was whaling and he didn’t spend much time off the ocean, the stillness made him restless. 

“There she blows!” A man yelled and Matthew peered over the edge as the side of his boat rose out of the water, stuck on the back of an adolescent whale. As he looked over, the distinct silhouette of a woman wavered beneath the surface. Choosing to ignore it, Matthew swung the boat over to allow the harpooner to cast his weapon. 

“Go, go, go!” He barked, spit flying from his mouth as he waved the man on. The harpoon sailed through the sky, landed in the water like a seabird, and missed. The whale diverted away from Matthew’s boat and found itself trapped beside Owen’s. The mother whale broke the surface nearby, distracting the men to the real prize. Matthew steered his boat away as the other men helped reel in the harpoon’s cord. The harpooner aimed and threw. 

…

It was evening when the whale was secured by chains to the deck of the ship. The whale was so large she had to rest in two different places, one on the ship’s deck and the other in Matthew’s boat. The men aboard wrapped rags around their noses to cover the smell. Matthew just grimaced and rubbed the sockets of his eyes. The darkening landscape helped relieve some of his headache. The other men were already aboard the Essex, only he was left to watch over the end of the whale, saving it from sharks and other predators. He could hear the men singing as they did their work, scraping the fat from the inside of a giant. He hummed along to the song they were singing together.

A roving, a roving

Since roving's been my ru-i-in

I'll go no more a roving

With you fair maid! 

Movement in the water drew his mind away from the song. Ripples expanded across the surface where something had just been. Matthew drew his rifle from the floorboards and checked the chamber for bullets. He watched the surface carefully for the distinct fins of sharks. 

I put my hand upon her thigh

Mark well what I do say!

I put my hand upon her thigh

She said young man ‘That’s rather high’

I'll go no more a roving with you fair maid!

Matthew cocked the gun and aimed it at the dark water around his boat. The men’s singing seemed to dissipate with the seriousness of his situation. Sharks could be both dangerous and damaging. The scent of whale blood always drew them in, sending them into a frenzy where they could throw themselves against the side of the boat, risking damage. They were a nuisance to Matthew and he didn’t mind shooting them when necessary. The boat rocked in the waves and he steadied himself. 

“Are you going to use that on me, Matthew Joy?” The voice behind him startled a gasp from his lips. He swung the rifle around, aiming it at the same face he’d seen hours before. 

“You…” he whispered, keeping his rifle trained on her throat. Her eyes were the same green as before, only this time he could see them more clearly. The sun had fully set but colors remained in the sky above her head, bloody purples and such. He couldn’t see her body below the water but he saw that her shoulders were bare save the scattered pearls stuck to her skin like freckles. 

“Are you going to shoot me?” She whispered back, her face inches from the barrel of the rifle. He licked his lips before speaking.

“Where… where did you go? You disappeared…” he muttered darkly, flicking his eyes up to the deck where his crewmates continued to work. He was alone with the girl. 

“I had to see what you were like,” she offered a small smile. Matthew adjusted the way he held the gun, still aimed at her. 

“You asked me if I believed in Sirens…” Matthew remembered warily, his eyes trailing over the pearls across her chest. Her dark hair rested behind her shoulders, down her back. 

“Do you?” She asked and reached up her hands slowly, holding the edge of the small boat. He stared at her, his breath clouding the metal scope on his gun. 

“Is that what you are?” He asked finally and the girl smiled once again. 

“Is it quite shocking?” She teased and bit her lip timidly. 

“Well… yes,” Matthew exhaled and raised his eyebrow, “I thought they were only in stories. They weren’t real… Why didn’t you sing?”

The girl cocked her head to the side. The air felt heavy between them as he waited for her response. His body was confused and frightened, something he’d rarely felt before. His instinct and desire clashed, strengthening the opposing forces within him.  

“I don’t want to kill you,” she answered honestly, “we sing to kill.” 

Matthew lowered his gun and nodded, breathless. 

“You had legs. You didn’t look… ” He ran a shaky hand through his hair and ran his hand over his mouth. He could see the top of her fin break through the water. It was a beautiful silver color and her scales were shiny and iridescent. 

“I wanted to see how you would treat me. I disguised myself as a human girl and you treated me gently.”

“What do you want from me? You had to keep me alive for some reason,” Matthew sat down on a plank of seating and rubbed the waterducts of his eyes. 

“Nothing more than just to know you. I’ve watched your crew from the sea for weeks. You are a good, kind man.” 

Matthew looked up from between his fingers and exhaled slowly, lowering his guard only slightly. 

“Then what does this mean? How do you want to… know me?” He furrowed his brow and sat back once again on the plank of wood. Her hands tipped the boat slightly so that she could come a little closer to the sailor. 

“Come closer, please…” she whispered and rose onto her elbows, her face a few inches from Matthew’s. Matthew stared at her lips, rosey pink and plump. She smelled like sea salt and clean things. Ever so slowly, Matthew closed the distance between them, his eyes staying on her lips. 

“Y/N…” He tried to restrain himself as he whispered but eventually, as she stared up at him with her beautiful curtained eyes, he kissed her. It had been years since he’d actually kissed a woman. Kissing was so different than fucking. He’d forgotten how much he enjoyed it, the softness of it. Her hands inched up his blouse, beneath his overcoat, grabbing at his lapels. His hands found the sharp edges of her jaw, meeting her mouth with a more fervent kiss. She tasted lightly of salt, like seaspray against rocks. He devoured her flavor as though it were precious, forbidden. He twisted his fingers into her hair that felt dry despite being in the water, moaning against her lips. 

“In what other ways do you want to know me?” He muttered against her lips, his eyes closed. Her fingers ran over his neck, down to the dip between his collarbones. 

“I want to know every part of you,” she smiled and moved away, allowing the light from the deck to illuminate her figure below him in the water. Matthew hid a choked sigh as his eyes trailed over her body below the waves. Her body was decorated with pearls and scraps of white cloth. Instead of a tail, she now had two legs that beat the water to keep her afloat. 

“Will you take me into your boat?” She asked softly and Matthew nearly forgot to respond, caught in a state of disbelief. He cleared his throat and scooped his hands beneath her arms, pulling her into the boat in one movement. Standing above him on two legs, she looked even more beautiful than she had hours earlier. He could see the buds of her nipples through the white fabric, surrounded by pearls and strands of seaweed. Her cunt was hidden behind a swath of wet fabric but he could still see the dark shape of pubic hair. He looked back up at her face, his lips having fallen apart in amazement. The Siren laughed softly and carded her fingers through his hair, pulling his head back slightly as she did. 

“Lay me down,” she requested and smiled when he immediately wrapped his hands around her waist and flipped her over where she could lie flat on the bottom of the harpoon boat. The planks were far enough away to give him space to kneel above her. He supported himself above her, studying the contours of her body, plump and full. She twisted her fingers through his hair again and pulled him close so she could whisper in his ear. 

“Now make love to me, Matthew Joy.” 

…

He was already hard when she cupped her hand against his pants. It had been a while since he’d slept with a woman after months at sea. His body ached as badly as if he were a teenage boy again, not an aging man. He was throbbing as he moved the fabric on her cunt aside and lowered his head between her thighs. Looking up at her, he ran his tongue against her, tasting her. She hummed and shook with nerves. 

A roving, a roving

Since roving's been my ru-i-in

I'll go no more a roving

With you fair maid!

Feeling emboldened by her reaction, Matthew licked her again and rubbed his nose against her clit. She was wet against his tongue and he licked his lips greedily. His cock started to throb as she whimpered and moaned beneath his mouth. Her hand pulled tightly at his hair but he loved the pain and worked his mouth harder into her cunt. 

“Now, please now!” She begged him as she started to shake with pleasure. Taking the hint, Matthew undid his trousers and pushed them down to his knees. His face was still wet with her precum as he pulled out his cock and inserted himself quickly. She spasmed around him, her hands moving to grip the sides of the boat for leverage. His thighs clenched as he thrusted into her, his eyes almost rolling to the back of his head. He leaned closer to her chest and rocked into her neck as he fucked her. 

“Oh you don’t know how long it’s been, love,” he sighed against her neck. “Is it ok?”

She nodded emphatically and pulled him closer by the back of his jacket, moving him deeper inside her. They both gasped out. He pulled his face away to watch her, still fucking her. 

“Beautiful. Pretty pretty creature you are,” he praised her as he trailed a finger down her cheek. Her thighs bounced against his as he pulled her legs around his waist. The boat shook around them. He slipped his tongue around the mound of her breast beneath the cloth, making more moans escape the girl’s mouth. He slipped the fabric aside with one finger and looking up to watch her face, he pressed his mouth around a nipple and sucked. Immediately, her body pulled into his, her back arching off the curved bottom. 

I'll go no more a roving

With you fair maid!

“Matthew…” she gasped as her muscles tightened and her bare feet flexed. He rolled his tongue around her nipple while his hand moved to hold her neck lightly, supporting her head. She cried out silently, her eyes screwed shut as if she were in pain. He dragged his tongue along her sternum to her neck and sucked at the flesh there. Her breathing evened out and she pulled his face to hers once again. 

“Do what you want with me. Get what you need from me,” the seriousness of her command sent a spasm of pleasure into his cock, still inside her. 

“Are you sure?” 

“Yes. I want you to use me,” she whispered and spread her legs farther. Matthew looked at her for a second before smiling. 

“Fuck, love. I think I’ll fall in love with you,” he chuckled softly and brushed his hand across her cheek. 

“And so what if you do, sailor? Hasn’t everyone else done the same at some point?” 

Matthew raised an eyebrow and kissed her, dragging her hands out above her head. Pressing her hands down into the boat, he began to thrust slowly into her, his hips still rebounding off of her pelvis. 

“You’re going to stay right here, Y/N. I don’t want to lose you again.” 

The girl smiled and broke into a moan as he shortened his thrusts, keeping himself as far inside her as he could. He went slowly so he could feel the orgasm clearly as it came over him, making his cock feel swollen with seed. Her hips shook wildly as she began to lose control over her orgasms. He watched her orgasm and released a wave of contractions around him. Smiling, he finally began to speed up as she whimpered beneath him.

“Fuck, yes… fuck… yes!” He muttered breathlessly as he felt his cock start to twitch before his orgasm. She tightened around him, pulling him deeper and drawing a guttural groan from his throat. His shoulders shook with effort as he allowed his orgasm to explode, cumming inside the girl and sending waves of relief through his system. He pulled out slowly and kissed down her stomach, savoring the heat of her skin against his lips. She caught her breath as he lapped at her swollen cunt. She was still shaking from her orgasms and whined when his tongue overstimulated her. He cleaned her out and nibbled at the skin on the inside of her thighs. 

“It’s time for me to go.” 

Matthew looked up at her and furrowed his brow, “so soon?” 

The girl nodded and sat up to face him. 

“I’ll be back, I promise.” She smiled shyly and rubbed her nose against his. 

“Where do you go… I mean where do you go while we’re aboard?” He stumbled over his words, still catching his breath. 

“Here,” she offered no further clarification as Matthew gave her a questioning look. She pressed her hand against his cheek and laughed. 

“Don’t worry about where I go, sailor. The sea is my home.”

Matthew kissed her hastily as he redid his pants and pulled his suspender straps back over his shoulders. She stood and kissed him once more before she stepped over the edge and dropped into the water. In seconds she was resurfacing with her silver tail. 

“Let me ask you one thing,” Matthew stopped her before he could leave, “are you real? Was that real?” He gestured to the bottom of the boat and the girl laughed brightly. 

“Be wary, sailor. You might just lose your mind."

Matthew nodded and watched as she backed away and dove into the dark water beyond the reflection of light from the deck. Moments later, a whistle sounded and he was called to return to the ship. Forcing himself to look away from the place where the girl disappeared, he felt the familiar material of his old coat that he had wrapped around the girl earlier on the plank beside him, folded and damp.

...

End of Pt. 2!

[garagesesh]

HOTD headcanons

I can hear the bells // p. 2 & p. 1

gif source

⤷ pairing(s): aemond targaryen x reader, s*r criston cole x reader, jacaerys velaryon x reader

⤷ warning(s): unplanned pregnancy, angst, criston cole

⤷ a/n: idk criston cole is fun to write and it helps that he’s pretty, this isn’t my favorite work and I’m sure I’ll rewrite someday but I wanted to get it out now before my vacay

masterlist

―✧˖° ♛ °˖✧―

★ aemond targaryen

You are not a highborn lady or any type of Targaryen or Velaryon Princess, you met Aemond in the bowels of Flea Bottom at a tavern by chance, not knowing who he was. The two of you connected, talking until dawn about adventure and the history of Valyria

Aemond was charmed by your ignorance of his standing in society, reveling in the secret but simple life affair

It wasn’t two months later that you figured it out. A gold cloak addresses him by his title out in the streets in a tavern. You’re not thrilled by this revelation and in fact swear to never see him again but he’s persistent, determined to keep you

It doesn’t take long for the two of you to resume your relationship and suddenly-

You’re pregnant a year into your affair with the one-eyed prince, he was overjoyed with the news but you were scared he was going to abandon you like his elder brother had done time and time again

You call him mad and laugh, thinking it's some sort of cruel jest when he confesses his intent to marry you and make you royalty. He will not raise a bastard, he says as you kick him out of your small one room

It takes a month before you finally accept his proposal, it took sleepless nights and worried days before finally talking yourself into his idea as a good one

There are no flowers except the ones he brought you at dawn on your wedding day, it is a warm sunny morning when you both enter the sept of Baelor, a skeptical high septon, and his sworn guard

It is rushed but Aemond is determined and ready as he swears his vows and barely waits for you to finish your own before kissing you hard

You have never met a dragon before when Aemond takes you before Vhagar and tells you that you’ll be riding south for a fortnight, there is no fear that runs in your veins but excitement

You spend a sennight in Dorne, hidden away from the world, unbeknownst to the wrath awaiting you and Aemond in the Red Keep

Alicent is cold and unwilling to understand the situation. It is not easy or happy meeting for you.

★ criston cole

After the dance of dragons, criston cole is given a choice. To be stripped of his white cloak die within the cells of the Red Keep or to be stripped of his white cloak, return to Dorne and live a quiet life out of the realms politics. Cole chooses the latter, of course. It’s far more kindly than what he assumed would be his fate.

Dorne is not what he remembers it being, it’s dry and vast with little in it’s lands. Cole doesn’t consider this desert his home.

His father was not proud of him, but he needs to still secure the house lineage and secures a marriage pact

As the youngest daughter of house Dayne, you’re not thrilled at the prospect of marrying the fool (one of many nicknames they’ve aptly named Criston in Dorne). You have only heard of the most vile and selfish stories about your now betrothed.

When you first meet Criston Cole, you’re shocked. He’s attractive, his hair has grown out to his shoulders and there’s a scar running down his neck but the weeks leading up to your meeting you had envisioned all sorts of monstrosities, considering you and the realm had decided he was a cruel inept monster

He is quiet and replies with a soft voice, you’re puzzled how the ex-Lord Commander and Hand of the King for the traitor king is gentle. However it is hard to see past what he has done to tear the realm apart

When your wedding day comes around, he replaces your cloak with a rough cloth with colourless dots adorning the back. House Cole is not wealthy and the dowry wasn’t large.

He kisses you well not really. His rough hands squeezes your own gently and barely brushing his lips to your cheek

There is no feast, just a family meal that is supplied well with meat and wine in the gardens well into the evening

The bedding is just like his kiss, hardly anything to recount to your sisters or companions. It isn’t romantic and your sure he doesn’t even finish. You hope that this isn’t what it’ll always be

★ jace velaryon

Growing up alongside your future husband isn’t the norm, but you are glad for it. As many ladies are stuck with brutes and old men for husbands

Jace has matured into a handsome man that you can’t bare to look at without blushing. With every look he gives you, you can’t help but turn your head with cheeks red

But despite your embarrassment, you are both more than excited to finally be married

You opt for a traditional Valyrian wedding, the same as Rhaenyra and Daemon had done. There was no fancy ceremony with cloaks of golden threads, just Jace and you

Sleep did not come the night before, as the excitement and giddiness ran through you like shots of lightning. You couldn’t even feel the exhaustion in your muscles as you readied yourself in the robes and headpiece

Jace could not find sleep himself, as he was too excited as well at the prospect of finally calling you his

Jace’s eyes watered while waiting for you, he choked on his Valyrian as you laughed at his sweet mistake

The kiss wasn’t needy or greedy, but it wasn’t the cordial kiss of the Lords & Ladies of the Seven would display. It was tender and loving and gentle.

The feast was celebrated through the night and full of laughter. When it came to the bedding ceremony, you and Jace instead fell asleep quite quickly in your now shared bed

However the next evening…

[muxshwriting]

the way i loved only you (pt. ii)

Eloise Bridgerton x fem!reader

summary: you never thought you’d find someone again, let alone find someone in a girl from a past you’d left behind || warnings: the lesbians are lesbianing || word count: 1443 || masterlist

part one

"You're writing to her?" Theo asked, outraged.

You didn't see the problem. "Yes? She asked me to, so I will."

"She abandoned you!" He cried. "And Abigail!" Theo was livid. He had cared for you and Abigail when your first love had abandoned you and left you nothing. He never wanted to see it happen to you again and now Eloise had left you in the dark and delivered her words through a letter. A letter. She didn't even have the courage to escape her home and tell you her words to her face.

"She had to." You tried to explain. "You don't understand the Ton Theo, if she came to see us now, she would never be allowed back into society."

"You left society."

You face became serious. "And I would never wish that on another person when they can have a happy and fulfilling life inside society. I did what I thought I had to, sometimes I regret that decision. But I made it, no one made that choice for me."

Months passed, told through letters between friends, letter between confidantes, letters between lovers.

Whereas before, Eloise could be found pouring over copies of Whistledown or nose scrunched into a novel, she now analysed your letters and scrutinised her responses. But Eloise was not the only person you wrote letters to. You also wrote letters to your mother's dearest friend, Lady Agatha Danbury.

It had been going on for years, but not very often. You wrote to comfort Lady Danbury in the knowledge that you were alive and doing well. You told her of Abigail when she was born, of your friendship with Theo and your contentment with your simple life. You wouldn't allow her to see you, nor go and visit her. She knew where you were, knew you were safe and provided for by an allowance your father thought was enough to benefit his spinster daughter who he wanted nothing to do with.

In our father's eyes, you travelled to the countryside and left society in shame that you were not his son. He was happy to send you money and yet otherwise pretend you did not exist. This unlikely and bizarre arrangement benefitted you in ways you couldn't imagine.

Your letters to Lady Danbury were every few months, at most. But when Lady Danbury was at Bridgerton House she spotted a familiar signature scrawled at the bottom of a letter Eloise Bridgerton carried so tenderly.

"Keeping up to date with your correspondence Miss Eloise?"

Eloise jumped, not noticing the dowager behind her. "Lady Danbury. I am simply writing a letter to a... friend."

"A friend." Lady Danbury stated slowly. "A friend called Y/N Y/L/N working in a printing shop in Hampstead."

"Wha- How? How do you know of Y/N?"

"Y/N is the daughter of Lord Harding, silly girl. I made a promise to her mother that I would always look out for her. I would be a terrible godmother if I didn't know where she was."

"Godmother? But Y/N-"

"Never mentioned me? She rarely does. I don't blame her, of course. We haven't seen each other in years."

"But-"

"Now," Lady Danbury lowered herself into a chair next to Eloise. "Would you like to see her?"

Eloise's eyes widened as she took in the words she was hearing. "Yes! Wait- No. I- I can't jeopardise my famil-"

"Don't worry about that." She assured. "It's time I see my goddaughter face to face."

If there was anything Y/N was expecting on a normal day at the printing shop, it wasn't Lady Danbury personally walking through the front doors. And it definitely wasn't the order she gave to arrive at her house the next day for tea. You weren't quite sure what was going on but accepted the older woman's hug and invitation before she was leaving the shop like she had never been there in the first place.

Eloise received the summons by Lady Danbury later that day, requiring her presence for the next day. She spent the rest of the day almost tearing her hair out with nervousness for finally being able to see you again. And, as she often did on restless nights, she found herself rocking on the swing in the garden.

Benedict found her out there when her skin was cool to touch and the dew had began forming on blades of grass.

"Everything alright sister?"

Eloise turned sharply to face him, not expecting the interruption. "Everything's fine."

"Of course." Benedict joined her on his own swing. "Nothing to do with the girl you had me visit last year, the girl you've been writing letters to ever since?"

"Y/N." Your name passed from her lips in a whisper, a word holding such fondness and love that Benedict almost didn't recognise the girl beside him. "I am seeing her tomorrow." She told him like it was a secret, never to be uttered above a murmur.

"You are going to the shop?"

"No." She calmed her brother's racing heart. "Lady Danbury is hosting us."

"Lady Danbury??"

Eloise couldn't hold her laugh at the situation. "Y/N is Lady Danbury's goddaughter, as it would happen. She's the forgotten daughter of Lord Harding."

"Lord Harding who sent his daughter abroad after he was given a son?"

"Who's daughter ran away from society when she was seventeen." Eloise corrected. "And she's got a daughter of her own, a beautiful babe called Abigail."

"But you hate babies." Benedict huffed. "And children." He added.

Eloise tipped her head back to the night sky. "Not her."

Benedict realised that the conversation wasn't going to convince Eloise to head inside anytime soon. She was too caught up in her own mind to be persuaded of anything as of now. He stood, wished his sister goodnight and then headed to his own bed, welcoming the warmth of a good fire.

The next day happened all too quickly and not quick enough. Eloise paced in Lady Danbury's living room, waiting for the moment that you would walk through the front door. Lady Danbury had enough sense to leave her alone to her thoughts so that your reunion wouldn't be watched by prying eyes. A quiet knock at the door had Eloise's head snapping towards the noise. The door was pushed ajar as you slipped inside.

In the instance your eyes met hers, the world ceased to spin and all that was wrong in the world was resolved. Your minds went quiet as your only thought became her and hers was only you. The two of you rushed towards each other, crumbling into each others arms. All the emotions of the last months that you had poured into letters now rose to the surface.

"I'm sor-"

The first words from her lips shouldn't be an apology. You stepped into her space and stopped her from talking, pressing your lips against hers. You feel her gasp before sinking into your kiss and reciprocating with double the intensity. Your lungs were screaming for air as you pulled away, never more than an inch from her face as you gasped.

"I love you." You confess.

Eloise's eyelashes flutter slightly. "I love you too."

"I wish I could run away with you." You regret the utterance as soon as you say it, knowing you shouldn't ask her to forsake her life here just for you.

"Yes." Her response is immediate. "Anything. I would do anything and be anything for you. Everything changes when I look at you. It's not gravity holding me down, it's you." She's begging you.

Tears spring. "We can't-" You try and reason.

The door suddenly opened and the two of you sprung apart. Lady Danbury walked in, her cane tapping on the ground.

"That is why I asked you both here. It's more than a simple reunion." She announced. "If you should wish, you could build a life outside of London for both of you, together."

"What about Abigail?" You ask, worried about your daughter.

"She'd come with you, naturally. But you'd both be free to be yourselves, away from society. I'd ensure you'd never have to worry again."

You looked at her in shock. "You would do that for us?"

"I think I owe you for the last three years, no?"

There was a small cottage in the countryside a few hours carriage ride away from London. It was perfect, a simple home where you and Eloise could raise your daughter without fear and without judgement. Lady Danbury ensured Theo could visit you all whenever he liked an he never missed an opportunity to come and see Abigail.

Everyone was happy, everyone was safe. Life was good.

i don't know how to end things

taglist: @baylegend6 @forever-paramore28

[darkdevasofdestruction]

Goddess of the Luo River ~ Qin Shi Huang x Reader

She is lightsome as a startled Phoenix, And he, as graceful as a roaming dragon; Her lovely complexion outshines the autumn chrysanthemum, Whilst his radiance surpasses the springtime pine.

She is as nebulous as the moon concealed in light clouds, Gracefully gliding, as snow spun by a flowing wind. He is gazing at her from afar, She shines like the sun rising above the rosy mists of dawn; Observing her close by, She is as luminous as a lotus emerging from clear ripplets.

What lies behind the mask of the 'King Where It All Began' ...?

He... Was the most cursed prince in all of History.

It is held that in the year 260 BC, at the end of the battle of Chang Ping, Bai Qi, General of the Qin Army, had the captured soldiers of the Zhao army buried alive en masse. According to the records of the Grand Historian Shi Ji, the number of men killed was over four hundred and fifty thousand.

The following year, a member of the Qin royal family being kept as a hostage in Zhao, Zichu had an affair with a Zhao dancer. Their child, born in enemy territory, was the boy who would one day become Qin Shi Huang, the First Emperor of the Unified China. Ying Zheng.

However, in 257, Zichu returned to Qin alone, and his mother, Lady Zhao, abandoned him. At just two years old, he was cast away by his father, his mother... And his country. King Zhaoxiang of Qin invaded Zhao and laid siege to its capital, Handan.

Five years later, when the little prince was merely seven years of age, living on the outskirts of Handan, he would return to his small and secluded home, having to see the insults and hostile drawings on the walls made by the citizens, and endure the ostracising and death threats from the guards.

Ever after Qin's siege of Handan, Zhao continued to hold Ying Zheng hostage. They placed him under harsh supervision, keeping him alive but never allowing him to live, all while he bore the scorn of the Zhao people.

One day, however, he will experience the foreign feeling of joy for the first time in his life; As he went to buy some groceries, receiving the hatred of the people, a young lady around his age, wearing the simple clothes of a commoner, jumped in defense of him.

"This boy did nothing wrong! Why do you continue beating down on a child who had nothing to do with the massacre? You hate on him, though you should be hating on the evil general Bai Qi, and the King of Qi who committed such atrocities! The sins of the father shouldn't be passed down on an innocent child!" the prince's heart throbbed in shock and flatter, watching someone actually protecting him, let alone say such words about him! "Shut your mouth, wench, what do you know about war and politics?!" one of the men surrounding them spat at her, grabbing her by the neck of the dress. "This child is the reason your father and brother were buried alive by the enemy, along with hundreds of thousands of other good men who protected our country!" "It wasn't this child who gave the order. It wasn't this child who killed my family, nor anyone else's. Your hearts are filled with malice and scorn from loss and poverty, but that doesn't give anyone the right to use an innocent child as a scapegoat for the evil-doings of the higher ups. It's the fault of them and the constant civil wars happening throughout the country! This country will never heal unless we show compassion and understanding!" such beautiful words, such a progressive and revolutionary thinking from someone as young as her! The prince was highly impressed, but he couldn't find any strength in his body to move, he was rooted to the spot, watching the adults throw the girl to the ground, kicking her mercilessly. "If your father heard you, he'd have disciplined your rudeness until it all bled out! How dare you, a stupid, uneducated woman, speak back to a man? Your father would have beaten you until you learnt to bite down on that vile tongue of yours." she hadn't let out a single yelp, nor did she curse or complain until the punishing was over and the crowd dispersed.

"What do they know of my father, anyway? He was a kind man, he'd never hit me for speaking my mind." the girl scoffed, getting up on her feet and patting her clothes. "Are you alright, My Prince?"

But the prince felt like crying; He wanted desperately to throw his arms around the girl, thank her for standing up for him, for defending and protecting him, but at the same time, she was bleeding and bruised after her feat, and it was all because of him. "F-Forgive me... Forgive me... Because of me, you... You got hurt... I'm so sorry..." he wanted to cry... He wanted to cry so badly... "Aiya, don't say that. It wasn't you who hurt me, you are innocent in all this mess. It is the evilness that hurt me, along with these wars and crimes that keep happening." she sighed softly. "If only there was one man who could unite the country and stop the civil wars, the people would be living in peace and harmony, and the seed of hatred would rot." she shook her head dismissively, before smiling at the boy. "My Prince, I can see you are desperately trying to bite down your tears - You needn't, not in front of me. If you wish me to, I can be your shoulder to cry on, or a reason to smile. You are a kind child, you don't deserve everything that's happening to you." the girl held his hand, squeezing it comfortingly. "Let me show you a special place."

Thus, the girl dragged the little Prince to some part of the outskirts where he's never been before; An abandoned garden that though unattended to, still retained its beauty and grace, with green plants and colourful flowers as he's never seen before. Truly, this must be the prettiest part of all Zhao, the boy thought.

From a hidden spot inside a thick bush, Y/N dragged a chest filled with the most expensive silk clothes and beautiful accessories - And even a pipa lute and make-up! "I've always loved dancing, you see. This place is my special place. Mum showed it to me, and grandma showed it to mum. Since when this chest has been here, or when did the garden get abandoned, I do not know, but I am happy regardless." she giggled softly, discarding the ratty outer layer of her clothes and putting on a lovely pink dress. "My dream has been, since I've seen mum dance for the first time, to become a dancer at the high court. I love the pretty dresses and all the accessories, and the music also. Alas..." she smiled sadly, trailing her fingertips softly across the melodious strings of the pipa. "Men with wealth and status care little that a dancer is not a courtesan, and there is no one to protect us from their lecherous hands."

Ying Zheng could only sit down and watch the girl before him transform into the most graceful fairy, and with elegant moves, her body flowed like the river through a flower meadow, and the orchid fragrance in the Spring wind. He was completely mesmerised by the beauty in front of him. "My grandma danced for grandpa only, and my mum for my dad. I, too, hope to one day marry the love of my life, and bewitch him with my dancing." her smile was so carefree and filled with glee that the prince found himself completely enchanted. "But... I like to dream big. I may be just a simple, common girl, with no family, no money and no status... In spite of this... I do hope that somehow, I would be able to dance in front of people and make them happy, and smile, with my dancing." she glided around the flowers like a peony nymph, her pink skirts flying around her like the rich petals of said flower. "Until then, I suppose I should just continue perfecting my choreographies." "Y-You dance beautifully." the prince managed to stutter out, still under the afterglow of the dance, and the stunning pose she ended in. "If it matters, you made me feel very happy." "Hao!" she giggled sweetly. "You have a gorgeous smile. I hope to see you smiling so genuinely all the time when we're together."

The prince continued to blush deeply, though his heart was throbbing with joy as never before. A single day, however, only has so many hours, and with the afternoon gone, the Sun was setting and the starry skies were reflected in his gorgeous eyes.

"W-Would it be too rude and daring t-to ask you to please be my friend?" the boy bowed down humbly at her, only to hear a sweet giggle. "Y/N. Call me Y/N. And I will call you by your given name - Zheng." she quickly took the jade pendant from her sash and tied it to his own. "There, a token of my care and friendship for you. Now that we call each other by our given name, we are soul bound." "B-But... I-I don't have anything to give you..." the boy's lips trembled with emotion. "Hmm... Let me think..." her sweet smile turned mischievous, as she placed a kiss on his cheek. "Remember what I said about the wars? That only the King of all Kings can unite our country and bring peace?" he nodded silently. "When you become Emperor, don't forget about me. That's the only thing I wish from you. To be friends forever, no matter what the course of time may bring for us. How's that sound?" The little prince looked up at her, his starry eyes sparkling with joy and love, and a soft blush painting his porcelain cheeks. He grinned widely, like a happy child, and he repeated the single word that she adopted from her - A word that will become his most favourite word. "Hao!"

Many days passed, and the friendship between Zheng and Y/N only grew stronger, and so did their crush on one another. Y/N became even more protective over the boy, thus receiving even more scorn and disciplining - The adults could afford disciplining an orphan girl with no status, but they couldn't beat the Prince. Even his deep sorrow dissipated when he saw her dance.

That is, until Y/N walked him home one afternoon, and there, waiting for him, was a woman, blowing into a spinning windwheel. "Are you Ying Zheng?" the stern-looking woman asked. "Who asks?" Y/N frowned, stepping protectively in front of him, glaring at her viciously - But the boy was mellow and didn't want to upset anyone, nor incur another's wrath, and he simply bowed and affirmed that it was him, the prince. "I didn't think you'd be so young. Tsk." she frowned, rolling her eyes. "Who are you and what do you want with the Prince?" Y/N's loud and firm voice made the woman's eyebrow rise. "I'm Chun-Yan, his new live-in caretaker and bodyguard. Which means..." she jumped off the stone lamp and though she could tower over the prince, as the girl was right there, shielding him, she still felt intimidating. "I can roll you, fold you, or do whatever the hell I want with you." "Yes, ma'am, it's a pleasure to meet you." the prince bowed deeply, only for the girl to hiss at the woman and close her fan, bonking her in the head. "Who do you think you are, threatening a child like this? I'll kill you if you even look at him the wrong way." Chun-Yan was rather amused by the braveness of this peasant girl, and she scoffed, straightening up and walking towards the humble home of the prince. "Well, whatever. First things first, show me around this place."

As she opened the doors, she noticed the dilapidated state of complete disrepair that the small home of the hostage prince was; A complete dump filled with broken windows and walls, and furniture, mold growing everywhere and everything was shit.

"God, what a dump this is! Though, I guess it suits a reject from the Qin royal family." the nasty comment made Y/N yell at her again. "Fuck off, will you?!" the woman stared in shock - A little girl cursed like a sailor man! "You are just as evil as all the others around! We don't need you here! Go away! You're only going to hurt him, you evil, nasty woman!" "D-Don't worry, Y/N! It's really okay!" Yin Zheng forced a wide smile on his face. "Would you like something to drink? If water is alright, I'll go fetch some." he bowed again. "... Are you really seven?" she muttered in disbelief before slumping down on the table. "I DON'T LIKE YOU!" she yelled, pointing a finger at him. "A kid your age oughta be crying or throwing a fit at the drop of a hat, but you've just been grinning ear to ear this whole time. It's givin' me the creeps." Y/N didn't even have the time to yell at the woman again, for the prince started dancing around like a monkey. "Are you makin' fun of me?!" "WILL YOU JUST LEAVE HIM ALONE ALREADY?!" Y/N's anger was through the roof. "Who do you think you are, treating him like this?! I bet you lost someone to the burying, didn't you? Well, that's you and EVERYONE ELSE IN THIS CITY! INCLUDING ME!" she glared up at Chun-Yan, who looked flabbergast at the girl. "I lost my dad and brother! My mum killed herself from grief! I've been all alone to survive and fend for myself since I was barely four years old - But I don't go around blaming a child for the evil-doings of those warmongers! Why is it so hard for adults to understand that Ying Zheng did nothing wrong?! That you should be blaming THEM, not a child who was barely a BABY when it happened!" the woman was stunned. "You are a woman! Women are supposed to be gentle and caring towards children! You are a disgrace to all of girl-kind!"

The woman remained silent for a few seconds, staring down at the gleaming eyes of the girl who started crying from the deep rage she felt - And suddenly, Chun-Yan felt guilt and remorse. The girl was right, she wasn't any different than everyone in Handan, or Zhao itself. To think a child would have more wisdom than a rage-blinded adult...

"Let's clean this place already. You can't expect me to sleep in some dingy hut like this." Chun-Yan scoffed, taking the broom and beginning to clean this place properly - Though no amount of work could properly make this run-down home into a beautiful and safe haven.

Regardless, Ying Zheng and Y/N helped in the cleaning up, and though the boy felt incredibly on edge around a stranger, Y/N and Chun-Yan were constantly yelling at each other. The place was... Pretty loud and tense - Yet thus began their unusual pseudo-familial life.

Chun-Yan took the two children for grocery shopping again, only to see the true horrors of the prince's daily life, as one of the merchants threw the food on the ground, urging the prince to eat the sand-filled meat - At the same time, Y/N quickly jumped to shield the boy, as the people around started glaring at him, accusing him of killing their children or relatives. They all wanted to kill him, while he could only force a smile and bow at them humbly.

Anger. Curse. Hate. Curse. Kill. Curse. Evil. Curse. Grudge. Curse. Sad. Curse.

When they returned home, Chun-Yan stopped the lone boy from going to rest, and revealed the many injuries on his body. Apparently, whenever he saw someone getting injured, his own body started getting scars in the same place, and feel the pain of said person. Y/N knew, and that's why she tried her best to protect him, but it wasn't always working. It was all because of the constant hatred from the people of Zhao that he developed such an accursed condition.

It was just a little pain, he'd say. The wounds will heal, eventually... Though his body said another thing, and he almost fainted. Ying Zheng's smile had been instinctively learned by him at the mere age of seven, as a way to allay, even only slightly, the hatred constantly searing his body. "Some day, maybe they'll forgive me... Won't day?" a most pitiful armor.

"Forgive you...? Who do you think you're kidding here?! Huh?! How the hell can you just keep grinning like an idiot?! Why don't you get angry?! Why don't you hate them?!" Chun-Yan started crying - She was now fully understanding Y/N's angry tears and the frustration she felt at the way Zhao was treating an innocent child. "What happened back then... At Chang Ping... HAS GOT NOTHING TO DO WITH YOU! IT ISN'T RIGHT THAT YOU'RE GETTING HURT! SO STOP FORCING YOURSELF TO HOLD BACK! IF YOU WANNA CRY, THEN CRY! IF YOU'RE FEELING MAD, THEN LET IT OUT! STOP KILLING YOURSELF FROM THE INSIDE AND LYING TO YOURSELF ABOUT HOW YOU FEEL!" she yelled at him, falling on the ground weakly, watching the still forced smile on his face. "G-Get angry...? Cry...? I-I could never do that... B-Because I'm... I'm the child of a nation that kills people. I-I'm a cursed child... Th-That's why, I..." for the first time in his life, Ying Zheng felt the embrace of a mother. "It doesn't matter how awful your parents are - Their kid doesn't deserve to be punished! You haven't done anything wrong, nothing at all..." tears were drenching her face, all the guilt and regret overwhelming her. "Y/N was right... Y/N cares so much for you, she only wants the best for you." she found herself speaking in a milder voice. "You're a kind person, who understands people's pain. Your wounds are proof of that, not some punishment or curse." the boy's body was trembling violently. "Ying Zheng. You can live however you want to live."

For the first time in his life, Ying Zheng allowed himself to wail out all of his distress, all the pain, the agony and suffering he's been feeling this entire time, and his mother figure encouraged him. "Why me?! I haven't done anything! Nothing at all! I hate them! I hate everyone! DAMN IT, DAMN IT, DAMN IT ALL!!!!!!"

It was the first night he slept peacefully, and when he woke up, the woman offered him a pretty scarf to cover his eyes. If he can't see the pain of others, then maybe he won't be feeling it? It was worth a try. She made it herself, after all. When her child was still alive, this used to be a piece of cake for her to do.

The boy, with the most beautiful smile in the world, tied the scarf over his eyes. "HAO!" he joyfully exclaimed. "Thanks, Chun-Yan! I'll take good care of it!" "Hao? I like that word too!" the woman grinned at him. He truly was adorable.

Since then, Y/N and Chun-Yan became the only persons Ying Zheng could be around and not feel any pain. Every day he spent with them, Ying Zheng was able to smile and have fun from the bottom of his heart. They would clean up the graffiti and even learn martial arts - Sometimes, they'd even prank the people who used to bully him; And his smile became more and more cheerful. Ying Zheng was truly happy.

However... King Zhaoxiang of Qin, and soon after, his son, King Xiaowen, passed away - And so, in 250 BC, the man who abandoned Ying Zheng, Zichu, ascended to the throne, and thus... Ying Zheng unexpectedly became the crown prince, the first in line to the throne, and was permitted to return to Qin.

"Ha! To think that some silly words I said would actually come true. I must be a Seer or something." Y/N grinned at the crying boy. "Crown Prince Ying Zheng. That sounds very good! Hao! I like that!" "Won't you come with me?! Please?! Please?! Don't leave me alone, I need you! We are friends, aren't we?!" the boy was sobbing, holding tightly onto the girl. "Forgive me, I cannot." she sighed, embracing him. "Not only am I a Zhao citizen, but... I am also a peasant. I would never be allowed anywhere near the Crown Prince." she kissed his cheek, patting his hair. "But when you get older and ascend to the throne - If you still remember me, and want to see me again, then you can always send for me. I will wait for you a thousand lifetimes, if needed. Just to see you again. The beautiful boy with the starry skies in his eyes."

Before he left, Y/N stole a quick peck on his lips, and waved him goodbye; Whilst Chun-Yan was laughing copiously, she had to drag the stunned boy away, his face burning fiercely from a blush. "I'll make you my Empress, Y/N! Wait for me! I'll keep my promise!" they truly were adorable, the woman thought, as the carriage left for Qin.

Thus, however, not only Y/N, but Ying Zheng would remain alone for so long, as Y/N had no one else in Zhao, and with the scorned people of Zhao no longer holding the prince as a hostage, they sent mercenaries to kill him. As a last motherly act of love, Chun-Yan used her martial arts to battle them all, though she would be fatally injured. "YOU STAY THE HELL AWAY FROM MY KID!" she yelled, killing the last one.

As she lay dying in his arms, she told him the truth - That Y/N was right about her all along. She was a scorned, grieving parent, with her child, similar in age to the prince, having been buried alive. Her beloved Chun-Ou. She could do nothing to save him, for she dug in the dirt with her nails desperately, but couldn't even find him to give him a proper send-off. She wanted too see the prince, to scold him for being a useless, evil brat... She wanted to vent her anger and resentment... But she couldn't.

If a kid like Ying Zheng could become the King - Someone who could understand people's pain... Perhaps someone like him could change this fucked-up world a little, the very same way he changed her. "Become the greatest king of them all." it was the same promise that Y/N also bestowed upon him.

Before she died though, she didn't see Ying Zheng, but Chun-Ou. "I didn't know you were there, Chun-Ou. Let mama get a good look at your face." "Mama..." the prince held her dearly in his arms, placing her hand over his face, and he smiled at her, watching how vitality swiftly dissipated from her eyes. "Hao." she lay lifeless in his arms as he wept for her.

Afterward, Ying Zheng arrived safely at Xianyang, the capital of Qin, and on July 6th 247 BC, following the death of Zichu, Ying Zheng became the King of Qin, at the mere age of twelve.

"Let's walk my--..." Ying Zheng smiled, tying the scarf around his eyes. "No. Let's walk the Path of an Emperor. Together. Y/N. Chun-Yan." and true to his words, at 37 years of age, Ying Zheng became Qin Shi Huang, The First Emperor in History to unite all of China.

On the day Ying Zheng was crowned as the King of Qin, he also began being pestered by his advisors and elders to marry soon and produce an heir; After all, every King must have a Queen and concubines to perpetuate the royal lineage. Of course, the Prince didn't care for such things, nor did he want to think about anyone else that wasn't Y/N - But they were still so young! Life was fully ahead of them! On the other hand, it could be a great pretext to bring Y/N to the court and start lavishing her with all the luxuries that the palace has to offer.

Though the King of Qin had room for surprise, along with all the people at the royal meeting, as the large doors of the palace were pushed open, and a beautiful young lady resembling a flower fairy, dressed in rich silks, pink like the petals of a peony stepped on the golden rug that led towards the throne. She had a long spear in her grasp. As she started singing, the King ripped the scarf off his face, and those starred eyes gleamed with glee, his smile wide like never before. They truly must be soulmates, if Y/N could do exactly the same thing that he himself intended to do!

Two loving souls, so cruelly parted In madness and grief, a dark path started Calamity was drawn, rituals subverted But by her lovely dance, was sadness averted.

Ying Zheng didn't think it humanly possible, for a human to glide even more gracefully than he first saw her dancing, a few years prior.

The Phoenix returned to a home without luster; The cobwebs overgrown, the grave-shrouds a-fluster. But one bond upon her, This world could not muster.

"Thus does the tale of the Auspicious Phoenix end - Yet today, a new melody I have to append." the King was truly mesmerised by her lovely voice, and the way she lit the spear on fire and twirled it around so masterfully, kicking it and rotating with it, throwing it in the air, creating the image of a dancing Phoenix. "Hao! Sing me a happy story, Y/N!" he grinned, leaning forward in his throne.

From the world she seems apart But there is one who knows her heart With graceful swaying and a flaming spear To still the raging skies and the shattered hearts

Y/N's smile was so enchanting that it bewitched the King - Her dancing was as she hoped, a means to grow the seed of joy into people's hearts, replacing the darkening hatred.

The Phoenix once returned, And at once, she was spurned. She turned, and left alone...

Y/N, in a swift move, extinguished the flames from the spear, and stepped up the stairs leading to the throne. "Though now, she might be found to whom she is bound - Her love."

Ying Zheng's face was split by a wide, cheerful grin, and in an unexpected move, he threw his arms around the girl, pulling her into his lap and kissing her cheek. "Hao! My Phoenix returned home!" "Just in time to see her beloved dragon soaring the skies." she replied tenderly, only multiplying the excitement of his heart. "The only dance I love above all is that of the Phoenix and the Dragon amongst Heavens." he declared boldly. "Y-Your Majesty, who is this woman?! And how did she even manage to get inside the palace? With a weapon, no less!" having escaped the charm of the beautiful maiden, the elders started murmuring amongst each other. "She is the Empress, of course!" Ying Zheng laughed merrily, loving the unrest amongst his advisors, telling him he couldn't just marry anyone. "I am the King! I can do whatever I want!" and true to his words, Y/N had a most beautiful coronation ceremony, and her red and gold robes truly made her look like the Phoenix that she was.

Not only the Kingdom of Qin, but the whole Empire of China was going to prosper greatly under the rule of Emperor Qin Shi Huang and his Empress, Y/N. She was there to help him rule, with equal power as his own, and a fantastic wisdom and benevolence like no other. She was there to guide him as he walked the path of killing the demon Chi You. They lived a good life, along with all the people of China.

The two would love each other and live in perfect harmony until their eventual death due to mercury poisoning, at an age before even reaching half a century.

In the afterlife, just like in reality, Qin Shi Huang would have to fight to protect his people, as he was chosen as a human representative fighter in this mess the Gods created, Doomsday, the wish to eradicate mankind. He already killed a demon, and now, he was ready to kill a God.

He couldn't wait for too long in his own room, and with how directionally challenged he was, he walked through walls until he found the Gods' private balcony where Ares and Hermes were, and he flipped the God of War out of his seat, getting comfortable on the cushy seat, even causing the Messenger God to pour him honey mead.

"You know I can't walk fast in these clothes, you little menace." a feminine voice, very much amused, took the attention of the two Gods. "Oh, that's a lovely view of the arena!" the regal looking woman shamelessly sat on his lap, her arms around his neck as he offered her his drink. "This is really good! Can we get more?" bowing, the butler looking God poured some more.

The doors were slammed open again, and the little Valkyrie, Goll, yelled at them, followed by the elder one, Brunhilde. "Goodness! Even after I'd expressly told you NOT to leave your room - And what's more, you've left the corridors FULL of holes!" the elder one was more amused than scolding. "Mou mantai!" the two laughed, free of any care. "The road is where I lead!" he grinned, holding onto Y/N's waist, clingy like a child. "Come on, we have to go." Hilde spoke. "I refuse! We've taken a liking to this place! And besides, we definitely won't grow bored here." the man exclaimed. "In case you weren't aware - YOU will be fighting in round Seven." Hermes and Ares gasped in shock, as the Emperor, holding his love in his arms, jumped on the backseat of the couch.

"HAO!" he grinned confidently. "Finally! I'd grown tired of waiting!" "Now, let's head to the entrance gate, shall we?" Hilde sweatdropped at the unhinged behaviour of the bratty Emperor. "The dragon soars the path of the Emperor! The road is where Qin Shi Huang leads!" Y/N declared boldly, unfolding her fan dramatically.

From underneath the Gods balcony, all of China's Emperors after Qin Shi Huang unraveled a large red and gold rug, making way for the very first Emperor to lead the way to victory - Covering all the minor Gods from the stands. None mattered, except for Qin Shi Huang.

"Hao! That's how the Emperor has to be treated!" Y/N hopped from his arms, and off the balcony, waltzing ahead and leading the way forward - From her sleeves, butterflies would flutter, and where she waved her fan, red flower petals burning like cinders would breeze in a majestic dance, matching her own enchanting one.

She is lightsome as a startled Phoenix, And he, as graceful as a roaming dragon; Her lovely complexion outshines the autumn chrysanthemum, Whilst his radiance surpasses the springtime pine.

She is as nebulous as the moon concealed in light clouds, Gracefully gliding, as snow spun by a flowing wind. He is gazing at her from afar, She shines like the sun rising above the rosy mists of dawn; Observing her close by, She is as luminous as a lotus emerging from clear ripplets.

She sang the song that Ying Zheng loved the most, resembling the Goddess of the Luo River - The Beauty of China, Luo Shen. Though the Emperor hated that she ended up so heart broken over her husband's death, going so far as to drown herself in the river - He couldn't help but admire the pure love between her and her husband, mutually intertwined, just as he and Y/N were; Truly, all his life, he admired everything about her, and strived to become a man worthy of her lover. He wanted to be the man she could depend on, the man who could prove for her.

And thus, he became the Emperor.

As the song ended, Qin took out the bamboo flute and, stepping into the ring and playing the tune that harmonised perfectly with his Empress' graceful moves. Her dress, a deep shade of red like fire, flew around her like the Auspicious Phoenix that she was, and with her golden Dragon, they danced the Celestial melody of Heavens.

Heimdall, as well as all the rest watching, were mesmerised at the elegance displayed in their bonding, true love like no other radiating strongly from their smiles; He couldn't even begin the introductions as he watched the Emperor pick his lady in his arms, two fates intertwined, dancing coiled around each other eternally - And ending with a kiss. Their fairy-tale like love made all those watching deeply envious.

As the two lovers kept gazing into each other's eyes, the God announced the Emperor's great deeds, before calling out his title as the humans all chanted his name; the Gods boo'ed, angry that he was so arrogant, even going as far as too show off his love-life like that. As Y/N kissed him shamelessly, in front of the whole Valhalla, a young lady, Alvitr, had rageful tears in her eyes for being left forgotten at the Mankind gate.

"Mou mantai! I'm an Emperor, after all." he waved dismissively, before picking her up carefully in his arms. "Come a little closer." she was blushing so bad. "No need to be so rough, my boyish young lady." he chuckled lightly. "Don't worry, little lady. Zheng is going to take good care of you." Y/N patted her hair, watching her completely fall in love with the handsome man, and in one burst of lightning, the Volundr was formed. "Hao! This fits me nicely!" he grinned, showing off his Almighty Spaulders. "As handsome as always, my darling." she kissed his cheek again, though she felt a chill shiver down her spine as the God of the Underworld, Hades, walked forward.

Not only was he ready to avenge his brother, but he was also feeling envious at the way Y/N so openly loved and pampered her husband, the same way he wished his beloved Persephone would.

Before this battle of King vs Emperor could begin, Y/N gladed towards the stands where the Emperors were standing - Right where Chun-Yan and Chun-Ou were, and she got helped up in the stands. An Empress shouldn't have to find her way around the maze-like corridors - The First Empress of China had every right to walk the shortest and easiest road to where she wished to.

As the fight began, Hades thrust forward a single strike, loaded with tremendous power - A single thrust meant to kill. He continues to attack with one heavy-class jab after another, but the Emperor never once got hit; And even when he used one of his strongest attacks, named after his wife, Qin Shi Huang only had his body nicked.

The next straight thrust, the Emperor deflected, easily catching the handle of the bident before throwing back the attack - His own power added to that of Hades, sending him sailing backwards painfully hard - It was Qin Shi Huang's Chi You - Armor form: Sword, Armor, Spear, Crossbow, Halbert - Heavenly Hand of Defense.

As they say, the best offense is a good defense. The reverse is also valid. "Hades, King of the Netherworld... Was it? Let me tell you a thing." as the dust evaporated, the God's form was slumped to the ground, a large crater in the wall where he hit it. "There can only be one Emperor in the world, and that man is I!" he confidently declared.

He didn't fight for six whole days against the Demon God Chi You for nothing. He didn't raise above all the other so-called King for nothing. He didn't become the first unifier of China, the first Emperor, the King where it all began - For nothing!

Ying Zheng - Qin Shi Huang - Was the only man worthy of being called The Emperor!

Hades managed to stand up. He was bleeding from his head and his torso was injured. "Qin Shi Huang, was it? Tell me one thing - What in your eyes makes a King?" "A king?" he grinned. "One who never doubts! Never yields! Never relies! And always stands as the leader of his people! That is what makes a King!" Hades was awestruck by the answer, and even started laughing merrily. Nobody alive ever heard the Lord of the Underworld laugh so boomingly. Ying Zheng joined in the laughing. "You remind me of someone I know... All too well. He was more noble than any other God, more steadfast than any other - And the God most worthy of the title of King. My younger brother, Poseidon, King of the Seas." he extended his arm forward, showing off the weapon. "And I swear by his name, as his elder brother, I shan't give in to a mere King of Men!"

Thus, with a weird stance, Hades unleashed an attack, the proper way of fighting with a spear; With all his might, he delivered a crushing downward swing. The Emperor shielded himself with his arms. "I AM THE KING OF THE UNDERWORLD - HADES! FALL AND BE CRUSHED!"

The King of Men was slammed face-down, flat onto the ground. "ZHENG!" Y/N yelled his name, watching his spit a bunch of blood, struggling to stand up. "Ahh, it's sticky, all soaked with blood. Buhao." he groaned, hanging his head. "Mou mantai..." he sighed, a little disappointed as he took off his cherished scarf. All Emperors bowed down in his honour, gazing his handsome face for the first time. "Now then - Shall we continue, King of the Netherworld?" he grinned confidently. despite the blood painting his face. "So you can take one of my attacks and still smile. I would expect nothing less from a King!" Hades grinned, launching into a ferocious flurry with his rigid spear.

Qin Shi Huang has no choice but to roll with the thrusts; He was waiting for an opportunity to use his special technique. As Hades used the Smasher of Earth down on his head, the Emperor had to shield himself again; But this time, he didn't fall - Using his breath to weaken the attack, he grabbed onto the blade of the bident, and slammed the wielder into the ground, breaking it.

But just as before, any wound that Ying Zheng sees, he receives also - And though he managed to injured Hades, he also felt intense pain. Even in a direct combat, Qin used his breath onto Hades' chest, and with his claw-like fingers, he used the Mount Tai, Dragon Claw technique, delivering an intense strike, leaving an awful mark onto his abdomen.

Ying Zheng's starry eyes weren't just beautiful - They could actually see the stars of living beings. The flow of Qi. Qin could see the cruxes as stars. The double edged gift that served him as both a blessing and a curse. "Ahh, this is why I hate fighting with my eyes." Qin grinned, baring through the blazing pain in his abdomen. "Aw man, that really hurts."

"Don't make fun of me... Do you call yourself the Greatest King?" Hades chuckled light-heartedly. "King of the Underworld, you are strong - But I promised two special people that I would become the Greatest King - So I can't lose to anyone!" to get the most out of his fantastic martial arts, Qin Shi Huang was given a Divine Weapon specialising in defence - Alvitr; The secret ability behind her name is - Army Guardian! "You are strong, King of Humans. A promise of never losing, right?" Hades clenched his fist around his own blood. "I also have something I want to protect. My oath."

Thus, Hades advanced again, spinning his bident like a windmill, destroying the air bullets coming his way - Qin could barely defend himself against the attacks coming his way, though even when he struck, the two were equal in power, and Hades' forearm was mauled. "Even though you're human, you made it this far, huh? I'm going to kill you... But first, I wanted to say that you were magnificent." Hades declared boldly. "Hao!" Zheng grinned at his opponent.

From the stands, every human was cheering for the Emperor. Y/N especially was the loudest, along with Chun-Yan and her little boy, Chun-Ou.

Once again, Hades did something remarkably unusual - Not only did he begin to whistle the tune of his dear younger brother, Poseidon, before self-inflicting a large gash on his chest and splattering not only himself, but his weapon in a shower of crimson life essence. Drenched in blood, Hades rushes Qin, changing mid hit his thrust into a downward swing - He managed to find a way to counter his disruption of Qi. "You pose no threat to me."

Hades' blood wasn't SIMPLY blood. "Assemble!" the King of the Underworld ordered his weapon to transform into a mighty strength to be reckoned with; Any Divine Weapon that his blood, the Pluto Ichor, spills upon harbors the God's life force and becomes even more powerful... But the longer he keeps it up, the higher the risk of death. "King of Men, this is my trump card." he got in a battle stance with his new weapon, the Four-Blooded Spear of Destiny - Ichor: Desmos. "Tear at his flesh - Desmos!" this almighty thrust managed to break through the powerful armor of the Emperor. "I cannot lose. As their elder brother, I shan't be defeated!"

The Valkyrie Alvitr made herself seen to her human, worrying over him - Not only half of his hand, but his shoulder also were heavily destroyed. "Mou mantai. Compared to the pain of others, my own pain is scarcely anything to bear." he declared selflessly, like the fantastic leader that he is. "Alvitr... If we don't do something, we stand no chance at winning. I think we should bet everything on this next strike." he spoke, more seriously, only to annoying the young Valkyrie. "THAT WAS PATHETIC!" she yelled at him, as a scold. "SAY WHAT YOU WANT LOUD AND CLEAR, LIKE AN EMPEROR! YOU SHOWED OFF WITH YOUR EMPRESS LIKE THAT - AND NOW YOU WANT TO LOOK UNCOOL AND DIE IN FRONT OF HER?! IN FRONT OF EVERYONE BELIEVING IN YOU?!" she huffed like a brat. "How haughty of you, my boyish young lady." he smiled, looking up at the stands where his most cherished people were cheering on him. "I WANT TO WIN NO MATTER WHAT!" he yelled, loud and clear, as he should have. "Haha, I know! Really... You Kings are so stubborn!" she giggled, reinforcing their bond even further. "Let me give you all the power I've got!" thus, the Almighty Spaulders were recast into the Shi Huang Goujian Sword. The best defense truly is a remarkable offense.

"I am EMPEROR! King among Kings! And a King only takes pride in protecting his people!" Ying Zheng's starry eyes shone brightly with hope and power, whilst his dazzling smile remained as confident as ever before. "Excellent, O, lofty King - Now let us tear at his very heart, Desmos!" he, who bore the pride of the Gods and laid down his own life; The King of the Netherworld -- And he, who knew the pain of others, and fought for the sake of his people, the King Where It All Began.

Only a King can understand the mind of a King. And these two Kings could both tell that the end of the match was nigh.

Hades went forward, using Desmos: Eos once again, and Ying Zheng retaliated with Chi You: Sword Form; Shi Huang Yan cut. He was driven back, his already damaged left arm ripping clean off from the shoulder and flying across the arena. "ZHENG!" though the Emperor could hear his wife's desperate voice, calling out to him - He simply laughed merrily, seeing Alvitr's worried expression, looking down at him.

"It's beautiful...! What a beautiful star I see!" surprising everyone, the Emperor managed to use his sword to stand up once again. "A king never doubts. A King never yields. A King never relies." even with his arms ripped off like that, and the awful injuries sustained, Ying Zheng kept standing tall and ready to fight. "And a King never surrenders!" he was standing up through sheer willpower. "I can't let my wife see her husband dying, you know? I promised to only ever make her happy - So I can't cause her tears of distress now!"

He could hear them - The voices of the people. He's been fighting all this time to keep his promise to Y/N and Chun-Yan; To bring the people not hatred, but happiness. Everyone was cheering for him. The Greatest King of All Kings - Qin Shi Huang.

"Look, I know you don't wanna give up, but what are you gonna do exactly?" Alvitr asked, a little confused but ready to fight to the bitter end by the side of this worthy man. "I'm going to use Heavenly Hand of Defense once more." he spoke weakly, watching her distress and worry. "Trust me - I am THE Emperor!" Alvitr smiled, filled with hope and confidence thanks to this man. "You're just... Haha! No need to ask!" she, too, got in a fighting stance next to him, supporting him from within his soul. "HAO!" the Emperor exclaimed, thrusting the tip of his sword forward, to mit that of Hades' spear. "I consider myself proud to have been able to fight you." both the Gods and Mankind, and every eye upon the arena could sense that this very next clash would be the final one of Round Seven.

And the first to make a move was the King of the Netherworld, with a fearsome thrust from Desmos, loaded with all the Ichor that Hades could give; Against this gully-powered attack from the King of the Netherworld which seemed as though it could kill with a simple graze, the King of Men, without hesitation, caught it. Chi You Armor Form: Heavenly Hand of Defense.

Everyone had braced themselves for the end, save for the King Where It All Began... Who managed to use Tortoise Ripple to hit Desmos' Qi Star. It got weaker. Desmos was alive, not a lifeless weapon, and Hades hadn't taken that into consideration - He brought his spear to life, his most powerful advantage, but also, his most fatal disadvantage.

Ying Zheng had never forgotten, not even for an instant, that his own life began from the end - When the woman he loved most, his wife, along with his cherished mother-figure, Chun-Yan, showed him... That a King is one who arises from the end, and brings about the Beginning.

Desmos was shattering in his fighter's grasp, and the Human representative managed to impale his sword through the God's torso. "Magnificent!" Hades praised. "Nothing less...!" though he tried to use the broken handle of his weapon to kill Qin Shi Huang, he failed, for the Emperor sliced him open. "... from a King." Hades was unable to make good on his vow. He failed as an elder brother, but the Emperor managed to keep his oath to all the people that relied on him. "Forgive me."

As Hades lay dead on the ground, Heimdall announced Emperor Qin Shi Huang as the winner of the Seventh Round of Ragnarok, and with it, Mankind was in the lead, 4 to 3. "I am grateful that I could speak with you, King of the Netherworld." the Emperor clenched his fist to his chest, in honour of the admirable and honorable fight between two Kings. "Pengyou." through this battle to the death, the two Kings became friends.

Gods and Humans alike were showing their respects to the King of the Netherworld as he was shattering into glowing shard of green soul and ascending into the skies. In under 13 minutes, the King of all Kings defeated a God.

Just as before, the Emperors watching the match helped the Phoenix Empress descend into the ring so she could run to her husband, supporting him and the little Valkyrie lady up. "You were fantastic, you two. Now you may rest. I will take you to the infirmary at once." both of them, like a happy family, smiled at each other. "Don't push yourself too hard. You look even more banged up than me." Alvitr joked. "Mou mantai!" he chuckled at her reassuringly. "Mou mantai? You sure don't look it, silly man. Let me support you two." Y/N giggled, getting in between them two and holding onto them with all her force. "Honestly, it's a miracle you're even alive right now." Alvitr scolded him lightly. "That isn't true, Alvitr. Did I not say it before? Trust me!" his reassuring grin made the girl emotional. "You really are stupid." the Valkyrie's smile trembled. "H-Hey, can't you keep standing up?" Y/N released Alvitr from her grasp, supporting the Emperor as he lost consciousness. "Alvitr, if you have any strength in you, please help me hold him!"

The Valkyrie yelled for the paramedics to rush already - He needed urgent, intensive care. The nurses quickly brought the table and put the Emperor, rolling him quickly towards the Intensive Care unit where he will be taken until his condition is stabilised.

Ying Zheng and Alvitr also were kept in capsules to better their vital functions, and in between them, sat Y/N, smiling softly at the two. The Valkyrie was already a divine being, she was going to be alright... But Ying Zheng is still a human and was in a particularly critical condition - Whether he survives this or not, depends on his own strength to live.

"Ying Zheng and Alvitr. The Emperor of Heavens and his protector White Tiger." the Empress spoke gently, each hand laying on one of the glass capsules. "Alvitr, thank you for protecting my beloved Zheng. I will forever be indebted to you. My sweet child. Alvitr." Beautiful and divine, strong and courageous." her voice trembled softly. "My boyish young lady." her gaze turned to her Emperor. "Qin Shi Huang. The Emperor of China. The King Where It All Began. The First Unifier of China. The Golden Dragon of China. The Eye of Heaven." a few tears escaped softly down her cheeks. "Ying Zheng, my beloved husband, the beautiful boy with the starry skies in his eyes. The love of my life." her tender tears turned into heartbroken sobs. "I am so proud of you. So, so proud. You have always been a true leader for our people, and you were always such a wonderful husband, a partner, a friend. My confidant. My heart. My soul. My everything." though Goll and Brunhilde left, the Emperors whose paths were pathed by Qin Shi Huang were all standing outside the room, watching with heavy hearts, the shattered cry of the Vermillion Bird. "If the tears of the Phoenix could truly heal any wound, I would drown you in my cries and save you. If I could give my life to save you, I would transfer all of your wounds to mine own shell of a body, rip my flesh apart with mine own teeth and claws, and give you all of my blood, just to see you alive once more. My most precious sweetheart." the people watching all began to shed tears. "Just like the Goddess Luo who drowned herself in the river, so will I, out of grief, should you depart from this world before me." for one last time until her beloved would flutter his sparkling eyes open again, Y/N dried her tears and smiled brightly at Ying Zheng and Alvitr. "Hao! Mou mantai! Listen to my voice as I sing for you a beautiful melody. May you have sweet dreams and rest peacefully - And when your strength returns, please, return to me. And if not... The Vermillion Bird will burn to ashes, for the last time."

I want to be your love for ever and ever, Without break or decay. When the hills are all flat, The rivers are all dry. When it thunders in winter, When it snows in summer When heaven and earth mingle, Not till then will I part from you.

Thus, a melody was sung, through the cries of the weeping Vermillion bird, burning bright as the Sun, for her celestial Golden Dragon of Heavens, and the almighty White Tiger, shining silver like the moon.

[merakiui]

Mother

yandere!kabukimono x (female) reader cw: yandere, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, obsession, pregnancy, implied codependency, brief mentions of murder/death, brief mention of childbirth note - recently i was inspired to write a kabukimono story, so i hope you can enjoy it!

i. the miracle of life.

There is a little human growing within you.

Kabukimono has never heard of such a phenomenon, but according to you it’s a normal facet of life for all creatures. He, who has only ever interacted with men, young and old, and the occasional grandmother, has never known the word pregnancy. It’s a complicated concept he struggles to parse at first—like that first sip of sake or the stickiness of a sweet. It’s something that leaves you pleasantly rounded like a ripe lavender melon, softens the skin on your bones, and allows you to grow into the kimono that was once two sizes too large. It’s something you speak of with overwhelming warmth, a fondness so enticing it’s almost tangible. It’s something the men at the furnace discuss with great pride and merriment, swapping stories of their beautiful, beloved wives and the tiny miracles that dwell within the womb, adoration painted upon weathered countenances. 

Miracles. Kabukimono has heard the word once or twice. Miracles, as he has come to learn, are wonderful things wrapped in silks. Newborns swathed in softness. Frail humans who manage to overcome illnesses that are said to snuff both body and soul with the excruciating passage of time. Sometimes a miracle is simple and not nearly as exciting as tales of heroes and villains or a mortal fight for recovery. Sometimes a miracle is waking up to begin another day. Sometimes it's torrential rain battering thirsty farmlands. Sometimes it’s a delicious meal prepared by a loving hand. 

If Kabukimono’s existence were to be defined as a miracle, it would be both a grandiose, gilded lie and bittersweet flattery all in one pretty package. Miracles are wanted, loved, and accepted. Disasters, curses, failures—however you wish to name the wandering puppet—are unwanted, despised, and abandoned. Kabukimono may not know every truth of this vast world, but this is one he’s understood from the moment he awoke in a lonesome pavilion. 

There is a little miracle growing within you. 

“Although they’re not very little now,” you remark, taking his cold, bloodless hands in your warm, blood-filled ones.

You guide them to your belly, secured snugly with a hara-obi, and he averts his gaze, if only to be respectful of the bare flesh you’ve put on display. The men at the furnace note he often stares at you; they’ve said it’s unbecoming of a young man to fix licentious eyes upon a maiden. Once, they joked of repentance for invasive gazes: A man who strays too far from his honor when a lady is involved shall gouge his eyes out and present them to her in hopes of earning forgiveness. Kabukimono, unable to comprehend the sarcasm or the laughter, procured a shard of shattered glass, raised it to his eye, and was promptly stopped by a very concerned Niwa. 

“Now listen here,” he had said, addressing the group of chuckling men, “it’s not very honorable to trick others.”

Kabukimono knows that there are two types of tricks: the painful kind and the painless kind. Betrayal falls under the painful category. Swapping his bitter tea for sake falls under the painless category (though he was not spared of the dizzying, disorienting effects or the subsequent hangover). Had he sliced his eyes from his skull, he wonders if he would have felt the sting, the agony, the fluid filling empty eye sockets—if such fluid even exists within his unique anatomy. Kabukimono is grateful for Niwa, for he often rescues him from painless tricks that may turn painful should he follow through with blind trust. 

And, had he truly lost his eyes that day, he never would have had the pleasure of looking at you like he does now. 

“Not very little…” he parrots, and he can practically feel the heartbeat from your miracle the moment his hands rest upon your belly. It shimmers in the candlelight, but that’s only because you’ve applied herbal oil meant to soothe weary muscles and prevent stretch marks. “How big will it become?”

You hum, idly trace patterns onto the tops of his hands, and say, “It’s difficult to approximate. Imagine…a very big lavender melon.”

Kabukimono can do that. He peers past you at the purple pile on the table, spoils from his last walk. He always returns with too many, but then pregnancy leaves you with a voracious appetite and sometimes you can eat more than one melon in one sitting. It’s very admirable, so he brings more each week and you never stop him. 

“That’s big,” he mumbles, awestruck, and he slides a hand across the width of your stomach. “How does it fit?”

“It’s a miracle.”

“Oh.” He leans closer, suspecting he feels movement from within, and he’s proven correct when something shifts under his palms. His eyes, blown so very, impossibly wide, flick up to yours. “It… It moved!”

“Of course,” you say, smiling, and your eyes are the prettiest gemstones in the moonlight. He could stare at them forever. “They kick and squirm often. This, too, is the sweetest miracle.”

“How so?”

“A restless baby means they are alive and well within.” You look like a statue of the gentlest goddess when you cradle your stomach. “It’s all I could ever hope for.”

Curiously, Kabukimono withdraws his hands and lifts the hem of his silks to view his own flat, porcelain stomach. He presses a palm against synthetic skin. It’s cold, but there is life crackling beneath his hand, just barely contained within the frame his mother personally sculpted. 

Mother. It’s another word he knows well, but he cannot seem to apply it to anyone other than his creator. But, as he has come to learn, a mother is meant to provide and protect. His mother is currently absent, so she cannot do those things. 

“You must have something you want.” 

Kabukimono lowers the fabric, cinches it tight, and peers at you. “Something I want?”

“Like a miracle of your own.”

“I am unable to conceive a miracle.”

You stare at him for a moment before laughing a quiet, melodious laugh. “It doesn’t have to be a child. It can be anything you want.”

His hands rise to his chest and he intends to admit his true wish—a heart and a place amongst humans—but instead he says, “I would like a mother for myself.”

“Do you not have a mother, Kabukimono?”

“I do… I did.” He shakes his head, finding that the admittance is too troublesome on his tongue. “I’m…unsure.”

You nod, your features softening with understanding. “Perhaps something else then?” Kabukimono reaches out to touch your belly, hesitates, and draws away, conflicted. You offer an encouraging smile. “You can touch. I don’t mind, and I don’t think the baby minds either.”

And so he does.

“I want to see your miracle when it’s brought into the world,” he whispers, speaking more to your baby than to you. “And I would like to know the miracle of life.”

As if in response, your little miracle kicks.

ii. the miracle of death. 

Your little miracle almost fell from the sky that envelops it.  

On the way to the furnace, a man bumped into you and you were sent stumbling on uneven ground. Kabukimono does not want to think of what could have happened if he hadn’t been a few steps behind—if he hadn’t rushed to your aid with a quickness rivaling lightning. He’d caught you in his arms and, noting the raw panic sullying such a friendly face, could only exhale a slow, relieved sigh. 

When you fell, you were holding your belly, shielding it as if it was worth more than your own life. When you fell, the man who had been the catalyst for this short-lived horror did not jump in to catch you. When you fell, you were a sliver away from tragedy. 

Kabukimono tastes red-hot anger in his throat, but he cannot understand where it’s coming from or why it consumes him entirely. But he must get it out of his system. It’s unpleasant and wrong and sordid. He doesn’t like it. Not at all.

And so, later that same day, he repays terror tenfold and leaves the man clinging to the strand he calls life.

“I won’t allow you to take my miracle away.” It’s spoken like a fact, shot through with syllables of deadly certainty. The sharpened tip of his blade prods at the man’s abdomen, a warning, a threat, and a promise all at once. For nearly taking a life, you shall pay for it with your own.

“Your mother?” the man had sputtered, terrified and confused, sticky with sweat and tears. 

Kabukimono does not let the man speak again, for the sword sinks into his stomach, and unease morphs into painful torment. To be certain the man won’t survive, Kabukimono twists the sword, sullies his hands in the process, and yanks it free with startling strength. Blood speckles a pristine canvas. It’s warm and wet.

He did not say mother. He did not. You’re a miracle. You are not his mother. You will be a mother to your miracle, not him because he isn’t a miracle. 

He did not say mother. 

Kabukimono finds himself sitting across from you now. There is a ghastly tear in crimson-spattered silks. You suspect the truth in the liquid staining his attire. Surely you must. But you keep your lips pursed and thread the needle through with expert fingers, humming as you work. Kabukimono sits primly, watching you with bright, indigo hues. You hum a melody he has never heard before.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m uninjured.”

“I’m glad.” You snip the excess string away and tuck the needle into your sewing kit. “It’s fixed. I’m sorry if it looks a little awkward. I’m not the best at—”

“It’s perfect,” he insists, admiring the stitching as if it’s the most valuable thing in all of Teyvat. Irreplaceable, for no one could replicate your exact pattern, and that’s what makes it so special. 

“Would you like to talk about it?”

He’s quiet for all of two minutes before the silence shatters his resolve. “Your miracle…” He frowns, suddenly ashamed. “He almost hurt your miracle…”

“But he didn’t, and I have you to thank for that.” You hold your hands out, palms up, and add, “Your hands aren’t meant to break and destroy others. You were given these precious palms to embrace others, to protect others, to respect others.” 

Slowly, he places his hands in yours. His seem to weigh heavy like a grimy sin, yet somehow all it takes is a single touch from you and all of his filth is cleansed. His fingers curl around yours, entwining like vines.

“I will embrace others. I will protect others. I will respect others.”

You squeeze his hands reassuringly. “When you’re upset, rather than acting rashly, take a step back and sit with your feelings. If the unpleasant thing persists, come to me and we can discuss. But please don’t take your frustrations out on others. You weren’t made to hurt others.”

“Then if I was not made for destruction, what else could be the purpose for my creation?”

To that, you’re unable to produce a satisfactory reply. Instead, you pull one of your hands free, lick your thumb, lean towards him, and scrub the blood from his cheeks. He blinks at you, unaccustomed to such consideration. The men at the furnace often tease him for trailing after you like a lost, little duckling, seeking your approval and affection. Tonight, since the men are nowhere in sight, he thinks he can allow himself to be greedy without any admonishments from Niwa or Katsuragi. You sure do like that (Name), huh? the latter often muses, exchanging wary, furtive glances with Niwa, as if both are preparing to weather a calamity. 

Kabukimono always speaks the truth unless he must take care to conceal it. So when he tells them, I like her more than I like the world that surrounds me, he means it. Because without you there is no world.

“Thank you, Mother,” he murmurs, as if it’s a secret, a title not meant to be uttered by him. 

Oh, he said it again. He said mother. 

iii. the miracle of motherhood.

Kabukimono kneels at your bedside like an angel of death dressed in the purity of white. He watches you throughout the hour, listening to your cries, your groans, your hisses, while a grandmother assists below, whispering soothing consolations that somehow reach Kabukimono’s ears despite the shrill noises that fill the room. Kabukimono has learned she’s a granny who delivers life, so he puts his faith in her to take good care of you and your miracle.

The process is much longer than he anticipated. Though you’re covered in sweat and tears, your chest heaving, your hand searching for him in the midst of the commotion, you are the most beautiful miracle he has ever known. He closes his hand around yours and you squeeze so hard you might just tear his wrist from the joint. But it doesn’t hurt him, and he spends the afternoon at your side, watching the toll the miracle takes on your body.

He never blinks, burning the scene into his retinas. 

Some time later, you are holding your miracle in your arms, tears tracking down your cheeks in salty streaks. Kabukimono watches mother and child with wide, adoring eyes. After all this time, your miracle is finally here! You’re holding such a fragile human and there is love trickling from your lash line. Kabukimono wants to cry with you, but the tears won’t come. 

So instead he smiles. You seize his wrist and drag him down to where you rest, and the smile widens.

“Your miracle is leaking,” he observes, and you snort in amusement.

“Crying,” you correct, bumping your forehead with his. “She’s adorable, isn’t she?”

Kabukimono is inclined to agree, but your eyes are not on him. For the first time in the many months he’s been acquainted with you, he is not all you see. Somehow that saddens him, carves a hole into him, but he can’t mourn. He shouldn’t. He’s come to learn that the miracle of childbirth is an occasion worthy of celebration. He should be happy for you—and he is—but there is a pang in his chest. Something is not fitting where it should. Something is amiss.

“I think I’ll name her…Aika.”

“Is it common to give miracles names?”

“Of course. Everyone has a name, even you. We’re all given one the moment we’re born.”

Even me… 

Aika continues to cry and you rock her to and fro in your arms, shushing her with a song. She settles within minutes, lulled to sleep, and you follow shortly after. He refuses to leave your bedside, preferring to watch over you like a dutiful guard.

Kabukimono weighs his two warring wants: a name of his own, generously given by his mother, and you. In this very moment, you are attainable. A name, however, is not. But perhaps he can survive without one if it means you’ll accompany him through nameless wandering.

He’s only ever whole when he’s with you. 

iv. the miracle of rebirth. 

The Balladeer stands at an all-too-familiar doorstep. He has since swapped his pure linens for a shroud of darkness, and he’s taken on a new alias (he refuses to call it a name, for only you can grant him one). You haven’t changed in the many years that have since followed, for you are not fully human like him. Yet you veil yourself in the wonders of humanity, always empathetic in nature, tainted with weak emotions. You will never be human, but then neither will he and there is catharsis in similarity. The both of you stand on equal ground in that regard, or so you might have thought. 

He is better because he feels nothing, or so he believes. Perhaps, in the center of the labyrinth that is his mind, he recognizes his flaws and the fact that he is worse because you can accept the many aspects of humanity. 

Shrugging these irritations away, he composes himself, squares his shoulders, and knocks thrice. He could forego etiquette altogether, kick your door down, and force himself inside for the sake of a cruel surprise, but he refrains from doing so. He suspects your newest miracle might tumble from your sky if he shocks you and then you will never know the sweet cycle of motherhood again.

You know better than to ignore Death when he comes knocking. The door opens wide; there’s no need to crack it and peek through the thin sliver when you’re already aware of the person who awaits you on the other side. 

As he has observed over the course of many months, you do have another miracle, hidden under the softness of a floral-patterned kimono. He smiles at you, sharp and wicked under a blanket of stars, and spreads his arms for a hug.

“Mother,” he says in a sarcastic singsong, knowing it unnerves you terribly when it spills like sin from his lips. “It’s so nice to see you again.”

Like an old habit, you welcome him in. Beyond your doorstep, the corpse of your most recent lover lies slumped and bloodied, decapitated and disemboweled, dragged so far there’s a vermilion trail marking the path. Sometimes you think these humans are not killed by The Balladeer but rather by the sheer ferocity of the hatred and anger he harbors. He’s always diligent with each of your lovers, swooping in the moment he catches their scents, like a predatory cat finely tuned for slaughter. 

He palms at your stomach, uncharacteristically gentle. “Aren’t you just full of miracles, Mother?”

There is a little human growing within you, and The Balladeer has made it his duty to bear witness to the birth of each one of your miracles.

[throneofbriars]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐅𝐚𝐮𝐥𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐏𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫

PAIRING: Inner Circle x Reader; intended eventual Eris x Reader

SYNOPSIS: The reader wrestles with being the only Inner Circle member without powers and begins to realize just how isolated she feels.

WC: 1.0K (just a short little snippet from an abandoned fic that I didn't want to keep locked in the vault)

AUTHORS NOTE: This was intended to be an Eris x Reader fic, but I abandoned it 1k words in because it wasn't going where I wanted it to. I might pick it up again someday if people are interested, but, for now, have this little snippet of a powerless Archeron Sister!Reader contemplating power within the IC.

What does it mean to hold power?

Rhysand held power - he was power and he used himself as a weapon, artfully skilled in being both the blade that felled and the shield that defended. Feyre held power, gifted to her by the High Lords of Prythian themselves, who were unaware of the unfettered access she had to the gifts of the Courts - Spring, Summer, Autumn, Winter, Dawn, Day, and Night. 

The power that simmered between Rhysand and Feyre - the High Lord and Lady of Night - was the reason their Court could be as free as it was.  

Cassian and Azriel held power. The Lord of Bloodshed and the Shadowsinger, owners of seven siphons each - a great testament to the raw power that ran through their veins. They used their powers - Cassian’s unforgiving strength and Azriel’s manipulation of the dark - to protect the Night Court. 

Elain held power gifted to her by the Mother - by the Cauldron she so desperately wished to forsake. The female was a Seer, a prophet who was ignorant and inexperienced in reading the prophecies she saw. Elain rejected the Cauldron's gifts, both her power of sight and her mate, Lucien. Though the Cauldron still called to her, still whispered prophecies into her ear, still haunted her with ghosts of a future she had no desire to foretell. 

Even Nesta - bitter, cruel Nesta - held power. It wasn’t a gift like Feyre’s or Elain’s, nor was it inherent like Rhysand’s or Cassian’s or Azriel’s. No, Nesta’s power was taken from the Cauldron, clawed from the damned thing as retribution for the suffering the female went through in the name of its power.  

Lady Death, they called her. A being of frigid night and silver flame; one of the few who could wield the Dread Trove without consequence. She offered the power back to the Cauldron as the price for Feyre’s life and the Cauldron happily accepted. But, Nesta held onto a fraction of that power and it became part of her, the death magic weaving into the very foundation of her being. 

So, what does it mean to hold power? Nothing.

Power means nothing until it’s used - for better or for worse. 

It was unfair, you believed, how meaningless the Inner Circle’s powers were now that they sat idle, waiting to be taken from the shelf, to be dusted off, to be utterly unleashed. 

It was unfair that those who take it for granted were gifted powers that most could only dream of. If you had powers, you would cherish them, use them to make the world better.

But, you didn’t. You weren’t given any gifts by the High Lords of Prythian like Feyre. You weren’t deemed fit by the Mother to be gifted with power from the Cauldron like Elain was. You didn’t have the same claws as Nesta, the claws used to rip power from the Cauldron by force.

You were just you. A Cauldron made female. High Fae. The product of a wicked king’s endless greed. Plain. Simple. Powerless. You.       

“Cassian, you really shouldn’t be using such foul language around Nyx,” Nesta reprimanded, bouncing the winged baby in her arms.

“You should have heard the things said around us when we were growing up, Nes,” Cassian countered, looking pointedly at the female sat next to him. “Your first curse word is a right of passage in the camps.”

“This isn’t an Illyrian war camp, Cassian, and-” Nesta’s words were cut off by Rhys, who spoke up from the head of the table.

“-And that will not be a right of passage we’ll be celebrating. His first flight, sure. When he inevitably kicks your ass- butt- for the first time,” a cunning grin made its way onto the High Lord's lips, “absolutely.”

Those sitting around the table, privy to the conversation - Rhysand, Azriel, Cassian, Nesta, Elain, and yourself - laughed at the High Lord’s words. There was no doubt in anyone’s mind that sooner-rather-than-later the little winged child would kick the Lord of Bloodshed’s ass. It was inevitable. 

“The High Lady will have your head if she finds out you’ve been speaking like that around the little one, Cas.” Azriel smiles, equally as cunning as Rhysands, before continuing, “You should keep your big mouth shut.”

“Ha,” Cassian’s laugh is booming, his words cocky. “I’m not scared of Feyre.”

“Why would you be scared of me?” Feyre’s voice rang out from the entryway of the dining room. Flecks of paint decorated her hair and clothing, a testament to her hard work in her studio on that morning. 

Cassian’s eyes went wide, his face falling into one of surprise and - fear? 

“Nothing- no reason,” the Illyrian male floundered. “I mean- who said anything about being scared? I’m not scared; nobody is scared.” 

Azriel snickered as he shoveled another forkful of eggs into his mouth. Cassian latched onto the movement, a silent conversation passing between the two Illyrians before the Lord of Bloodshed turned his attention back towards his High Lady.

“Azriel cursed in front of Nyx-”

“Eat shit, Cassian.” The words rolled off of Azriel’s tongue before he knew what he was saying, his face blanching as the realization caught up with him. 

“Azriel.”

Rhys and Feyre jumped to reprimand Azriel, the others around the table holding back their laughter. You, however, had stopped listening, withdrawing into the comfortable presence of your own thoughts. 

It was always like this with Rhysands Inner Circle. 

Once upon a time, you had enjoyed it - listening to the familial banter of your sisters and their mates… of your family with their family. But you had grown tired, weary of never feeling the sense of belonging, of connection that you desperately craved. 

You were part of the Inner Circle, part of the family… but you were distinctly separate. 

Perhaps it was your own fault. Life hadn’t left much room for hope - hope for connection, hope for family, hope for love, hope for hopes sake. You’ve become certain it’s too late for you to learn how to hope for anything. 

And, though you were tired, though life and fate had left you thoroughly devoid of hope, you would play the role that was assigned to you - you owed Feyre that much. 

One empty smile at a time.

[sorceresssundries]

The Stars of Simril

Pairing: Gale x Tav (gn)

Summary: Gale and Tav sit together on the night of Simril, stargazing and storytelling. SFW.

Find it on AO3

Word Count: 1.5k

A/N: This was all @alpydk's beautiful idea!! All I did was try and breathe a little life into it. I hope you like it.

'Simril was chiefly celebrated after dark, when the stars were visible across the sky. Celebrants located stars associated with their own births, or with their ancestors. Those without a lucky star could purchase star maps from merchants to help divine which belonged to them, based on when and where they were born. Cloudy weather was considered especially favorable on Simril, as finding one's star on an overcast sky was viewed as a blessing from Tymora. Simril was celebrated outside, with people trying to stay awake the entire night gathered around bonfires with plenty of music, food, and warm drinks.'

Gale Dekarios sat atop an old, abandoned rooftop underneath an obscured night sky and thought of his mother. Back home in Waterdeep, the city would be alive with laughter and music, the streets would be filled with the chiming joy of children energised by the thrill of the nightlong festival of Simril. They would eat sweets, dance to music and no doubt be fast asleep in the arms of relieved parents before dawn broke. But, for a little while, bedtime was a burden for tomorrow and tonight was for finding stars and receiving blessings. 

Ever since Gale was a boy, he and his mother had their own cherished tradition. The stakes were simple but high - the first to spot a Dekarios star would earn a silver shard, to be cast into the harbour waters with a wish. Gale's mother had always assured him that wishes made under the family's lucky star on the night of Simril were destined to come true. Gale would win every year, and it was only now he was alone, he realised it was because she always let him. It pained Gale to think that, year after year, he had wished for new magic, power, or knowledge. All he wished for now was the warm familiarity of home.

From down here, the vast expanse of space appeared serene and tranquil. It was almost impossible to believe it held a symphony of life echoing through the planes. Perhaps, he pondered, there existed another soul on a distant world, beneath another clouded sky, gazing upward and thinking of their mother. He hoped so. It made him feel a little less alone.

“Care for some company?” Gale turned to see Tav at the top of the ladder, clutching a bottle of wine and two glasses. He should have known they would find his hiding spot. He supposed taking a blanket up to an abandoned rooftop in the wilderness wasn’t exactly subtle. He was glad Tav found him. 

“Only if it’s yours” he said with a smile, and turned his face back towards the sky.

“You’ve picked a poor night for stargazing” Tav placed themselves on the blanket next to him, and their familiar, comforting woodsy scent wrapped round him and reminded him of the giant bonfires which would send smoke up to the star-speckled Waterdhavian sky. 

“Ah, that is where you are wrong.” He looked at Tav with a glint of magic in the warmth of his eyes. “A cloudy sky is a good omen on the night of Simril. If you manage to find your star when the sky is overcast, you are granted a blessing from Tymora. The lady of luck herself.”

“Your star?” Tav laughed but was not surprised. If anyone was to have ownership of a star, it would be Gale. 

“Every resident of Waterdeep has a star associated with them. Chosen based on birth and ancestry. Mine is up there, somewhere.” His voice sounded wistful, and Tav knew he was aching for his home. They didn’t say anything, just joined him in his silence and waited for him to continue.

“Some years, the sky was so clear and stars so bright you could practically breathe them in. As a child, I would spend the whole evening with moon-filled eyes and lungs full of stardust. I would stay up all night and watch my star, thinking it belonged to me.” Tav thought they saw a shimmer in his eyes, but it was quickly blinked away. “How odd, to think of the naiveties we grow out of; to think there was a whole person fighting through sleep to hang his small childlike hopes on a star that was never his.”

Tav let the moment sit, and considered their own past. “I wish I had a star” they whispered with soft longing.

“Well then, come on!" Gale rose to his feet, extending a hand to lift Tav up beside him. With a graceful sweep of his hand and a whispered incantation, he commanded the sky to transform, shedding its veil to reveal a pristine expanse of stars shimmering above them. Though they remained on their rooftop, it felt as though the heavens had opened up just to grant them a few hours of unobstructed wonder. Gale's voice was a soft murmur as he turned to Tav, excitement flashing in his eyes. "Let's find you a star."

“Isn’t this cheating?” Tav laughed “I thought part of the custom was to find your lucky star in spite of the clouds?’

“Let’s make our own luck shall we?”

Positioned behind Tav, Gale gently placed a hand on their waist, the warmth of his touch grounding them as they both gazed up at the celestial display. With his free hand, he began to trace a path among the twinkling lights, pointing out constellations that clustered together like families. He explained the stories behind them with the bright, clear confidence of someone who knew them by heart. He painted the night sky with the vibrant hues of mythology and wonder.

He spoke of Belnimbra's Belt, a constellation of five stars named for the legend of the first human female to have been turned into a swanmay. He recounted how she was relentlessly pursued by Lathander, God of the rising Dawn.

His hand swept across the Galleon Nebula, and his arm tightened around Tav’s waist as he spoke with soft reverie about how it is two million miles long and resembles a celestial ship forever destined to row itself across the sea of night. 

He told of the tragedy of Cassima, a maiden who was accused of evil witchcraft and burned at the stake. Selûne took pity on her, and transformed Cassima into a phoenix to rise in glory and join her in the heavens. Her star still flames bright in defiance of those who condemned her.

After he finished, he ran his hand along Tav’s bare arm and lifted their hand with his own to point out unmentioned stars.

“Pick one, and it’s yours” His voice was a delicate promise. “In hundreds of years time, lovestruck fools will tell your heroic story under a cloudy, Simril sky to enchant their beloved, and the other stars will flicker with envy.”

Tav blushed and nudged him playfully. “I’m no hero, wizard. Just a lost soul”. The sky, which to Gale was a memorised book of well-loved stories in a familiar language, was to Tav nothing more than a blank canvas of light and mirrors, blinking their own loneliness back at them. Tav knew as little of the stars as they did their own past.

“I don’t know anything about my birth or my ancestors, or even the stars. I wouldn’t know where to start.”

“Well, then it’s lucky you’re with an astronomical expert.” He pointed their entwined hands at a small, clear light a little way apart from the larger groups. The slightly brighter of two stars so close they almost looked like they were touching. 

“What about that one?” Gale was holding Tav so tightly now it could not be described as anything other than an embrace. Tav could feel the steady rise-and-fall of his chest against their back, and the rhythm of it calmed their dancing heart.

“I like that one, what’s it called?”

“Not all of them have a name yet, that one is unclaimed. A clean slate. All yours.” his thumb stroked Tav’s wrist as he brought their arm back down, and he wrapped himself around them fully. “Of course, you will have to be ok with sharing a little bit of the night sky” Tav thought they felt a soft kiss against their hair. “I picked the one right next to mine.”

Tav didn’t say anything, but Gale felt a warm tear fall against the skin of his arm. They stayed there for a while, stargazing, until the dull ache of tiredness started to crack through Gale’s illusion. Soon it would be the end of Simril, and the start of a new day. 

“I’m sorry you didn’t get your lucky blessing” said Tav as they descended the ladder. 

“That’s ok.” He offered with the warmth Tav’s company had re-ignited in him. “Who needs lady luck, when I have you looking out for me?” 

“Speaking of which!...” Tav said with excitement. “I found a whole collection of enchanted rings buried in the village, so you should be set for a while..” 

The two of them walked together back to camp, laughing and chatting with the ease of two people falling in love - their hands occasionally brushing against each other, mirroring two almost-touching stars which had just appeared, faint and winking, in the sky above them.

Back in Waterdeep, A tired Morena Dekarios stood at Deepwater harbour, looking up at the distant light of her son’s star. Not as bright as it had been, nor as bright as it would be. But still there, nonetheless - defiant and hopeful. She cast a silver shard into the moonlit water and wished that, somewhere, her son was safe and cared for.

[thisgirlnamedblusy]

Could you possibly do something like reader is typically a bottom, and she wants to try to be a top, but fails miserably because she just can’t resist Donna’s dominance. (G!p Donna)

Yessss!!!! Thank you for your request!!! I hope you like it and sorry about the language mistakes!!! :)))))

Not to be a doll

Pairing: Donna Beneviento x Fem!! Reader

Warnings: G!P Donna, smut, Minors DNI, fluff,

Word count: 6,723

Summary: You were always too submissive...

N/A: Sorry about the language mistakes!!! Requests are open!!! I'm waiting yours!!!I love you all!!!

Panting, whispering, the incessant creaking of the old bed… All of them were sounds that accompanied you every morning, sensations that, together with the pleasure you were receiving, drove you crazy.

Her nails scratched your hips while her hands moved them at will, your body twisted with each of her fierce thrusts. You were in paradise.

“Donna,” you moaned without being able to avoid it, your head resting against the pillow, your body at her mercy. Pleasure was, as always, the protagonist in the dark bedroom.

“That's it, tesoro, say my name, say it…” the brunette murmured, with a dangerous whisper, with her voice taken by the obscene movements of her body against yours.

“Donna,” you repeated with a smile, closing your eyes to feel her body inside of yours even more, her shaft deforming your walls, pleasure taking over each and every one of your senses.

She laughed, satisfied with the fulfillment of her request, compensating you with slower movements, with her hips dominating yours hopelessly, with her hands pulling them, holding them so they didn't dare to escape.

“Così stretta…” she whispered, letting herself be carried away by your moans, by the unconditional obedience you showed when offering her your body, letting her do with it what she wanted.

One morning like so many, a game of power as always. In your life you never imagined feeling loved in that way, having a hot body that was dying for yours, that melted for it, for you.

A shy and insecure girl, that was you, a girl born in a village of shadows, in a dark place, without hope, without a future.

Nothing you did or said could change your destiny. Your life was already to the Black Gods. Your prayers were to Mother Miranda. There was no room for love or feelings in that place. At least that's what you thought.

But in all the darkness of that place, there was some light, some metaphorical light that made you remember you were alive, that you were not just another soul at the service of the Gods. Meeting and loving Donna Beneviento was the last desperate move of your existence.

She was a sick, dark and lonely woman, a woman who covered her face, a woman who only seemed like a legend, a woman who was easy for you to love.

Reluctant to give in to the feelings of a simple villager, the path to love was difficult for her, feeling comfortable with someone like you seemed impossible for the lady in black. A deformity on her face, a change on her body… Donna had suffered the punishment for pretending to be more daring than the Gods, for having been blessed by them without wanting to.

None of that mattered to you. Maybe that infatuation you already felt long before discovering her beauty was what made the doll maker trust you, that made her allow herself to love you, just as you did with her.

Sick, dangerous, dark, sweet, kind, beautiful. You didn't know what adjectives to use with her. You had seen her light, and also her darkness. She saved you, protected you when you walked alone through that forest, prevented some villagers from taking the only thing that was yours, and didn’t belong to the Gods: your innocence.

After that, loving her was inevitable, finding in your life a call of destiny, a hope to live differently, to love differently. You would always love her, you would always be with her, you would never abandon her. For Donna, those words, that declaration of intentions, of almost blind fidelity, were enough to let herself go, to dare to do something she never did, she was never interested in: love.

“I’m, I'm close,” you moaned, grabbing the sheets with your hands, pulling at them to suppress the excess of pleasure you always felt. The Lord stopped slowly, laughing sinisterly. No, with her it was never that easy, and you didn't want it to be either.

“No, amore mio... If you want to release yourself, you know what you have to do,” she whispered in your ear, leaning over you, stopping moving in that way you adored, letting your body abandon the feeling of an impending orgasm.

You writhed and moaned at the sensation, at having to obey her whims at such a critical moment for your nervous system. Her dominant attitude drove you crazy.

“Please...” you whispered, biting your lip, moving your hips to resume the frenetic rhythm of her movements.

“Please? Come on, tesoro… You know how to do it better,” Donna said, amused, leaning your body so yours wouldn't stop caressing her erection, so she wouldn't stop feeling the pleasure you were giving her while she was depriving you of it.

“Please, Donna, please…” you said again, hitting the mattress, fearing that the feeling of being about to release would disappear.

“Mm, better,” she whispered, grabbing your hips again, pressing you against the bed and panting as she continued the frenetic rhythm of her thrusts.

Your body was quick to respond to that sensation, your mind could only think of her. There was no taste, touch, smell, hearing, sight, just Donna, just her, just her image, her skin, her heat… Your mind had become hers. Your body was already hers.

You were hers, and you would always be. Your back disobeyed her hands, her movements, arching as your walls played with her shaft, squeezing it with intense spasms, as moans came out of your mouth, as your body writhed.

“(Y/N)…” she moaned, releasing herself in response to your own movements, filling you with a soft gasp, her hips shaking against yours. The heat of her body invaded yours, conquering it like every day, making it her territory, hers, and no one else's.

Catching your breath was an easy task. A tender smile had formed on your face as the brunette gently pulled your body to reach your lips, to kiss them slowly while her body was still inside of yours. The best feeling of all, her kisses.

Donna slowly pulled away, caressing your back, lying down beside you with an exhausted sigh. The smile that formed on her lips was different. There was no trace of darkness, of mischief. Lust had left her and with it, that dominance.

“Good morning…” she whispered, kissing you again, softly, embracing your naked body with hers, caressing you gently as if her hands were issuing an apology on your skin.

Yes, Lady Beneviento may have been dominant. When she let herself be carried away by passion her only task was to claim you as hers, to make it clear to you who you belonged to. But that was only during those moments.

The rest of the time, Donna was a kind woman, even shy, she dedicated words of love to you, she pleased you, she made you happy. It seemed like a contrast that made no sense, a change too radical but amazing at the same time.

Losing you was her greatest fear, you leaving was the reason for her nightmares. Assuring you, and herself, that it would never happen was surely her motivation to dominate you in the bedroom, to say everything she thought without fear of scaring you, to make you hers, to claim her right to have you without being the dark monster everyone said she was.

It was a curious, strange contrast. Donna was strange and you, you could only love her, never judge her, you could only let yourself be carried away by that wild passion and then let her fingers play with your hair and your skin and your heart be covered with flattery.

“Hi, my love…” you sighed, with that same tender smile, kissing her lips slowly, enjoying your relaxed breathing after an overwhelming ecstasy.

“Did you sleep well, my princess?” she asked, playing with your hands, with her eye shining in a different way, with an expression that apologized for her abruptness, even though there was no reason to do so.

“Yes, because I’m with you,” you sighed, hugging her chest, with your head dancing to her soft laugh, with her lips resting on your ruffled hair. “Do you want to have breakfast?”

“Mm, okay,” she murmured, always keeping you against her skin, not forgetting the feeling of the softness of your body lying relaxed with hers. “I'm going to take a shower and I'll make it for you right away…”

“No, wait, I…” you interrupted, when Donna had already gotten out of bed, when the heat of her body left you again. “I'll make it for you.”

“(Y/N)…” she sighed, combing her black hair, letting you delight in seeing it loose, shiny… “It's not necessary.”

“Yeah, well, but I want to do it,” you said, lying face down and resting your head on your hands playfully. Donna laughed again, shaking her head.

“Fine,” she said, looking for her black dress around the room, looking at you with a warm light. “Do you want to join me in the shower?”

You shook your head, getting up from the bed as well.

“No, if I do it, I won't have time to prepare everything I want,” you said, kissing her quickly and leaving the room.

Coffee, toast… A breakfast like the one you prepared every morning, with which you thanked the lady in black for loving you, for having ended your absurd and boring routine.

“Okay…” you said, preparing the table, observing every detail, placing a small flower in a vase. “Perfect…”

“Good morning, stupid!” a shrieking voice made you jump on the floor, bringing a hand to your chest.

Of course, your life was not solitary. You were not the only inhabitants of the mansion. The Angie doll, Donna's inseparable companion, always roamed around the house, ready to make fun of you. It could be jealousy, or it was simply her personality. It didn't bother you, you knew how important was her to Donna.

“Angie…” you sighed, still upset by the scare. “Don’t, don't yell, please…”

“Did I scare you? Good,” she said triumphantly, climbing onto the table you had set.

“Get down,” you said in a serious tone, pointing to the floor. “Come on.”

“No,” the doll said, laughing amused, playing with the flower you had left in the middle of the table. “Is it for me, silly?”

“It's for Donna,” you said seriously, taking the vase from her wooden hands, avoiding another disaster that was not uncommon. “Come on, behave…”

“Donna, Donna, Donna, Donna,” the puppet mocked, with an even squeaker voice. “How disgusting, can't you think of anything else?”

“Does it bother you?” you asked ironically, putting away the things the doll messed up. Angie shook her head, finally getting off the table.

“You bother me,” Angie scolded you, laughing amused.

You rolled your eyes and freaked out again when soft hands surrounded your waist.

“Donna, you, you’ve scared me,” you said, sighing, letting the brunette, already dressed, with her hair up as always, rest her head on your shoulder, slowly kissing your cheek.

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean to,” she whispered softly. “Is everything for me?”

You nodded amused, joining your hands with hers, closing your eyes to enjoy the gentle rocking of your bodies.

“It looks great,” Donna murmured, kissing you before moving away and walking towards the table.

“Wait, wait,” you said hastily, offering her the chair in a gentlemanly manner. She smiled at you a bit blushed, letting you accommodate her. “That's better.”

“You're very attentive, (Y/N),” the brunette commented. “Will you sit with me?”

You nodded, pleased by the compliment, sitting in front of her, ready for a silent breakfast, as always.

The glances met and with them, the smiles. Your cheeks got used to always being blushed, to always being warm in her presence. Your heart was beating hard, but calm. You were in the place you wanted to be.

“Raspberry jam,” Donna commented, spreading it one of the toasts, looking at the food, studying it, as she always did. You smiled, leaving your cup of coffee on the table.

“Yes, I, I’ve made it…” you said shyly, with a satisfied look. Donna smiled back at you, taking a bite.

“I see… It's delicious, tesoro… It's my favorite jam, did you know that?” the lady in black said.

You nodded, sighing in relief because, as always, breakfast had been a complete success.

“Well, a little bird told me so,” you whispered amused, causing a soft laugh to fill the dark room.

“No, not a little bird! It was me, it was me, Donna!” Angie protested, moving in an exaggerated way, jumping on her owner’s lap, causing her to sigh in annoyance.

“Angie, leave us alone, will you?” the lady said, looking coldly at her doll, who, of course, shook her head, standing on top of her, shaking Donna by the shoulders.

“The fool interrogated me! She spends all day asking me things about you! It’s torture!” the doll shrieked, almost forcing you to cover your ears.

“Really?” murmured Donna, winking at you.

“Yes, well, I like to know everything about you,” you said in a low voice, a bit embarrassed.

“Silly,” Angie whispered, getting off the lady and moving away from you, you assumed she was muttering something that weren’t especially nice words.

Silence returned to the house again, only the sound of cutlery seemed to want to interrupt that moment.

“You're very quiet, tesoro,” Donna murmured, looking at you passively. You woke up from a little dream, one in which you lived, and shook your head.

“Oh, well... No, I didn't feel like talking,” you lied, knowing that what you wanted was not to bother her, not to disturb her.

“Mm... I haven't hurt you, have I?” she asked with a slightly more serious voice, studying your gestures.

“Oh, no, no,” you said hastily, shaking your head and your hands at the same time. “No, you haven’t, Donna.”

The lady sighed, nodding slowly. Your attitude seemed to disturb her. She wasn't comfortable with your eyes looking into hers all the time. You knew it, but you never did anything to change it. You loved looking at her, she was everything to you.

“Are you uncomfortable?” you asked cautiously, seeing her obvious discomfort.

“Not exactly,” she said, with a more relaxed expression. “I’m just wondering what you're thinking about.”

“Oh, well, you know, a little bit of everything,” you said, lowering your eyes to the table.

“Tell me, I like to hear you talk,” Donna said, with a nervous but soft tone.

“Do you, do you like it? I, I didn't know that,” you stammered, glancing at Angie out of the corner of your eye, who met your gaze, laughing sinisterly. “Angie told me that…”

“Angie says a lot of things, doesn't she?” the lady in black joked, bringing her cup to her lips.

“She said you preferred silence,” you said, a bit nervous, embarrassed by having one of those awkward moments, one of those moments when it seemed like you were doing something wrong.

“Well, she's not wrong,” she said, amused, reaching out to take your hand. “But it's different with you.”

You sighed at her soft touch, at that knowing smile she gave you.

“Okay, okay,” you stammered, hiding your shyness in a glass of juice.

“Not knowing what you're thinking about makes me uncomfortable,” the doll maker commented, with a different tone, more serious, predicting another of her stupid worries.

“I'm, I'm sorry,” you apologized, letting her hand go as yours was starting to shake. “I'll try to change that.”

“It's not necessary,” Donna whispered, shaking her head. “I just want to know what's in your mind, if I can do something for you.”

“You already do a lot of things for me,” you joked with a shy smile, with a velvety tone. “I live here with you without giving you anything in return.”

“That's not true,” Donna whispered, sighing tiredly. “We've talked about it many times, tesoro, you being here with me is more than enough.”

“But, but,” you interrupted, playing with your shaking hands. “I, I don't know, I think, I think I could do something else. Maybe, maybe I could clean the house and…”

“(Y/N),” the lady said, with a stern voice, with a cold look, very different from that usual shy smile. “I've told you a thousand times that you're not my maid, you're my girlfriend.”

“Yes, but…,”

“Taci, if you want to do something for me, stop acting like a servant,” she snapped at you abruptly, making you back down in your chair, embarrassed.

“I'm, I'm sorry…” you said with a trembling voice, with your eyes shining wetly from that failure, from having felt you had failed the love of your life. It was an exaggerated, but recurring feeling.

Donna sighed, passing a hand over her forehead, closing her eye and breathing deeply.

“Forgive me, tesoro, I shouldn't have spoken to you like that,” she said softly, getting up from the table and approaching you, caressing your cheek. “Can you forgive me?”

“Of course,” you said relieved, kissing the back of her hand. “I just, I just want to… Make you, make you happy.”

“You already do,” she replied softly, leaning down to kiss you briefly. “Today it's a beautiful day... Do you want to go for a walk in the woods?”

You nodded enthusiastically, a smile shining on your face again.

“Do you want to go for a walk in the woods… With me?” you asked, biting your lip.

Donna frowned, but nodded slowly.

“Yes, that's why I'm asking you,” she said amused.

“I really want to, Donna,” you sighed, getting up to kiss her again, hugging her waist. She laughed shyly, slowly pulling away.

“I'm going to pick this up and work on my dolls,” she said, letting your hands go and heading to the table. “I won't be long.”

“Okay,” you nodded. “What do I do in the meantime?”

“I don't know, why don't you read for a while?” Donna commented as she stacked the plates, disappearing from the living room.

You sighed uncomfortably at that little argument, but you obeyed, you always obeyed, picking up a book and letting yourself fall on the couch.

Time passed slowly without Donna by your side, but luckily, you had ways to entertain yourself.

“So…Sono di Romania… Ho… Veintitré anni… Il mio nome è…” you murmured slowly, repeating the same thing over and over again, trying to improve.

“Please, stop it,” Angie protested, scaring you again and peeking out of the book you were pretending to read. “Do you want to offend my dead family?”

“Hey,” you complained with an angry expression. “Come on, be nice, I'm learning.”

“Learning? What For?” Angie mocked, sitting next to you, not leaving you a moment of peace.

“Well… Because… Because I feel like it, okay?” you defended yourself, shaking your hands to push the puppet away.

“Yeah, sure, I'm sure you feel like it…” Angie joked. “You know what I feel like? You, Shut up.”

“It’s funny, I feel like the same,” you said mockingly, turning your back on the puppet. “Don't you want to go with Donna to the workshop?”

“Don't you want to go?” she asked back. Of course, it was difficult to face that puppet.

“I don't want to disturb her,” you said, looking at the sheet of paper on which you were practicing those new words.

“Of course… Of course,” Angie mocked again. “She already has enough dolls down there, why one more?”

“Seriously, I'm trying to concentrate, leave me alone,” you said with a serious tone, a bit cocky. “Or would you rather I tell Donna how badly you behave towards me?”

“Silly,” she sighed defeated, she couldn't attack that.

“Okay, keep destroying our language… I'm going to play with my dolls.”

“Fine,” you said when the puppet went to the floor.

It might seem like you could be calm now, but quite the opposite.

“Of course, I'd do anything for you,” Angie said, waving a small doll. You groaned, looking over your notes. “I'll be happy to jump off the cliff if you ask me to, my lady.”

“Speak lower,” you whispered. Of course, the doll didn't listen.

“Should I clean your house, my lady?” Angie continued. “Should I sweep the floor where you walk, my lady? Do my clothes bother you, my lady? I'll take them off… Is that okay with you, my lady? Would you like to read while I suck your dick, my lady?”

“Angie!” you shouted with a frown, finding in those unpleasant phrases a horrible coincidence. “Are you laughing at me?”

“What? I'm playing Lady and the Dumb. Don't you like that game?”

“No, of course I don’t,” you said furiously, closing the book abruptly. “What's wrong with you?”

“No, what's wrong with you? You kind of dumb human with a submissive doll kink…” she hissed, climbing back onto the couch. “You make me sick.”

“What? What are you talking about?” you asked, pushing the doll away from your lap, frowning, your cheeks blushed.

“Oh, Donna, my omnipotent Goddess, tell me how I can make your day perfect,” the doll began, imitating your voice unpleasantly. “Do you want some tea? Is it too hot? Oh, I'm sorry, forgive me. I didn't know you didn't like orange…”

“Do you have a problem with the way I behave with Donna?” you asked, clenching your fists tightly.

“No… You're the one with a problem… Just look at yourself,” the puppet scolded you, pointing at your dress. “You always wear that dress.”

“I like this dress, Donna made it for me,” you said, holding the fabric, nervous.

“Of course, and since she made it for you, you can't wear anything else, right?” Angie said, dropping onto the couch.

“To see me wearing it makes her happy,” you said, crossing your arms with a furious gasp.

“Do you know who she makes dresses for too? Her dolls... Every day I'm more certain that you are just one of them... Are you sure you're not made of porcelain?”

“Well, well, if she's happy that, what's your problem?” you said, stammering, thinking seriously about the doll's words.

“You don't get it, do you? Donna doesn't want a submissive and stupid servant like you,” the doll whispered, looking at the hallway in case the lady returned. “If that was what she wanted, she could have gone to the castle and picked up a bunch of maids to have fun with.”

“But, but...” you stammered, confused. “She loves me the way I am.”

“You think so? Stupida…” the doll hissed. You shrugged, looking for an answer to that impudence, one you didn't have.

“So…? So…? What does she want?” you asked with a broken voice, trembling from those accusations.

“To begin with, someone who isn't always agreeing with her, showering her with compliments, doing everything she asks…” the doll explained, in a calmer tone. “Donna is stupid too, and she's in love with you, but I bet my wooden arms that she's looking forward for you to change that disgusting attitude.”

“I like being accommodating,” you protested, listening to Angie more attentively. “Is that disgusting?”

“Not… Especially,” Angie whispered. “But I assure you that you're not going anywhere like this. Donna is stupid, but not as stupid as you.”

“Okay, great,” you sighed, shaking your head. “Thanks for the advice.”

“You don't get it, dumbhead,” Angie said, standing up and hitting your head with her wooden hand.

“Uh… Stop…” you protested.

“Donna has been a Lord for many years, everyone is afraid of her, she’s afraid of everyone,” Angie said, with a calmer tone, as if, for once, she was serious. “The Black Gods please me with their presence, Lady Beneviento, don't kill me, Lady Beneviento… You know, all that shit.”

“I don't understand what you want to tell me, I think you're making fun of me…” you whispered in a threatening tone.

“No, silly! I'm trying to help you,” the doll said.

“Why would you want to do that? You hate me,” you said, arching your eyebrows, smiling ironically.

“No... Well... I, the truth is... I like you,” the puppet whispered, looking away from you when she said something so unusual for her. “I want you to keep making my Donna happy. I don't want to see her crying alone again.”

“Wow, Angie, how thoughtful of you,” you said with a more serious voice, shaking your head.

“That's your problem, you silly village girl, appearances deceive you,” the doll snapped at you. “Donna doesn't need a bootlicker following her all day. She wants a girlfriend, a girl who isn't afraid of her, who dares to be herself, do you understand?”

“Why... Why hasn't she told me?” you asked curiously, starting to think that maybe the doll was right.

“I already told you, because Donna is stupid, and she doesn't want to lose you.”

“What should I do? I want, I want to know how I can be what she's looking for. I don’t want to lose her, Angie, I, I love her so much…” you asked the doll, who shrugged, getting off the couch.

“Yeah, yeah…” the doll sighed. “Well, then lift that huge head of yours, look her in the… Well, in the eye, and tell her no sometimes, assert yourself, give your opinion, don't let her dominate you in everything you do.”

“I thought she liked that,” you murmured, remembering that morning of passion, which, of course, you weren't going to tell Angie about.

“Who doesn't like to be served?” the puppet joked, raising her arms. “Just let her know that you're a person with tastes and concerns, that you're not a doll at her command.”

“I…” you stammered confused, interrupted by the sound of the elevator and Angie's small steps moving away from you. Your mind wandered through those thoughts, through that attitude of yours that you thought was right, when it wasn't.

You loved her, you wanted her to be happy, to please her, but, maybe Angie was right, maybe a submissive villager, like any other, wasn't what Donna was looking for.

“Tesoro…” the lady in black sighed, leaning down to give you a kiss on the lips. You pretended to read, with that conversation with Angie running through your thoughts. “I hope I haven't taken too long.”

“No, not at…” you said hesitantly, with a different sparkle in your eyes. “Well, the truth is that you have, why have you taken so long, Donna?” you asked with a frown, making the lady in black back away confused.

“S…S… Scusami, (Y/N),” she said, a bit nervous about your reaction. “The dolls have made it difficult for me today.”

“Yes, as usual,” you murmured with a haughty tone. “Someday you should take a break.”

“Um… Yes, well, I guess,” Donna sighed, scratching the back of her neck. “I guess you're right, tesoro. I'm sorry you had to wait so long for me.”

“It's okay,” you said with a more sincere smile, evoking your true feelings. “If you give me a kiss… I think I can forgive you,” you joked with a mischievous smile. Donna returned it, leaning down to kiss you again, like you asked her to.

“Do you want that walk?” Donna asked, sitting next to you, stroking your hair romantically. You had to make an effort not to nod. Angie was right, you were a submissive doll, and you had to change that.

“Not really,” you said firmly. Donna didn’t make any strange gestures. She simply nodded, studying your clumsy gestures. “I always get covered in leaves and… Well, the snow getting in my shoes is so annoying...”

“Oh, wow, I didn't know that,” the lady in black said, amused, frowning with a curious smile.

“I have secrets,” you joked, feeling strangely comfortable with that new casual attitude.

“I see, tesoro...” she whispered, kissing your cheek. “Well, tell me, what do you want us to do?”

You remained thoughtful, not knowing what it was that you really wanted. Saying: I want you to see me as a normal girl and not as a submissive doll, didn’t seem like an adequate phrase. Yes, you had to be yourself, something complicated for anyone, something that would be difficult for you to change.

You could ignore that advice and please your beloved, but you didn't want to, deep down you knew that it annoyed her. Fleeting memories with the doll maker began to appear in your head, tired sighs at your silence, at your lack of refusals. Could it be that Angie was really telling you the truth?

She would never abandon you, Donna would never stop loving you for your attitude. During that short period of time you thought about all your hobbies, everything you liked to do. Unfortunately, there was none that didn’t coincide with Donna's. You had very similar tastes and hobbies. You were made for each other.

That made your attempt to get noticed quite complicated, but, like a revelation, a different idea appeared in your head. When was your submission more evident? When did she completely dominate you? The answer made you tremble: under the sheets.

Yes, it could be a good starting point, showing her that you were not a submissive doll meant stopping submitting to her during sex. It was an idea that sounded better and better in your head.

“I feel like…” you whispered, moving closer to her ear. “…Fucking you.”

The lady stepped back upon hearing you say those words. Her cheeks red, but she shook her head, her eye wide open.

“(Y/N)… You, you never talk like that… You know I don't like it,” she said in a nervous whisper, placing a hand on your shoulder. You nodded, ignoring her words, biting your lip.

“I know, but I do…” you scoffed, tilting your head, fighting that part of your mind that told you to shut up. “At least from time to time.”

“I'm leaving…” Angie sighed, disappearing from that scene, discreetly raising her thumb towards you.

“Are you okay?” Donna asked, confused, obviously, by your attitude.

You nodded, shrugging and moving around the couch, climbing onto her lap.

“I’m fine…” you hissed in her ear, not giving her time to respond, kissing her lips deeply, differently, far from that tenderness you used to have before  your body went out of control.

Donna gasped in surprise, grabbing your back, holding you against her body as your hips danced in an exaggerated way, while your hands held her face so her kisses didn't dare to leave you.

“Do you like this, honey?” you asked, rubbing yourself against the bulge that was already evident in the black fabric of her dress.

She nodded confused, releasing the pressure between her legs, stimulating herself gently with her hand, surprised but pleased by your behavior.

“Shh, no, Donna,” you said in a honeyed voice, moving her hand away from her shaft, something she protested. The new (Y/N) was starting to act up. “Don't do that.”

“Why? I like to touch myself while you kiss me…” she whispered, with a pleading tone, attacking your neck, biting it, sucking it, causing an anxious moan to come out of your lips. You laughed, enduring the pleasure that was already beginning to haunt your nerves.

“Because I don't want you to do it…” you whispered. Donna stopped, looking at you with a frown and a suspicious smile.

“Then do it yourself, come on,” she ordered you, with that dark glint that excitement caused in her gaze, one that you already knew. She abruptly took one of your hands, taking it to her trembling erection, forcing her to surround it with your fingers.

“What if I don't want to?” you said, pulling away your caresses after a few brief movements.

“What?” she asked confused, mouth agape, without stopping kissing you. “Do it now.”

“No,” you refused, stopping the movement of your hips, playing with her trembling body, with her confused but amused look at the same time.

“No?” the lady in black asked, with a threatening look and tone, grabbing your hair with one hand, pulling it just enough to get your attention. “What do you mean with no, tesoro?”

“You haven't asked me nicely…” you joked, letting that soft tug turn into an excited gasp, making that expensive domination much more pleasurable for you.

“Do I have to ask you?” Donna said, with a dangerous tone, putting her free hand inside your dress, doing on her own what you didn't do, running her hand between your legs, running her hand over your wetness with soft caresses.

You nodded, your body moving involuntarily at her soft touch, at those intense caresses on your underwear.

“If you want something, do something,” you mocked, playing with your hand on her shaft, caressing it in a painfully soft way, almost without feeling it, something that made the brunette moan in frustration, pulling your hair harder.

“Very well, then… Get on your knees, your mouth will do the work,” she whispered, pushing you off of her body, guiding your head down, with the sinister smile that showed her excitement, that her desire to dominate you was becoming more and more unbearable.

You wanted to refuse, but you couldn't. You launched yourself towards her with a voracious appetite, you didn't protest, you kissed her erection just as she wanted, your hand played the same way, with an intense, harmonious rhythm, in time with her sighs and moans.

She may have won that little battle, but the war wasn't over yet. The thoughts continued in your head, the desire to want to be something more than a doll for her. But Donna always played with the advantage, she knew how much pleasure to be at her mercy gave you, how you enjoyed kissing her body, running your lips wetly over it.

Well, you could take advantage of that too.

Your movements became more intense, your tongue played with her tip, your hand held tightly to her erection, not letting it go. The brunette's body trembled from those caresses, from those much more daring kisses, from the almost frenetic rhythm of your lips.

“Keep going... Keep going, (Y/N)... Che brava bambola...” the brunette murmured, playing with her hand on your head, guiding you to the points of greatest pleasure, correcting your movements, dominating you again.

But no... No... You were no longer a good girl, and above all, you were not a doll.

You moaned from that whisper, from that terribly sensual hiss. You could notice the increase in her moans, in their frequency, you knew she was close, you knew it and you thought you would use it to your advantage.

“Is everything okay, Donna?” you asked mockingly, moving away from her, but continuing to stimulate her with your hands, slower and slower, more and more specific.

She growled, pushing your head back to its place, to the place she wanted. You sighed, but obeyed. Nobody said it was going to be easy, especially when that attitude of the doll maker also caused you an immense pleasure.

“Keep going… Finish what you started, ragazza…” she hissed darkly, but with her voice broken by pleasure, by the moans that were dying to leave her lips. “I’m… I’m going to…”

“Mm, no,” you said sighing, moving away, standing up, leaving a stupefied Donna, who looked at you with a fiery eye.

“What are you doing? I told you to keep going,” she asked with a frown, while you, gently pushing her by the chest, laid her down on the couch, beneath you, the first time you did it.

“I think it's time for me to take charge, don't you?” you hummed, playing with your underwear, tilting it to slowly lower you hips over her shaft, so it would brush against your latent wetness.

“You?” she asked, watching how she entered you at your pace, not at hers. She seemed disoriented, but the embrace of the caresses of your walls on her erection silenced any kind of protest.

“Shhh, shut up, darling,” you said, putting a finger on her lips while you danced slowly with your hips, letting yourself be carried away by the pleasure, by the intensity of her shaft in your body, by the stretching of your wet interior, welcoming the intruder. “If you don't shut up, I'll stop moving.”

“How daring,” she whispered, amused, bringing her hands to your hips to control your vague movements. “You're not being a good girl, mm?”

“You don't want a good girl,” you said among moans, moving slowly, dancing on her shaft, going up, down in an intense way, but so subtle that it made her moan with desire.

“I don’t? You seem to make a lot of assumptions, (Y/N)…” Donna murmured, leading your body to her rhythm, letting the pleasure make you forget your intentions for a moment, moaning in a crazy, uncontrolled way.

With a sinister laugh, Donna pushed you away roughly so your back rested on the couch. You gasped in surprise for having lost control so quickly, for having let yourself get carried away by the pleasure and failing in your attempt to be on top, at least for once.

“You forget one thing, tesoro…” she whispered, dragging you on top of you, brushing your entrance with her erection, but not indulging your desire for her to enter you again, just playing, making you shudder. “You forget that you are mine.”

“I’m... I’m yours...” you repeated, blinded by desire, by lust, by those dominant words coming from such a tender woman, from a woman tired of flattery, tired of being feared, wanting to be loved for who she is, not for what she is.

“That's much better, mm? Don't forget it, doll,” she whispered in a serious voice, pulling your hair so your head would lean while she kissed your neck.

With a sharp, anxious gasp, the brunette grabbed your hips, turning you on your stomach, lifting them while your head rested on the couch. You didn't want to resist, your vague attempt to dominate her had disappeared and the truth is… You didn't care too much.

Donna approached you, scratching your skin, lifting your dress so she could contemplate you, so she could rub her shaft against your entrance again, entering it little by little, but with desire, with hunger, with eagerness.

“Do, Donna,” you said, moving erratically to the rhythm of her hips, her thrusts. The pleasure was unmatched. The feeling of having made her nervous, of having challenged her was joined by the wet touch of your walls, their constant embrace, their desire to not lose contact.

“Silence, doll…” she whispered, grabbing your neck gently, speaking in your ear while her body moved on its own, unburdening itself with yours faster and faster.

Your fists hit the couch when the sensation was too much for you, causing your back to arch, to tense irremediably as you screamed gutturally with your trembling body, squeezing that shameful orgasm to the maximum. Donna did the same, hitting you harder, stopping when her release conquered your territory again, when her wet caresses claimed you again.

It was an unexpected passion, different, but a passion, after all, romantic, lustful, loving passion…

“Donna,” you whispered, pulling away, turning around and pulling her towards you, staring at her. She nodded, catching her breath, with the wet sensation of her orgasm still in your body. “I'm sorry, I'm sorry for being a stupid submissive.”

“What?” she asked confused. “Why do you say so?”

“I know that… I'm too accommodating and… Well, I want you to know that I'm not doing this because I'm scared of you, or because… Because of who you are…”

“Mm,” the lady nodded calmly, leaning on you while caressing your hair.

“I do it because I love you and… Nothing makes me happier than seeing your smile,” you said, looking away. “But, but I promise you that, I'll try to be a little less… Doll, you know what I mean.”

Donna laughed shyly, capturing your lips in a kiss.

“Oh, so that was it… Don't worry, tesoro, I love you just the way you are. But…”

“But?”

“In bed you're mine, (Y/N),” she said in a dark voice. “In bed you'll still be my doll.”

[thewulf]

For That Long? || Aragorn

Summary: Request -Hello! 👋 Your work is absolutely amazing! Especially your Aragorn fics (My King! 🗡️👑❤️) In fact, whenever works best for you, here’s an idea: During the victory celebration at Helm’s Deep, the reader (also a Dunedain Ranger) offers a quick dance lesson for Aragorn to a) enjoy the celebration with him and.... Read Rest Here

A/N: Thank you for the sweetest little request anon! I had too much fun writing this one. I love trying to get into his head. Keep sending amazing requests my way! And thank you for you kind comments!

Pairing: Aragorn x Reader

Word Count: 3.5k +

TW: fluff?

“Not like that, Strider.” You giggled something fierce as he tripped over his own feet for the umpteenth time that night. Somehow you had convinced him to dance with you after quite literally decades of trying to get him as your partner.

“Have I not already told you how hopeless this is, Callia?” He asked you by your chosen Ranger name. You had to abandon Y/N when you left home all those years ago. If you were captured you must never give up your true name for your family could bear danger to your chosen work.

“You just need to relax yourself. Your mind.” You poked his forehead while grinning from ear to ear.

He sighed, “I cannot keep making a fool of myself in front of…”

You stopped him by placing his hand on your hip catching him most off guard, “My King overthinks.” You whispered as you took a soft step towards him. He smelled good. Like of the woody scent he naturally had but even better.

“I am no King.”

You smiled more to yourself than him, “Not yet. But the people have decided. It be but a mere month and you shall be.”

“It does not feel right hearing you call me that, my lady.” He countered while raising his eyebrows right up waiting for your retaliation.

Trying your best, but failing, you made a face in reaction, “You know I am hardly a lady.”

He hummed. Not even realizing you had begun to lead him you kept talking trying to rid his mind of the thoughts that plagued him. For if there was anybody who knew Strider better than himself it was you. Time had a way of making your heart the softest for him and truly only him. Countless sleepless nights of diving into your worst nightmares and trauma would find a way to bond the two seemingly hopeless souls.

“The opposite is true.” He smiled down at you with a look you had rarely seen from the hardened leader. You had been away from him longer than you wished. He had told you to go to Minas Tirith after getting orders from Gandalf to help the Hobbits of the Shire. You had heard the story of the great Bilbo Baggins and now apparently Strider had to accompany his nephew, Frodo. He had told you to go to Minas Tirith and wait for his word.

That had been six months ago. You had gotten used to life without him how odd it may seem. You had made a few friends that you probably never would have had Strider joined you. It was terribly uncomfortable. Your simple life changed when you had gotten word from him asking you to join him in Rohan. He knew something was coming and needed all the help he could get.

“A lady does not count her kills.” You spoke breaking the comfortable silence between the two of you. A shift occurred as he had taken control of the dancing now. Your easy banter all but freeing his mind from his thoughts. Dancing wasn’t so bad. Especially if he got to hold you like this.

“By your definition.” He smirked down but dared not look into your eyes for he knew he would cave to any of your demands, “Not by mine. And did you not say I was to be King?”

You fought every urge in you not to pinch his side, “You are impossible.”

“Do you not refute, my lady?” His smirk only grew as he noticed your face fighting the urge to react. It was amusing watching you try and stay neutral. For he had missed this. Sure, it was not only the two of you dancing but it had felt like it. You had a way of taking his mind off of whatever he needed. You had always seemed to have known what he may have needed.

“It is no use in arguing with you, Aragorn.” You gave him the eye letting him know you were not over the little secret he had kept from you for so long. You had only found out of the name when Legolas shouted it on the battlefield almost costing you your life. It had left you stunned. Who was Aragorn and why had Strider reacted as if it was his name.

Because it was. He had apologized profusely before you finally gave in. Leading you to this moment with him. You had finally convinced him he needed to learn how to properly dance since he was to be the king. And lucky for him you so happened to know many dances as your mother had insisted a girl your age to learn them all those years ago in Dúnedain.

An amused smile crossed his features as he led you across the dance floor. Maybe he was not so pathetic after all, “It is not like you, Callia, to bite your tongue.”

“Hush you.” A laugh escaped you. It was no use trying to hide your own amusement. Yes, he pushed you, but it had also shown you how much he too cared for you.

He slowly stopped the two of you from your dance before replying, “You are most fortunate the music has ended."

A quick nod left you head as it spun out of control by his soft touch and daring words, “Most fortunate indeed.” Begrudgingly you took a step back knowing the moment between the two of you had ended.

But his words had stopped you from turning all the way around, “I will stop teasing you if you lead me in another dance. For I must learn. I do not wish to embarrass you.”

You only grinned before stepping back into his hands, “You could never embarrass me Strider.”

Your eyes glistened with unshed tears as you took in the breathtaking room before you. Stifling a laugh, you couldn’t truly believe you had made it here with him, alive and in one piece. Your truest and oldest friend crowned the King of Gondor. How you would never have believed this only three years prior. You watched as royalty and common people alike danced with joy and glee for their newfound leader. Aragorn. It felt the most surreal as you watched him mingle with people that mattered. A King. Who would’ve thought. Glancing down at your nearly empty glass you sighed knowing you had to make the walk back to get another drink.

But you never made it as you were intercepted by nonother the man you were watching far too often that night, “Strider!” You smiled trying to play it off as nothing as his broad hands covered the length of your forearm with ease, “You best get dancing. You have many eyes on you, my King.” You grinned with ease knowing calling him such made him uncomfortable. You truly had known him as Strider for as long as you could remember. You’d met as teenagers in your youth, kids from Dúnedain.

Your fathers were friends keeping you close together often until he went off on his own. When it came time to leave you had heard Strider was a Ranger. Having a feeling you’d run into him again you weren’t surprised you were assigned to his company not long after you left home to find a purpose. Just like him. In a lot of ways, you were the same. But in so many different.

For the last sixty or so years the two of you became something of a menace in the North. Something to be feared. Always working as a team, the two of you always seemed to come out of battles unscathed.

He grumbled in response to the title name you had used on him, “I have told you not to call me that. It does not feel right hearing those words from you. Strider will do.”

You smiled seeing how you managed to get under his skin with such ease, “Strider is too informal. May I call you Aragorn at least?”

“I think Strider is perfectly formal. But you may call me as you see fit. So long as it is not, my King.” He smiled right back at you. Even he had to admit how nice it was seeing you so at ease. He had roamed the North for nearly sixty years with you. He had never seen you so relaxed. He was sure he had seen you smiling more tonight than he had in the past sixty combined. You smiled like that bright eyed teenager who had an obvious crush on the older teen. It was times like these that made him wish he had told you how he had felt the same. He had longed for you for so long in silence. He had a duty to uphold. But now? Time was different. He needed somebody on his side. He had always known that somebody was you.

You bowed just knowing it would push his nerves further, “As my King wishes, I shall only refer to him as Aragorn.”

His mouth dropped at your brazenness, but he should have known better. He was convinced you were placed with him was to keep hm grounded. You had a certain way about you that had him acting his very best, “Y/N.” He let out an audible sigh letting you know he was annoyed.

“Strider.” You raised an eyebrow as if to challenge him knowing that name was now obsolete in your vocabulary. He was Aragorn now. You could get used to it.

He looked to the dance floor before turning back to you, “Would you join me in a dance?” He held his hand out for you to take giving you your favorite impatient face. It was your favorite thing to do after all, push his buttons.

Your smirk turned up into a genuine smile, “This is a pleasant change. I would be honored to join you in a dance, Aragorn.”

“Are you going to choose a name Callia?” He grumbled as you placed your hand in his. His smile never faltered even though he pretended to be most annoyed by you. It wasn’t lost on your how gently he wrapped his hand around yours before nodding his head to the nearly empty ballroom floor.

You giggled more to yourself knowing how annoyed he was with you. Maybe you should stop winding him up. It was almost too much fun to stop though, “Am I not allowed to interchange two of your many names?” You followed along his lead down to the center of the empty floor.

He stopped once he had found a place good enough. Placed one hand over your hip and one behind your back, “Hands on my shoulders.” His voice dropped nearly an octave as he gave you a simple order. A shiver ran down your side at his touch. This was new for you as well. Sure, you had found him ever so attractive, but he hadn’t the slightest interest in you. Everything was platonic as could be between the two of you. So, you had backed off and kept it cool knowing nothing was ever going to happen.

You did as he wished and wrapped your hands around his neck, far more intimate than you had intended but you were committed now. It would be almost more embarrassing to unwrap yourself from him, “You did not answer my question.” You spoke trying to rid your mind of overthinking this situation you had seemed to find yourself in.

He gave you a grin as his eyes trailed all over your face, “I was only playing with you. You may call me as you please.”

Before you could answer the music started forcing your concentration of following his lead. It was impressive how quickly he had picked up on the steps of the dances you had only taught him only a few times a month ago. It had been a little over a month after the Celebration of Helm’s Deep after the hell that was the battle.

You were almost upset when the music had stopped knowing his hands would soon leave you. It was not right to have these feelings for such a longtime friend. Let alone the King of Gondor. But how could you not? He was Strider the great Ranger of the North. He was Aragorn the leader of the Fellowship. He was the King of Gondor. He was everything.

Fortunate for you he hadn’t move his hands from your waist even as the music stopped, “I do think I should call you Aragorn. It suits your stature. You have outgrown Strider.”

He bowed his head before slowly bringing his eyes up to yours, “Then Aragorn I shall be, my lady.” He was smirking now knowing how much you too loathed the high title he had seemed to start calling you.

With a frustrated breath your eyes narrowed at his, “If you shall call me my lady, then I will call you my King.” You too didn’t enjoy how the high title rolled off his lips. You were anything but a lady even in the dress you protested but had been convinced of.

He let out a breathy chuckle as he finally came back to his senses and let his hands go of your waist. You feared to admit how much you had enjoyed his touch and closeness, “I suppose that is fair, Callia.”

Stepping forward to straighten his collar you could only smile up at him in adoration, “You look very handsome tonight. Who knew you cleaned up so well?”

He took your hand in his once more, “It took a fair bit of work. But I must say, it is you who shines the brightest tonight.”

He had never complimented you so forthright before it drew a small gasp out of your very own mouth, “You are most kind to me. Thank you Aragorn.” You were suddenly thankful you had put some makeup on. You were praying it was covering up the sure-fire pink tint that was bound to be covering your cheeks.

He watched as you turned away from him, “You must get back to your advisor. He looks very weary over in the corner.” You tried a good excuse to walk away from him. He was suddenly becoming too much even for you.

“Wait,” You stopped and turned back to him with that subtle blush coating your face. When you stopped he continued, “Come take a walk with me. I wish to talk with just you.” His darting eyes let you know people were listening, always listening in now that he had such a high title.

“As you wish.” You followed him as he left the hall as discretely as he could.

The two of you had made it all the way to the gardens before he had spoken once more, “I want to thank you, Y/N.” By speaking your true born name, you knew this was serious. There was no playfulness of my lady or the knowing name of Callie. Y/N.

You had no clue where this was coming from. Truly, you rattled your mind for further thoughts before you gave in, “Whatever for?”

He smiled as he led you down the path of roses he had grown fond of in his short time here, “For always being there for me. You have shown up for me time and time yet again.” He paused taking your hand in his before placing a gentle kiss on the back of it. Had he no idea what he was doing to you?

“You are my truest friend.” You answered honestly after a few long moments of trying your hardest not to cave into whatever was taking over your mind. He was your friend! Only a friend. That is all he had ever wanted. He was simply thanking you for the journey. That was all. One chapter of your lives had closed and the next was to begin. You had to wonder where you would end up. In the capital being a guard? Roaming the woodland realms for danger? Head home and care for your aging parents? The choices were endless for your new life.

He let out a short laugh, “For that you are. May I tell you something?”

“Anything.” The response was so automatic it almost took you by surprise.

“If not for you, I would not be here.” He spoke quickly.

It took you much longer to process those words, “What do you mean?”

“If I had not known you would always be there I would not be king.” He smiled as his eyes traced your nervous face. You were truly the most beautiful woman he had ever known. How had he gotten so lucky with you? And by any other stroke of luck, you would accept his next question that had been weighing heavily on his mind.

“I am not sure what you mean Aragorn.” Your heart rate sped up just a tad as he stepped back from you. He fished something out of his robe pocked. Your eyes went wide as he held an old relic. A beautiful ring covered in gemstones.

“You have always been there for me Y/N. I fear nobody could ever take that place. I wish nobody to take that place. For I am the happiest when I am with you. Those last six months have not been good for me. But now that I am back with you I feel whole once again. There is no lady that could take your place Y/N. For your place is next to me.” The last words to come out of his mouth almost came out as a whisper for even he was nervous. The mighty King of Gondor afraid of some feelings he had almost his entire life. Oh, how his father would be laughing now.

Your heart rate kicked it up another notch. It felt like you had been training it was racing so fast, “Forgive me, I fear I am not enough…”

He stopped you this time though by placing a gentle finger on your lips, “I wish to not hear you speak poorly of yourself. For I do not respect those words. I will never believe them. I do know your entirely Y/N. Please, do me the honor of letting me court you.”

Your breath had been taken from you now, “You like me?” You had managed to get out feeling oddly faint.

“I love you.” He said so effortlessly you weren’t sure you had him quite right.

Your eyes turned up to his as he stepped closer to you, “You love me?”

A quick nod came from his head as his eyes bore right into yours, “I do.”

“I love you, too.” You spoke back before you could let your thoughts get the better of you.

His hands moved to your cheeks as he held you in his own, “For nearly seventy years I have yearned to hear those words from your lips.”

“For that long?” You asked in bewilderment to his statement. How had he kept it from you with such ease? It amazed you he had managed to be so stoic when you had been so obvious. Why had he fought it for so long?

He did what you least expected and bowed down to you, slowly. He had made sure you knew his intention, “I may not have always been wise to it but indeed. I have always loved you.”

You nodded quickly, your smile beaming brighter than ever before. He was sure that was his new favorite look on you, “Yea.”

“Yea?” He asked you as confirmation.

“I accept. I would be honored to stand by your side Aragorn.” Before you could bow to him he caught your chin in his hand shaking his hand to let you know that would be most unnecessary.

“You are doing me the honor.” He fastened the necklace with the ring on your neck tucking it underneath the top of your dress. His hands trailed down your sides resting on your hip for longer than he should have. He needed to take a step back or he would kiss you. Not that you wouldn’t let him, no. He was sure you would be more than happy about it. He simply wanted to charm you before he kissed you. He would not rush into this with you. For he had taken nearly seventy years to admit how he had felt. What was a little longer?

“You made it, Strider. You did it.” You brushed his wavy hair away from his face knowing that would be the last time you referred to him as such. From here forth he would be Aragorn. And you would wed him. How a life you dreamed of had come to fruition was beyond you.

He shook his head grabbing at your hands once more, “We made it. We did it.” He spoke of all the wishes the two of you spoke about in your many long nights. The dreams had seemed to come truer than either of you could have imagined. It almost didn’t feel real.

You nodded with nothing but love in your eyes, “Indeed, we did it.”

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