#V; Blooming In Sunlight

[liroyalty]

I like to call this the Wife Catalog.

[suffersdeath]

tag drop ( finally )

[theonewhopoops]

Wait do normal people really see their bodies as part of themselves and who they are and not just something they happen to inhabit and they make the best of it/just accept it/learn to live with it???

Apparently I can only add a poll by editing it in and not by reblogging but here:

[r0ugesun]

running with the wolves

Beta read by my wife @moonstruksandco ( ˘ ³˘)˘ᵋ ˘ )♥

Synopsis: Cregan Stark, the formidable Lord of Winterfell, eagerly awaits the arrival of his new betrothed, y/n, who has bewitched him since childhood. As winter sets in, he hopes to transform their arranged marriage into a union of love. However, y/n arrives with her own doubts, unsure if she can return his deep affection. Will their marriage blossom into love, or remain a cold duty? Cregan is determined to show her that their bond can be more than just an obligation on their wedding night.

Warnings: 18+ slow burn, smut, arranged marriage, loss of virginity, p in v sex (unprotected), breeding kink, rough sex, oral sex(both f/m receiving) missionary, mating press, doggy style lots of cum (I think all stark men cum bucket loads)

8k+ words likes and reblogs are highly appreciated ෆ/⟳ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶

(Authors note: omg hayy I don’t know that much about Yorkshire accents aside from ackley bridge so I’m sorry in advanced if it’s not right :>)

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The wind howled through the ancient halls of Winterfell, carrying with it the biting chill of the northern winter. Cregan Stark, the Warden of the North, stood by the great hearth in the main hall, his keen grey eyes fixed on the entrance. The time had come for the arrival of his new betrothed, y/n, the most beautiful amongst house Tyrell.

From the moment he first saw her, Cregan had been captivated. Even as a young lad, her grace and elegance had set her apart. Now, as a grown woman, she was even more bewitching, and Cregan's heart swelled with a mix of anticipation and determination. He was resolved to turn their arranged marriage into a union of love.

As Cregan stood by the hearth, he watched the window, the snowflakes drifting lazily to the ground, a distant memory surfaced, warm and vivid against the icy present. He closed his eyes, allowing himself to be transported back to a time when he was just a young lad of twelve, visiting Highgarden with his family.

He remembered the journey vividly, how different the South had seemed compared to the North. The air was warmer, the colors more vibrant. He had wandered through the lush gardens, marveling at the flowers and plants that couldn’t survive the harsh winters of Winterfell. It was in those gardens that he first saw her.

Y/n had been around his age, a vision of beauty even then. She sat on a stone bench, engrossed in a book, her expression serene and detached. Her hair, shining in the sunlight, cascaded down her shoulders, and her delicate features were framed by the backdrop of blooming flowers. She seemed almost like a fairytale princess, so enchanting that he could scarcely believe she was real.

Without even realizing it his feet began to move on their own, he was like a moth being drawn to the flame that was her. As he approached her, His heart pounded in his chest, an unfamiliar but exhilarating feeling. She glanced up briefly from her book as he neared, her eyes meeting his for just a moment before returning to her reading.

“H-Hello” he said, trying to muster as much confidence as he could. “What are yeh reading?”

She responded without looking up this time, her voice calm and distant. “Hmm a collection of poems” she replied. “Do you like poetry?”

Cregan, caught off guard, nodded. “Aye. Though I don’t read much of it.”

She patted the space beside her, still not lifting her gaze from the pages. “You can sit if you want.”

He sat down slowly, feeling a strange sense of destiny in that moment. She continued to read aloud, her voice weaving the words into a tapestry of emotion and beauty. He listened, captivated not by the poetry but by her otherworldliness her grace, and the way she brought the words to life. He couldn’t take his eyes off her, completely in star struck, while she remained indifferent, too engrossed in her book to notice his adoration.

That was the last time they spoke just a few exchange of words. The rest of his visit to Highgarden was spent with his father and training with Y/N’s brothers and learning the ways of a lord, much to his chagrin. But whenever he could, he would steal glances at her from a window while she read in the garden, and across from her at dinner, for which his mother often scolded him.

"Cregan, it's impolite to stare" his mother whispered sharply during dinner one evening, nudging his foot under the table.

He tore his eyes away from y/n, his cheeks burning and crimson red. "I weren’t starin’, Mother.”

“Yeh most certainly were” she replied, her tone firm. “It’s not appropriate. Focus on yer meal.”

“But she’s… she’s so…”

“Enchantin’?” his mother finished for him, a knowing smile tugging at her lips. “Aye, she is. But yeh must remember yer manners, lad. Staring is unbecoming of a young lord.”

Cregan sighed, casting one last, fleeting glance at y/n, who was still in her own little world not casting a single glance his way. “Aye, mother….”

Despite his mother’s admonitions, his fascination with Y/N only grew, even as she remained blissfully unaware of his admiration.

Cregan opened his eyes, the memory fading as the cold reality of Winterfell settled back in. He sighed, turning away from the window. Some things, he mused, never truly changed.

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In the dimly lit carriage, y/n huddled under the blankets, trying to stave off the biting cold that seemed to seep through the very fabric of her clothes. Her mother sat beside her, wrapped in her own covers and trying to offer some semblance of warmth and comfort. The carriage jolted over the rough, snow covered road, and every bump made her shiver more.

Her brothers, true to their duty, were outside braving the harsh northern winter with their horses, though y/n could scarcely imagine how they managed. She, however, had the luxury of being confined to the carriage, a prisoner of her own anxieties and fears.

The stories she’d heard about Cregan Stark haunted her thoughts. The gruff warden of the north with a claymore sword so heavy it was said to be the size of a small man. To her, the very idea of marrying such a man was nightmarish. She couldn't remember much about him from his family’s previous visit to Highgarden all those years ago, but the tales of his fierceness and the imposing aura of the North made her dread the moment she would finally meet him.

The carriage seemed to creak with the weight of her mother's discontent. Her mother’s complaints, murmured under her breath but audible enough for y/n to hear, were laced with disdain. “I cannot believe we’ve had to send our only daughter off to marry a Stark”

“Their way of life, covered in stinking animal pelts, living amongst brutes who value strength over grace. It’s hardly the life for a Tyrell.” She said with disgust.

Her father’s stern gaze flicked towards her mother, his patience evidently wearing thin. "We’ve discussed this, Eliza. The match is made, and it’s for the good of House Tyrell. Stop lamenting what cannot be undone."

To him, this marriage was merely a strategic move, a means to secure more power for Highgarden. His daughter's feelings were of no consequence, his focus was solely on the political gain.

“Do you have to be so callous?” her mother’s voice broke through the gloom. “She is our daughter.”

Her father’s gaze remained unyielding. “The alliance with the Starks is necessary for the gain of our house. Y/n is to be a dutiful wife to a powerful lord it’s what she was raised for, if she does her duty right she’ll bear him many children further securing our power”

As her father’s harsh words continued to echo in her ears, y/n’s anger flared. She straightened up, glaring at him . “If you wanted to gift Cregan a broodmare, you should’ve gotten him one of the whores you visit in the brothels” she spat out, her voice trembling with defiance.

mother’s gasp of shock was barely audible over the creaking of the carriage. Her father’s eyes were wild, a hot fury flashing in them. Before y/n could react, his hand shot out, delivering a hard, stinging slap across her face. The sharp force of it made her head snap to the side, and she recoiled, stunned by the sudden violence.

“How dare you!” her father’s voice roared with anger.

y/n’s mother was frozen, her hand going to her mouth in shock. She looked at her husband with a mixture of horror and helplessness. “Henry, please—”

“Be silent!” he snapped, cutting her off. “I will not tolerate such insolence!“

He turned his icy gaze back to y/n, his face a mask of unrelenting severity. “You are about to become the wife of a powerful man. you are fortunate that I secured this arrangement, otherwise you would just end up being Cregans whore in some brothel anyway.”

Y/n’s heart sank as she heard the finality in his cruel words. She knew better than to argue with him—his decisions were made with an iron will that left no room for dissent.

as the carriage continued its slow journey through the snow, y/n's thoughts were plagued with anxiety and uncertainty. The grandeur of Winterfell loomed ahead, and with it, the reality of her new life as Cregan Stark’s bride. She could only hope that, amidst the cold and the gruffness of her new home, she might find a way to endure this new chapter of her life.

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As Cregan stood by the hearth, still lost in his own thoughts, the door swung open with a crash and his friends burst in, laughter and shouts echoing through the great hall.

“Cregan, ye dog! Heard the news, did we!” Jorah boomed, striding up to him and clapping him on the back with such force it nearly sent him stumbling forward.

“Aye, lad, congratulations!” Gendry called out, raising his tankard high. “A Tyrell, no less! Must’ve done somethin’ right to be landin’ a lass like that.”

Cregan, smiling, shook his head as he tried to make sense of the sudden uproar. “Cheers, lads. Bit early for a celebratory drink, ain’t it?”

Bram, always one for a jest, stepped forward with a grin. “Well, Cregan, we heard she’s real beauty, fairest in all the Seven Kingdoms. Quite the catch for a dog like you. Ain’t right, really, a face like hers and a face like yours.”

Cregan raised an eyebrow, a grin tugging at his lips. “Oh, is that so? And what about ye lot, then? All of ye been lookin’ in the mirror lately?”

The room erupted in laughter, and Bram waved a dismissive hand. “Aye, we might be a rough lot, but at least we ain’t got to worry ‘bout our faces bein’ compared to a rose.”

Robb, always quick with a quip, leaned in with a wink. “Might be true she’ll forget all ‘bout yer ugly mug once she gets a look at what’s really under yer tunic. you’ve got more to offer than just yer sorry looks.”

Cregan’s cheeks flushed slightly, but he laughed along, trying to maintain his composure. “Ah, so ye’re sayin’ it’s all in the size of me… character, is it?”

“Aye, that’s right!” Robb said with a grin. “Best thing about ye, Cregan, is that even if your face don’t make the cut, yer other qualities surely will.”

Cregan shook his head, laughing despite himself. “Well, if it’s me ‘other qualities’ that’ll win her over, then I reckon I’d best be makin’ sure she gets a good look at all of ‘em.”

Jorah slapped him on the back again, nearly sending him reeling. “Look at ye, all flustered! Never thought I’d see the day. Don’t worry, lad. What lass wouldn’t want a strong Northman?”

“Aye, just keep it down a bit, or you’ll have me blushing so hard I’ll be usin’ me face as a lantern” Cregan said, his grin widening.

The friends continued their banter, the atmosphere warm with camaraderie and laughter. As they raised their mugs in a final toast, Cregan felt a renewed sense of anticipation and affection for the future, no matter the teasing jabs from his mates.

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The room was alive with laughter and chatter as Cregan and his friends carried on with their banter. Jorah was in the middle of a lively tale from a recent hunt, while Robb and Gendry argued over the best way to handle a particularly stubborn horse.

The door creaked open, and in walked Lady Gilliane Glover and Lord Rickon Stark, their presence immediately silencing the room. Lady Gilliane, a woman of dignified grace, and Lord Rickon, tall and commanding, made their way over to their son.

“Cregan, me lad!” Lady Gilliane called out, her voice warm but authoritative. “Got a bit o’ news for ye.”

Cregan turned, a smile fading as he saw his parents. He stood, brushing his hands on his tunic. “Mother, Father, what brings ye here?”

Lord Rickon gave a nod, his face a mix of seriousness and pride. “Your brother spotted Y/N’s carriage on the road. They’ll be arrivin’ soon.”

The room quieted, the friends sensing the shift in the mood. Jorah nudged Cregan with a grin. “Looks like the real fun’s about to start, eh?”

Lady Gilliane gave a small, amused smile. “Aye, that’s right. Thought ye’d want to know. They’ll be here within the hour, so best be ready.”

Cregan’s heart raced, and he glanced at his friends, trying to mask his nerves. “Well, no time like the present, I suppose. Best get meself sorted.”

Lord Rickon placed a reassuring hand on Cregan’s shoulder. “Remember, lad, first impressions count. Show her what a proper Stark man ye are.”

“Aye, Father,” Cregan said, nodding. He turned to his friends with a determined look. “Ye lot best behave yerselves when she arrives. Don’t be givin’ her any more trouble than need be.”

The friends raised their mugs, grinning. “Aye, aye, Cregan! We’ll be on our best behavior,” Robb said, winking.

Lady Gilliane’s gaze softened as she looked at her son. “We’ll leave ye to it, then. Just remember, Cregan, she’ll be as nervous as ye, if not more. Show her the warmth of the North.”

As Lady Gilliane and Lord Rickon exited the hall, Cregan took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. The anticipation of meeting Y/N was building with every tick of the clock, and he knew the coming hours would be crucial.

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Y/n sat in the carriage, the stark contrast between the verdant landscapes of Highgarden and the harsh, icy expanse of Winterfell weighing heavily on her. The snow-clad scenery outside felt alien and unwelcoming compared to the lush greenery she had left behind. Each jolt of the carriage seemed to deepen her sense of displacement.

Her mother’s hand, warm and steady, was a source of comfort amid her growing anxiety. Y/N clung to it, drawing solace from its presence as she tried to quell her rising fears.

“We’re almost there, dear” her mother said softly, her voice a gentle balm against the cold atmosphere of the carriage. “Remember, we’re in this together.”

Y/n managed a small, appreciative smile, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Thank you, Mother. It’s just… it’s so different from home.”

Her father, ever the pillar of stoicism, was peering out the window, his gaze fixed on the approaching Winterfell.

The carriage began to slow, the crunch of snow under the wheels signaling their arrival. As they came to a stop, y/n could see her father alighting first, his figure steady and authoritative as he approached Lord Rickon Stark.

“Lord Rickon” her father said, stepping forward with a formal nod. “It is a pleasure to see you again. Thank you for your gracious hospitality.”

Y/n and her mother remained in the carriage, the cold air seeping through the cracks in the doors. Her mother's hand squeezed hers gently, offering a fleeting moment of comfort in the face of her overwhelming anxiety.

"Mother" y/n whispered, her voice trembling. "What if I can't do this? I-I’m scared"

Her mother turned to her, eyes filled with sympathy and understanding. "Oh, my dear, I know it seems daunting. But you have a strength within you that you may not yet realize. You have always been resilient."

Tears welled up in y/n's eyes. "I feel so far from home. Everything here is so cold, so harsh."

Her mother reached up, brushing a tear from

y/n's cheek. "I know, darling. Highgarden's warmth and beauty are hard to leave behind. But you must remember, you have the ability to adapt and thrive. This place will feel like home in time."

Y/n nodded, trying to take comfort in her mother's words, but the knot in her stomach remained tight. "And what of Father? He seems so determined, but... he never cares for how I feel."

Her mother's expression darkened momentarily before she masked it with a gentle smile. "don't let him weigh you down. Focus on yourself and your own strength. You are here to build a new life, and I believe in you."

The carriage door opened, and the cold air rushed in, a stark reminder of the world awaiting her. Her father was already engaged in conversation with Lord Rickon Stark, their voices carrying a tone of formality and mutual respect.

"It's time" her mother said softly, giving y/n's hand one last reassuring squeeze. "Show them the grace and strength you possess. You are more than capable y/n."

With a deep breath, y/n steeled herself and stepped out of the carriage. The cold air bit at her skin, but she walked forward, her mother following closely behind.

Y/n's mother nudged her gently, drawing her attention away from the imposing figure of Lord Rickon. "Y/n, dear" she whispered, "Lord Cregan is approaching you."

Y/n's heart skipped a beat as she turned to see Cregan making his way towards her. He was even taller and more formidable than she remembered, his broad shoulders and strong build making him appear larger than life. She stiffened, her body tensing with apprehension.

Cregan's eyes, a deep and thoughtful blue, met hers as he stopped before her. He could see the trepidation in her gaze, the way her hands clutched the folds of her cloak. Despite the fear evident in her demeanor, she managed to muster a polite greeting.

"Lord Cregan" she said, her voice steady but tinged with a slight tremor. "It is an honor to be here."

Cregan offered a warm smile, though he felt a pang of hurt and self-consciousness at the sight of her fear. He noticed the redness around her eyes, the telltale signs that she had been crying. The realization made his heart ache—she was far from home, surrounded by strangers, and faced with the daunting prospect of marrying him, a man she barely remembered.

"Lady y/n" he responded, his voice gentle. "The honor is mine. Welcome to Winterfell."

Y/n nodded, her posture rigid. "Thank you, my lord."

He could see her struggling to maintain her composure, her attempts to be polite masking the underlying fear and uncertainty. He wanted to reassure her, to tell her that she was safe here with him, but he knew his words might not carry much weight given the circumstances.

"Ye must be tired from yer journey" Cregan said, trying to ease the tension. "I hope the accommodations we’ve prepared for ye are to yer liking."

She glanced around, her eyes briefly meeting his before darting away. "I'm sure they will be, my lord. Thank you."

Cregan's heart softened at her evident discomfort. He could only imagine how overwhelming this experience must be for her—leaving the warmth and familiarity of Highgarden for the cold and formidable North, betrothed to an intimidating stranger.

"Please, if there is anything ye need, do not hesitate to ask," he added, his tone earnest. "I want ye to feel at home here."

Y/N nodded again, her voice barely above a whisper. "Thank you, Lord Cregan."

As the formalities continued, Cregan remained by her side, acutely aware of her apprehension. He could see the way she shivered slightly in the cold, her delicate frame dwarfed by the heavy cloak she wore. The vulnerability in her eyes struck a chord within him, igniting a protective instinct he hadn’t anticipated.

He knew it would take time for her to adjust, to feel comfortable in this new and unfamiliar place. And while her fear and anxiety might hurt him, he understood the reasons behind them. She was far from home, thrust into a situation beyond her control, and he was determined to show her that she had nothing to fear.

As the crowd began to disperse, Cregan leaned in slightly, his voice low and sincere. "I hope ye will come to find Winterfell as welcoming as Highgarden, Lady y/n. We Northerners may seem cold, but we are loyal and true. Ye have my word on that."

Y/n looked up at him, her eyes searching his for a moment before she nodded, a hint of hope mingling with her fear. "…I will do my best."

He smiled softly, hoping to convey his sincerity. "And I will do my best to make this place a home for ye."

With that, they parted, y/n retreating to her quarters with her mother while Cregan watched her go, a mix of emotions churning within him. He was determined to prove himself to her, to show her that beneath his intimidating exterior lay a heart of gold capable of warmth and compassion.

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The day of the wedding arrived, casting a serene hush over Winterfell. The godswood was adorned for the occasion, the ancient weirwood standing sentinel over the ceremony, its pale bark and blood-red leaves seeming to echo the gravity of the moment.

In her chambers, y/n adjusted her maiden’s cloak for the final time. The rich green of House Tyrell’s sigil contrasted sharply with the snowy landscape visible through the window. Her father, though distant and stern, was prepared to escort her. As they approached the godswood, y/n’s heart pounded in her chest, the weight of the moment pressing heavily on her.

Her father’s expression was somber, but he offered her a curt nod, signaling it was time. Together, they walked through the snow, the crunching of their footsteps the only sound breaking the silence. The guests had gathered, their breaths visible in the chill air, and they fell into a hushed reverence as y/n and her father approached the heart tree.

Cregan waited beneath the weirwood, his eyes fixed on the approaching bride. As she neared, his breath caught slightly, a mixture of awe and anticipation in his gaze. The grandeur of y/n’s beauty was amplified by the solemnity of the godswood, her presence seeming almost ethereal in the fading light.

When they reached the base of the tree, Cregan’s voice rang out clearly, cutting through the stillness. “Who comes? Who comes before the gods?”

Y/n’s father’s voice was steady as he replied,

“Y/n of House Tyrell comes here to be wed. A woman grown and flowered, trueborn and noble, she comes to beg the blessings of the gods. Who comes to claim her?”

Cregan’s response was filled with a fervent resolve. “Me, Cregan of House Stark, Lord of Winterfell. I claim her. Who gives her?”

Y/n’s father turned to her, his voice formal but lacking warmth. “I, Henry of House Tyrell, her father, gives her.”

He then addressed y/n, his tone clipped. “Lady y/n, will you take this man?”

Y/n’s voice trembled slightly but was resolute. “I take this man.”

With the formalities completed, Cregan and y/n joined hands and knelt before the weirwood. They bowed their heads, submitting to the gods in silent prayer. The moment was charged with a profound intimacy, the ancient tree bearing witness to their vows.

After a few moments, Cregan gently removed

y/n’s maiden’s cloak, revealing the intricate embroidery of House Tyrell on her dress. With great care, he draped over her shoulders a new cloak—the sigil of House Stark now displayed proudly.

The crowd erupted into applause, their cheers ringing out as Cregan and y/n stood together. The ceremony was complete, the ancient bond of the godswood now symbolizing the beginning of their shared life.

As they walked back towards the castle, Cregan stole glances at y/n, his admiration and anticipation palpable. Despite the harshness of Winterfell’s climate and the gravity of their new life, the day had marked a hopeful new chapter for both of them.

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Y/n's heart pounded as Cregan guided her through the cold, imposing corridors of Winterfell. The castle's heavy stone walls seemed to close in on her, amplifying her sense of isolation. Cregan's presence beside her was both comforting and intimidating, she couldn’t shake the fear that gripped her heart.

They arrived at Cregan's chambers, where a warm fire crackled in the hearth, casting a soft, inviting glow. He gestured for her to enter first, and after a brief hesitation, she stepped inside.

"Please, make yerself comfortable," Cregan said, closing the door behind them. His northern accent was thick, adding a rugged charm to his words. "Would ye like somethin' to drink? A bit o' wine, mayhaps, to help ye warm up?"

Y/n nodded, her voice barely above a whisper. "Yes, thank you."

Cregan poured a glass of wine and handed it to her, his gaze lingering on her as she took a small sip. He could see the tension in her posture and wanted to ease her fears, to show her that he was not the monster she imagined.

"Y/n," he began, his voice low and earnest, the thick accent wrapping each word in a soft embrace, "I know this must be overwhelmin'. I want ye to know that I understand yer fears, and I swear I’ll do everythin' in me power to make ye feel safe and cherished here."

She looked up at him, her eyes wide with a mix of apprehension and curiosity. "Thank you, my lord," she said, her voice quivering. "I… I don't know what to expect."

Cregan took a step closer, his gaze filled with a yearning that spoke of deep emotion. "Ye can call me Cregan" he said, the warmth in his northern accent making his words even more poignant. "And I need ye to hear me now, for it’s somethin’ I’ve carried with me for years. From the moment I first beheld ye, me heart was forever altered."

Y/n's breath hitched, her eyes searching his face for the truth behind his words. Cregan's expression was tender, his gaze reflecting a vulnerability she hadn’t expected. He took a deep breath, as if gathering the courage to bare his soul.

"I remember the first time I saw ye in the gardens of Highgarden," he said softly, his voice weaving a tapestry of emotion. "I was just a lad, new to the beauty of the south. Everythin’ around me was lush and vibrant, but when I saw ye, it was as if my world fell apart. Ye were like a vision of ethereal grace amidst the greenery. The flowers and the trees—they seemed mere shadows compared to ye. In that moment, it was clear that ye were the true beauty of the garden."

Y/n's eyes widened, and a flush of color spread across her cheeks. She could hardly breathe as she processed his confession. "Since then?" she whispered, her voice trembling.

Cregan nodded, his gaze steady and full of longing. "Aye, since then. Ye were a beacon of light in me life, and that memory has lingered, burnin’ bright in me heart. I’ve longed to be near ye, not merely for the sake of duty, but because ye’ve ensnared my heart in a way no one else ever could."

Her heart fluttered wildly at his words, the warmth of the fire mingling with the warmth of his confession. She had always felt like a pawn in her father’s game, never imagining that someone like Cregan could see her so profoundly.

"I didn’t know" she said softly, her voice catching in her throat. "I thought... I thought you would be distant and cold."

Cregan's smile widened, his eyes soft with pure affection. "Aye the North may be cold, but my heart is only filled with warmth for ye. I want ye to see the real me, to know that I am here for ye with all that I am."

She looked into his eyes, seeing a depth of sincerity and yearning that shifted her perception. Perhaps this marriage could be more than a mere alliance. Maybe it could be the beginning of something profoundly beautiful.

"Thank you, Cregan…." she whispered, feeling a newfound sense of calm and hope. "I... I want to try."

Cregan’s smile was full of warmth and relief. "Tha’s all I ask, Y/n. We’ll take this one step at a time, together."

As they stood there, hand in hand, the fire crackling softly in the hearth, Y/n felt a spark of hope ignite in her heart, seeing Cregan in a new light.

Cregan's eyes never left Y/n's as he took a deep breath, his heart pounding in his chest. He wanted this moment to be perfect, to reassure her of his intentions.

"Y/n" he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper, "may I kiss ye?"

Y/n's breath hitched, her cheeks flushing scarlet. She hesitated for a moment, then gave a small nod, her eyes never leaving his. "Yes, Cregan. You may."

Cregan moved closer, his hand gently cupping her cheeks as he leaned in. He pressed his lips to hers in a soft tender, almost hesitant kiss, his touch gentle and reassuring. Y/n responded, her initial nervousness melting away as she felt the warmth and sincerity in his kiss.

When he pulled back, he looked into her eyes, searching for any sign of discomfort. Seeing none, he smiled softly. "Ye're so beautiful, Y/n."

She blushed again, a shy smile tugging at her lips. "Thank you, Cregan."

He took her hand, leading her to the bed. As they stood beside it, he gently picked her up, cradling her in his arms. Y/n gasped softly, her arms instinctively wrapping around his neck as he carried her. He laid her down on the bed with the utmost care, as if she were the most precious thing in the world.

⋆꙳•❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊⋆ ⋆꙳•❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊⋆ ⋆꙳•❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔

Cregan's gaze remained locked on Y/n’s face, his eyes filled with a deep, reverent admiration. He lowered himself beside her on the bed, his hand still cupping her cheek. “I’ve never seen anyone so beautiful” he whispered, his voice filled with awe. “I can’t believe yer finally mine. My wife.”

Y/n’s heart fluttered at the sincerity in his voice. The way he looked at her made her feel cherished, his admiration lighting a fire within her. Her apprehension melted away as she reached up, cupping his face in return. “And I’m grateful to be yours, Cregan.”

Their lips met again, this time with more fervor. The kiss deepened as Cregan’s hand slid to the back of her neck, pulling her closer. Y/n’s hands roamed over his shoulders, pulling him into the kiss with equal intensity. The warmth of his touch, combined with the gentle urgency of their embrace, made her feel as if she was floating.

Cregan’s breath mingled with hers as he pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against hers. “I’ve wanted this so much” he whispered. “I’ve wanted ye.”

Y/n’s eyes fluttered shut, overwhelmed by the intensity of his gaze and the sincerity of his words. She felt a new, desperate longing surge within her, her body responding to his touch with an eagerness she hadn’t expected. “Please, Cregan” she breathed out, her voice trembling with emotion.

Their lips met again, each kiss more passionate than the last. The world outside seemed to fade away as they lost themselves in the moment, their breaths coming in sync as their yearning for each other deepened with every touch.

Cregan's kisses grew more intense, his touch transforming from gentle caresses to an urgent, burning desire. He pulled back just enough to look into Y/n's eyes, his own dark with passion. "I want to see all of ye, to feel ye" he said softly, his voice rough with need.

With deliberate care, he started to undress, his movements slow and deliberate. He tossed his cloak aside, revealing his strong muscular frame. Y/n's breath caught in her throat as she watched him, his hardened form visible through his small clothes, making her heart race with a mix of anticipation and nervous excitement.

Cregan's hands moved to his shirt, sliding it off with a practiced ease. His gaze remained locked on Y/n as he undressed, his eyes filled with a burning intensity. His hands lingered on the waistband of his smallclothes, his hardness evident and stirring a deep, aching longing within Y/n.

When he was finally freed his cock, Cregan approached Y/n with a tender but determined expression. He reached for her cloak, slipping it off her shoulders and letting it fall to the floor. His fingers moved deftly to her dress, his touch gentle but purposeful as he began to unlace it.

The fabric fell away, revealing her bare chest to his gaze. Cregan's breath caught at the sight, his eyes roaming over her exposed skin with a mixture of reverence and desire.

"Ye're stunning," he whispered, his voice filled with awe. "I want to cherish every part of ye."

Yn's skin tingled under his gaze, her heart pounding as she felt both exposed and cherished.

Cregan's hands continued their exploration, his touch both reverent and possessive. He leaned in to kiss her again, his lips trailing hot, desperate kisses across her neck and shoulders.

His hands roamed over her bare skin, his touch igniting a fierce desire within her. She gasped, her body arching into his touch, as he pressed her into the bed with a controlled but eager force. His kisses became more fervent, his hands gripping her waist as he explored her body with a possessive urgency.

"I've longed for this moment" Cregan said between kisses, his voice rough with need.

Yn responded with equal fervor, her hands gripping his shoulders as she kissed him back with a desperate passion. "Show me, Cregan" she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion.

"Show me how much you want me."

The room was filled with the sounds of their mingled breaths and wet sloppy kisses as they lost themselves in the moment. Cregan's touch was a blend of tenderness and raw desire, each movement and kiss building a profound connection that left them both breathless and yearning for more.

As the kiss deepened, Cregan's touch grew more urgent, his hands roaming over Y/n's body with increasing desperation. His kisses, once tender and exploratory, became more demanding, his breaths ragged as he tried to control his growing desire. Yet, despite the intensity of their embrace, Cregan seemed to hold back, his movements tinged with an inner struggle to remain gentle.

Y/n could sense his restraint and the tension in his body. She was overwhelmed by the fire burning within her, her own desire driving her to push past his tentative touches.

"Cregan" she gasped between kisses, her voice trembling with need. "I want you. I want you to claim me fully."

Cregan's breath hitched, his eyes dark with a mix of surprise and longing. "Y/n... I-I don't want to hurt ye" he murmured, his voice strained as he tried to keep his composure, he promised himself that he would be gentle, only touching her as if she were made of the most delicate glass and now he’d already been more rough than he intended.

But Y/n's voice was resolute, her gaze fixed on him with a desperate intensity. "No, Cregan. I want you to make me yours completely.” She whined, but she saw the look on his eyes he wouldn’t relent unless she pushed him towards his breaking point. “I want you to fuck a baby into me. I need you ple—“

Cregan didn't let you finish. His lips crashed against yours in a kiss that ignited a wildfire within. He held your face tenderly yet firmly, his touch a lifeline as you clung to him, desperate for more. His tongue explored the depths of your mouth, tasting every inch with a hunger that bordered on feral.

The clash of your teeth, the fervor of your kiss, it was a battle, a dance of dominance that you were willing to lose.

Cregan's tongue delved deeper, drawing a breathless moan from you. His scent enveloped you, intoxicating and heady, making your knees buckle with longing. It was as if the tether to your senses was fraying, leaving you to melt into a molten pool beneath his commanding presence.

The heat coursing through your body was a familiar sensation, yet it had never burned this intensely. It surged through you, tightening your nipples and pooling between your thighs, setting every nerve aflame.

Lost in the haze of his searing kisses, you scarcely noticed when he eased your back farther onto the bed, his body a solid, protective weight above you. Your eyes met, a silent conflagration passing between you, before he claimed your lips again with a gentler fervor, the same intensity simmering beneath the surface.

"Do you truly want this? With me?" Cregan's voice was a hushed murmur against your lips, a plea and a promise intertwined.

"Yes, husband" you breathed, the words a vow of your own.

His lips brushed your ear, his breath a tantalizing whisper that sent shivers cascading down your spine. "I am going to make love to ye now."

Your nipples hardened at his words, a raw moan of anticipation escaping your lips as he took in your form, the vulnerable softness of your skin a feast for his hungry gaze.

Cregan lowered his head, his lips tracing a path of fire down your neck, over your collarbone, each kiss a desperate silent vow. His hands followed, exploring, caressing, leaving no inch of you untouched.

"Yer exquisite" he murmured, his voice a reverent whisper against your skin. His touch was a balance of possession and adoration, a worship that left you breathless.

The cool air kissed your overheated skin as he continued to explore you, Every touch, every kiss, was a symphony of sensations, a crescendo of passion that left you aching for more.

his eyes drinking in the sight of you, slowly consumed with lust for him, with a reverence that made your heart stutter. "My wife" he whispered, the words a sacred incantation.

Cregan leaned in, capturing your lips once more in a kiss that was both fierce and possessive. His hands roamed your body with a fervent curiosity, memorizing every curve, every dip, leaving a trail of molten fire in their wake.

Your body responded to him, arching into his touch, a silent plea for more.

His kisses grew more insistent, his touch more demanding, as he made his way down your body. He worshipped you with every kiss, every caress, until you were trembling with need beneath him.

"Cregan," you breathed, your voice a soft plea.

His eyes met yours, dark and intense. "I'm here, Y/n" he murmured, his voice a soothing balm. "I'm here."

Cregan's gaze was fixed on your taut, aching nipples. He wasted no time, his heated mouth enveloping one of your tight, sensitive peaks. You gasped as your back arched in response, the initial shock of his touch quickly melting into a rhythm of pleasure.

Each time his cheeks hollowed as he suckled, your gasps turned to desperate pants, while his fingers teased the other abandoned nipple, pulling and twisting it gently.

Cregan's mouth pulling harder on your nipple, his tongue lavishing attention on the delicate bud. Every flick of his tongue sent waves of sensation through you, stirring a throbbing need between your legs.

The pulsing ache demanded more, and your hand, almost involuntarily, slipped between your thighs. The damp evidence of your desire left you breathless and mortified.

"Show me yer hand" Cregan's voice rumbled, his tone firm.

"It's... it's embarrassing-"

Without hesitation, Cregan parted your thighs and deftly removed your small clothes, leaving you exposed before him. His gaze settled on your glistening core, and a satisfied smile tugged at his lips.

"C-cregan!"

"Y/n" he murmured, his eyes locking onto yours with a mix of adoration and hunger.

"Ye've got the prettiest little cunt."

his words made your entire face burn and turn a dark crimson. The raw honesty in his voice left you breathless, your heart pounding in your chest.

“D-don’t look so closely!”

Without wasting another moment, he lowered his head between your thighs, his hot breath ghosting over your sensitive flesh.

your body trembling with need. When his tongue finally made contact, a moan escaped your lips, your hands gripping the sheets beneath you.

Cregan's tongue moved with practiced skill, each stroke and flick sending waves of pleasure coursing through you. His lips latched onto your clit, sucking gently before releasing it with a soft pop, only to dive back in with renewed fervor.

The lewd slurping sounds filled the room, mixing with your breathless moans and the crackling of the fire.

Your thighs quivered, the sensation of his mouth on you pushing you closer to the edge. "Cregan" you gasped loudly, your voice shaking. "Please, don't stop."

He didn't need to be told twice. His tongue delved deeper, exploring every inch of your soaking wet cunt, his fingers joining in to tease and caress. The combined sensations were overwhelming, your body arching off the bed as you rode the waves of pleasure.

When you finally came, it was with a cry of his name, your body convulsing as the orgasm ripped through you. Cregan didn't relent though, his tongue continuing its relentless assault, lapping up your juices with a moan, prolonging your climax until you were a trembling, breathless mess.

Only then did he pull back, his lips glistening with your arousal, his eyes dark with desire.

He moved up your body, his hands bracing on either side of your head as he leaned down to capture your lips in a searing kiss.

You could taste yourself on his lips, the intimate act deepening the connection between you.

But it still wasn’t enough for you, gathering your courage, you whispered, "Cregan?"

His eyes opened, soft and warm as they met yours. "Aye, love?"

You bit your lip, feeling a flush creep up your cheeks. "Can I... can I touch you?"

A spark of interest flared in his eyes, and he propped himself up on one elbow, looking down at you. "Touch me? Where?" He said teasingly.

You swallowed hard, your gaze dropping to where his cock lay, painfully hard and twitching. "There" you whined softly, reaching out tentatively.

Cregan's lips curved upwards. "Aye, love. Ye can touch me."

Your hand wrapped around his shaft, the heat of him searing your palm. You marveled at the feel of his skin, so smooth and yet so firm beneath your touch. Cregan's breath hitched, his muscles tensing as you explored him.

"Like this?" you asked, looking up at him for guidance.

He nodded, his voice rough with restraint.

"Aye, just like that. A bit firmer, love."

You tightened your grip slightly, your hand moving up and down his length in slow, deliberate strokes. The sight of him, so vulnerable and exposed, filled you with a heady sense of power and intimacy.

Cregan's hand covered yours, guiding your movements. "Tha's it, love. Yer doin' so well" he moaned, his voice laced with praise and pleasure.

As you continued to stroke him, you noticed a bead of precum forming at the tip. The sight of it, glistening and inviting, sparked a boldness within you. You couldn’t help yourself, you leaned forward, your tongue darting out to lick it away. Cregan groaned loudly, his hips bucking

involuntarily at the sensation.

"Fuck! Y/n" he gasped, his hand tightening around yours.

"Do that again."

You obliged, your tongue swirling around the thick head of his cock, tasting the salty essence of him. The act felt both daring and incredibly arousing, each lick eliciting a new sound of pleasure from Cregan.

Encouraged by his response, you took him deeper into your mouth, your lips closing around his shaft as you began to bob your head.

You were still unaccustomed to his size though, what you couldn’t fit in your mouth you stroked with your hand.

Cregan's hand tangled in your hair, guiding your movements as you pleasured him.

"Ye're so fuckin’ good to me, love" he groaned, his voice thick with need. "So perfect."

The praise spurred you on, your pace quickening as you took him deeper, your hand stroking the base of his cock in time with your movements. Cregan's breaths grew ragged, his body tense with the effort to hold back.

When he finally came, it was with a guttural moan, his release bursting in your mouth.

You swallowed eagerly, wanting to take all of him, to show him the same pleasure he had given you.

As you pulled back, you looked up at him, your eyes wide and full of adoration.

Cregan's chest heaved, his eyes glazed with satisfaction as he pulled you into his arms, his lips capturing yours in a searing kiss.

But the night was far from over and the hunger in his eyes told you he was far from satisfied. You felt a renewed wave of desire wash over you, your body eager for more of him.

"Are ye ready for more, love?" he asked, his voice husky with desire. His hand trailed down your body, caressing your breasts and waist, finally coming to rest between your legs.

His fingers teased your wetness, a satisfied smile tugging at his lips. "Yer so wet for me."

You nodded, your breath hitching as he continued to stroke you. "Yes, Cregan. I want you. I want you to take me."

His eyes darkened with a primal need, and he positioned himself between your legs, spreading them wide. "I'll be gentle at first, love," he promised, guiding his cock to your entrance.

"But I won't be able to hold back for long."

You felt the tip of his cock pressing against you, and your heart raced with anticipation.

He pushed forward slowly, entering you with a smooth, deliberate motion. The sensation was overwhelming, a mix of pleasure and painful sting as he stretched you to accommodate his large size.

Cregan's eyes never left yours, his gaze filled with love and desire. "Yer so tight, love. So perfect" he groaned, pushing deeper until he was fully seated inside you.

The feeling of being completely filled by him was indescribable, a blend of fullness and heat that made you gasp. "Cregan," you moaned, your hands clutching at his shoulders.

He began to move, his thrusts slow and gentle at first, allowing you to adjust to the sensation. But as your moans grew louder and your hips began to move in time with his, his restraint faltered. His pace quickened, each thrust deeper and harder than the last.

"You feel so good, Y/n," he growled, his voice rough with need. "I can't hold back any longer."

You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer as he pounded into you.

The force of his thrusts drove you higher, making the bed hit the walls roughly, a testament to how greedily he was fucking into you.

Cregan shifted his position, lifting your legs higher and pressing them against your chest. The new angle allowed him to penetrate you even deeper, and you screamed his name as he took you harder.

"That's it, love. Take all of my cock," he urged, his eyes locked on your face, watching your every reaction.

The pressure built within you, the pleasure mounting to an unbearable peak. With a final, powerful thrust, you shattered, your orgasm crashing over you in waves. Your body convulsed around him, gripping his cock as he continued to drive into you.

Cregan was relentless, his own release building. He flipped you onto your stomach, pulling you onto your hands and knees. He entered you from behind, his hands gripping your hips as he pounded into you with abandon.

"Fuck, Y/n" he groaned, his voice a rough whisper. "I'm gonna fill ye up. Every last drop."

Cregan's movements became more erratic as he neared his release, his breathing heavy and labored. You could feel the tension building within him, every muscle in his body coiling tighter and tighter. His thrusts grew deeper, more powerful, and you knew he was close.

With a final, powerful thrust, Cregan's hips stilled, pressing deep inside you. His entire body tensed, and he let out a loud, guttural groan, his face contorted in pleasure. You could feel the hot rush of his cum filling you, pulse after pulse, more than you had ever imagined. The sheer volume of it overwhelmed you, a torrent of heat flooding your insides.

"Fuck, Y/n," he groaned, his voice rough with satisfaction. "Take all of it. Every last drop."

He held himself inside you for a moment longer, his cock throbbing with each spurt of cum. Then, slowly, he began to pull out, the sensation almost too much to bear. As he withdrew, you felt a gush of his cum ooze out of you, warm and thick.

Cregan watched, mesmerized, as his release leaked from your entrance. The sight seemed to ignite something primal in him, and he quickly brought his fingers to your dripping core. He gently pushed two fingers inside you, making sure to plug the flow.

"Can't let it go to waste" he murmured, his voice a mix of possessiveness and tenderness. "Want every drop to stay inside ye."

His fingers moved within you, ensuring his cum was thoroughly spread.

You felt another wave of pleasure as he gently massaged your sensitive walls, the sensation of being so full and claimed by him overwhelming you. Cregan leaned down, kissing the small of your back, his breath warm against your skin. "Yer mine, Y/n. All mine," he whispered, his fingers still inside you, holding his seed in place.

You lay there, breathless and trembling, feeling utterly claimed and cherished by him.

Cregan slowly withdrew his fingers, ensuring that every drop of his cum remained inside you. He gently flipped you onto your back, his eyes filled with an intensity that made your heart race.

As he settled beside you, his strong arms wrapped around your body, pulling you close. His warmth enveloped you, a comforting contrast to the cool air of the room.

He pressed his lips to your forehead, a tender kiss that lingered. Then, he moved to your cheeks, planting soft, loving kisses on each one. His lips brushed your nose, and then he found your lips, kissing you with a gentleness that was almost reverent.

"Y/n" he murmured between kisses, his voice filled with emotion. "I'm so glad ye're mine."

You felt a swell of affection in your chest, the sweetness of his words and the tenderness of his touch filling you with a profound sense of belonging. You wrapped your arms around him, holding him close as he continued to kiss you.

Cregan's kisses were endless, each one a declaration of his love and devotion. He kissed your eyelids, your temples, your jawline, and your chin, his lips exploring every inch of your face with a loving intensity that made you feel cherished beyond measure.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered, his breath warm against your skin. "So perfect. I want to spend every moment of our lives together, showing ye how much I adore ye."

He held you tighter, his hands stroking your hair, your back, your sides. His touch was soothing, a balm to your still-racing heart.

The rough, demanding lover from moments ago was now a gentle giant, cradling you in his arms with infinite care.

Cregan pulled back slightly, his eyes searching yours. "Are ye alright, love?" he asked, his voice soft with concern. "Did I hurt ye?"

You shook your head, smiling up at him. "No, Cregan. You were perfect. I'm more than alright."

His expression softened even further, a look of relief washing over his face. "Good," he whispered, pressing another kiss to your lips. "I'll always take care of ye, Y/n. Always."

You nestled closer to him, resting your head on his broad chest. The rhythmic beat of his heart was a comforting lullaby, and you felt a deep sense of contentment wash over you.

A red rose grew up out of ice frozen ground with no one around to see it. The thought lingered in your mind, a symbol of the unexpected beauty and love that had blossomed between you.

Cregan continued to kiss you, his lips never straying far from your skin, as he held you in a protective, loving embrace.

In that moment, you knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, you would face them together. Cregan's sweet, endless kisses and his tender words were a promise of a future filled with love, passion, and unwavering devotion.

⋆꙳•❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊⋆ ⋆꙳•❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊⋆ ⋆꙳•❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔

[localkiss]

Heavenly sin

virgin pastor's son!leon kennedy x virgin fem!reader

cw: guilt!! p in v, porn watching (has some "intense" sex ig??), needy sex, virginity loss, creampies, thinking about god during sex, humping (dry at one point), oral (f receiving), awkwardness, CHECK-INS!!!, dirty talk, begging, soft ish dom!leon, pet names, mentions of daddy kink but only once, pregnancy mentioned a couple times, Leon's a sweetheart, goofy ending, rough ish treatment only once, confessions!!

wc: 6k...🧍🏻‍♀️

note: barely proof read and I don't know shit about church or anything like that... Lmk if I missed any tags! Also inspired by @moolvn's bot!

@valkyrurr @rigorwhoring @marymustdie @tatumrileyslover @frostywintersnow @queenofstresss haii yall ! :3

It's around 10 in the morning, and you're dressed in a flowy black dress with flower patterns on it. Perfect for church and for this wonderful spring weather. Pulling your hair back into a low ponytail, you get out of your parents car. They have already gone inside the church.

Walking briskly to the entrance, you take note of the flowers that are planted on each side that're beginning to bloom in the glowy sunlight. You make it in time to sit next to your parents before the prayer begins.

You bow your head and begin to listen to it. Soft shuffling is heard, and then there's a warmth on your right side, as if a heater were turned on.

Peaking out of your right eye, you see the pastor's son, Leon. Dressed in dark wash jeans and a white button up. He tilts his head towards you and smiles, mouthing, "Hello."

You smile and shake your head, closing your eyes to listen in on his father recite a prayer, so that the Holy Spirit will help us all understand God's words.

Despite trying to listen to him preach, your mind wanders off to the boy next to you. How his muscles ripple underneath his shirts. (which are always fitting for him. Like how?) And the way his beautiful oceanic eyes shine with purity. Especially when he's preaching about how God is constantly saving and bettering him and how important he truly is in his life. The way his brown hair flows in the wind and how it falls into his eye whenever he looks down.

It's all beautiful to you. You'd rather worship Leon than God. Would it be a sin to worship man instead of the Lord? Probably.

Every time you spoke with Leon, you felt dirty. You were filled with these disgusting, sinful feelings. You were afraid of it rubbing off on him and getting into trouble. Getting called the devil. Shunned and kicked out of the house for having feelings you didn't know how to fucking handle.

After all, you were only human. One with needs, thoughts, feelings, and insatiable cravings for a certain man beside you.

Once the pastor stops the prayer, everything else goes by quickly. You try not to stare at Leon while his father is reading aloud hymns. But it's impossible.

He catches your eye and flashes you a boyish smile. You look away. It's quite embarrassing to have been caught staring at him. You couldn't help it.

A couple hours later, the service ends. You get up and stretch your limbs, ready to leave.

A large hand grabs onto your forearm. Warmth surges through your veins, all the way up to your midsection.

Turning your head, you see that it's Leon. 

He lets go of you with a smile. "Are you busy today? I was wondering if you'd like to come over."

Biting your lip, you think for a moment. Looking over at your parents, they give you a nod of approval.

"I'm free. I can come over today." 

Both of you walk towards the exit, and he opens the door like a gentleman. You mutter a small "thank you" and step outside. 

The cool, light breeze washes over your body like a cold shower. It feels refreshing after being in a stuffy room for more than an hour. Breathing it in and letting it out, you turn towards Leon.

He squints at you with a small smile, motioning to follow him. You oblige, putting your hands on the bottom of your dress and bunching up the fabric so that it doesn't fly up.

By the time you guys make it to his house, your feet are dying in the black flats you're wearing. Rubbed raw on your heels by your pinky and big toes.

You sigh in relief as you enter his house, slipping your shoes off by the door.

The both of you walk into the kitchen and grab a cup of water. Heading upstairs to his room. You try to push down the nerves and excitement bubbling in your guts, but it's so hard. 

All you guys ever do is read, listen to the radio, and talk about your guys's jobs. Not all exciting, but laying in his bed and being so close to him is what gets your panties soaked. Maybe you are the devil's spawn. Getting aroused by just being in Leon's vicinity. It's bad. Real bad.

He opens his door and walks in, laying down on his plush queen-sized bed. His hair falls to the sides of his face as he closes his eyes. Breathing in deeply and then exhaling slowly.

You sit on the bed, eyeing him up while his eyes are closed. Noticing the way his veins on his hands are popping out, the small little freckles that paint his face and neck, and the way his lips look so velvety.

Wondering what it would feel like between your legs, your calves, and your neck. You shouldn't be thinking about him like this. It's wrong. But it feels so right.

"So, uh, what are we going to do?" You mutter quietly, tearing your gaze away from the white man beside you.

"I thought that we could just hang out." 

"Okay." You scratch your head for a moment, looking at one of the posters on his wall. It's a poster for The Legend of Zelda, Ocarina of Time. It's probably one of the only games his parents approve of. 

"Actually, hold on." He sits up slowly and begins to walk towards his desk, fishing something out. He holds up a CD with a grin. "I found this lying around on the bookstore floor. I thought that we could check it out."

Motioning with a nod of his head towards his computer. The thick monitor has the circular silver Dell logo on it at the bottom. Paired with his grey and black mouse.

Popping it into his PC as it whirrs on, you snatch his swiveling chair, making him sit on the uncomfortable wooden chair next to it. Maybe you should get a new best friend, thinking about how you come over so much that he has gotten another chair just in case you guys get on his computer.

You take over and open the Windows Media Player, then double-click on the CD's name. Spice it up in the bedroom! What an odd name. 

Turning up the volume on his mini speakers that're alongside his monitor as you wait for the media to load.

A woman and a man appear in the frame, with a messy bed behind them. She's hardly wearing any clothing, only her undergarments and stockings are on her figure. Meanwhile, the man is only dressed in his briefs.

You feel your cheeks burn red hot, swallowing thickly at the video. Afraid of what's going to happen next and afraid of looking at Leon after this surprise of a CD, you continue to look straight ahead.

They don't even introduce themselves, but they say one thing: "Here's how to spice things up in the bedroom. Watch and learn."

Shifting in the cushiony chair, you unconsciously grab onto the armrests.

The next part shows the woman lying down with her legs spread open. The man walks into the frame and sits on the floor next to the end of the bed. Putting his face in between her legs, he kisses her thighs. Trailing up to the bend of her knees and then to her ankles. Repeating the same for her other leg. 

Then he begins to leave small bite marks and bruises on her inner thighs. With each of them, her hips jump, and small moans leave her lips.  

You squeeze your thighs together, feeling your most sacred parts ache with need. Hoping Leon doesn't notice it. 

But he did, just didn't want to point it out and embarrass the both of you even more than you guys already are. He's always staring at you subtly. He's not doing any better on his end, cock filling out in his jeans, begging to be freed from its confinement.

He's just thinking about the kind of noises you'd make if he kissed you there. But he shouldn't think about that. His heart sinks into his stomach, feeling guilty for even having those sorts of thoughts about you from time to time. He wanted to baptize himself again and again until those thoughts clouded him no more.

Leon always had to shower in cold water to make all of the pent-up need go away from his dick. He was afraid to touch himself. Especially to the thought of you. He thought you didn't deserve to be sexualized. How wrong it is to even imagine your lips on his! How soft and plush you'd be against his body.

Feeling like the devil has made its way into both of your bodies. Lust coats both of your frontal lobes, coaxing you into continuing to watch this sinful CD. 

The man begins to lick and kiss her panties which makes her noises grow louder and breathier. You hope to God that his parents don't come home anytime soon.  

He slips her panties off, and her precious parts are exposed to the camera. Leon makes a small gasping sound, and you snap your head towards him.  

"Leon, I.. I don't know if we should watch this. This is... wrong. I feel dirty, Leon." You search his eyes, hoping he'll agree, but he just blinks slowly at you.  

"I-I think we should continue. Don't act like this doesn't pique your interest," he mutters back. His eyes are slowly beginning to darken. 

Turning your focus on the screen, you hear him noisily slurping away between her thighs. The woman begins to get louder, and her fingers slot through his hair and pull him closer.  

She yells out, "I'm cumming!" And soon her legs squeezed shut on his head, her body convulsing and lunging forward to curl in on itself.  

"Fuck baby, that was so hot," He comes up and kisses her, grabbing a fistful of her hair and flipping her over onto her stomach. Fumbling with his black briefs, tugging them down and stepping out of them.  

You squirm uncomfortably, not sure if you can handle seeing a random man naked. But you gulp down the bile crawling up your throat, mixed in with sickening guilt.  

His cock stands up to attention, the tip as red as a tomato. A patch of hair surrounds it, leading down between his legs. He strokes it a couple of times, lolling his head back with a loud groan.  

"You ready, slut?" Tapping himself against her folds. 

"Y-Yes sir, I'm ready." The woman frantically nods and pushes up on her elbows, watching him sink into her hole.  

He grips her hair as soon as he's fully sheathed inside, pulling her towards him. Making her see how they're connected. You bite your lip as you watch this couple go at it for about five minutes. Watching them change positions and get louder and louder with each minute that passes by.  

He puts his hand on her throat and slaps her face, breasts, ass, and privates. It all makes you feel fuzzy inside, like you drank too much alcohol. The world is slowly starting to spin, with all thoughts going straight down between your thighs.  

But the way he talks to her is what really gets you.  

"You like that slut? Fuckin' taking daddy's cock so well, fuck."  

"Good girl. I know you can take it." 

"Yeah, cum on me, baby, squeeze this fat dick."  

"Stupid fucking whore, practically crying for me to creampie this tight little pussy. Isn't that right, baby? God, you know you want my cum stuffed in you."  

Her punched-out moans—the way she's clawing at the bed and sometimes at him—is what gets Leon excited. The way she can't even say anything remotely coherent to the man gets him so hard, it fucking hurts. Leon's boxers are practically stuck to his cock. 

Leon's hand drifts towards his groin, shifting it so it doesn't press against the zipper of his jeans. He lets out a soft hiss, putting a hand to his mouth as he slumps back against the wooden chair. Leaning onto the left armrest.  

Your ears pick up on Leon's strained noise, and you pull your knees up to your chest, breathing heavily between them. It's almost over, you think to yourself. Just a couple more minutes, and we can do something else. Forget about this, and maybe read the Bible to cleanse our minds.  

The guy on the screen pulls her up so her back is flushed against his chest, his arm wrapped around her throat to keep her there. Her body is shaking uncontrollably, and he groans deeply, thrusting a couple more times before he comes to a halt.  

"Fuck, baby girl, fuck. Take it. Mmhh, I want to get you pregnant so bad. Gonna suck on those fat tits until they're squirting milk into my mouth. I'm gonna love seeing you so swollen and full of my seed. God damn."  

That's it. He pulls out of her, and you can vaguely see a white liquid pooling out of her and onto the bed. Her body is so red and bruised. It makes you take a deep breath.  

By clicking out of it, you eject the disk and put it on the desk. Quickly shutting down his PC.  

Both of you sit there in silence for a little while. Afraid to look at one another.  

The air is so thick and hot, as if someone turned a heater on. It would make sense, as both of you have red faces and sweaty palms.  

Leon's the first one to clear his throat and shift in his seat. "So, um. What did we watch?"  

"For heavens sake, we just watched two people make love, Leon!" You whisper-yell at him, looking directly into his eyes.  

He tugs his bottom lip between his teeth and looks to the side, clearly embarrassed. "Right."  

You get up and flop onto his bed, face first. The coolness of his sheets is washing over you like an ice pack. 

Leon sits next to you, practically burning his gaze on your thighs. Lost in thought of the possibility of doing something like what you both saw just mere moments ago. His hips are bucking upwards, seeking relief. Looking like a damn fool for humping the air.  

"Do you think that felt good? Would God like...allow them to seek pleasure like that?" You mumble into the bed.  

"I think so, but I don't know if God would be happy if they were to continue..without repenting for their sins and asking for forgiveness."  

Yeah, you figured he would respond like that.

"I feel gross, Leon."  

"Me too."  

You turn on your side and look him up and down slowly. "Are you... aroused?" 

Leon gulps and tilts down to meet your gaze with a small nod.  

"Me too." Your voice is soft and hushed. Rubbing your thighs together for some relief.  

At this point, you don't even care. God this. God that. Those women at the church don't seem to care when they get pregnant. They just pray and repent for their sins and move on with their day like nothing happened. So, God doesn't fucking care if you have intercourse or not. So long as you ask for forgiveness.  

His baby blues drop to your lips and back up, licking his own lips. Then, he leans down and boxes you between his firm body and the plush bed.  

Your breath catches in your throat as you feel him tremble above you. Heart thumping wildly in your ears, wondering if he can hear it too.  

Unconsciously, your legs spread open to accommodate his hips. He shifts his weight nervously, his groin settling on top of yours.  

Both of you moan and buck your hips towards one another, wanting more. Becoming insatiable beasts filled only with lust and need. Logic? God? Who needs that when you have horniness on the brain?  

Leon groans and buries his face in your neck, panting hotly against your skin as he begins to dry hump you. "Please... It-It hurts. I'm sorry." He stops himself from rambling on, nosing up to your earlobe.  

"Leon, it feels really good. Don't—don't stop, please." 

His hips stutter, and he lets out a soft whimper, touching his forehead to yours. "May I... may I do what the video showed, to you?"  

"Yes," you say as you connect your lips to his, tangling your hands into his thick locks of brown hair. Lightly pulling on it, earning you a groan into your mouth and a thrust against your clothed mound. 

Tongues uniting sloppily, moans spewing out, and desire floating in the air. A perfect recipe for disaster. 

He sits up on his knees, his eyes blown out, his lips red and glossy with spit. How can he get even prettier? It's not fair. It really isn't. God really gave him the best of the best, honestly.  

Leon quickly made work of his button-up, throwing it across the room. His wife beater is the only article of clothing shielding you from seeing his chest and abdomen. What a shame. Though you do see a small silver chain, most likely it is his cross that he always wears, no matter what.  

Breathing out of his mouth like his nose is fucking clogged, he hesitantly reaches up to the hem of your dress. "May I?" He whispers, pushing it up to where your shorts stop at your waist.  

You nod, your hips lifting up to help him get rid of your dress. It soon hits the floor next to his shirt. Immediately feeling embarrassed, you cover your black bra with your hands.  

Leon just stares in awe, his hands slowly trailing up your sides and tracing every contour and bend in your body.  

"So beautiful," he mumbles. His thumb feels nice and is also ticklish where the sun doesn't see your body. He carefully removes your arms away from your bosom, kissing the inner parts of your wrists and making eye contact with you for the entirety of this undressing. 

You gasp as he kisses down to your clavicles, making sure to take his time mapping out your figure with his lips now. Dipping down to your cleavage, his hands grab ahold of your waist, thumbs rubbing against the wire of your bra.  

Leon presses his lips across your entire chest, making your skin buzz and your soul leave your body. 

Never in your life would you have imagined Leon doing this to you in his own bed.  

He fumbles with pulling your cups down, trying to get rid of the bra. "Can you, um.. take this off?"  

You lean forward and unclip it, letting it fall forward into your lap. Getting your arms out of the straps, you are now topless in front of him. Topless in front of someone for the first time ever.  

God is getting ready to punish the both of you for sinning, and you know it. Closing your eyes tightly for a few moments as you try to battle with continuing or just leaving Leon to deal with his own battle. That would be just mean. And if you were going to sin, why not together?  

Gulping down the acid that clawed its way up your pipes once more, you shake off the guilt as much as you can. Opening your eyes, you see Leon getting closer to your chest. Ready to plant his love on them.  

He slowly kisses around your areolas, nosing his way from breast to breast. You let out a nervous giggle as he makes eye contact with you as best he can.  

Finally making contact with your nipples, he dips his tongue out and swirls around it. Pulling away with a soft 'pop', you card your fingers through his hair.  

"Did that feel good?"  

"Yeah, it felt really nice." You give him a shy smile, and he returns it.  

Leon does the same to the other one before leaning back and admiring you once more. "You are honestly beautiful." 

Covering your face with your arms, you push him with your knee, mumbling an embarrassed "thank you." You still have your manners, even for being the devil's best friend.  

Some shuffling, and you peek through your arms and see he's taking off his white wife beater. You bite your lip and shift to your haunches, running your hands up his abdomen. Mesmerized by the way his muscles tense under your fingertips, dipping down to a small patch of hair trailing down beneath his jeans.  

Smiling up at him, you wish to return the favor. Putting your lips near the belt of his pants, kissing each of his hip bones softly. His body twitches towards you, and he lets out a broken moan, putting his hands on your shoulders. You decide to be experimental and graze your teeth all the way up his stomach, stopping at his chest. Leon's sounds are going straight down south; you'll be surprised if your shorts aren't completely wet by now too. 

"Can I?" You grab ahold of the button on his jeans, toying with it. Asking him for permission to undress him as well. He shakes his head, yes, and you immediately start undoing his fly. With a soft gasp, you see his bulge with a wet spot near the tip, staining his dark blue boxers. You continue to tug his pants down to his thighs so he can do the rest himself.  

Leon's pants join the rest of your clothes on the floor. You shimmy your shorts and tights off. Both of you dressed in your undergarments.  

You lay back, eyes on his cross necklace, hoping that God will accept you both as you are after this experience. Making love before marriage isn't acceptable, and you've been told your bodies are sacred temples and to not let anyone in or touch you inappropriately. Both of you would be shunned, and God knows what else would happen. 

Leon begins to kiss his way down to your ankles and back up between your thighs. Slowly breathing in the scent of you. Pressing a few on your clothed mound, making you squirm, your thighs daring to close on his head. He gently pushes them away and up as he leaves little love bites where your legs connect to your most sacred spot. 

Moaning softly, you cover your mouth. Your eyes dare to roll back into your head as you try and watch Leon explore your features before he removes the last article of clothing, keeping him away from seeing you completely bare. He moans into your panties, kitten-licking to taste your arousal. He is doing his best to try and copy the video from earlier. 

"Please, Leon.." you whine, your hips pushing against his face, aching for more.

Leon nods his head and nuzzles against you, his nose stimulating you even further. He pulls away to remove your panties to dive back in. 

Getting messy with it, he drools onto your folds, pressing open-mouth kisses all over. Paying attention to where you moan and squirm the most. 

He dips his tongue down into your pulsating hole and groans, his eyes rolling back at the taste of you. "Tastes s'good, baby," he continues to ravage your poor, sensitive pussy, iron grip, keeping your thighs open. 

You squeak and grab ahold of his hair, trying to push him away as you feel an unfamiliar warmth spread throughout your body. "Leon! Wait, wait, I-I—" 

Leon moves his mouth up to your little pearl and begins to suck and nibble on it. That's what truly sends you over the edge. 

Back bowing, legs shaking, head thrown back with your mouth open in a silent scream. You can't even feel your lower half; pins and needles are crawling down your legs and into your feet. You're sure your legs snapped shut on his head, as you feel him so much more now. 

Soon you come back into reality with Leon hovering over you, his dick freed from its prison, poking your thigh. "You okay? Did that feel good, my love?" It's so sweet how he's checking in with you after giving you the best time of your life! 

"Y-Yeah," you breathe out heavily, pulling him closer by his silver cross. Toying with it between your fingertips. "That felt amazing. Thank you." 

Giving him a soft, sensual kiss. Tasting a bitter liquid on his lips. He chases you as soon as you part, dipping his tongue between your lips and asking for more. You oblige, and his thick muscle is invading your cavern, touching each tooth and swirling around your own tongue. It's turning hot and heavy as he presses his hips into yours, putting weight on you. 

He starts humping your leg, his cock pulsating and leaking transparent sticky fluids on your skin. He is moaning and panting into your mouth as he cups your breasts. Slowly pulling away as he takes you in once more, completely infatuated with you, it seems. And it also seems the feeling is reciprocated by yours truly. 

"Can I put it in, please?" Leon grabs ahold of his dick and clumsily strokes it over your cunt. His body is stuttering forward, and his grip on your breast is tightening just slightly. 

Biting your swollen bottom lip, you nod slowly. Bracing yourself for the intrusion down there. It doesn't even look like he'll fit inside of you; you're afraid he's going to somehow rip you apart down there. But you push down the fear with a shaky sigh. 

"Just, um.. let me know if it hurts," he swipes through your folds a few times before sinking into you gradually. 

Your body tenses up, and you grab hold of his hand, squeezing it as you let out high pitched breathy whimpers. Squeezing your eyes shut as you try to get used to his size. You can't believe he's taking your virginity. 

"W-wait, stop, stop, please... It hurts." You feel tears forming in your eyes, and Leon immediately halts. 

Pressing chaste kisses to your eyes and one on your lips, his body bucks forward. With a groan, he murmurs, "God damn. I-I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, baby."

Your pussy flutters around his length, and you breathe in and out, getting used to him. Canting your hips up to get more of him on your terms, you roll your hips with a gasp and say, "Leon."

He takes that as a sign to push more of himself into you, filling you to the brim. Shifting to lay down on his forearms, next to your head, you wrap your legs around his waist. Your nails dig lightly into his back, eliciting a low growl from him as he tries to calm himself down. Too aroused with the feeling of you wrapped around his shaft so tightly that he can't even begin to think properly. 

Taking a quick breather so that he doesn't accidentally fall on top of you. Lazily humping against you, stimulating your clitoral area while being so goddamn full of him. 

"Baby, god," Leon starts to clumsily push in and out of your sopping heat. Barely even disconnecting himself from you. If anything, he doesn't ever want to pull out of you. You feel too good; it would greatly upset him to stop now. 

It feels so intimate as he continues to hold your hand, sloppily kissing you as his dick slowly penetrates you deeper and deeper. Swallowing each other's noises, afraid of getting caught by his parents, is always lingering in the back of your mind. 

"Mmnn, you're so tight, it's hard to move." Leon drops his forehead onto yours, staring at you intensely. His eyes are soft yet lustful, carrying love in them, you see. 

Maybe you just hope that he loves you because you've loved him all your life. Having known him since you were 4 and he was 6, you couldn't have asked for anyone else to take your virginity but him. Even though he's the pastor's son. 

"I love you," you can't help but blurt out. Biting your lip as he speeds up his movements for a few thrusts before going back to his lazy ones. 

"You mean it?" He pants heavily into your mouth, feeling you nod your head against his. "I love you too. God, I really, really do. I promise, baby." 

With those heartfelt (sort of) confessions, he begins to pick up his pace.

Growling softly when you clench around him or make squeaky noises that can't be discerned by a whimper or a moan. He loves you and all your little noises. The freckles that paint your body. The way your body curves and your stretch marks—everything about you is so gorgeous to him. He wouldn't want to do this with anyone else. He's tried giving you signs and hints that he wants to be your boyfriend, but he is always too scared to say it outright. But now he's glad about how things turned out. Including giving you his virginity.

You claw at his chest, grabbing ahold of his necklace as he fucks you harder. Looking down at his member, you see a white ring around his base. Throwing your head back into his pillows, you feel another orgasm creeping up your body. 

"I'm gonna—it's gonna happen again, Leon, mmphh," you whine out as your legs try to close up, only to be blocked by his body. 

Leon lets out a pained whimper, and then all of a sudden he grips onto your hair and starts to gently bite under your jawline next to your earlobe. It's syrupy and slow this time; your mind goes fuzzy and blank. No thoughts, just Leon. And his manhood bumps into your cervix. 

"Please, let me... inside—can I?" His words are all jumbled up, and you can't help but say yes. 

He speeds up even more, which seems impossible, but it really isn't. It has your chest bouncing with each thrust, and soft cries are leaving your lips. He keeps on holding onto your hair and hand, bringing your face up to meet him halfway to make out with you. Drooling into your mouth and his eyes rolling into the back of his head. With each thrust, his necklace bumps into your neck. 

Hips stuttering into yours, he almost collapses onto your figure. Threatening to bury you into his mattress as he lazily thrusts a couple more times.

A hot liquid squirts into your womb, and Leon lets out a strained moan, dropping his head into your neck. Slowly letting go of your hair and letting your scalp relax after such harsh treatment. Your cunt clenches around him tightly. 

His hips continue to jerk into yours, almost making sure his cum stays inside of you. It's like his body already knows what to do after watching one video of people making love. 

Leon presses soft kisses up to your temple before getting off of you. Shifting back to his haunches, he hesitantly pulls out of your hole. Watching your cunt flutter around nothing, his seed slowly drips out of your hole. His dick jumps, hitting his toned stomach, almost ready to jump back into action for round two. 

"Baby, just so beautiful. I love you." 

You can't help but giggle at that, making more of the sticky white liquid squirt out of your hole and onto his sheets. He quickly notices that and grabs a few tissues to wipe it off, leaving you and himself clean. 

"I love you too, pretty boy," you sigh deeply, truly enamored with the way Leon just is. He's so sweet without even trying. 

You go to sit up and grab your undergarments, but your legs are too shaky to even stand up, and you almost fall over. Leon maneuvers you back onto his bed and fetches it all for you. Getting himself dressed as well. 

Hell, maybe it wasn't so bad to become a sinner. It was definitely a heavenly sin, that's for sure. 

You two stare at each other, lips swollen red, eyes swallowed by the black and flushed pink faces. Your hands interlocked as you slowly began to kiss. But this time, it's much sweeter and softer. No rush to feel skin on skin; just relaxing in the now. 

"What're we going to do?" Mumbling into the kiss, you pull away. 

"What do you mean?" 

"You.. you did it inside of me. What if I get pregnant? I can't be a mother right now, Leon," you frown, looking down at your stomach. 

"I'll figure it out, okay? And—And if you do end up carrying my child, I'll be there. I'm not just going to leave you."

And with that, your worries washed away, nodding alongside his words as if they were God's words. In a way, he is God to you. Constantly saving you, bettering you, loving you unconditionally, and listening to you. You'd get on your knees any day for Leon. He'd just have to say the word, and you'd do it. 

"Was I too rough? Are you hurt anywhere?" He presses a few chaste kisses on your forehead and temple. 

"No, but I am hurting... down there. It feels a little sore. But everything else is fine." You give him a thumbs-up with a goofy grin. He returns the silly smile, nuzzling your jawline. 

"I can see if there's any ibuprofen; I'll be right back, okay?" 

Shortly, he returns with two pills and sets them in your palm, bringing your water over to you. You take them with a gulp of water. 

"I think I've got to use the restroom as well. I'll be back." You let out a breath and walked into the bathroom across the hall. Doing your business, flushing, and then washing your hands before returning back to him. 

Joining him on his bed, under the covers, to snuggle up close to him. 

"You're so warm. I love it." 

"I'm glad you do, sweetheart." 

You both end up talking for a few more hours about work, your friends, hobbies, and, lastly, how long you've liked one another. 

"Wait, wait, wait," you giggle and lay on your elbows, resting your head in your palm. "You've liked me ever since elementary school? Why haven't you told me?" 

"I tried. I tried giving you hints; I even brought you a flower that one time, remember? And, like, I always let you borrow my shirts and sweaters. I thought that was enough, and you saw that, and, uh, just didn't like me back." Leon rolls his eyes and pulls you into his arms. Attacking you with kisses on your ear and behind it.

You squeal and squirm in his grasp, letting out a breathy, "Okay, okay! I see it now!" 

"What about you?" 

"Since middle school. Remember the time on Valentine's Day when I gave you like all my candies? And then, when we did bingo at church, I gave you my prize and said I didn't want it. Yeah, well... I wanted it, but I gave it to you instead." 

"So cute. I love you, baby bug," he mumbles into your neck. 

"I love you too, handsome," you answer into his shoulder. 

It is safe to say that you both fell asleep holding onto each other. With smiles on your faces. You both are dreaming of the day that you both get married and have the whole white picket fence, dog, children, and everything in between.

You'd risk your relationship with God again if it meant that you'd be with Leon forever.

He would absolutely risk being called a devil's spawn if it meant that he'd get to be your lover forever. 

Maybe God would forgive you if you decided to sin again and again. As long as you are happy, it doesn't matter what happens. If and only if, you have Leon, the pastor's son, in your arms, everything will be alright.

[phyrestartr]

Divine Favour | Sukuna x Kitsune!Reader (Pt.1)

W/C: 3.5k #full is NSFW, mild yuuji/reader, yuuji and gang are v early 20s, heian sukuna, male reader, typical kitsune shapeshifting, mentions of abuse, canon typical violence, morally grey reader, sukuna has FEELINGS but is BAD AT FEELINGS, unhealthy relationships, power imbalance, dubcon elements, soz if anything is clunky asdkjf; i can only reread the same fic so many times for editing sadge

A/N: Decided to separate this into parts since I'm dying to post some of it lol I've held it in a chokehold in the shadows of my WIPs for too long, some of it has to come out before I explode o(--( there is more to come!

tag: @nyanwko @kamote-kuneho @better-imagination-9

The scripture was incomplete, worn away by age.

…herein lays the God...imprisoned...by...Disgraced One…

Yet the society felt this, the coffin uncovered decades ago, could be an invaluable asset. The vessel was decrepit and ancient, yet still stood strong against the test of time and the wear of nature. Seal papers, no doubt left by a monk of sorts, covered the entirety of its surface, hiding away rotting wood and rusted bands of metal from modern sorcerer's curious eyes.

Few knew why the higher ups kept the vessel under lock and key. Fewer knew why they kept it at all; however, those few understood the importance of such a relic. They'd been the ones to seek it out, to steal it away before malicious forces took it for themselves, warping the supposed deity inside for their own, malevolent purpose, whatever that may be.

And with Ryoumen Sukuna's fingers being found one by one, they could not allow anyone to possess humanity's failsafe: you. A great being imprisoned by the devil.

“Anything?” Gojo trilled, patting Yuuji’s shoulders frantically as he stood behind him and beheld the wooden tub covered in sigils. 

“Uh…” Yuuji tried to focus on Sukuna’s presence inside of him. He didn’t seem intrigued or frightened, nor did he seem too bothered with the idea of them trying to smite him down with a sealed god–he was, however, annoyed that Yuuji continued to poke and prod at him. 

Piss off, runt. 

“Yep. Nope. Sukuna doesn't care,” Yuuji sighed. “He's getting all pissy now that I'm bothering him, though.” 

Gojo laughed and patted Yuuji's shoulders a few more times before all but twirling towards the bound box. “Well, that's a pretty good sign that he's not the one that did this, then! In that case,” he started, walking up to the seal papers keeping everything locked down, “let's pop ‘er open.” 

Before Yuuji could even wonder if that was a good idea, the white-haired witch used an overzealous amount of cursed energy and disintegrated every scrap of seal paper. 

Yuuji braced for impact. Surely something terrible like a bankai or a spirit bomb would send them flying once the coffin came undone. Surely they'd pay for this, for unleashing whatever godly spirit laid locked up for far too long, only to release it back into the modern age and–

“Huh. Weird.”

Yuuji cracked open an eye and saw the dull shine of tattered onyx fur, and his control slipped with a blitz of vertigo. 

Markings flared across his skin as he stormed toward the coffin, heart howling with thoughts and memories crashing through a shared mind; a face he didn't know but knew so well bloomed at the forefront of it all, eyes framed in pointed scarlet, skin bathed in ancient, dappled sunlight.

They reached the edge of the coffin and gripped the edges, splintering the wood as they took in the sight; crimson and curse decay pooled around a figure, curled up and half-submerged. Several black, tattered tails spilled free from the tub, no longer crushed from the force of the lid sealing them inside, but they were bent awkwardly and matted with whatever tincture lay at the bottom.

Then there was the so-called god in the middle of it all–you. Still. Quiet. Curled up in a haori far too big for you. Eyes closed. Almost peaceful.

Confusion tore at Sukuna while nausea ripped through Yuuji; he couldn't bear to look at such a morose scene.

So, Sukuna pushed him aside.

[Heian Era]

You were never supposed to be anything more than a trinket. 

You were a gift from some family trying to show off for Sukuna, so much so that they offered him a delicacy, something he surely didn't have yet–a yokai. A kitsune, to be more exact. One with peculiar black tails. 

Sukuna found it interesting, and similarly desperate, to be brought such a creature as tribute. Certainly, it was meant to be seen as a high honour, yet somehow it felt…off. Why would humans give up something so powerful? 

Unexpectedly, it'd be you who told him. 

They submit me for the sake of convenience and mockery, your withering voice whispered where no one else could hear. You sounded weak. Tired. Maybe afraid, yet brave enough to reach towards the king and unveil the intentions of the men who brought you before him. 

Sukuna's eyes flicked to you, his feigned interest in what the sorcerers said falling straight into dismissal. You were much more intriguing. 

“Oh?” Sukuna asked, a smile creeping onto his face. The speakers ceased their jabbering and stared at your back with fierce intensity. Sukuna grinned wider. Oh, how he loved the way fear twisted mortal faces. 

You didn't shift or crumple into yourself under the eyes of so many, however. You pushed on with what little energy and life you had, so intent on dragging that clan through the mud. 

What I say is true, you assured simply. I expect to die today–

“Speak so everyone hears you, fox,” Sukuna commanded.

“--so I–I–” you coughed and cleared your throat, trying to rid your voice of the scratchy, weakness it struggled through. “I wish to not die with regrets.

"They have rendered me ill and unable to produce children, they see the black of my tails and regard me as an ill omen; yet they bring me to you, daring to spin sweet tales about the value of such an offering. But they lie,” You hissed. Your eyes glinted with molten malice, and Sukuna fell captivated.

“They throw me to you as they would diseased meat to dogs.” 

The courtyard fell silent, and Sukuna basked in it. You really were such a little troublemaker. A quietly chaotic force of nature. 

The king stood, rolling his shoulders as he did, and his pride flared as you dropped to your knees before him in respect. He walked to you and patted your head as one might a child's before appraising the sorcerers stood before him. 

“What a disappointment,” Sukuna sighed, raising another hand. The couple took up position, pooling their cursed energy in hopes of fending off the monster standing before them. The effort was quite cute. “Here I thought your clan might actually earn my mercy.” His hand dropped as the two lunged. Then, the two clansmen fell, too, both in neat, vertical halves. Quite overkill, yes, but he had a point to make. 

Where he expected a reaction from you, he got nothing. Only panting and poorly-stifled coughs came from you, racking through the entirety of your skin and bones frame. Sukuna could see it up close now, the way your body trembled from fatigue, the sickly greying of your skin, the scent of disease clinging to you. 

That wouldn't do. Sukuna liked his things to be in good shape. 

“Uraume,” Sukuna droned as he stared down at you, “fix this.”

It took some time, but you managed to recover. It was an unnerving experience, with the way Uraume tended to you with sincerity. Perhaps it was genuinity born from their devotion to Ryoumen Sukuna, but you greedily soaked it in, filling your stomach with the care they offered you. 

Sukuna didn't bother much with you, not that you really minded; you were much more content to be fed and forgotten than hunted down by the creature that supposedly took ownership of you without enforcing it. If he didn't cause harm or good, if he simply existed somewhere else and forgot you breathed the same air as him, you'd still be at peace. 

But he was more intrigued than you gave him credit for. 

“Ho? So this is where you scamper off to,” Sukuna hummed, leaning over you as you dozed in the nice little spot you'd made for yourself in the garden, right under the crimson cover of a maple tree. You jumped the slightest bit, your daydreams and sunbathing interrupted by the brute’s silhouette eclipsing the sun, but you settled again quickly. The beast of a man wasn't a cause for panic in your little world, after all. 

“Does it displease you?” You inquired, fixing your hair and straightening out your robes. 

Sukuna held onto an overhead branch of the tree as he looked down at you. “Pets are supposed to play in the yard, aren't they?” He smirked as you pursed your lips and flicked your tail before calming it with hasty pets. “What, you don't like being my pet?” 

“I would not refer to myself as a pet,” you countered as the man sat down with you and leaned against the tree. The king's presence calmed you. With him, you knew you were invincible. 

“Pft. Then pray tell what your damn role is around here.” One set of arms folded behind his head while the other set crossed over his chest. “Pets are freeloaders. Pretty sure that's exactly what you are.”

You huffed. “Freeloader. Tch. How rude.” 

“Lookit that. You're copping an attitude now that you're fat and fed. Used to be so much more polite.” 

“Fat and–I am not fat.” You headbutted his side lightly, something that would make more sense had you been in your fox form. You grinding your forehead against him suggested this was more of a human move, however. “I am perfectly normal now. I was brittle and nonexistent prior to now. This is a grand improvement.”

Sukuna scoffed a laugh and looked down at your head pressed up against his side. “Thanks to me,” he boasted. 

“Yes,” you agreed. You held onto his haori and looked up at him, placid and intense. “It is thanks to you. I would not be here if not for your mercy and intervention.” 

Sukuna raised a brow as he regarded you. “Hm. And what will you do to repay me?” 

“My very presence grants you luck, good fortune and fertility.” You tilted your head. “I already repay you by being here.”

Tch. But the gardens and surrounding lands did look more lush and lively since your arrival, he couldn't deny that fact. But he was a king; he could always ask for more and expect to get it. 

“What more?” He prodded.

Your tail flicked as you thought. “What would you ask of me?” 

“Something you haven't given another,” Sukuna replied. Ugh, your flowery, poetry-y, bullshit speak was rubbing off on him. 

You stared at him, gemstone eyes glinting with earthen hues and shards of gold in the yawning afternoon sun. The leaves bristled just perfectly, letting in dapples of citrus sunlight as if trying to make this moment something special, as if to burn your ethereal presence into history for all eternity. All this, just while you thought of what to give him. Perhaps a riddle is what you wanted. Perhaps purple prose suited your fancy. Perhaps it was something else. 

You sat up, carefully raising yourself onto your knees before leaning up towards the hulking king. He turned his face to you in interest, feeling a sort of natural energy begin to pool around the both of you, reaching from the far depths of the earth and the wide stretch of the sky to converge on your existence as you framed his face with gentle hands, and placed a chaste kiss on the corner of his mouth. 

It lasted only a second. But a second was long enough to catch the scent of petrichor and petals on your skin, to indulge in the heat of wildfires raging in your soul, to feel the blasphemy of you against him; then, you parted. 

“For now,” you murmured, and Sukuna swore he saw your single tail fan out into nine, “I give you my divine favor, Ryoumen Sukuna.”

You wondered if your favor was enough. He'd been gone some time, off to accept a duel from the snotty shitheads Sukuna had received you from. Apparently, having two of the eldest boys murdered rubbed them the wrong way. Sukuna was glad for it, you knew–the man lived and breathed for a fight. 

Of course, you stayed put. Uraume assured you'd be fine on your own, and Sukuna reminded his staff they'd all be eaten alive by the king himself if anything uncouth were to take place in his absence. It was more so that Sukuna didn't like the idea of idiots touching his stuff than it was the notion you were important to him, from your understanding. 

Regardless, the time alone left you restless. That king made you invincible. Without him, you were nothing more than the scared kit locked away in darkness, never to emerge lest your stubbornness trick them. But things were different here. Everyday was filled with unknowns and uncertainties when the two you'd forged fragile bonds with fell absent. 

So, you thought of how to repay Sukuna. Your divine favor would only do so much, after all–you didn't think a man like that really needed the extra luck, but he seemed more than intrigued by the manner of delivering the blessing; you remembered how he looked at you, eyes half-lidded, shielding you from the inferno burning out of control. He grumbled something low in his chest, just loud enough that you heard: 

You better be here when I get back.

“Ah–” The thrill those catastrophic words gave you nearly led to stabbing yourself with the needle. You tutted and regained focus, continuing to carefully embroider the sleeves of one of Sukuna's many plain black haori.

You learned how to sew and embroider from watching an elder from that clan work her magic on old, tattered clothes. She never spoke to you nor regarded you, but she never turned you away the rare times you watched her fix garments; you thought it was beautiful–the art of turning something mundane into something meaningful.

Though you wondered if Ryoumen Sukuna, the most powerful sorcerer, the most feared man alive, had a desire for anything useless and meaningful. 

The answer came quickly. You'd found yourself void of confidence when the monarch returned to his palace after (obviously) winning whatever duel he'd agreed to; you weren't sure if you were to congratulate him, celebrate him or something more. On top of that, he'd eventually find that haori you'd slaved over for days, and you weren't sure you could take the heartbreak of dismissal. 

However, those fears were quashed when, from a new little secret garden hovel, you spied the man donning the very haori you slaved over; it wasn't a flashy piece, you didn't want to subtract from the marvel that was the king of curses, so you opted for using black, shimmery thread to weave intricate twisting trees and blackened blooms along the sleeve. Only if the design caught the light would one be able to notice it. 

But that was enough for you. Knowing he accepted such a meaningless gift was reassuring of your place in his world. 

So, you finally let Uraume convince you to stay in the room they'd prepared for you. 

“No need to be nervous,” you hummed, that undying urge inside you to take care of something helping you soothe the young woman's nerves. You fixed her hair, your deft fingers carefully slipping strands into place before sliding a decorative pin in to hold it all together. You took a step back to appraise her, Sukuna's latest concubine. 

“I–thank you.” Sachiko blushed fiercely and bowed the slightest bit, not risking a deep bow for the fear of her hair falling loose. “I can see why all the girls love you.” 

You laughed, low and warm. “Well, it's hard not to love someone who takes care of you, no?” Gently, you tilted her chin up and leaned in, carefully examining the red lacquer staining her lips. The colour matched her kimono and the gems in that exquisite hairpin keeping dark locks at bay. “But I'm glad. I know it's difficult to find respite in these times.” 

Sachiko held her breath as she looked over the natural paint of crimson adorning your eyes. “I-I, um–yes, I do agree.” 

You hummed and carefully fixed the smallest smudge on the corner of her mouth. “Mh. So I hope you do your best to please him.” 

“I will!” Sachiko promised. “But–I wish to–may I give you something?” 

“Of course.” 

She gathered her kimono up in her hands and leaned up toward you. You leaned down, expecting a secret or hushed words, but perfect red lips pressed against your skin instead. And you were dumbfounded; you'd never been kissed before. You'd never had a lady show that interest in you. 

Sachiko got down from her tiptoes and hid her mouth with her sleeve. “Just for good luck!” She squeaked before bowing and hastily running through the doors where Sukuna would no doubt be waiting for his woman for the evening’s events. 

You looked at the doors sliding closed and caught a glimpse of Sukuna stood before the young woman, his frame swallowing hers as you looked on. And you caught a glimpse of his eyes, his stare of shock and utter vexation–clearly, he'd seen the short woman give you a kiss for good luck. 

You turned away, choosing to abandon the girl to her demise as your fingers ghosted against your lips in wonder. 

He showed up in your chambers later that night. You were still awake, quietly embroidering another haori; this time, it was for Uraume. They insisted they didn't want to burden you, but they crumbled under your more insistent insistence, and accepted the offer on the condition it looked subtle and muted. 

Sukuna padded toward you, hardly bothering to announce himself or ask to join you (ugh, how annoying) before plopping himself onto the futon beside you, sighing as he laid down. 

“I see you finished early,” you commented, jumping the littlest bit when large hands caught your flickering tails. He didn't hurt you, no; he was simply an overgrown toddler with a penchant for examining whatever wiggled before him. 

“That woman kissed you,” Sukuna answered, unhelpful. “Ruined it.” 

“Ah. Well. I didn't expect it either.” You cleared your throat, feeling an unexpected bubble of embarrassment rise in your chest. “I have…I've never been given a kiss before. Not from what I can recall, at the very least.” 

“The hell are you talking about?” Sukuna grouched. “You planted one on me in the gardens.” 

“Giving is not receiving,” you corrected, flicking your tail so as to hit his face. “I've never given a kiss on another's lips, regardless. Though I find myself wondering why I–” 

You yowled when he yanked your tail like he meant to rip the thing off, and you whirled on him, eyes drawn into slits and chunky fangs bared as you dug your nails into his wrist in an effort to make him let go.

Yet the king looked unfazed. He sat up and  tugged you closer by your tail, yank after yank, ripping an impressive collection of vexed noises from you until his broad hand caught you by the throat. You clawed at his wrist and forearm, scrambling to find purchase, idly wondering if he'd finally had enough of you and sought to put you down after dirtying one of his concubines–

But he kissed you instead. His lips were warm and dry, not quite soft yet not unwelcoming. Sukuna knew what he was doing, too; his tongue licked at your bottom lip before pushing inside to finally taste you and taint you from within just a little bit. 

Your grip on him laxed the slightest bit, and you even eased into his hold as he, too, refused to harm you further. If you weren't aware of his malevolent spirit, you might've thought him gentle in that long, simple moment–a special brand of “gentle” that was wholly Sukuna's. Kind, but jagged around the edges. 

He started pulling back, though, and you followed after his touch like a bewitched maiden chasing after the lips of a lover. You nipped at the air like that'd do something for you, but soon settled on leaning into the hand holding you still, even if your throat scratched and ached because of it. 

You found Sukuna's calm stare watching you when you opened your eyes a crack. For once, you thought he looked content; the cruel, mocking lines of his face had smoothed and relaxed, and that annoying, cocky smirk he'd been born sporting had been replaced with a placid, normal lilt. Even the inferno blazing in crimson depths eased into pools of yawning embers–warm and spirited, yet contained. 

The sight relaxed you despite the confusion it brought to your rationale. 

“That,” Sukuna said, so odd and quiet, but powerful and judicial. “Is your first.” His thumb stroked against the side of your neck, pausing to feel the pitter patter of your heart thrumming under his mercy. “It'd serve you to remember that.” 

You nodded shallowly. “Of course.” 

Pleased, he let go of your quite breakable neck and moved like he was about to get up. You grabbed at his hand and pressed his palm to the side of your face like he was cupping your cheek. Your insistence on touching gave the beast pause, but he settled again, content to let you keep him hostage for as long as you wanted.

And you indulged in the simple favour. You nuzzled into his palm with a very fox-like chitter as a bassy, quiet trill of a purr lazily rolled through your chest, eventually reaching Sukuna himself. It somehow had him feeling content. Relaxed. Like he was basking in the warmth of the sun. 

“I request another,” you chirped, and Sukuna quirked a brow. 

“Another?” 

“Kiss.” 

Sukuna twitched a smirk. “It'll cost ya.” 

“Oh?” 

“Give me another blessing.”

And you agreed.

[igbylicious]

marked [jwy x reader]

pairing: Wooyoung x gn afab reader (briefly feat. Yunho & background poly ot8)

rating: 18+

genre: smut, fluff, werewolf AU, found family

summary: Wooyoung is the newest member of your pack, and under tonight’s full moon you will claim him as your mate. (OR: Wooyoung knots for the very first time and you fuck him through it 👀)

wc: 8.1k

warnings: sub Wooyoung, dom alpha reader, reader is physically stronger than Wooyoung, predator / prey play, knotting, breeding kink, dacryphilia, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, unprotected vaginal sex, creampies, stomach bulge / cum inflation, biting & marking (w/ light blood mention), cunnilingus, face-sitting, cum eating, reader has a mild possessive streak, implied m x m, Wooyoung is called ‘good boy’ & ‘pup’, a sprinkling of hurt / comfort

a/n: @wooyoungisbaby asked me if i would turn Wooyoung into a werewolf & then i blacked out and suddenly there were 8k of words on my screen ฅV•̀ᴥ•́Vฅ

a/n²: idk how to put this in the warnings but werewolves have an estrous reproductive cycle in this fic, and there is an off-hand mention that the reader is not currently fertile. just to balance out my own ‘love breeding kink, squicked by pregnancy’ conundrum ^^

Sunlight trickles through the cherry trees overhead, a light canopy of pastel pinks looking down on you and Wooyoung. The gentle sunlight warms you with the glow of spring, a blossom swirling down the breeze to land right on Wooyoung’s nose.

He barely even notices, too busy fussing in your embrace. You’re curled up against his back, and your arms have him pulled into your chest, legs tangled together. There is a blooming tapestry of red marks on his neck; gentle indents of your teeth, slow bruises sucked into his delicate skin.

You blow the cherry blossom off his nose with a giggle, and the pink petal flutters down into the grass, luscious green brimming with white and yellow daisies. The flowers give off a pleasantly sweet waft but you are not interested in floral aromas, only in the alluring scent radiating from Wooyoung’s heated body.

You burrow your face into the crook of his neck, breathing in deep as Wooyoung whines in your hold.

“Easy, pup,” you coo at him, and lightly pinch his waist in warning. “Don’t want to wear yourself out before tonight, do you?”

“I won’t, I won’t,” he says, wiggling in your arms. He hisses when your teeth sink into the tender skin of his neck again, the noise morphing into a breathy, pitched moan as you lap at the bite. “Just wanna play…”

You giggle at his protests; Wooyoung is easily the most rambunctious pup you have ever dealt with.

Sometimes you find it most effective to fuck the misbehaviour out of him, to burn off all his frenzied energy as you ride him — or to make him wear himself out on your cunt, your fingers tightly wrapped in his hair as you hold him down, his mouth eager to please.

But sometimes, that feels like just a bit too much of a reward for his mischievous ways.

For those moments, you prefer your current strategy; to force Wooyoung into a cuddle, spooning him as you playfully gnaw on his neck and shoulder. If you hold him down long enough, his endless squirming will tire him out just the same as any other method. Wooyoung might be energetic — but he is a young pup, turned only four weeks ago, whereas you are a born wolf, and he cannot stand up against your superior strength.

It’s hard to believe he has been in your life for barely a year; Wooyoung was all alone in the world when you stumbled on him during a hunt; a lonely, pitiful creature with no-one else to turn to. Your wolf had demanded for you to grant him protection and you listened, never led astray by your canine instincts. You brought him into the pack, where your mates welcomed him with open arms.

At first, it was just a visit; so he could catch his breath, rest up and decide what to do next. But when Wooyoung decided to extend his stay indefinitely, he soon decided he wanted to be turned as well.

(If there’s one thing you quickly learned about Wooyoung, it’s that he never does things halfway. It was you and your mates who talked him into waiting for a while, until he was absolutely sure, but Wooyoung never wavered.)

You were the one to do the honours, pinning him down under the light of the full moon, your seven mates surrounding you in a wide circle. Wooyoung had seen you in wolf form before; he’d even napped while curled up against your huge lycan body, engulfed in dark fur — but it was never like this, never with your jaws snapping right in his face, clawed paws heavy on his chest as your scorching breaths fell down on his vulnerable, tiny figure. You were careful not to crush him, of course, but he needed to keep still; no matter how willing he was, a human’s instinct runs deep when a predator’s maw closes around their weak flesh.

Wooyoung was not immune to those instincts, and your chest ached when he cried out in pain at your bite. His hands pushed uselessly against your head, but you are strong even for a wolf; and the limited capacities of his fragile human body stood no chance against you at the height of your power, basking in moonlight.

You had lapped at his wound afterwards, easing him through his shakes as your saliva mixed with his blood, broken skin mending under your raspy tongue into a darkened scar as the first seed of his transformation took hold.

For four weeks now, Wooyoung’s body has been changing under the surface. It comes with restless agitation, giving him more energy and stamina than he knows what to do with, yet the process is also exhausting; a slow adjustment to his heightened senses, stronger muscles, an increased sensitivity to the presence of others — your presence especially, as the one who turned him.

And tonight is an important stage in Wooyoung’s lycan life; the next full moon. His first complete transformation, catalysed by the moon’s bright luminescence.

The reshaping of his human body into a wolf is a symbolic milestone, but it will also unlock Wooyoung’s full potential, allowing him to grow into his full strength. With time, he will even learn to transform regardless of the night sky — though only few werewolves are powerful enough to deny a full moon.

(You are, but you see little reason to ever deny the celestial body that has given you so much.)

Now, lazing in the sun together, you lap at the scar you left on Wooyoung’s skin that night. All your other bites always heal rapidly but this one lingers, and always will. You are eager for tonight, when you get to add a second permanent mark to him. To imprint on him as your mate.

Your neck and shoulders are already littered with the seven bites of your other mates, binding their spirits to yours, but there is always room for one more; especially if that one more is your Wooyoung, your playful, mischievous pup whose sensitive heart bursts with love and easy affection.

Of course, you have laid with Wooyoung long before tonight — as have your other mates. You always needed to treat Wooyoung like glass, knowing how easily you could break him; but Wooyoung never made it easy to hold back.

Loneliness had carved a deep, dry well in his chest cavity; never realising the depths of his emptiness until you and your mates submerged him in a lake of care and devotion, replenishing his marred soul. Hungrily, Wooyoung had taken anything that you felt safe to give him, while he freely gave back all he had.

These past four weeks, you have tested his limits together, watched how they stretched further and further as Wooyoung slowly grows into his powers — and tonight, you won’t have to hold back any longer.

“Wanna play…” Wooyoung whines again, and you follow his gaze to San and Mingi, who are laughing and rough-housing by the edge of the nearby brook, just down a gentle slope of grassland.

You hesitate, not wanting to let go of Wooyoung. But… are you still holding onto him just to keep him well-behaved? Long years of sharing your mates have taught you to recognise a possessive streak when you feel one, and the resistance against releasing Wooyoung from your arms feels awfully familiar.

Maybe it’s nothing but greed; your urge to trap Wooyoung in your arms, to flood yourself in his scent, to keep his neck littered with your bites.

You had found Wooyoung, you had turned him, and a primal instinct calls out from deep within you, to always remind the others that you claimed him for his first full moon.

But from somewhere deep underneath the possessive wolf, you know very well that it would do Wooyoung good to stay bonded with your other mates — his future mates. They will respect your claim.

You tip Wooyoung’s chin, lightly pecking his lips. “Promise to save some energy for me, my sweet pup,” you smile at him, and loosen your grip.

Wooyoung perks up when you release him from your hold — but instead of immediately bolting off to San and Mingi, he turns around in your arms to dive in for a deep, heated kiss. He sucks at your bottom lip, repaying your bites with one of his own. You yelp in surprise at his sudden passion, and Wooyoung giggles at the undignified noise, his laugh bright and filled with adoration.

“I will,” he breathes between kisses. “I’ve wanted this for so long.” His lips brush against your neck and shoulders, against the seven marks that he will join tonight. “Wanna be with you. So badly.”

“But first you wanna play,” you tease him, and lightly push him away, before your possessive nature takes over and you can never let him go ever again. “Go. They’re waiting for you. Just like I will.”

Wooyoung presses one final kiss to your neck, then lets himself be pushed away and joins San and Mingi. You watch them with an odd mingle of jealousy and joy; joy to see Wooyoung’s happiness with your other mates, jealous to see them without you.

It is a familiar maze to navigate; you are no stranger to possessive urges, yet you also feel blessed beyond measure that your mates love each other as much as they love you. The two feelings are in conflict yet forever intertwined; they are less two sides of the same coin, and more the sides of the same mobius strip; inherently connected, endlessly feeding into one another.

However, you are broken out of your musings by a gentle breeze from behind you. It brings a familiar scent that effortlessly tears the mobius strip in half, halting its flow through your emotions.

You turn around to see Yunho standing underneath one of the cherry trees, a few blossoms sticking to his dark hair and a faint smile on his face as he observes how the good-natured wrestling between San, Mingi and Wooyoung has turned into a rowdy cuddle pile. Yunho notices you looking at him, and he gives you a slow nod, eyes twinkling. You reach out a hand, beckoning him closer, and his smile deepens.

Yunho’s long fingers wrap around yours, never letting go as he sits down next to you in the grass. Immediately you take advantage of his proximity, wiggling yourself between his legs to curl up against his warm chest.

Yunho chuckles at your need for touch, loosely putting his arms around your waist. It’s a stark contrast to how you held Wooyoung earlier; Yunho does not fear the loss of you, resting in the tempered confidence from years of devotion. His mark on your neck is the oldest, and your eyes flutter shut as you luxuriate in the comfort of his scent, like earthy woods and petrichor. You didn’t realise just how badly you missed the grounding familiarity of him until right this second, and you sigh out in bliss, leaning deeper into him.

For just a moment, you let go of your possessive jealousy over Wooyoung — but Yunho does not.

“Gotta admit, didn’t think I’d see you separated from Wooyoung’s side anytime this month. Especially not today,” he chuckles, rubbing a lazy hand over your waist.

A self-conscious warmth flushes under your skin. Yunho does always see you clearest. “I got a little carried away, didn’t I?”

“No more than last time,” he says, a quiet laugh rumbling in his chest. “Or any time before. Remember Hongjoong? Yeosang? We practically had to drag you off of them to give those poor guys some peace and quiet.”

“I was taking care of them!” you huff, even if you know Yunho’s right.

“And you’re taking good care of Wooyoung now,” Yunho says, and he presses a soft kiss on your temple. “I’m not saying it’s bad — I’m so happy that we have Wooyoung now, really,” he murmurs, gathering you a little closer in his arms. “But… I did miss you these last weeks. Especially knowing there won’t be a hunt tonight…”

“Oh? You think you would’ve been the one to catch me?” you tease Yunho, poking his chest. “Confident, aren’t we!”

“Think I would’ve had a good shot,” Yunho says, grin widening.

A faint heat sparks inside you at his easy confidence, bringing back memories of how he earned that confidence over and over again. “I missed you too,” you admit, feeling apologetic. You had promised to lead your mates on a chase under the full moon again soon; but through your refusal to share Wooyoung with the others, you also stopped sharing yourself. “We will make up for time after Wooyoung has settled, I swear.”

“I know we will,” Yunho hums. “For now, keep taking care of our Wooyoung first. The pup needs you to get through tonight.”

You glance up at Wooyoung — but the first thing you see is San, who is face-down in the grass, yelping as Mingi and Wooyoung playfully got him pinned down; Wooyoung’s teeth are locked around San’s bicep while Mingi laughs, nipping at his mark on San’s neck.

“…Or maybe San is the one who needs you?” Yunho says, cocking his head at the chaos in front of him.

San laughs helplessly, resigned to his fate, until he realises they are being watched. He wheezes out a weak “help!” as he reaches out to you and Yunho, a desperate dimple poking at his cheek.

Yunho muffles a laugh with his hand, and gives you a sideways grin. “I’ll get Mingi, you handle Wooyoung?”

You grin back at Yunho. “Oh, I’ll handle him alright.”

The day’s warmth has cooled in the hours of dusk, but there is nothing to cool the blood pulsing through your veins, running hot with canine hunger. The wolf inside you is utterly transfixed on Wooyoung; your senses are growing ever more keen as the moon bathes you in her light, and the scent of Wooyoung is almost overwhelming now. His sweetness permeates the air so thick that you can taste him on your tongue; his excitement, his impatience, his need to be taken and claimed by his alpha. By you.

Wooyoung turns his head, eyes glittering darkly as they meet yours, an agitated energy crackling around him.

This is all new to him, you remind yourself. He does not know what to do with all these untamed impulses that pound against his chest and growl in the back of his head. You will teach him, show him exactly how to control the wolf, and how to let it run free. You will show him everything.

And Wooyoung may be a predator now, but you shall devour him all the same.

You stand together at the forest’s edge, but your gaze lingers on Wooyoung’s exposed collarbones, already contemplating where to leave your mating bite. Right next to the mark of when you turned him? Or do you want to cover as many different parts of him as you can? Both options are tempting in their own ways.

For now, you simply cup the back of Wooyoung’s head and pull him close so you can kiss your first mark on him. “Remember the clearing we picked out?” you murmur, tongue darting out over the old scar tissue. “Let’s make a race of it. You get there before I do, I’ll have a nice surprise for you.”

“A surprise?” Wooyoung says, his eyes shining with eager curiosity. “You’re on.”

Without warning, he bolts deeper into the forest, giving himself a generous head’s start as he leaves you behind. Your most rambunctious pup, for sure.

You grin, pleased at the challenge he gives you.

Just to give him fairer odds, you wait a little longer. You breathe in deeply as you pull the lingering scent of Wooyoung into your lungs, and clench your muscles, feeling your lupine power in just a simple contraction. You can still hear him in the distance, twigs breaking underfoot, the rustling of the underbrush. He is getting farther now, embracing his newfound agility; perhaps even thinking he stands a chance. You lick your lips at the thought, knowing how misguided it would be… then you leap into motion, starting your pursuit.

The wolf revels in this opportunity to show off its full power, and you dart through the woods with nimble swiftness. A faint cloud-cover hangs in the sky above, but the moon still pierces through to provide ample light. You do not need it, not with your keen senses guiding you; but for Wooyoung the illumination will surely be helpful to try and beat you to the clearing.

You can smell Wooyoung’s excitement in the air; you can hear him pant for breath as he pushes his body to new limits, fevered blood rushing through him with every pump of his heart, and his eagerness to outrun you feeds right into your own thrill of the chase.

Because for you, it’s not about whether Wooyoung beats you to the clearing.

For you, it’s about the hunt.

You are not as skilled a tracker as your other mates, but you don’t need to be. You know exactly where Wooyoung is going, and he is not subtle in making his way.

It does not take you long to catch up with Wooyoung, spurred on by your need to pounce on him, to finally claim what is rightfully yours. Wooyoung does not notice your presence immediately; he may be empowered by the moon same as you, but he is not as practised at making use of his gifts.

But when he does catch sight of you, your sudden proximity goads Wooyoung’s competitive spirit to new heights, completely unaware of the fact that he is not a competitor; he is prey. You revel in his innocent, breathless laugh, the lively spark in his eyes — eyes that widen when you lunge, right at him.

There is no real force behind your tackle, just playfully grabbing onto him to fall into a tumble together — then immediately release him. Wooyoung scrambles back on his feet, staring at you with wide eyes, his heart slamming against his rib-cage. His hair is in disarray, leafs and twigs stuck in the longish strands, a light scratch across his cheek.

“What was that?” he blurts out; miffed, but not entirely displeased. His scent easily gives that away.

“Better keep running, young pup,” you warn him, a light growl edging into your voice, lips curving to expose sharpened teeth.

Something about your grin causes a skip in Wooyoung’s pulse as he finally realises the true nature of your game. His human instincts have not yet faded entirely, a small bump of fear in his throat — but it is mere background noise in the heady waft of arousal that you catch in the air. Wooyoung is excited.

However, he is also not ready to submit to you, his rebellious spirit still burning strong. “Then you better keep up, old-timer,” he says, grinning right back at you.

He gives you no chance to respond to his taunt, dashing off through the woods again. Already Wooyoung is getting faster than before, and for a moment you indulge him again, letting him believe he is pulling ahead. The clearing is nearby; you can see it in the distance, cloud-cover pulling away to bathe the area in radiant moonlight, setting the forest aglow.

Wooyoung laughs in triumph at the sight; it is cute how confident he is of victory… but not cute enough to let him have it.

Again, you tackle him to the ground — and this time, you do not give Wooyoung an easy escape. He yipes, struggling on pure impulse as you wrestle him down, rolling over the rough forest until you pin down his arms and come to a stop, right on a soft patch of moss.

He whines and instinctively tries to throw you off him, but your grip on him is too tight. He stills when you drape yourself over him, breath scorching against his neck. The vein beneath your lips throbs.

“Surprise,” you whisper, and latch onto his throat.

Wooyoung cries out, back arching as he scrambles to grab onto your shoulders, hips jerking upward. He is hard against your thigh.

You draw a shuddering breath at how he squirms against your hold, exuding dizzying arousal from his pores. Already Wooyoung’s nails begin to elongate into claws, digging through your clothes to scrape at your shoulders. You giggle at his lack of control, allowing your teeth to sharpen as you nip at his jugular.

“Not so fast, my sweetling,” you say, trailing your mouth up to his jaw. “No need to rush. Let’s have some fun first.”

He shakes his head, eyes squeezed shut as he trembles, the beast within encroaching on his lucidity. “D-don’t know if I can—”

“You can,” you growl lowly, yanking his arms down to force them against the ground. “You will listen to your alpha, pup, and it’s not your time yet.”

Wooyoung whimpers in submission, tilting his head back as the wolf retreats with its tail tucked between its legs. You lap at the exposed skin of his neck to soothe the harshness of your reprimand, but it needed to be done.

Wooyoung is such an energetic pup; better he burns some of that energy now, to make his transformation easier to control. It’ll be hard enough on him as it is, and you will do anything within your power to smoothen the process.

Just lucky for you that the best way to help Wooyoung, is exactly what your own wolf calls out for; demanding for you to ravish Wooyoung until not an inch of his skin has gone untouched, to mark him as your own. To have him sink deep inside your waiting cunt, and take everything he has to give.

You press your mouth against his in a starved kiss, tongue delving past his willing lips as you pull and tear at his clothes, encouraging him to do the same with yours. Your fingers glide over Wooyoung’s chest, his stomach, his thighs, every part of him you can reach; never stopping the slow roll of your hips into his, hot mouth swallowing every moan wrested from Wooyoung’s throat by your aggressive worship.

His muffled keening makes your blood sing, but it is not enough, not nearly enough to sate you. You tear your lips away from his and Wooyoung whines at the loss, his moans free and loud and delectable.

Your wolf growls sweetly, pleased at Wooyoung’s shameless need for you, and for a moment you simply revel in his existence, his pretty noises, the pitiful way he writhes underneath you. You admire how his tanned skin glows under the moonlight, stars dancing in the reflection of his wide, dark eyes as he stares up at you in desperate reverence.

“Hmgh, w-want— want—” he babbles, a shimmer of unshed tears joining the vibrant constellation in his eyes.

You can’t help but marvel at how fortunate you are, to have found another beautiful mate to add to your devoted family. Your fingers play over his sharp jawline, his striking features merging together into such a pretty face. The face of someone who is so generous with his love and his mischief; using both to take care of his loved ones in all the ways they need — but first needing to be tamed himself.

“Hm? What do you want, Wooyoungie?” you purr at him, pushing away the tattered remains of clothes. His cock is hot and aching against your folds, but you don’t take him inside just yet. “Behave, and I might just give it to you.”

Wooyoung makes a tearful noise, grabbing at your waist and ass with sharpened claws. “Want you,” he whines, and you hiss at how his nails scrape at your skin. He tries not to scratch at you, but Wooyoung does not know his own body right now, struggling to comprehend both his limits and full capabilities. “Please, please, need you, it— it’s too much, I can’t—”

A thin sheen of sweat sets his skin further aglow, and his addled pleas slip deep between your ribs, appealing to the softer side of your wolf — with success. Because you are not only a predator; as an alpha, you are a caretaker as well.

And, looking at your sweet pup, whose lucidity is rapidly slipping through his clawed hands, who is frenzied and disoriented from what’s happening to him; perhaps ‘behave’ is too cruel a demand to make of him right now.

Gently you peel his hands off of you, and lift them to your lips to nip at his knuckles. “Breathe, my good boy, deep breaths,” you soothe him, rolling your hips a little firmer against his cock, giving him much-needed friction. “I’ll take care of you, don’t you worry.”

Wooyoung tries to follow instructions, drawing hitched breaths — but he chokes on a wretched groan when your hand wraps around the base of his cock, and guide him as you sink down with a blissful sigh, eyes fluttering shut. Your body is pliant for him, enveloping him in wet heat, and Wooyoung gasps with sharp, staccato moans as his hips jerk, body trembling. He claws at the moss underneath, leaving deeply etched trails in the dirt.

There is a subtle elongation in his joints, the faint crackling of bones and muscle shifting underneath skin as his veins grow more prominent. You bare your teeth, snarling lowly at his wolf to back off, but you know it won’t allow itself to be repressed for much longer. It’s almost time.

You rest your hands on Wooyoung’s chest to give yourself leverage, and start to move.

Wooyoung’s whines grow more animalistic by the second as you ride him hard and fast. He bucks up to meet your every thrust, pouring all his aggression into the slam of his hips. Your cunt twitches around his cock as he hits deep inside, a pleased growl rumbling inside your chest.

The forest is quiet around you, nothing but a soft rush of wind and rustling leafs; its inhabitants know better than to come near two wolves in their moon’s heat. Nothing except the sharp sounds of skin slapping against skin, of raspy moans and pleased snarls.

The heady smell of sweat and arousal mingles with the freshness of the woods, gentle moss and sweet blossoms. Slick leaks down your thighs and onto Wooyoung’s pelvis, and your own instincts become harder and harder to ignore with Wooyoung laying right there underneath you, flushed and splayed out over the forest ground with the vulnerable column of his neck beckoning for your attention. It’s too early for that, but still you drape yourself over him, slating your mouth over his in something that can’t decide whether it’s a bite or a kiss.

Wooyoung groans against your lips, so tightly wired he might snap at any moment. He is beyond desperate for a quick release of tension and you do your best to provide, relentless as you hump into his lap. His cock drags against your clit with every swerve of your hips, your thoughts becoming hazier with every spike of heat Wooyoung sends through you.

Unable to help yourself, your lips trail to his shoulder; the one unmarred by your other bite from turning him. You lap at the skin, exploratory grazes of your teeth as you kiss and suckle at Wooyoung until this side of his neck is completely reddened with bruises and faint teethmarks.

Wooyoung whimpers and snarls, his clawed hands back on your waist as he convulses underneath, the mounting pleasure just as overwhelming as his primal instincts. His skin is feverish, same as yours, sweat-slicked bodies coiled around one another, muscles rippling under the moonlight with brutal stamina.

Suddenly Wooyoung’s noises rise in pitch, and you can feel it before he can even slur the words out, tongue lolling in his mouth.

“F-fuck, it’s— It’s happening— I’m— I— mngh, ahh—”

He swells inside you and Wooyoung stutters out a broken cry when, for the first time in his life, his knot grows.

His jaw falls slack, voice stuck in his throat and tears brimming on his lashes. You tighten around him, hips forced to a halt by the swollen tissue at the base of Wooyoung’s cock, keeping him locked inside you as he shudders and floods your throbbing walls with white heat.

It’s enough to send you over the edge with him, his knot stretching you out and pressing just right against your sensitive bundle of nerves. Your vision whites out with a roar of static as your wolf slips out just a little further, and you sink your sharp teeth into soft flesh, breaking skin as you finally claim what is rightfully yours.

Wooyoung spasms underneath you, his arms trembling as he scrambles to hold onto you, every contraction of your walls draining him further.

Mindlessly, you mouth at the bleeding wound, uncaring of the metallic taste on your tongue as you encourage the skin to knit together into a scarred mark that will never fade. Your head is empty; all you know is to lap at Wooyoung’s tender neck, to grind into him with your limited movement, every instinct crying out to chase down your pleasure, demanding for Wooyoung to surrender all he has to you.

The predatorial haze takes over, and you don’t snap out of it until you taste a faint whiff of distress in Wooyoung’s whimpers.

“Ngh, ‘s too much— Ah, ahhhh, Alpha…” he calls weakly for you, his instincts in conflict with itself; the wolf needs to buck into you until his knot softens and he has nothing left to give — but those final remnants of the human still linger, desperate and overwhelmed by his own body’s hunger.

His distress shakes you out of your daze, leaving you to feel oddly unsatisfied and untethered. The mating is not yet finished; Wooyoung’s spirit tugs at yours but it is one-sided, incomplete. You are incomplete.

But you push your discomfort aside, knowing it is only temporary. You have been through this before; Wooyoung hasn’t. He needs you to be strong, to guide him.

You run a clawed hand through his hair and press a soft kiss on his swiftly healing mark. The bleeding has stopped already. “Do you trust me, sweet pup?” you ask, trying to sound gentle despite the roughened edge in your voice.

“Y-yeah,” Wooyoung sniffles, turning his head so he can nuzzle at your palm.

“You can do this, I know you can,” you reassure him, your thumb brushing over his cheekbone. “Been doing so well, my good boy, need you to be strong for me just a little longer.”

He nods shakily. “Oh-okay, hmnh, I trust you…”

Affection bubbles warmly in your chest, watching how Wooyoung tries to blink away his tears. Despite himself, he can’t stop his shallow rutting up into your cunt; his wolf knows he has yet more to give, won’t let him rest until he has spilled all his seed in your womb, safely stuffed inside by his knot.

There is no stopping this, and so you take him through it, as gentle as your canine impulses will allow; leading his confused body to pleasure with your hands and your mouth on his body, wherever you can reach, wherever makes him feel good.

Wooyoung follows easily, and soon his gasps and whimpers are sweet to your ears again; his body no longer confused. You stop holding back, sucking at his throat and clenching around his cock until he cums again, and again, sobbing and writhing in sublime torment as he generously fills you up, your stomach starting to distend from the sheer volume of his cum.

The shift inside him is gradual. His lupine side slowly grows louder, more demanding, until it is powerful enough to endure the onslaught on his senses. Wooyoung’s whimpers turn to low growls, gritted teeth sharpening into fangs, and a jolt of excitement sears through you.

It is time to bare your neck to him.

You tightly wrap yourself around Wooyoung and overturn the two of you, landing on your back so Wooyoung is on top of you, your legs locked around his waist with him still buried deep inside your wet cunt. Wooyoung yipes, disoriented by the sudden change, but groans deeply when you tangle a hand through his hair, yanking him to where you need him.

Wooyoung shudders as he breathes you in, mouthing at your neck and shoulders, tongue lavishing at the seven marks already there like he can taste your mates (his future mates) through them. He never stops his shallow, clumsy rutting, grinding his pelvis hard into your clit, his knot pressed against your walls.

Your breath hollows at the constant friction, panting at how he tongues your skin, honing in on his chosen spot. Your hand tightens in his hair, pressure building in your stuffed belly.

“Do it,” you rasp, voice hoarse from exertion and your own impending transformation. “Almost there, my pup. Do it, claim me.”

Wooyoung needs no further encouragement, budding fangs sinking into your shoulder, right next to Yeosang’s mark. Euphoric pain bursts through you as he bites down, still humping mindlessly in pursuit of more, more.

You mewl as tension coils and sings through you, every sensation intensified in the heat of the joining. Entangled in body and spirit, fierce desire spilling over into one another as the mating ritual is completed with a forceful rush of ecstasy. You clench around Wooyoung as the heat washes over you, clamping down on his thick knot with a ragged moan. Wooyoung snarls into your shoulder when your walls tighten around his cock, shuddering with yet another release as you pull him into freefall with you, a weightless plunge into searing pleasure.

Wooyoung trembles above you, his body shaking violently as he twitches and spills ever deeper inside your cunt. Humming with gratification, you press his hand against the swell of your stomach, to let him feel how he has filled you up. Wooyoung groans, careful not to dig his claws into your belly, still shaking.

His fangs finally detach from your injured flesh — and he immediately collapses on top of you, worn out from the mating and from cumming inside you so many countless times.

You breathe hard, putting your arms around Wooyoung’s collapsed body. For a moment you think he has passed out completely… but then you feel his raspy tongue on your skin, tiredly lapping at the fresh bite on your shoulder to try and encourage the wound to close up and heal into his mark, binding you together. Your body does not really need Wooyoung’s help, your innate regenerative powers more practised than his own, but you still burst with fondness at his care; pushing through his exhaustion to tend to you.

(You truly are so very lucky, to have found this mate.)

Wooyoung can’t possibly have much more left in him; but his wolf is not done with him yet. You can tell clearly from his scent and, more significantly, from the way his knot has not begun to soften yet.

Your lycan instincts roar at you to keep fucking Wooyoung, to drain him completely empty so he can breed you — but you repay his kindness, tending to him first.

Carefully, you gather Wooyoung in your arms, lifting him as you get up on your feet. He whines, his trapped cock twitching tiredly at the change in position. You are a little shaky from your own exhaustion, from holding your instincts down, but Wooyoung feels light as a feather under the power of the full moon.

You carry him to a sheltered spot right at the base of a cherry tree, where blossoms slowly flutter to the ground in a gentle breeze. There you find slight cover from the moonlight, and you know he can transform here with as much comfort as is possible.

Still careful, you lay Wooyoung down to straddle him again. He is whimpering, thick tears glistening on his cheeks, and a sweet satisfaction rumbles in your chest at the sight. You bend down and indulge in the taste of his flushed, salty skin with sweeping strokes of your tongue, the wet muscle slowly elongating as the full moon’s peak draws closer.

You don’t have much time left, so you slowly continue the shallow roll of your hips, mouth trailing down his neck to suck soothingly at his fresh mark. Your hands run up and down his chest, clawed fingers lightly scratching over his dark nipples.

“We’re not done yet, my sweet,” you hum in his ear, nipping at the lobe. “Gonna take all you have to give, make you stuff me full until I’m leaking around your knot, until I’m well and bred. Wouldn’t that be perfect, hm? My little pup giving me pups of his own.”

Your estrous cycle is not in its fertile phase right now, but that makes the thought of carrying Wooyoung’s litter no less sweet. How he would dote on his little ones, spoiling them rotten when he’s not busy trying to fuck more into your womb.

The thought stirs you up as much as it does Wooyoung; he snarls through his cries, bucking his hips in a futile attempt to flip you back over. You growl back at him in challenge, daring him to try. Making him waste all his excess energy as you ride him for a few final spurts of his seed until he cums dry inside you.

Wooyoung still whines and squirms, but it’s getting weaker and weaker, and his cock finally softens. It won’t be long before his knot follows, and you shower his teary face with tender kisses during the wait. You squeeze around him just one more time, unable to resist teasing a last whine out of your new mate.

He is completely worn out, just as you intended, moaning hoarsely when his knot gradually softens, a translucent trickle escaping past it onto Wooyoung’s lap. He makes a noise between relief and regret when you let his cock slip out, grabbing at your hips to keep you close.

Fur is starting to stand on his knuckles, and you huff in amusement when you realise he is pulling your hips forward while wiggling down himself, trying to get your thighs in his face.

“Greedy pup, haven’t I tired you out enough?” you lovingly chide him, pinching his cheek. You had anticipated for increased stamina, but his vigour goes beyond your expectations; you can only imagine what waits for you as he grows and settles into his full powers in the months to come.

Wooyoung grates out a low whine, an inhuman noise while the beast encroaches further onto his mind and body. “H-hungry…”

It can do no harm, you suppose, and you are never one to tell Wooyoung ‘no’ when he wants to sate his appetites on your cunt. So you indulge, allowing him to nuzzle at your soft thighs, smearing his cheeks with sticky arousal.

Tiredly he laps at your juices and the steady trickle of seed leaking from your cunt, his hand pressed on your belly. The bulge is less prominent without his cock and knot stuffing you full, but there is still a faint swell of his cum, amplifying the curve of your stomach.

You growl lightly at the lazy swipes of his tongue, leaving tingles of pleasure in its wake that are just enough to stir arousal but not enough to lead to a final release. Your own hunger snakes its eager tendrils through your veins, and you tangle a hand in Wooyoung’s hair to steer him, his mouth on your weeping hole and nose on your swollen clit.

He groans at your unspoken demand, fingers digging into your thighs as he slurps noisily and lets you use him freely for your needs. His tongue grows thicker as it elongates inside your velvet heat, and your grip on Wooyoung’s hair tightens with a sharp moan at the coarser texture against your walls, plunging as deep as it can reach.

You shudder and snarl, eyes squeezed shut in the chase for another high, closing in on your quarry with ease. Heat spikes in your core and fresh slick gushes onto Wooyoung’s long tongue as your thighs clench around him, like jaws snapping around their prey.

Panting hard, you ride it out against Wooyoung’s eager face, nudging his nose against your clit — but then the full moon reaches her highest point in the night sky, and Wooyoung cannot deny her any longer, even if you tried to keep him in line. But you don’t try, instead heeding the moon’s call same as him.

You shake off the unsteadiness from your orgasm best you can, and lift yourself off Wooyoung’s face to turn him around onto his elbows and knees, from where he claws at the moss and dirt around him, carving deep gashes into the dirt as his muscles and bones stretch and reshape themselves with loud, visceral noises.

Wooyoung is completely exhausted, so fucked out that he has barely any strength to fight the transformation; no human resistance left in him to make the process more painful and drawn out. Still, you hastily shift into your own wolf form, changes rippling through your body with a swift smoothness from countless moons of experience. It comes as natural to you as breathing, the enormous hulking mass of your canine body as familiar as your human shape.

You use your massive bulk to tower over Wooyoung, mounting his convulsing body to keep him restrained. Your maw gently but firmly closes around the nape of Wooyoung’s neck to calm him, partially shifted and covered with dark fur.

He spits out yowls and other animalistic noises as he changes underneath your, scrambling for purchase as hands and feet make place for clumsy paws. Wooyoung’s body swells in size, pushing against your larger form, but you stay firmly mounted until Wooyoung has completely slipped into his wolf and his shakes have subsided, slowly quieting down.

A hush falls over the forest in the wake of Wooyoung’s very first transformation.

Even you find yourself struck with awe as you clamber off of him, recognising the honour of being his witness. His crumpled form still breathes heavily, and you nudge your muzzle at his chest to help him upright, steadying him on his four legs.

Your sharp eyes take in his appearance with wonderment and admiration. Wooyoung is slightly undersized for a wolf, but with strong limbs and a beautiful shining coat, dark with conspicuous streaks of grey across the lines of his canine face. His eyes are a striking gold, long tongue lolling out of his mouth as he looks back at you with what you recognise to be a grin.

He yelps playfully and without further warning, roils back and pounces at you.

The following scuffle is embarrassingly short; he whines when you pin him yet again, but the sound is pleased, like he’s gotten exactly what he wanted. You huff a rumbling laugh of sorts and bend down to drag your tongue over his snout, overwhelmed with affection for your boisterous pup — no, wolf.

You throw your head back, and a deep howl echoes through the forest. Wooyoung joins you in a lupine duet, and it is not long before your other mates respond to the call with their own voices from elsewhere in the woods, knowing they have been summoned.

Mere minutes pass until they find you in the clearing, small groups of twos and three emerging from the cover of the forest.

You watch how they approach Wooyoung and sniff at each other; your mates are meeting Wooyoung for the first time all over again, while Wooyoung perceives them in greater depth, enriched by his wolf’s perspective.

Wooyoung basks in the attention, ears perked up and tail wagging adorably; your pup may have grown into a wolf, but he is not quite a predator yet. Seonghwa takes the last turn to reacquaint himself with Wooyoung, and immediately tries to groom his future mate, nipping at his fur — but Wooyoung has no patience to keep still, his energy renewed and bursting at the seams from his metamorphosis.

He slips away from Seonghwa and decides to test his newfound powers again with another playful pounce — targeting Jongho this time. Jongho, among the very strongest in the pack, predictably snorts and bucks Wooyoung off him with ease, retaliating within the blink of an eye.

Just like that, you and your mates spent the night together with playfights and chases, with long peaceful interludes where you are curled up against each other in a large pile of paws and fangs and fur, napping and grooming one another. You do not nap however, tireless under the moon and from the exhilaration of your new connection to Wooyoung, who whines affectionately as you lick at his face and lock your jaws gently around his muzzle.

As the night draws to a close, you lead Wooyoung away from your other mates, who seem to instinctively understand your needs. They let you have this one last selfish impulse, to keep Wooyoung for yourself again when he changes back.

You lay pressed together in the grass at the edge of the forest, blossoms scattered around you, watching the sun come up in the distance after the moon has shied away.

The transformation back to one’s human side is much easier, especially after a fulfilling night like this. The wolves have been sated, willing to rest until they are called upon again. It’s not long before Wooyoung’s naked human form rests next to you, half draped over your own body as he nuzzles at the fresh mark on the junction between your neck and shoulder.

“Are you alright, my pup?” you hum at him, gently carding your fingers through his dishevelled hair. Your skin tingles at the press of his lips against his bite.

“‘M not a pup anymore,” he mumbles against your shoulder, childishly petulant but, strictly speaking, not wrong either.

You breathe out a laugh at his grousing. “Of course, you big strong wolf,” you tease him, “but you are still my good boy, right?”

Wooyoung raises his head, dark eyes glittering in the budding sunlight with an unexpected solemnity in his expression. “Always,” he says, and rubs his nose against yours. “That’s what this means, right? I never have to leave now?”

You swallow down a sudden lump in your throat, resolving yourself to never stop pouring your care and affection into the deep well of Wooyoung’s heart. To make sure he never feels the need to ask that question ever again.

“You could have stayed no matter what. This pack is your home now, whether you are our mate or not,” you press on him, foreheads touching, “…but no, you never have to leave.”

Wooyoung’s worry fades at your reassurance — and makes way for a crooked grin as he cheekily bites his lip at you. “Would you hunt me down if I tried?”

With a good-natured growl, you flip Wooyoung onto his back and sit on his thighs, hands pushing his shoulders down. “Every single time,” you rasp. “We all would, all eight of us. You’d never stand a chance.”

Wooyoung draws a shaky breath, and you are amused to feel him twitch against your cunt. Seriously?

“All eight of you,” he sighs out, almost wistfully. “Doesn’t feel real yet, that you are my mate now. Tonight… tonight was just… yeah. Wish it never ended.” He tiredly grins up at you. “And I got seven more times waiting for me.”

He giggles, clearly not complaining about the prospect, and cranes his neck to reach up for a light kiss. You meet his lips halfway, deepening the kiss with just a touch of possessiveness at the mention of the other mating rituals.

It’s that inherent contradiction once again; even if your possessive streak is fading now that your mating bite clearly stands out against Wooyoung’s skin, a faint echo still rings through you, urging you to keep him to yourself — but you also revel at the prospect of witnessing how Wooyoung accumulates seven other marks next to yours, tightening his bonds into your family until you are one great whole.

It’s the latter emotion that asserts its dominance right now, your wolf humming contently at the thought of you and your family engulfing Wooyoung with such fierce devotion that he will always know that he belongs.

“Seven times,” you promise him in a hush, pecking his lips again, “and then a lifetime more to come.”

[withleeknow]

seasons of you.

pairing: minho x reader genre/warnings: established relationship, tooth-rotting fluff or at least i hope so lmao, not v edited and literally no one is surprised lol i sound like a broken record atp just adding that into every post word count: 0.7k note: inspired by a highly fucked up thing that @matchannie said to me yesterday lmao it has not left my brain since you said it you absolute monster

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

navigation / masterlist / ko-fi

minho falls in love with you four times a year.

minho falls in love with you in the spring, over blooming cherry blossoms and vibrant daffodils that greet you on your weekly sunset walk. over the feeling of your fingers intertwined with his own without soft fluffy gloves getting in the way, now that it's finally warm enough to retire that extra layer of protection for the season. over the sun coming out of hibernation and filling your days with golden light, falling upon your face and casting you in a magical hue. over the remnants of winter that still leave behind a palpable chill in the air early in the morning or late in the night, that has you reaching out for the comfort of his warmth. over your delighted smile when he brings home a bouquet of tulips after a long day at work. over your glassy eyes, reddened nose and flushed cheeks as he takes care of you when the seasonal allergies kick in.

minho falls in love with you in the summer, over picnics in the park where you both lay on blue gingham picnic blankets, your head on his chest, as you watch the clouds overhead drift peacefully. over watermelon gelatos passed between teasing lips, the confectionary melting too quickly for your liking under the blazing sunlight. over spontaneous drives to the beach even though neither of you can swim, but you go just for fun, just to build sand sculptures in the shape of your cat babies and stand on the edge of the water to splash at each other. over long naps on the couch on days where you're too lazy to venture into the outside heat, preferring to stay cuddled up together under the air conditioner with niki playing in the background.

minho falls in love with you in fall, over shared slices of pumpkin pie as you watch the leaves turn yellow and red right outside your window. over the adorable way you hide your face behind your hands on nights where he puts on a horror movie because he insists on honoring the halloween spirit. over your off-key rendition of taylor swift's all too well (the 10-minute version) for most of the season because you adamantly claim that it's autumn's official anthem. over weekends spent attached at the hip, baking sugar cookies for hours on end. over your crestfallen pout as you take note of how the days keep getting shorter and shorter, already missing warm sunny weeks with all your heart.

minho falls in love with you in winter, over matching scarves and beanies, even though he often has to carry them for you because you have a bad habit of forgetting them before you go out. over the first snow of the season because they say that if you witness the first snowfall with the person you love, then you will stay together for a long, long time. over sweet cuddles in bed as a bad christmas movie plays on tv, and you fall asleep on his shoulder about half an hour into the movie despite being the one to select the movie in the first place. over your return from a shopping spree with your girlfriends with nothing for yourself but everything for soondoongdori, from christmas themed clothes to treats and toys.

but then again, maybe it's not entirely accurate to say that minho falls in love you merely four times a year. if he wants to be precise, then he would say that he falls for you anew every morning he wakes up and sees you asleep in his arms like a delicate miracle granted by a star he once used to wish upon. if he wants to get technical, then he falls in love with you with every smile that you send his way, which is a terribly sappy thing for him to admit but it doesn't make the statement any less true.

minho loves you every day of every week, of every month, of every year. he's loved you before he even met you, when you were just a romanticized idea in his head and hadn't yet walked into his life like the angel he was always meant to find. he loves you every minute of every hour; there isn't a second where you're not on his mind, not a single beat of his heart that doesn't spell out your name. he loves you throughout the seasons and a million times in between.

permanent taglist: @onlyycb97wife @starsandrqindrops @borahae-reads @abbiestearsricochet @cutiespaghetti @anthropologykpopmultistan @moonlinos @mjnhoz @caitlyn98s @piercidh34rts  @stayceebs97 @linocz @yaorzu-blog @biribarabiribbaem @kayleefriedchicken @extrhotjne @caitxx1 @palindrome969 @todorokiskitten @azuna-sz @meanergreener @nxzz-skz @jazziwritesthings @poutypoutybin @bookyeom @jisuperboard @wyzminho @amarecerasus @channection @lastgreatamericandynasty1 @judeduartewannabe @chanshyunjin @firelordtsuki @astronomicallyyy @alm334 @lashaemorow

all rights reserved © withleeknow. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not permitted by any means. [posted 08.04.2024]

[lunarbuck]

Dumb Bunny (dark!winter soldier xf!reader)

a dark little red riding hood retelling

pairing: dark!winter soldier x f! reader (any race)

wc: 3.3k

summary: The Wolf sees you walking through the forest on your way to your grandmother's house, and he just can't help himself.

warnings: dark fic, knives, oral (f receiving), smut (p in v), pet names [bunny], degradation, primal play, predator/prey, fear, crying

a/n: this is my entry for @boxofbonesfic's fairytale writing challenge :) I hope you guys enjoy!

beta'd by the amazing @sgt-seabass <3

my masterlist

The sight of your home village warms your heart. You’ve been away for so long and missed so much. It’s good to be back. You pull the hood of your cape up to keep the sun off your face and venture into the heart of the village. 

After gathering some sweets and a few loaves of bread, you bid farewell to the friendly faces you pass. As lovely as the village is, you can’t shake the feeling that something is just slightly… wrong.

The edge of the forest calls to you, the familiar sound of songbirds lulling you in. You’ve traveled this path hundreds of times; you know it with your eyes closed, even after all this time. Beautifully bright flowers bloom just off the beaten path. You gaze at them but don’t stop to pick any. Grandmother is expecting you. It’s been so long since you’ve seen her, you feel guilty you haven’t visited sooner.

As you walk, you hear footsteps crunch through the fallen leaves. You turn around, the hem of your cape fluttering with the movement. Behind you, you see a tall mountain of a man. Cloaked in black, the man stalks toward you. You’ve heard whisperings of him in town, the Wolf, they call him. 

“Excuse me, miss,” he coos, voice deep and gravelly. “Where are you headed? A beautiful girl like you shouldn’t be alone in these woods,” he whispers. “There is danger around every corner.” 

You know what people say about the Wolf, the things he’s rumored to have done. That he’s a killer, that he roams the woods hunting unsuspecting victims. He’s ruthless, coldblooded and animal-like in his violence. You’re sure the rumors are true as you gaze up at his bright eyes. Fear flashes through your mind as you stare at him. His eyes are a stark, beautiful blue. His hair, dark and inky, frames his face, though most of it is covered by a black mask. 

“I’m visiting my grandmother’s house,” you tell him, smiling politely. You’ve always been taught to be kind to strangers, and this stranger, in particular, the way he’s looking at you, seems to scream danger. You don’t want to risk slighting him.

“Ah,” the Wolf replies, raising his eyebrows. “And what might you have there in your basket?” You move the cloth, showing the Wolf your various sweets and loaves of bread. You imagine he is licking his lips behind his mask. Images of his lips on you, of him kissing you deeply, of him tasting you, flash through your mind, and you quickly shut your eyes. You try to shake off the heat that’s settled in your belly. You shouldn’t think that way about a stranger.

“Well, I must be going. Grandmother is expecting me.” You nod to the Wolf and cover your basket, returning to the path you’d been following. Each breath feels tight in your chest.

“What a shame,” he calls. “The birds are singing so sweetly.” Your steps slow as you allow yourself to listen to the songs that float through the air, but you continue on. You can always listen to the birds as you walk.

“Ah, but the flowers are so beautiful this time of year. Wouldn’t your grandmother enjoy a bouquet?” The Wolf asks, again halting your walking. You glance at the flowers off the path, practically preening for you in the sunlight. Grandmother has always loved the wildflowers; maybe you could spare a few moments to gather a small bouquet. 

“I suppose…” You glance back at the Wolf, finding that he has continued to follow you down the path. He’s so close now that if you breathed deeply, your back would touch his chest. Your heart stutters with fear. How did he move so quickly without you hearing? How did you not feel him approach?

“You don’t want to miss out on all the beauty,” he whispers, leaning down beside your ear. With two long fingers, the Wolf tugs your hood off your head, letting the breeze flutter against your neck. He breathes deeply, and your knees wobble as you feel the heat the Wolf emanates. Something sharp trails down your neck, a stinging pain following close behind, and your eyes widen.

Not even a breath later, he’s gone. You shudder at his sudden absence and quickly dart your eyes around, looking for the Wolf, but he’s disappeared into the shadows. 

You try to calm your nerves, focusing instead on the flowers glittering just a few paces away. You kneel down, gathering your skirts to prevent them from getting dirty. The flowers are soft against your fingertips as you pick the perfect ones. All the while, the Wolf’s beautiful blue eyes burn in your mind.

The Wolf

Poor, poor grandmother, I think to myself as I drag the woman out of her woodland home and into the glade. She’ll wake up eventually, but not before I do what I want. Not before I take care of her sweet, beautiful little granddaughter. 

I go back into the house and take in the empty space. Photos of my little bunny are everywhere, school photos and memories of vacations. She looks so delectable in her too-small bikini, her bright smile practically blinding me. 

Next, I climb the stairs, finding myself in the room I had just dragged her grandmother from. The four-poster bed takes up most of the room, fabric hanging from the top of the frame like a canopy. I grin at the thought of taking my bunny here, her tears staining the blanket. Her screams filling the air. I feel myself hardening in my pants, and I adjust my cock.

When I saw her walking through town, my mouth watered. She looked so beautiful in her red cloak, the sun warming her skin. She looked good enough to fucking eat. I followed her from a distance, but once she entered the forest, I couldn’t hold back any longer. The smell of her when I got close… I could barely hold myself back. I wanted to grab her right then and there. I wanted to fuck her into the dirt. But good things come to those who wait. 

I am not a patient man, and I always get what I want. Always.

So, I lay down on the bed, the canopy concealing me well enough, and wait. 

And wait, and wait.

Until I hear the door creak open. 

“Grandmother?” My bunny calls. I can practically hear the smile on her lips. I grin beneath my mask, fingers itching to touch her. To mark her. I hear her footsteps as she wanders into the house. My heartbeat speeds up, ready for the hunt. 

“Grandmother?” She calls again, this time even closer. I see her shadow as she comes up the stairs, and a moment later, she pushes open the bedroom door. “Oh, Grandmother, are you ill?” Through the canopy, I see her set down a vase of flowers, the ones she picked in the woods, and her basket, full of sweets.  

Her fingers gently curl around the canopy’s fabric and tug it aside. Her eyes widen, and her lips part on a scream, but I’m already moving. I lunge, grab her, and push her down onto the mattress. My hand presses over her mouth, absorbing her scream.

“So fucking beautiful when you scream, bunny,” I growl, dipping my head into the crook of her neck. I breathe her in, the sweet scent of fear mixing with the floral scent of her perfume.

My bunny writhes and struggles against me, but it’s no use. I’m bigger than her, stronger than her. She’ll never escape me. She heaves her breath behind my hand, so I take it off of her, not minding if she screams. No one will hear her anyways. 

“What– what are you doing?” She whimpers, tears streaking down her face.

I don’t answer. Instead, I straddle her hips, pinning her to the bed. I run my hands along her torso and up to her breasts. She fits perfectly in my hands, and I flick my eyes to hers, watching her reaction. I can see the way she struggles with herself. The way she wants to give in to me, but something holds her back. 

“Oh, bunny,” I whisper, my hands coming up to curl around her neck. “What a beautiful neck you have.” I squeeze her neck lightly, giving her just a taste of what I want, and I see the way her pupils dilate. Her hips jolt up into mine, and I grin beneath my mask.

She breathes heavily, lips parting into a perfect, soft ‘o’. “And what perfect lips you have.” I move one hand up, running my thumb across her beautiful mouth. I lean down close, cupping her jaw. 

I want to taste her, I want to rip this fucking mask off my face and taste my little bunny, but I can’t. Not yet. I need to be patient. I sit up, slipping a knife out of my belt and flicking it open. Her eyes widen at the glinting blade.

“Please,” she whispers, tears brimming in her eyes again. “Please don’t hurt me.” I grin.

“My poor, stupid, little bunny. The more you beg me not to, the more I want to hurt you.” She tugs her bottom lip between her teeth, and I stifle a moan. I don’t know how I’ve lived so long without her, how I’m going to go on living if I don’t have her by my side.

“What did you do to my grandmother?” She asks, voice wavering.

“You don’t want to know, bunny.” Her tears stream down her cheeks, and she hiccups as she sobs. She’s fucking perfect. I take in the sight of her blood-red cloak stark against the white sheets. I run the knife along the side of her face, not cutting or scratching her but letting her feel the sharp edge. 

I slide off the bed, dragging the knife down the center of her sternum between her breasts and down her torso. I see the thoughts running through her pretty little head. I know she wants to run. I hope she does. I step back and watch her fingers twitch before she darts off the bed. Her red cape flutters behind her as she saints down the stairs. I give her a head start before giving chase. My little bunny is more perfect than she could ever know.

After taking a steadying breath, I take off after my bunny. She left the front door open, and I catch sight of the hem of her cape as she dives behind a tree. She ran pretty far, I’ll give her that, but she won’t escape me. Never.

My feet pound on the ground as I chase her, adrenaline coursing through my veins. She keeps running, doing her best to hide as she goes deeper into the forest, but she’s not fast enough. I catch up quickly, making sure she knows just how close I am. Whenever she hears my boots snap a twig, she yelps, tripping over her feet. As we get further away from the house, she loses steam. I grin as she stumbles, constantly looking back to see me hunting her. 

Bunny’s cape gets caught on a branch, and she falls, landing hard in the dirt. She tries to crawl away, but she knows it’s no use. I stalk toward her, loving the way she shakes with each breath, and sink to the ground by her head.

I grip her by her hair, lifting her face out of the dirt, and lean down. “You lose, bunny.” She gasps as I bring out my knife, holding it near her cheek as I turn her. Even though she ran and wants to think she’s afraid of me, I know what she wants. I can fucking smell it on her. Can taste it in the air. 

“Please,” she whispers, fingers digging into the leaves on the ground. Her thighs rub together beneath her skirts, and my mouth waters. I know she won’t run this time, not when she’s so close to getting what she wants.

I remove my mask, tugging it from my face with my other hand. Her lips part as her eyes search my features. I move between her legs, running a hand along one of her legs. I push up her skirt, exposing her soft skin. With my knife, I run the tip along her leg, up and up, until I reach her panties. She can’t hide how needy she is. My bunny writhes in the dirt, begging me to touch her with her big beautiful eyes. I slide my knife beneath the waistband of her panties, slicing the fabric. I cut a matching slit near her other leg, tugging the material away. She shivers as the cool air hits her cunt.

“What a pretty pussy you have, bunny,” I growl, lowering my face to the crux of her thighs. She watches me with lust-filled eyes, nodding like the dumb little bunny she is. I bite her inner thigh, leaving an imprint of my teeth on her skin.

“What beautiful eyes you have,” she tells me, a small smile on her lips. 

“The better to see you with, bunny.” I run my nose along her pussy, and she bites back a moan. My tongue laves along her clit, and I hear her breath hitch. 

“What–” she gasps when I press a finger inside her tight cunt. “What a perfect mouth you have.” I groan against her pussy, devouring her like my last meal. 

“The better to eat you with,” I mutter into her pussy. Her fingers tangle in my hair, pulling me closer. She tastes so fucking sweet, practically dripping against my lips. I knew my bunny would be perfect, but she’s better than I ever could have dreamed. 

“Please, please,” she whimpers, begging for her release. I curl my finger inside of her, looking for the spot that makes her squirm, and brush my teeth over her sensitive clit. My little bunny is so responsive for me, writhing around in the dirt. 

“So fucking sweet, bunny, my own little treat.” Her whimpers get higher pitched, and I know she’s close. I’m practically humping the dirt, I’m so hard, but all I can think about is how good my bunny is being and how fucking perfect she’s going to feel wrapped around my cock. 

I work her right up to the edge, and when she’s gripping my hair so hard she’s about to pull it out, she breaks. She comes all over my tongue and finger, and it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

I crawl up over her, my tongue running over my lips, gathering her taste. “What a good bunny,” I whisper, taking in the sight of her blissed-out expression. She wants more, though, I can tell. 

Her eyes roam over my face, her hands tracing over my features. Her lips part, but she can’t seem to find the words. “Tell me what you want, bunny.” My finger circles her sensitive clit; she jolts. 

She shudders but doesn’t speak. “Come on, bunny. I know you’re afraid. I know that you don’t want to admit it. You want my cock? Is that it, bunny? You want me to fuck you here in the dirt?” Her eyebrows pinch together, and fear flashes in her eyes. She knows I’m dangerous; she knows I am unpredictable.

“You wanna be my dirty bunny?” I ask her, nipping at the soft skin of her neck. “You’re my dumb fucking bunny, you know that? You’re gonna let me fuck you into the dirt, and you’re gonna love every second of it, isn’t that right?”

“Oh my god,” she moans, hips bucking against my fingers. “Please.”

“I need to hear you say it, bunny.” I bite her shoulder hard enough to draw blood, and she gasps. “Tell me that you’re my dumb little bunny. Tell me what you want me to do.”

I see the way she hesitates, the way her mind runs through all the reasons she should fight me, but then I see the shift. I see the moment lust takes over, and she succumbs to her primal desires.

“I’m your dumb little bunny,” she whispers. I slide two fingers into her pussy, scissoring my fingers to stretch her. “And–” she sucks in a breath. “And I want– need you to fuck me.”

“Such a good bunny.” I settle back between her legs and pump my fingers, working her up again. I use my other hand to take off my belt. When my pants are down far enough, I palm my cock, moaning. She watches me with hooded, lust-drunk eyes, and I smirk. My dumb little bunny looks so pretty taking my fingers, but she’ll look even better taking my cock.

I take a long look at her pretty face before I grip her hips and turn her over. Hooking my hands underneath her, I position her with her ass high and her head in the dirt. This is how she was meant to be; she was fucking born for this. 

I line my cock up with her perfect pussy and tease her clit, loving how she jolts each time. My little bunny has never looked better with her skirt shoved up on her waist and her face pressed against the earth.

“What a perfect bunny for me,” I tell her, spanking her ass. I press my cock into her, groaning as she squeezes me. She’s so fucking tight, so perfect, like she was made for me. Made for this. I slide in, loving how she stretches around my dick. Her face screws up the deeper I get, but I don’t give her time to adjust. 

I set a brutal, deep pace, and electricity shoots up my spine. The sounds she’s making, the way her fingers dig into the dirt, are nearly too much for me to handle. The smell of sex and earth floods my nose, and I feel it flood my bloodstream. 

She moans and whimpers with each thrust, pressing back with each thrust, egging me on. My little bunny wants me just as much as I want her. I lean down, wrapping an arm around her shoulders, and haul her torso up so she’s kneeling, arching against me. I run my tongue along the spot I’d cut earlier when I’d first spoken to her, tasting the sweet tang of her blood.

My little bunny has tears streaming down her dirt-streaked face. Her eyes are screwed shut as she takes my dick.

“Such a good little bunny,” I groan into her ear. “You were fucking made for this. You were fucking born to be my dumb bunny, to take my cock.” Her cunt flutters around my dick, and my hips stutter.

“Yes, yes, yes,” she chants like a prayer. I drop a hand to her clit and circle it in a way that makes her throw her head back, and bite the cut on her neck. The combination of sensations throws her over the edge, and she convulses on my cock.

I press her back into the dirt and pound into her, slamming into her over and over again. I come on a moan, both of us collapsing. “Good bunny,” I whisper. “Such a good little bunny.”

She falls asleep, drained from the way I used her body, and I grin at the sight. She should know better than to fall asleep next to a predator like me. I brush the dirt from my pants, tucking my cock away, and pick her up. I carry her back to her grandmother’s house and lay her on the four-poster bed. 

Next, I retrieve poor old grandmother. She’s still asleep. The drug I gave her will wear off soon. I place her on the couch in the front room. I’ll let my bunny find her when she comes to. I return to the bedroom and stare at my beautiful little bunny. 

I don’t clean her up; I don’t even put her dress back. She looks perfect, dirty, and used against the bone-white sheets.

Just the way I like her.

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[liroyalty]

I'm here to start an agenda. The wedding dress agenda. Wife my girlys

[beomie3]

tokyo 2 - choi beomgyu

pairing: boyfriend!beomgyu x fem!reader

word count: 18.6k

summary: your dream vacation to tokyo only gets better as you and your boyfriend continue exploring the newfound pool on the balcony of your hotel, but little do you know he has some surprises planned for you. ~lovers in the movies~ type of vibe.

content/warnings: established relationship, romance, fluff, kissing, cursing, some drinking, wholesome smut scene, (v much slow burn), just two lovers falling deeper in love <3

a/n: this is the sequel to my existing story "tokyo"! you can find it here if you haven't read it already :)

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

♬ [soundtrack]

sunsetz - cigarettes after sex

every color - luca fogale

fallingforyou - the 1975

over the moon - the marias

double take - dhruv

the dress - dijon

baby blue - frazier blue

peach eyes - wave to earth

astronomy - conan gray

get you the moon - kina

electric love - night traveler

take me where your heart is - Q

skin - dijon

hold on - flor

japanese denim - daniel caesar

tonight - summer walker

to love - suki waterhouse

sweet - cigarettes after sex

intro: serendipity - bts

fairy of shampoo - txt

striptease - carwash

sweet disposition - the temper trap

lover - taylor swift

feels like - gracie abrams

you! - lany

turning page - sydney rose

heaven - niall horan

nap of a star - txt

yellow - coldplay

immerse yourself in the story & listen while you read for a cinematic experience :) it’s a bit long, but the songs go along with the story!

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ

what could he possibly have in mind? you chuckled to yourself as you stood outside by the newly discovered infinity pool, gazing out at the twinkling city as your white sundress swayed gently with the lukewarm breeze.

the sun had set its glimmering eye behind the city's tall buildings, eventually only the skyline's silhouette left as the sky glowed a dim hue of orange. beomgyu had asked you to stay outside, that he'd be right back after he ran into the hotel room to do something. of course, you wondered what the hell your mischievous boyfriend could be up to. but you enjoyed the thrill of what was to come; he always had something exciting up his sleeve.

you noticed the way the full moon slowly brightened in the sky, moving in opposite tandem with the sun. it had been visible throughout the day, just a faint whisper in the sky, almost invisible.

you always found it most beautiful when the sun and moon were both visible in the sky at the same time. it reminded you of how opposite they are, yet how beautifully they complement one another.

every once and a while you glanced proudly over your shoulder at your boyfriend's newest discovery; the shimmering pool and hot tub, its water reflecting the city lights like a mirror. the day's memories dawned over you, a special one immediately blooming like a flower in your mind; the events of when beomgyu sang wonder for you on the bridge several nights ago. a smile crawled onto your lips as a result, one you wouldn't quite be able to rid for the rest of the night.

~

as the final tinge of sunlight faded its way from the sky, a deep shade of red, almost burgundy, tinted the navy blue abyss. you had been so infatuated with the beauty of the melting sunset you were unaware that the sliding glass door had been closed by beomgyu as he had returned. but of course, you hadn't heard a thing because he made sure to close it as gently as possible, tip-toeing his way over to you as quiet as a ghost.

he didn't want to scare you, but he slightly startled you with his unsuspecting touch as he gently pressed his chest to your back. you only tensed for a brief moment until you concluded it was your boyfriend, relaxing under his warmth as he wrapped his arms around your waist, clasping his hands softly over your stomach. to bring him even closer, you crossed your arms to reach around your own torso, trailing your fingers up his arms as you held him tightly.

you sensed the weight of his chin on your left shoulder, feeling his gentle breaths fan against your exposed skin, the warmth of his cheek under your ear as he snuggled into the crook of your neck.

the feeling you got from his hugs, especially the ones from behind, was something so warm, so fuzzy in your heart. everything about him; his sweet aroma, feather-soft lips as they grazed your skin. he gave you a feeling of comfort you never knew was even possible.

the crimson-tinted sky had almost fully disappeared as the sun was long gone under the horizon, only a subtle whisper of deep red left to fade away into the darkness.

"the sunset is so pretty," he whispered against your ear, a chill aching to race up your spine at the warmth of his breath against you. you smiled at his comment. his statement was true, but there was something else- someone who topped it. the man standing behind you with his arms snaked around you. he radiated the most beauty.

"but not as pretty as you." "but not as pretty as you."

"jinx!" "jinx!

you both had shouted the same thing word for word, like you knew exactly what the other was thinking. and that wasn't a rarity; it was often that you yelled jinx at each other. but every time, your similar ways of thinking surprised you more than the last. it was literally like you shared the same brain cells.

he giggled adorably at the fact you two had said the exact same thing; head thrown back as you felt his chest heave in laughter against your back.

"i said it first so.. jinx you owe me a soda!" you giggled, angling your head up to get a look at him. a subtle tinge grew across your cheeks at how close his face was to yours; soft skin and sharp jawline adjacent to your gaze, your heart pounding as his large eyes quickly focused into yours.

"but what if i said it first?" he tilted his head playfully, ever so slowly inching his face closer to yours as his eyes pulled you into their deep brown trance.

"then you still owe me a kiss," you returned his playfulness, but really, you weren't joking so much as you were telling the truth. you really did want to kiss him in this moment. his eyes so irresistibly gazing into yours, so deeply you could already feel his lips on yours before either of you even made a move.

his lips twitched upward at your request, inching his face so close to yours until the tips of your noses touched. "i can do that," he whispered through a small giggle, his toothy grin gleaming like the rays of sun that had long disappeared beyond the horizon.

grazing his fingertips along your jaw, he neared his face to yours, closing the tiny gap that was left between your lips to unite. a heartfelt kiss it was; one full of such joy that you could feel his smile grow against your lips, getting a subtle taste of his cherry chapstick. you couldn't resist letting out a few giggles at how quickly your heart was beginning to fill with such warmth.

the kiss was deepened as you turned to face him by standing on your tiptoes, snaking your arms around his neck to pull him down even closer. when it seemed as if your bodies couldn't get any closer, they did as he wrapped his arms tightly around your lower back, pulling you so close that his warmth cradled you. at this point, your teeth had even begun to clash due to how big your smiles had grown, no lips even left to kiss because of how curled they were from your toothy grins.

at the realization of this, beomgyu pulled away, examining your smiling face; his favorite expression of yours. your eyes fluttered open and you stared back at his ginormous grin and glittering eyes, your cheeks beginning to ache and tighten from how large your smile had grown. but he looked too damn cute, how could you not be smiling like an idiot?

"no but really, the sunset is not as pretty as you," he remarked, exaggeratedly shaking his head to get his point across.

opening your mouth to argue back, he read the awaiting comeback forming on your lips as he suddenly tightened his arms below your hips, picking you up off the ground before you could even say a word. forgetting what you wanted to say at an instant, your attention shifted to the fact that beomgyu was now walking you over to the large, glowing pool.

"gyu what are you doing!?" you yelled through a hysteric laugh, heart racing at how close he was getting to the edge of the water. is he planning on throwing me in?? was all your mind could process.

you were half right. "brace yourself!" was what he yelled as he ran full speed off the ledge, jumping into the deep end of the pool with you in his arms. and with a wave of thrill in your chest, a yell-like laugh left your mouth, one you had inherited from none other than your boyfriend.

you shut your eyes and made sure to release air out of your nose as you felt your body make contact with the lukewarm water, immediately coming up for a breath as you both became submerged.

although you were slightly annoyed at beomgyu with the fact that you had been unexpectedly catapulted into a pool with every last article of your clothing on, that feeling didn't even last longer than five seconds when you felt his hand grip your ankle underwater.

you couldn't help but roll your eyes and smile, filling your lungs with oxygen before plunging back underwater to find him. although the chlorine stung your eyes a bit when you opened them, the feeling quickly went away as you got used to it.

you discovered his tall figure floating beneath yours like a dark shadow; made up of his darkened hair, black baggy shirt and shorts as they floated loosely in the turquoise light. not to mention, his hand firmly around your ankle as he swam further toward the bottom of the pool, trying to pull you to him.

you quickly freed your ankle from his grasp with a few tugs, excitedly swimming headfirst as deep as you could into the deep end to catch up with him at the bottom. the water ran it's cool fingers through your hair as you swam deeper, entranced with the way it engulfed you.

he stared up at you with large, innocent eyes, auburn hair floating freely around his head, cheeks filled with air. he held his arms out to you, waiting for you to swim into them, his cuteness only enticing you to swim faster.

both of your hearts pulsated rapidly every passing second you maintained eye contact; two lovers yearning to be reunited.

when you reached him, you swam into his arms, wrapping yourself around his baggy shirt that floated around him, and he looped his arm around your waist, baggy dress surrounding your body like a fluffy cloud. your hair floated around your body, similar to your dress.

bubbles of oxygen escaped your noses every now and then as you stared at one another underwater, admiring the way your faces glowed in the turquoise ambiance of the pool light.

his eyelashes; quick to draw your attention. their pretty length and how gently they batted against his cheeks whenever he blinked. even picking up on the tiny oxygen bubbles which floated up toward the surface at every bat of his eye.

even underwater, with your vision blurred and all- he was absolutely beautiful. it was like a dream; features lit by the fuzzy, baby-blue ambiance of the water around him. he was constantly astonishing you with his beauty.

and he noticed your soft skin and bright eyes and the way your hair flowed behind you; watching it glide underwater in slow motion like the hair of a goddess. he reached out to touch it as if it were calling his name, his movements so soft and gentle, inviting your fingers to his hair as well.

noses grazing one another's, his dreamy gaze peered into yours, trailing down to your lips and in a flash they were locked to yours.

kissing underwater felt much different than the countless kisses you had shared. this kiss was a lot softer; the taste of chlorine lingering in your mouth instead of his signature taste. it felt as if you were kissing a soft, velvety pillow; the way his lips closed around yours delicately, savoring every last second until you began running out of air.

unable to hold it any longer, you tugged on his shirt and he took this cue to return back to the surface, pulling you up with him.

you had surprised yourself with how long you and beomgyu were able to hold your breath as the sky had now faded to pitch black when you came back from your blue dream, up to the real world. no more dusty crimson clouds, now only the small speckles of stars shining brightly, matching with the tiny, lit windows of the skyline far away. but really, it best resembled the sparkle of his eyes.

this view. you swam to the pool's ledge, supporting yourself on the cement with your elbows. your eyes fixed on the view on the other side of the infinity pool, simply breath taken by just how beautiful the city sparkled all around you.

"it's so beautiful," you whispered against the tile of the pool wall, your heart racing in excitement over it all; this was like- the best view of tokyo anyone could have.

you sensed beomgyu swim up behind you, snaking his arms around your waist like he always does.

"hi~" his soft breath fanned against your ear. although the water was lukewarm, your skin still became chilled with sudden goosebumps ignited by his touch.

you sighed as he pressed wet kisses on the top of your shoulder, using his hand to gently massage the other one, soothing your priorly tensed muscles. the sudden shift of the ambiance invited a gentle wave of heat throughout your body as his fingers trailed down your arm so softly, the ache of goosebumps pelting your skin.

"is this the surprise you had for me, gyu?" you smirked with your head tilted to one side, exposing your neck for easy access for him to continue drowning the area in kisses.

he hummed against your soft flesh, leaving a trail of smooches from your shoulder to the base of your ear. and with the deepest, most gentle of voices, he breathed his response.

"just wait a bit longer, angel. that comes later." he whispered in your ear with the voice you couldn't even begin to express your love for. your heart pulsated in excitement for whatever was to come.

you both just sat there staring out at the view, his chin on your shoulder, observing the tiny cars on the street moving in what seemed like slow motion.

you at kicked each other's feet underwater as you made up a game to play; the game of which window light will turn off next? in which you had to guess which window light will be the next to go dark out of all the hundreds of lit windows. surprisingly, beomgyu won twice.

you had a long conversation about what you think each person in each window is doing. "i think that person is making ramyeon and getting ready to binge their favorite show," you announced, pointing confidently at the small speck of light glowing from the distant window.

he giggled. "and that person is getting ready for a date night with the love of their life," he pointed at another set of dim curtains.

"sounds like us," you commented, turning to gaze at him from behind you. he smiled large, looking up at you with puppy eyes. he was so adorable, you couldn't ever resist the urge to pepper his face with kisses. so you did just that.

~

simply relaxing in the pool just wouldn't cut it for beomgyu, it wasn't long before his shenanigans began again. "bet you can't beat me!" he shouted, quickly doggy paddling over to the other end of the pool, swimming away with a few large splashes at you to get an advantage.

the beomgyu advantage was always the most mischievous, unfair, and downright comical card he would pull when he felt in the mood to be a trickster. his mischief was known well between mutual friends and pretty much his entire family. he was always known as the class clown, that was your first impression of him when you met in college.

you always tried to get back at him, though, rolling your eyes with a certain competitive playfulness only he brought out in you. you swam after him as fast as you could, yearning to grab a piece of his shirt that floated loosely behind him.

before he could reach the ledge of the pool, you grabbed the material of his shirt, pulling him towards you and then wrapped your arms around him to climb onto his back. squeezing him tightly from behind you dug your chin into his neck, tickling him to no end. at this he yelled his usual, loud and exaggerated yell.

when he was distracted enough, you crawled around his body, pushing off of him to grab the ledge of the pool, throwing your arms up in victory.

"i won! i won!," you cheered, applauding yourself for successfully getting him back amidst his mischief. he smiled through large huffs, still catching his breath from the whole event. paddling toward you with a shrug in defeat, he softly placed his hands on your waist. a tiny smirk on his lips.

you were slightly suspicious; he didn't usually admit defeat this easily. and just at the brink of thought, before you could even move a muscle, he closed his fingers tightly around your waist, digging them into your most hyper-sensitive areas. he tickled you right back. waves of ticklish discomfort and laughter dispersed throughout your body, fighting to free yourself from him.

"i'll stop if you kiss me," he scrunched his face as water splashed him with how much you squirmed, immediately crashing your lips to his at the sound of his compromise. and as if he completely forgot what he was even doing, he melted right into the kiss, softening his grip on your waist.

but the kiss didn't last longer than two seconds as you quickly pecked his lips, leaving him with a pout; it was your way of teasing him back, sticking your tongue out at him with an evil smile. a cocky grin formed on his face as his bottom lip found its way between his teeth; you had only left him wanting more.

there was a sudden knock at the front door of your hotel room right before he could plot his revenge, his eyes fixated to you with a certain demise. but his face softened when your wide eyes fell to his, not able to stay annoyed at you for longer than two seconds at the sight of your curious expression.

"be right back," he softly pecked your lips before swimming away to the shallow steps; quickly exiting the pool with the sound of his drenched clothing pattering on the slick cement like heavy rainfall.

you observed his every move as he stepped out of the pool; the way his wet clothing clung so seamlessly to his body left you mesmerized.

your eyes didn't know where to focus due to the entirety of his beauty, so they were slowly drawn to the outline of his broad shoulders and abdomen through his shirt; admiring the way water dripped from his shorts down his long legs. and to say the least, the sight had you flustered by the second. your gaze trailed back up to his face; half covered by strands of dark, wet hair. god was he beautiful.

lazily drying himself off with a towel and throwing it over his shoulder, he quickly ran into the hotel room. the sound of him speaking briefly to the mystery person at the door in japanese echoed through the room. then after a few seconds, the sound of him closing the door, faintly heard by you from the pool.

the anticipation built up as the quick patter of his footsteps returned. he then emerged from the white curtain of the sliding glass door with what looked like a bottle of champagne and two thin, tall glasses.

a large grin surfaced to your lips as he pranced over to you, a pep in his step as he enthusiastically showcased the large bottle in hand.

"the finest champagne for the finest lady," he gestured, a sweet smile on his delicate lips that you could kiss for an eternity.

one of many things that you absolutely loved about choi beomgyu was how romantic he was. everything from flowers to chocolates, rose petal baths, or the way he caressed your body, the way he respected and cherished you. he never failed to make your heart melt, ever since day one.

"awww beomie!!" you swam over to the shallow end in excitement to where he awaited with an outstretched hand, offering it to you once you got close enough to the steps.

he helped you out of the pool, your white dress heavy with water as you wrung some of its weight out. you hugged his waist, shirt sticking to his skin now cold and damp.

suddenly, a gust of wind swept through the patio, instantly freezing your wet skin, the absence of body heat making you shiver.

"gyu, bring the champagne over to the hot tub!!" you exclaimed, quickly tip-toeing your way over to the warm relief of steaming water. you didn't notice your boyfriend's lingering eyes on you, observing your every move. he was cold too, but you warmed his heart with how cute you looked as you ran with a skip in your step, noticing the way your dress hugged your body closely.

walking over to the steaming hot tub, he set the bottle and glasses down with a clink, near the edge for easy access, not tearing his gaze from you once.

as you began to step into the bubbling water, you sucked air through your teeth, scoffing at the sheer heat of it. you decided to take it slow, holding onto the metal bar for support, inching your way into about knee height until you could tolerate the pleasurable burn.

"do you want me to help you in, pretty?" he asked as he noticed your struggle. with a nod of your head, he stepped into the steaming water onto the step behind you, softly hugging your waist for a moment to get by. he then lowered himself onto the step in front of you, turning to face you, his chin level with your chest.

your heart leaped at the beautiful sight before you; his face, fresh and adorned with dark, wet locks. not to mention his large, sparkling eyes looking up at you innocently as he maintained all eye contact.

he smiled sweetly as a dimple appeared on his cheek, nearing his face closer to your chest until his lips met the lacy material of your dress' neckline, not once tearing his gaze from yours.

to him, it was pretty much impossible not to give in. you're drop-dead gorgeous in your white sundress; the moon illuminating the dew of your skin, wet hair swept gorgeously over your shoulder. he was just head over heels for you.

you could feel his smile grow between your breasts as he grinned against the wet material of the dress but then pulled away, giving you a small wink. a little tease he was.

gently biting at your lip, you smirked, playfully rolling your eyes at his teasing gesture. he smiled back, followed by a low giggle; he knew perfectly what he was doing. you splashed water at him. teasing one another; a never-ending game it was.

"are you gonna help me in or what?" you put your hands on your hips, tilting your head to add a little more sass. he grinned at your gesture and threw two hands up in defense, finding your sassiness the cutest thing in the world.

"okay, okay! here, i'll get in first and then you get on my shoulders and i'll slowly lower you in," he suggested, turning around and sinking down further into the water until only his head poked out of the steaming surface.

you could only think- how on earth was he able to wade neck deep into the hot tub without a second of hesitation?? the water felt like molten lava. maybe he is an actual bear disguised as a handsome boy.

he turned to look at you, one of his thick eyebrows raised in question under his wet hair, as to ask what's taking you so long.

you giggled at him, walking forward until your thighs were pressed against his back. you balanced as you put one leg on his right shoulder, and then the other.

using your free hands, you placed them under his chin to better secure yourself onto him, laughing as your thighs nearly engulfed his neck. taking this cue, he began walking forward, your stomach jolting at the heat climbing up higher and higher on your skin.

finally, the two of you were amidst the bubbling water, goosebumps decorating your skin at the pleasurable sensation the heat dispersed all over your body. you climbed down from his shoulders and onto his back, hugging the loose material of his shirt, which tickled your skin with every of his movements.

he took you into his arms playfully, hugging you tightly underwater. these kinds of embraces were best; when he pressed you so close you could hardly catch your next breath.

the two of you sat in silence for a while, nuzzling into his shoulder as you basked in the whir of bubbles, moonlight, the city view; just enjoying the moment.

"ah! how could i forget," he suddenly exclaimed from beside you, calling your attention as he shifted his weight around. he reached over, pulling the champagne from out of its ice-filled bucket.

he used his strength to twist the cork off, leaving you infatuated at the way the veins in his arms accentuated in this steamy lighting. a loud pop sounded as bubbles began to gush from the bottle, his loud laugh overpowering your small cheers as he raised the bottle in the air like it was a trophy he had just won. we won't talk about the one time he pelted you in the head with the cork on your twenty-first birthday.

he noticed the way you slightly hid behind his shoulder at the pop of the bottle, leaning over to kiss your forehead, right over the long-gone (once bright purple) bruise of the cork.

"i haven't forgotten about that," he cooed into your skin, pecking the area once more.

"cheers to not getting pelted by the cork this time," you raised your glass in the air once he had filled two servings with the fizzy drink. he interjected; "aaaaand for also for being the best girlfriend in the world," he nudged you with his elbow and you rolled your eyes playfully, looking up at him with a raised eyebrow.

"cheers, i guess" you chimed in sarcastically, trying to hide your smile, failing miserably when his laughter controlled your senses, collapsing your head into his shoulder. you clinked your glasses together before taking a sip of the bubbly beverage, its peach sparkle tickling your mouth.

"mmm peach!" you closed your eyes in delight, taking another sip of the stinging carbonation. "delicious like you," he replied smoothly like always, never failing to make you blush with his cheesy yet adorable remarks.

you sipped on the bubbly goodness slowly growing relaxed, observing the city lights grow brighter as the night became more alive. it wasn't long before you two became a hysterical mess, taking turns pouring champagne into one another's mouths and competing to see who could go the longest without laughing and spitting it out everywhere. your face ached with how much you smiled with puffed cheeks, fighting the urge to absolutely lose it (ultimately losing it).  

downing the last of the champagne together, you watched as some drizzled out of his mouth and down his neck, following a path over his adams apple, admiring the sexy sight. you licked the trail from his neck and soon, fingers were intertwined in his hair, lips interlocked, tasting the peach bubbles inside eachother's mouths, messily making out with it. you just wanted to taste every bit of him.

~

moments passed as the once delirious mood slowly faded into the night. the two of you laid your heads back so that they perfectly reclined on the smooth tile that rimmed the jacuzzi. warm steam and moonlight cast onto your faces brightly, illuminating every little expression, smile, and laugh as you talked about anything and everything.

"i think that's saturn," he spoke enthusiastically from beside you, pointing up at one of many small specks in the dark sky.

"really? because what i remember from taking that astronomy class like- sophomore year, it's actually mars," you teased, looking over at him with that smart-alec expression you liked to use. he returned the expression, crossing his arms dramatically underwater as he formulated a comeback.

"well, from what i remember in astronomy class was that i got an A plus and you got an A minus," he retorted, looking over at you with a proud expression, lips protruding, head tilted back. you couldn't help but notice the resemblance between him and a little duck in this moment, and all the moments he was proud of himself or simply just being a goofball.

you rolled your eyes, trying your hardest to keep a serious expression by pushing your smile down, but it just couldn't stay down; one glance at his face and your lips contorted into the biggest grin ever. he turned to look at you with a smile of his own, moonlight illuminating every crevice of his features from his dimple to the little whiskers that formed next to his doe eyes, your heart aflutter.

your squeezed his hand underwater, turning to look back up at the speckled sky, focusing on the bright moon directly above you. your smile settled as you entered a moment of thought, drifting to one you held deeply, one that settled your mood into a more solemn one, your heart heavy with it.

"you know, its crazy to think that we only live once, and that one day we'll just be...gone," you spewed out, eyes so focused on the moon that you could begin to see its craters. at this, beomgyu looked over at you in all seriousness. he dawned over your remark for a while, just the breeze and gentle jacuzzi bubbles heard between you.

"but i think that's what makes life beautiful, in a way. that we're only here for a limited amount of time. and i'm grateful i get to spend it with you," he responded, his soft voice like the small glowing clouds floating amongst the moon. you turned to look at him to find him already looking at you, cheek squished against the tile of the jacuzzi. his eyes radiated nothing but light.

you thought; if you could, you would give him the moon. out of everything he's done for you, who he is as a person; that was the least he deserved. really, it seemed that nothing on this planet could shine brighter than the light that radiated off of this boy.

but if you could just see it from his perspective, you didn't need to give him the moon, because he already had you. and that was all he needed. you were his moon and he was your sun. like the sun and moon; you both shine brightly, no matter how much you might contrast; you are ultimately perfect just the way you are.

because when the sun and the moon are in the sky at the same time, they are even more beautiful together.

you just sat there in silence, the sides of your cheeks pressed to the cool tile as you stared at one another, smiles slowly fading as thickness fogged the air. his gaze fixed on each of your eyes individually, searching them like they were treasure chests filled with gold. your face warmer than the hot tub steam.

"dummy" he thwarted your forehead with his index and thumb, a gesture he made to lighten the mood. "you know i'll be by your side forever, " he rolled his eyes with a small chuckle. he was right. you giggled, forgetting about your solemn mood.

faces only inches apart, his smile settled so that his lips were now only slightly parted, moving slowly to meet them with yours. your lips locked at the slowest pace possible, perfectly connecting like the last piece of a puzzle; like they were made for each other. he gently took your bottom lip in between his. you felt his warm, wet hand on the side of your face, droplets of water scurrying from his wrist to your cheek and then down to your neck.

the kisses were slow and passionate, sucking at his full lips as he occasionally nibbled at yours. beomgyu was such a great kisser, caressing your face and neck with a gentle touch, smoothly gliding his tongue in all the right places, making the most of every second your lips were connected.

it gave you goosebumps how good he was, actually. every single kiss was always absolutely perfect, no matter how many you had shared together; quick ones, silly ones, drunk ones, teary-eyed ones, passion-filled ones. it always felt like the first, hearts beating quickly as a subtle warmth blanketed you.

"i love you to the moon and back," you whispered against his nose once you had come up for a breath. this was a rather new thing you had begun saying to one another, one that really only started since coming to japan. it was like the moon radiated so much brighter here, when in reality was most likely just an illusion. it was your love that was glowing more than ever.

"well i love you way beyond the moon," he one-upped you, a small smile on his lips as he rejoined them to yours. as you shared your kiss, a small rumble came from the sky, a cool drop of water pelting your forehead.

drop after drop began plopping into the water around you, inviting a soft gasp from your boyfriend's lips. but you just kissed there, basking in peaceful silence, enjoying the pattering of rain all around you. he held your hand underwater, clutching it tighter as the rain fell harder. it was like you were the only two people in the entire world and the rain only added to its ambiance.

the pace that he kissed you slowed until you pulled away to meet his starry gaze. the rain quickened, plopping into the hot tub steadily, matting your hair down even more than it already was.

without a word, he began pulling you to the jacuzzi steps until you exited its warmth with the heaviness of your white sundress. your clothes, drenched in water, enhanced the pitter-patter on the concrete creating a rainfall of your own.

walking you over to the small platform that was the bit of open space next to the jacuzzi with a perfect view of the city, he turned to face you with his hand outstretched.

"may i have this dance?" he held his hand out, bowing his head and all. you giggled; he still managed to charm you no matter how cheesy he was at times. but what more could this boy possibly do to make you fall deeper in love? you thought it was impossible to love someone more than you did him; you just loved him more and more every day that your heart ached.

grinning, you took his hand, melting into him as you pressed the side of your cheek to the damp fabric of his chest, beginning to gently sway with the gentle beat of the rain. the moonlight peeked through a haze of clouds above you as the rain fell with its signature murmur, cool droplets pelting your skin.

two star-crossed lovers dancing under the bright speckles of the night sky; you couldn't ask for anything better in this moment. it was absolutely perfect.

he rested his cheek on the crown of your head, beginning to hum a gentle, unfamiliar tune. must be a new song he's writing, you thought to yourself, as that's what was usually the case when he hummed a foreign tune.

he hugged your lower back, fiddling with the frayed edge of your wet dress with his eyes closed, opening them to meet yours when you looked up at him. he knew that curious gleam in your eye the moment he saw it; a yearning to ask a question without asking it. he knew you all too well.

"it's called nap of a star," he enlightened you with his soft voice. "i only have the melody and first few lyrics figured out though, it's a work in progress." he smiled, kissing the tip of your nose before looking out at tokyo's city lights.

you observed the city's glimmer in his dark eyes, large and filled with wonder. his eyes were filled with his sort of searching. like any little detail in the air could be used as inspiration for his song.

"will you sing it for me when it's done?" you asked without tearing your gaze from him once.

he glanced back down at you with smiling eyes "i promise," he answered without hesitation. deep down, he loved that question with his entire heart, no matter how nervous he'd get when the actual moment came. he loved that you wanted to hear his music. after all, it was the most vulnerable of his creations. only the most special person did he choose to share it with.

~

it wasn't until a crack of thunder and a bright flash of lightning not too far ahead that you both decided it was no longer safe to be outside. interesting how such a beautiful thing could quickly become something dangerous.

"i have something to show you," he pulled you towards the sliding door of the hotel room, hands interlaced tightly as your drenched clothes sloshed with every step. you giggled as excitement brimmed within you, following your boyfriend's wet footprints on the cement.

approaching the sliding glass door, beomgyu halted you in your steps; practically walking straight into what felt like a wall as he stood in front of the curtain with his arms crossed, denying you entry to the room.

"are you ready?" he questioned you. of course, your large smile gave your obvious answer away.

"close your eyes for me," he ordered, his voice chiming from behind you now as everything had faded to pitch black with the warmth of his hands cupped over your eyes. he blindly led you through the sliding glass door, finding your footing into the cold, hotel-scented air of the room.

he began counting down from three once you took a step into the room, slowly removing his hands when he reached one.

"tadaaaaa," his sweet voice chimed from behind you as you slowly fluttered your eyes open to reveal what had your hand over your mouth.

before you, a large heart decorated the king-sized bed with what you quickly made out to be rose petals, the room flickering with the light of candles all around the bedside table. a soft glow of fairy lights decorated the headboard, the faint sound of your playlist echoing in the background. it was absolutely perfect. the ambiance was like something out of a dream.

"choi beomgyu you did not!" you jumped into his arms, looking into his eyes with such elation and gratitude. so this is was what he was busy doing several hours ago before he catapulted me into the pool, you realized.

"this is amazing," your heart lept with love and adoration for him that you simply wanted to explode, hugging him as tight as humanly possible, earning a groan from him.

you looked around the room some more to discover flower petals scattered in a pathway leading to the bathroom. he had the entire night planned just for the two of you, romance just seeped in the air.

he grabbed your hand, inviting you further into the room. to this, you sensed just how soggy your clothes were pressed against you.

"wait gyu, my clothes are drenched," you halted, pulling the wet fabric over your head and tossing it onto the patio outside with a heavy thud. beomgyu just watched in awe, nearly forgetting his own name because of how beautiful you looked in your lacy bra and underwear.

everything about the way you pulled it off of yourself was so sexy to him, the sight of lace pressed against your bare skin left him mesmerized. he just stood there admiring you, shaggy hair fluffed over dazed eyes as his damp clothing clung to his increasingly warm skin. he just couldn't wait to take the rest of it off of you.

he snapped back into reality when your eyes locked, looking down at his own wet clothes sticking to his skin; large black shirt and shorts. he began to lift his shirt off when he felt a sudden lightness as you helped him pull it over his head.

you blindly chucked the soaked shirt outside next to your abandoned white dress with another hefty thud. his hair had been ruffled from the wet shirt, inviting a soft grin to your lips at how handsome he looked. you loved it when his hair was all messy like this, adorning him with a kind of sexiness you couldn't even begin to describe. you thought maybe he would be able to see the hearts floating in your eyes if he looked deep enough.

"what?" he questioned, tilting his head to one side curiously as he noticed the rosy tinge on your cheeks, a smile on his pretty lips. instead of telling him the truth about what you were fawning over, you continued gliding your fingers down his now bare torso, until you reached the waistband of his shorts.

his eyes followed your fingers, which gently ghosted over the imprint of the growing tent in his briefs, only for a second as you returned to glide them back up his chest, then to the soft skin of his face. he watched you in awe, attentive to every trace and trail left by your fingers.

using your thumb, you gently swiped it over the delicate skin of his bottom lip, pulling it down to barely reveal the glimmer of his teeth. standing on your tip toes, you inched your face ever so slowly, so close to his until your noses touched, so focused into the depths of his eyes.

"what about these?" you whispered against his lips, hooking a finger under his waistband and releasing it with a snap.

lips parted, he stared deeply into your gaze, searching from one eye into the other with a hungry glimmer, making your heart beat quicker than ever before. the look he gave you at this very moment; you could simply collapse with the intensity of it.

you wrapped your arms around his neck, pressing your hips tightly against his. you knew damn well what you were doing as a low grunt escaped his throat, sucking his bottom lip in between his teeth at the sensation. he couldn't handle one more passing second of this bone-crushing tension as he finally gave in, pressing his lips to yours so passionately hard.

"you're irresistible," he mumbled with a clenched jaw, crashing your lips back together like they were magnets. the kisses were deep and desperate, hungry for each other as you fumbled with the waistband of his shorts again, trying to undo the tedious knot of the strings as you both began stumbling into the room.

dropping his wet shorts to the floor, he kicked them out of the room as he slid the glass door closed with his foot, blindly walking backward. your hands on his chest as he cupped your face, messily kissing you.

as his heel reached the base of the bed, you lightly pushed him down so that he plopped down on the bed's edge. you stood in between his slightly spread legs, his lips level to your chest as he stared up at you with doe eyes; mouth parted as his bottom lip caught on the lace material of your bra, pulling you close.

this time a glint of lust crept into his large gaze; a certain glint you could read from a mile away. he needed you. all of you.

feather light, he skimmed his fingers down your now bare legs, the absence of your skirt intensifying the sensitivity of your skin.

small water droplets fell from the ends of your hair and dripped down onto his bare chest. you almost thought they would evaporate at the contact due to how hot his skin was growing against yours. he trailed his hands up your back, skimming the clasp of your bra, doing everything in his power not to just rip it right off of you.

cupping his jaw, you crashed your lips to his again and amidst a deep makeout, he undid the clasp of your bra, sensing its pressure release from your back until it hung lazily on your chest. he pulled back to observe it slide down your damp skin, gentle fingers helping the straps from your shoulders. he watched as your bare chest became revealed in front of his eyes.

a small, mischievous grin formed on his lips and you wondered what his next move could possibly be. he took your bra and put it on like a hat; cups atop his head, straps secured under his chin. he looked like the bear he was.

this reminded you of a nickname you used to call him: beomie bear. it used to even be his contact name for the longest time way back when you barely started dating. you smiled, recalling the ridiculously cute endearment that just fit him perfectly. you both laughed at his silliness.

"beomie bear" you giggled, pecking his lips as he gasped dramatically. he wore a huge grin on his face, pretty teeth shining brightly as his mouth fell open in surprise.

"you haven't called me that in years!" he kissed you back, chest filling with warmth at the special endearment of his name. hugging your waist, he pressed his cheek to your chest as you ruffled his damp hair, memories flooding back.

it took him back to the early months of your relationship; when you were still a bit shy with one another romantically, but also a pair of best friends who had dance parties in your dorm room at 2am while eating ramen and doing facemasks.

he remembered the exact moment you called him that name; it was when slid your fluffy bear headband over his (once) blonde hair to do his skincare one night in the bathroom of your dorm after movie night, kissing his face with how cute he looked. your voice rang through his memories; haha you look like a bear! my beomie bear. your smiling face replayed in his daydream, the elation of that moment returning to him.

that memory was a passing thought in your mind too, remembering how young and in love you had always been. if anything, your love had grown double, triple that. but he will always be your beomie bear, no matter how much you age together, the love you shared at 2am in that dorm room will always last.

pulling back, his eyes trailed down to admire your chest, teeth over his bottom lip as he smiled. the way the soft candlelight flickered on your damp skin; it was absolutely perfect in his eyes. dropping the makeshift bra hat, he moved his cool hands to palm each of your breasts. you sighed in response, a certain heat tickling your core as he placed a single kiss in between them.

he wanted to show you how much he loved you every day, and in these particular moments, he wanted to make you feel his love in every way possible.

his parted lips skimmed your chest, breath warming your skin before taking one of your buds into his mouth. he slowly swirled it with his tongue while gently squeezing the other, staring up at you with those eyes. the eyes you couldn't ever resist. the crash of thunder electrified your skin, rain drumming against the window like your heart against your chest.

your breathing grew heavier by the second, hands tangled into his hair as you hugged him close to your body, subtle whimpers escaping your mouth as you grew more and more desperate for him.

you angled his face up to yours with a finger on his chin, taking his full, bottom lip in between your teeth as you teased it. at this, he squeezed the plush of your hips, slowly tracing a path up the sensitive skin of your inner thigh.

slipping past the elastic, he slowly began exploring underneath your panties with two fingers. you shuddered as he reached your bundle of nerves, rubbing small circles onto it as you subtly moaned into his parted lips.

he hummed as he got to your core, tracing around your slippery arousal. "do you want me to start with one finger or two, my love?" he softly inquired, looking up at you through scrunched pieces of his bangs.

"i want all of you," you replied, wrapping your arms around his back to pull him even closer.

his gaze narrowed, a small smirk on his lips as he suddenly wrapped his arms below your hips. he picked you up swiftly; switching your positions and gently laid you down onto the bed. the sheets cooled your damp skin as he climbed on top of you, hooking his arms under your shoulders.

you could practically feel the fire inside him radiating through his skin, hot with passion and need. the fires inside of you just begged to be set aflame, joined together to create an even greater one. tonight your love was just that, the flames growing the more fuel was added to it; bodies pressed together tightly as you devoured one another's lips.

continuing his prior endeavor, he began trailing butterfly kisses down your neck, heat radiating from your body as he sucked several marks of his to decorate your pretty chest. his fingers against your skin felt as soft as the flower petals on the bed, inviting chills your body's surface with each trail he left.

"i forgot something," he slowly kissed you once more before getting up from the bed, his body heat escaping yours and quickly becoming replaced by the cold air conditioner. your eyes glued to him, you watched him excitedly run in his boxers over to the hotel door, unlocking it and slowly opening it.

"beomgyu what are you doing?" you sat up quickly in surprise, pulling the nearest pillow to cover your bare chest.

"i'm just placing the do-not-disturb sign on the door," he mischievously giggled, quickly shutting and locking the door once he was done. you threw the pillow at him as he tiptoed back to the bed, playfully rolling your eyes through a sigh of relief.

"you scared me, im half naked here!" you jokingly scolded him, followed by a choked laugh as he jumped back onto the bed, tackling you like his life depended on it. he drowned your neck in kisses again, laughing and squirming as he hugged you tightly, his hair tickling your skin.

mouths reuniting, you smiled against his soft lips, feeling his grin against yours. you couldn't help but feel both anxious and excited for the moments to come.

the mere thought of making love to your boyfriend always made you blush and kick your feet like it was the first. beomgyu just knew how to take care of you; emotionally, physically, mentally, sexually, all at once. he knew all the right spots, all the right things to say. he simply made your heart melt. in every way.

he always wanted to cherish your body and make sure you felt good; to him it was what you deserved and no less. and you two had grown a lot since you first began dating- not even able to take yourselves seriously at first due to insecurities and fear of judgment. but beomgyu always made you feel loved; he showed love to even your least favorite parts of yourself. he watered the seeds in your heart; helping you blossom and grow.

"you are heaven," his hot breath seeped into your ear, chills making themselves known on your skin. your stomach twisted as he kissed a trail down your neck, in between your breasts, and down to the most sensitive skin of your lower stomach; never once tearing his gaze from yours.

one thing about beomgyu was that he loved eye contact, especially during intimate moments. he loved the tension that built the longer you locked eyes, watching every little expression of yours, entranced by every shimmer in your eye.

he nipped at the lacy hem of your underwear, stopping before pulling them off; softly rubbing the wet patch of the fabric with his thumb.

"already so wet for me baby?" he cooed in the deepest of voices, looking up at you with his head innocently cocked to the side. you hummed in response, he knew what he was doing; god, how he turned you on. he teased you by skimming his lips over the dark spot before pulling them off as slowly as possible.

he watched like a starving man getting a full-course dinner feast revealed before him, observing the way strands of your wetness stretched as they clung to the fabric.

he looked up at you through dark strands of hair, wrapping his arms around your thighs to pull you even closer to him. he spread your legs open as he propped them onto each of his shoulders, getting a perfect view of your entirety. the chills on your skin intensified as you sensed his warm breath against your wetness, pulsating in need for his touch.

"you're my favorite snack," he sexily giggled against your thigh, pressing wet kisses all along the plush skin. he knew you loved it when he spoke in his satoori accent, especially during moments like these. he whispered dirty things into your skin, telling you every little thing he wanted to do to you. your breathing hitched, absolutely fawning over it all; his sensual voice had your heart doing flips, body aching for every bit of him.

he slowly lowered his mouth to your most sensitive area, your breath instantly shuddered at how amazing he felt. his chocolate hair tickled your inner thighs, adding to the pleasure. he loved the way his name left your lips with every flick of his tongue, eating you out deliciously; licking and sucking all the right places. it simply couldn't get any better.

you slightly propped yourself up on your elbows to get a better look, only to find his eyes already on yours, glued to yours in pure seduction. you took in the beautiful sight that was his pretty face in between your legs, tongue flicking at what felt like a hundred miles an hour; your body beginning to twitch at how amazing it felt.

you quietly chuckled to yourself, realizing just how fast he could move his tongue. "hmm?" he hummed against your skin at the sound of your giggle, looking up at you quizzically; his lips glossy from your wetness. he wiped them clean, breathing heavily as sweat beads began to form on his skin.

"you know sometimes i think your mouth really is made of a motor," you giggled, looking down at him. he thew his head back, a deep laugh exiting.

"yeah? like this?" he lowered his mouth back down, lightly circling over your clit with his tongue before speeding up the pace again, leaving you speechless. your smile faded as he ate you out so lewdly, staring at you so intensely; nothing seemed funny anymore.

his boxers tented due to how painfully hard he was at the sight of you; your scent, your taste, the sounds you made, the way your pretty eyes gazed upon him. everything about you had him intoxicated with lust, drunk in love.

he licked two of his fingers, slowly sinking them into you while curling upwards just the way you needed it. this combination electrified your body with every stroke of his fingers and swirl of his tongue until your lower stomach began to tighten in pleasure, only intensifying with his pace.

"right there gyu, don't stop," you mumbled as coherently as you could, throwing your head back aggressively, overcome with pleasure. eyes sewn shut, the ticklish knot in your stomach tightened as he perfectly rubbed the spot inside you, flicking his tongue just right every single time. you began to grind against his fingers, arching your back as you climbed up the mountain of pleasure, sensing your climax approach at any time now.

he kept his pace when he felt you tighten around his fingers, watching in awe as your once tensed muscles released, your body spasming as pleasure rolled through you in waves. your chest rose and fell intensely as you caught your breath, legs collapsing to one side as you lay in complete stillness, only your forearms keeping you up as your head was completely thrown behind you.

he attended to you, quickly getting up to help lay you back onto the bed, supporting the back of your head as he gingerly lowered it to the cold sheets.

he lay propped onto his elbow as you recovered from your climax, nuzzling into him as you felt his weight next to you. he watched your face, observing the way your eyes were gently fluttered closed, a small smile on your lips; completely overtaken by the warm fuzz of pleasure. he was simply glad; that's all he wanted, was to make you feel good. he smiled.

floating in the clouds, weightless; your body like jello with how relaxed you felt. you lay there, lost in thought about what had just happened as your breathing slowly returned to normal. you thought about how good he is; just how amazing he is.

you thought about his face; full lips when they kiss you or draw up into a pretty smile. his dark eyes when candlelight flickers in them, like speckled marbles. the sound of his deep voice against your skin. you wanted him. you needed him. so bad.

heat pulsated between your legs at the thought of him inside you and his member was no secret as it nudged your thigh, wet spots on the plaid material of his boxers. without speaking, your bodies said it all.

you looked over at him as he was in the middle of gently tracing your collarbones with his fingertips. your heart ached for him; he was just so patient with you. in this moment, all you wanted was to satistfy him just as much as he did you, make him feel just as good.

without a word you gently grabbed his face and crashed your lips to his again, hungry; this time with all the more passion. he melted right in, the need for you prevalent in his mannerisms. he crawled over you, situating himself on top; a knee in between your crotch as you ground against it for some relief.

you helped his boxers off of him, throwing them far across the room like you did with every last article of clothing. with nothing between you now, his skin melted against yours like warm sand, running his fingers up your sides and into your hair as you lay beneath him. 

his scent wafted into your nose with every of his movements, like warm cinnamon tea on a foggy morning; melting your brain with every inhale. you felt so warm and safe here, like you were in heaven. absolutely no worries or outside thoughts in mind, just beomgyu and this moment. this perfect moment.

he kissed and kissed you before gently grabbing both of your wrists, pinning them to either side of your head. the feeling of your arms exposed to the chilly air and out of your control had your stomach twisting and turning with desire, your skin burning for him.

"is this okay?" he softly asked against your lips, eyes starry and wide, filled with trillions of galaxies. it was almost funny how innocent he looked, yet how mischievous he was on the daily and how dirty he could be in bed. you loved it.

"more than okay," you whispered back, a certain intensity in your eyes left him mesmerized for a few moments, just wanting to stare for eternity. he smirked, burying his face into your neck so that his hair tickled your skin before kissing his way down to one of your breasts.

it was like he was tickling you and pleasuring you at the same time; you didn't know whether to moan or to laugh. a mixture of both came out, arching your back under his feathery touch. the deep bass of a song from your playlist seeped from his speaker; making the air thicker, hotter. he always made music sound better. he always made everything better.

wrapping your legs around his lower back to pull him closer, you began grinding yourself against the hardness that lay flush against his stomach. he teased you, beginning to thrust himself up against your wet folds, breathy moans escaping both of your mouths at how much you needed one another.

"beom- please," you whimpered against his lips, desperation prevalent in your eyes. he decided he had teased you enough, that he couldn't go any longer without being one with you.

nudging your legs further apart with his knees, he aligned himself with your entrance as he slowly entered you with his tip, nearly driving you crazy. he leaned down to kiss you, deepening the kiss as he deepened himself at an excruciatingly slow pace, eventually bottoming out inside of you with a subtle twitch.

"my god beomgyu," you sucked air through your teeth at his size, which you never quite got used to no matter how many times you had made love. the way he perfectly stretched you out simply left you speechless, needing every bit of him.

he always went slow so as not to hurt you, able to gauge when you were comfortable enough to go a little faster. his grip on your wrists slightly tightened as you fluttered around him, making it extra hard for him to control his pace. his breathing shuddered and he moaned into your lips, burying his head into your neck as he cursed at the sheer pleasure.

"fuck- you feel amazing" he groaned against your neck, slowly grinding his hips against yours, feeling every crevice inside you throb and flutter around him. you were the best feeling in the world.

both of your soft moans mixed with the patter of rain on the large glass windows of the hotel. only soft candlelight, fairy lights, and the city glow illuminated the room; casting your moving shadows onto the wall, along with the moonlight that peaked in through the curtains.

his dainty silver necklace tickled your neck as it dangled onto you, fingers intertwined tightly with his and still pinned over your head as you passionately made out. he thrust into you so sweetly, so perfectly you felt you could cry.

"you feel amazing too, gyu," was all you could say before your voice hitched and your eyes began to well. you don't know why you got so emotional all of a sudden; something about experiencing the utmost form of connection with the person you loved most had warm tears of happiness streaming down your cheeks.

his eyes were quick to fill with worry, searching quickly from eye to eye as he completely stopped thrusting into you.

"angel are you okay? what's wrong? did i do something?" his voice came out small and filled with worry, his fingers released yours and came up to wipe away the wetness on your face.

"yes gyu i'm okay," you laughed as the tears rolled out. "i just- i love you," you sniffled with a smile. he sighed of relief that you were okay, letting his forehead fall to yours. he softly chuckled after a moment, kissing the tip of your nose.

"i love you. more than you know," he whispered to you, staring into the depths of your eyes; to which you noticed were more shimmery than usual in the candlelight. he was tearing up too. your heart ached to see him cry, but crying during sex wasn't a complete rarity for the two of you. you felt better knowing they were happy tears rather than sad ones.

"is it okay if i continue?," he asked, his glossy eyes glittering in the candlelight as his lips curved into a small smile, a droplet hanging from the tip of his nose.

"please," you pleaded, wiping your face with the inner part of your arm. he began slowly moving in and out of you again, never once taking your eyes off of his. some of his tears dripped onto your face, making the both of you laugh. "oops," he smiled as he wiped them off with his thumb.

he got a frivolous idea: using his tongue to wipe your tears. you scoffed at him, scrunching your face at the feeling of his warm tongue tickling your cheek.

"mmm salty," he giggled, rays coming from that toothy grin of his that you so loved. you felt lost in the abyss of his eyes, just the two of you floating away in the space held in your hearts. a space that held only him and a space that held only you.

you noticed his smile slightly fade as his eyes searched yours, fingers finding their way to your hair.

"i remember the very first time i saw you. you're the most beautiful person i've ever seen. inside and out. and you always will be." another of his tears dripped onto your nose and slid down the crevices of your skin. he just stared at you, alternating from eye to eye, like he hadn't ever seen anything quite as fascinating as you.

"beomgyu you're gonna make me ugly cry," you chortled, eyes blurring and then spilling over. you reached up and gave him the tightest hug you could, feeling him bottom out inside of you and stay there, hugging you back even tighter.

these were the moments you realized you needed absolutely nothing else in life. just him. just him and you were the happiest girl on the entire planet. he's the center of your universe; there's nothing better on this planet than the love you share.

"i'm so glad i met you," your voice came out muffled in his warm shoulder, which you used to wipe off your wet nose. his back heaved as he exhaled, relaxing into the hug; pressing kisses to your jaw, then to your lips. both of your eyes and noses red and stuffy now, and you smiled in pure happiness as your teeth began to clash with one another's. "me too."

his tongue made its way to yours, kissing you so sweetly with little nibbles to your lip in between. he began to pick up his pace, deliciously grinding his hips against yours as he softly groaned against your lips.

the intensity of pleasure was a lot more amplified now; you don't know if it was because you had grown even more emotionally connected or if you were getting close to finishing again. but oh my, did he feel amazing.

you couldn't seem to quiet your whimpers as he thrust into you so deeply and steadily, wet sounds coming from in between your bodies. his hair clung to his forehead due to the condensation when you went to grab a handful of it, sweat dripping down his face and onto his neck. he hooked one of your legs with his arm, deepening his strokes inside of you.

"so fucking good," he panted against your lips as he pounded into you at a faster pace now, the bed beginning to creak with each of his thrusts. each time your name spewed from his lips, you felt your heart do a flip, absolutely weak at the way it rolled off of his tongue perfectly.

knowing that you made him feel so good only intensified your pleasure, feeling him throb and twitch inside you nearly had you at the edge again.

no matter how many different positions the two of you have tried over time, nothing could beat this one; your leg supported by his arm and bent over his shoulder as he rolled his hips against yours, hitting your g-spot just right with every thrust.

not only did it feel amazing, it granted you the ability to see every glimmer in his eyes and kiss him, feel the warmth of his breath on your skin, his weight pressed to you. you connected best, not only physically but emotionally.

you watched his face as he watched yours; his eyebrows knitted in pleasure, mouth agape and lips plump and red with how much you had kissed them. sweat beads dripped down his face and neck.

you simply couldn't put together the words that described beomgyu. you realized that the word beautiful was made to describe someone far simpler than him.

tasting the beads of salt pouring down his skin, you caught some that ran down to his lips as you sweetly kissed. his moans and grunts grew louder and more frequent, a telltale sign that we was right there, right at the edge. he dropped his forehead to yours, cold sweat sliding onto your skin from his, staring practically into your soul.

with one final deep thrust, he tightly shut his eyes and went completely over the edge, releasing his warmth inside of you. the sound of your name coherent through breathy moans and whimpers, sending chills up your spine.

although you hadn't yet finished, he sensed you were extremely close as he felt you tighten and flutter around him, slightly overstimulating himself with a few more thrusts to help push you over the edge as well.

your hips bucked and rolled against his as you came, his name escaping your lips lewdly as waves of pleasure carried you to cloud 9 once again, arching your back at the sheer pleasure.

he collapsed on top of you, both a huffing, sweaty mess; still twitching inside of you. euphoria coursed through your veins at the feeling of his body weight on you; both floating amongst the clouds, basking in the afterglow of pleasure as you recovered from your climaxes.

he buried his hands under your back, squeezing you into a tight hug. you stayed like this, feeling his heart strum through his chest and onto yours, sensing it slow with his breathing as he calmed down.

after a moment he brought his lips to yours in a soft kiss, tasting the saltiness of dried sweat and tears on his lips, not caring that you were both a total mess, hair completely plastered to wet foreheads. he gazed at you through smiling eyes, quietly giggling in joy, dawning over the amazing loved you shared. he propped his head in his elbow to gaze at you.

you just lay there for who knows how long, simply admiring one another, faces illuminated by candles reflecting from white bedsheets. lost in the flicker of the flame in his eyes, the warmth of his skin sept into yours as you traced the outline of his back. having memorized the map of each freckle and scar; taking in the utter beauty that was his existence.

you wondered how you lived before knowing him. because with him, colors shine brighter, music sounds better, life is happier. it is a life worth living a thousand times.

~

fog seeped from under the door of the rose-scattered, candlelit bathroom. scribbles of initials and small doodles of hearts and stars decorated the fog-stained glass doors of the shower.

it was an all glass, walk-in with water that fell like rain from a large square on the ceiling; by far the most luxurious shower you had ever used. man, had your boyfriend scored a great hotel for you both.

the two of you stood amidst the warm water, his back pressed to your chest as you shampooed his hair, taking note of how long it was getting as the silky strands fell through your fingers with the weight of soapy water.

he turned around to face you, a beard of bubbles on his chin. "what do you think?" earned a laugh from you, your giggles echoing throughout the spacious bathroom as you both goofed around like usual.

showering with beomgyu was as normal as breathing; you can't even remember the last time you showered alone.

your shower routine was different every time as it usually followed the flow of your emotions: sometimes it was more quiet, just observing one another through the clouds of steam, lost in gentle conversation about whatever it may be.

sometimes the room echoed with delirious noises as you doubled over with how hard you laughed, having to use the wall to keep you standing.

and sometimes your lips wouldn't come apart so much as to catch your breath as he lifted you up against the wall, your legs wrapped around his hips as your bodies did the talking.

but tonight, you were brimming with happiness as your playlist echoed from his speaker, mouthing the lyrics to him like you were the lead singer. he sang along with you, taking your hands in his and swinging them back and forth with the beat.

he watched you, completely enamored by the way your smiling face was illuminated by dim lighting, cheeks flushed with steam, the way your laugh echoed through the room. showering with you had always been one of his favorite parts of the day, it felt like your own little world where no other thoughts or people could enter. just you.

like always, you took turns washing one another. he rubbed soap onto your body with his hands, the feeling of your wet, bare skin entrancing him; using the excuse that he needed more soap as he poured a large amount into his hands, gliding them up and down your torso. you did the same, massaging his shoulders with the slick help of body wash, both addicted to the sensation of his skin and trying to loosen the ginormous knots he somehow carried in his muscles.

the clean scents of different soaps intermingled in the air to create one of your favorite scents in the world; the scent of washing off yet another day's adventure with your favorite person, freshening up just to start the day with him tomorrow to do it all over again.

you found yourself staring at him in absolute awe as he angled his head back under the shower head, time moving in what felt like slow motion as water drizzled down his bare skin; you could simply stare at him forever. he rubbed the water from his eyes, forehead exposed as his hair had been slicked back by the heavy stream. he stepped towards you, running fingers through it as some pieces fell messily on his forehead. it almost felt surreal that he was yours.

"i have some facemasks for us," he reached to turn the water off once you were all done rinsing off, grabbing you a towel from outside the glass door. your eyes lit up in excitement at the sound of these six words, the largest smile growing on your face. he wrapped the fresh linen around you like a burrito, giving you a big hug. the warmth he exuded transcended anything you had ever felt; like an eternal ray of sunshine right by your side. always.

~

after drying off, it was like the two of you were nineteen all over again. sitting on the bathroom counter wearing his oversized shirt and boxers, a laughing mess as he stood in front of you applying a face mask to your skin. his eyes met yours every few seconds, constantly drawn like two magnets; you could hardly keep a straight face with how close he leaned into you.

you closed your eyes in relaxation at the sensation of the mask's cooling texture, quickly interrupted as he tickled your nose with his pinky. you both doubled over in hushed laughter, trying your hardest to keep it quiet so not to disturb the neighbors as it was approaching 2 am. of course, your rowdy boyfriend wouldn't help with that.

your mind drifted to the last time you sat at this hotel's bathroom sink. it was when beomgyu had you bent over it a few nights ago before showering together; the room steamy as he gave it to you from behind, watching his face contort with pleasure in the reflection of the mirror, lip between his teeth.

the memory vividly came back to you, still fresh in your mind: he leaned in close so that his warm chest was pressed to your back. "you like watching me fuck you, huh pretty?" he breathed into your ear, eyes glued to yours through the foggy bathroom mirror. you simply melted at his dirty talk; he was just too good. all you could do was nod in response, whimpers for more filling the room with an echo. he looked at you a little longer in the mirror with before subtly smiling, pressing kisses down your back, slowing his thrusts into a more gentle, steady pace.

he had noticed you drift off into your daydream, waving a hand in front of your face to awaken you from the steamy memory. heat found its way to your face, looking at him with hazy eyes.

"i was just remembering the last time we...you know," you nudged him, a shy smile on your lips. which come to think of it, the two of you had made love almost every night since you had been on your trip.

you would come back to the hotel after a fun day and already be glued to one another as you entered the room; stumbling to the bed, his fingers intertwined in your hair and yours on his belt buckle. you simply couldn't get enough of each other.

"look at these photos i found from freshman year" drew you from your thoughts completely, paying mind to his phone screen as he scrolled far into his camera roll album of you, stopping on one that had you smiling from ear to ear.

it was a mirror picture the two of you had taken one of the nights you stayed up late, doing face masks in your dorm room; the night you gave him his adorable nickname. he made a silly face at you as you were in the middle of laughter, your arms around his waist.

you cooed at how adorable he looked with his blonde head of hair and soft, round facial features; you just wanted to pinch his cheek. he took note of how much you have changed since then too, and how you would always wear his green checkered, bear patterned cardigan like it was your own. you were still the same, beautiful person in his eyes; only now you had an obsession with his black and white plaid cardigan instead.

"let's recreate it," you looked up at him, who nodded excitedly in agreement. although it seemed like a small little memory, it still held both of your hearts like it was yesterday; a very special relationship was born from those delirious nights and you couldn't be more grateful for them.

he helped you off the counter as you got into the same position you stood in three years ago, hugging his waist he slung an arm around you, pulling you just as close as he wanted to that night; his nerves no longer in the way like how they once were.

you stared at one another in the mirror, cheeks burning with how much you smiled. just as he clicked the shutter, he made the same silly face, naturally coaxing a laugh from you, just like that night.

~

the rest of tonight was filled with memories that cradled your heart like a warm blanket; ones that made you fall so deeply in love, you could feel the warm glow of your heart radiating from deep within your chest.

and just like always in the dead of night, the two of you were in the most spontaneous, absolutely delirious mood. having a hotel room together only fueled this. you felt like you were in your own little movie; like you ran away to a new city and got new identities, finally free to do whatever you wanted without a care in the world.

a 3am vending machine run downstairs for ice cream and pocky left you out of breath, tip-toe racing one another down the hall; where trying your best to keep quiet was only part of the fun.

beomgyu brought his baby blue polaroid along with him, wanting to capture every memory he could. he took all kinds of candid photos of you; a few by the colorful vending machines, scratching your head as you struggled to pick an option. a hilarious one of your hoodie stuffed to the brim with all kinds of snacks that some might fall out; to which he took some blurry ones of you sprinting down the hall to pick up the ones that did fall out.

there were some selfies of the both of you once you had returned to the hotel room, capturing a stick of pocky in between the two of you as you raced to be the first to meet the other's lips. the polaroid camera was put down when he won, the taste of strawberry on his lips as he softly bit down on your bottom lip.

he took almost fifteen polaroids, you counted, as they lay spread out on the bedside table as some were still in the process of developing. you were excited to see how they would turn out, and add them to your polaroid album together.

he suddenly tackled you from behind, pulling you onto him and inviting you to a wrestling match on the bed, entangling your bodies in every way imaginable just to pin the other person down.

at 4am you lay silently under the rose-covered sheets and flickering fairy lights, entranced with the storm; pouring rain pelting against the large glass window. the way it was pushed and pulled violently by the wind outside made you feel even more cozy, laying on beomgyu's chest as he fiddled with your earring.

when the rest of the world sleeps, you both lie awake between the sheets and beneath the stars and that's how you spent every night together. your leg slung around his tummy as you both observed the blurry city, the subtle blue glow illuminating your faces.

you had always been infatuated with the red glow of the tokyo tower against the silver skyline, and now getting to see it in person made you want to lose sleep just to watch it glow. you took note as to how many small blinking lights flashed randomly on each building, matching with the lights of small cars in the distance.

after such a long day, you couldn't help but grow blanketed with sleep every passing second, fighting the urge of your eyes practically begging to close, just to watch the skyline a bit more, just to stay in this moment with him for as long as you could. that was when suddenly, you felt beomgyu's chest vibrate as he hummed a tune.

"you're the sun to the moon" he softly began to sing, immediately forgetting your sleepiness. every time he sang, it was like a gift to you

"you're my ocean painted blue," you faintly smiled, recognizing the song by lany as it was one of your favorites.

"you, i'm nothing without you." he concluded with a kiss to your head, followed by a large yawn. turning to look up at him, his eyes were gently shut, long eyelashes resting atop his cheekbones, just how he usually looked when he had fallen asleep.

with that voice he could be a famous singer. with that face, he could be a model. with that heart of gold, he could be a thousand more things. but it's not what he could be, it's what he is. in your eyes and in your heart, he is that famous singer. he is that model, he is yours.

you left a gentle kiss on his adams apple, finding your comfy spot on his chest again before replaying his honey voice in your mind again, drifting off into a gentle slumber. you hoped you would dream of him, like you did every night.

. . .

the scent of morning coffee reminded you of sophomore year of college, when you became the well-known couple at your university's coffee shop; as it wasn't a rare occasion that you pushed yourselves out of bed, groggily shuffling over to grab some coffee together before class.

you would ruffle his once blonde hair in line as you waited, heavy head on your shoulder as he yawned, the scent of coffee filling your nose. he would sip his iced americano sleepy eyed and you, a cup of sweet iced goodness as you walked to class, fingers interlaced.

you had only slept two hours, apparently, as the sun was now rising right before your eyes outside the large glass pane windows. you thought maybe you were just dreaming because of how unreal the sight was before you; a large, red orb peeking its bright eye over the city of tokyo.

"angel? oh good you're up," beomgyu pranced over to you with a cup of iced coffee, just the way you liked it. you barely pushed yourself up, head still extremely heavy with sleep. you would probably be annoyed if anyone else had woken you up this early, but because it was your boyfriend, you gladly fought the urge to fall back asleep.

"i thought we'd watch the sunrise," he plopped down on the bed, sitting criss-cross next to you with his own coffee in hand.

you happily nodded with half-closed eyes, not yet able to get out a coherent sentence as you were still practically asleep. you slowly sipped the cold goodness of your cup, feeling a bit more awake by the minute.

the sound of "train station in 10?" awoke you immediately, more than coffee ever could in that time span. he looked over at you expectantly, your eyes wide as you sat a disheveled mess in bed, wondering how the hell you would look decent in 10 minutes.

"make it 20, i know just the perfect place to take you," he kissed your cheek, jumping up from bed and running into the bathroom where he began playing music and getting ready for your next adventure.

the memory of getting dressed was just a blur of baggy jeans and white converse as you now stood on a moving train, head resting lazily on your boyfriend's all too familiar shoulder. eyes constantly glued to the hazy blend of warm colors ahead as the sun rose little by little. all you could do was wonder where this train was taking you, since beomgyu wouldn't tell you. not even one hint.

your only clue was that this time, the train traveled towards the city instead of away from it, reminding you of the last time when you went to the suburbs for the cherry blossom picnic.

"did you match with me on purpose?" his voice brought you from your thoughts as you looked him up and down curiously, snorting when you realized your outfits were pretty much identical to a tee.

he wore a loose, white button-up; rolled at the elbows and lazily stuffed into some light-wash baggy jeans, and a pair of white converse. this morning had been such a blur that you didn't even notice what you had thrown together, or what he had either, for that matter.

"now i am convinced we actually share brain cells," you collapsed your head back onto his shoulder as both laughed. but he thought it was the cutest thing ever; that he would be walking around with his mini-me all day through the streets of tokyo. he always felt proud to walk with you, no matter what.

~

breathtaken, you stood at what felt like the top of the world as you witnessed the entire city from this altitude, mount fuji clearly visible through some clouds miles away. the sun made it's glowing appearance between slivers of buildings, which from this high up, merely resembled scattered grey blocks beneath you.

beomgyu had brought you to tokyo skytree; the tallest building in japan, and the place at the top of your bucket list since you could remember. you pressed your forehead against the glass, admiring the way the city was still blanketed in subtle mist from last night's storm, orange rays of muted sunlight peaking through clouds that rested their fluffy heads on buildings.

it seemed most of the city was still asleep, as the only small crowds of people were those headed off to work. the hour of dawn wasn't one you were usually awake to see considering you were certainly a night owl. but right now, it felt otherworldly; somber, filled with pure peace and quiet as the sun bled into the sky. like time was frozen.

beomgyu stood next to you, hands pressed to the glass on either side of his face, looking down at his feet, past the glass underneath them; lost as he stood at what felt was the edge of the world. you walked your fingers along the glass and over to his, gently resting your hand on top of his.

no matter how beautiful the view was in front of you, your eyes always found their way back to each other's; cheeks squished to the glass as you admired one another. the most beautiful sight wasn't the sunrise or the buildings or the city you were in; it was him and you. together.

there was more in store for you than you thought, as you now perused the skytree aquarium hand in hand, fully awake now as colorful fish swam all around you.

the large fish tanks stretched from floor to ceiling, carrying some of the most exotic sea life you had ever witnessed; some cute and some scary, some big and some small. a tiny fish called your attention as it reminded you of him, the way its large eyes gazed at you innocently. he laughed, comparing you to the clownfish in the next tank.

the brightest turquoise glow lit the entire place, almost convincing you that you would never see another color again but blue. but of course, he looked just as handsome blanketed under the turquoise light that you would easily get used to it; eyes glimmering with the magic of curiosity and wonder, swiveling his head all around in awe at the fish that swam everywhere imaginable.

you parted ways between a large tank at the center, finding each other again through the opposite sides of the glass. he placed his hand on the tank, inviting yours to mirror his. although you were thousands of miles from home in a foreign city where you knew absolutely no one. the glowing face on the other side of the glass, that was all you needed to feel right at home.

he motioned you over to a tank that caught his eye, reuniting with the interlacing of your fingers. "actually you remind me of a jellyfish," he pointed at the glowing creatures that floated in the water, gliding gently with one another. you pondered the idea, maybe he had good reason.

"they're graceful and elegant, just look at this one," he pointed at one that was a slightly different shade of violet than the others, a look of determination on his face as he described all of its attributes and how they reminded him of you.

"i think jellyfish are the most beautiful, that's why it reminds me of you." you looked up at him with a warm smile, his eyes still fixated on the glowing tank, then down to meet yours with an affirming nod.

"and also the clownfish because you're a clow- ouch!" you playfully slapped his arm as he rubbed it exaggeratedly, letting out a goofy laugh at his own joke. you rolled your eyes, not able to stay serious "if anyone resembles a clownfish here it's you!" you scoffed at him jokingly, laughing at his side eye.

he reclined on one of the tanks with his shoulder, observing the tank of clownfish and jellyfish. "i think if you were a jellyfish and i was a clownfish in this aquarium, i would swim up to the jellyfish tank every day just to watch the slightly violet one. i think in any universe, i would fall in love with you," he rested his head on the glass, looking down at you fondly.

you squeezed his hand gently in yours, loving every part of his imagination. he often liked to make up little (usually cheesy) stories about you and him in other universes and you loved every single one; today was the story of the clownfish and the jellyfish. what he didn't know was that you wrote them down in a secret journal, to hopefully retell them to him one day. the mere thought warmed your heart.

just as you were standing on your tip toes to press a kiss to his cheek, you noticed a familiar group of teenagers over his shoulder. it was someone familiar that caught your eye: a tall, serious looking black-haired boy with a middle part. he stood with two other girls and two other guys. it's them.

"oh my god beomgyu don't turn around," you stood in shock at the sight of the group, gaining memory of the poor boy's horrified face when you gave them the shrimp and ran away that one night at 3 am in shibuya.

"i think it's the same group we gave the shrimp to," you whispered into his ear with a cupped hand, his eyes widening in disbelief.

"the riki guy we jump-scared and then ran away?" beomgyu looked at you in half disbelief, cupping his mouth in hushed laughter. "yes him!" you whisper yelled in all seriousness, tugging at his arm in fear they would see you at any moment.

he carefully walked ahead of you, holding your hand tightly as he brought you behind one of the tall flounder tanks. putting his hands on your shoulders, he looked seriously into your eyes to devise a plan. "okay, we're going to make a run for it." to which you furrowed your eyebrows in concern.

"what?! beomgyu we can't just keep running away from them. they don't even know we're here." no response. pressing his back to the tank, he peaked his head around the glass like he was detective sherlock holmes on a top secret mission. once the coast was clear, he eyed you. "three...two," he began to count down and you readied yourself for the inevitable.

"wait!" he halted you with an arm, his whisper yell almost a little too loud. just before he could reach one, you both saw the shadow of the group's silhouettes project through the blue light of the tank. your first instinct was to duck, so you pulled him down with you.

the group now stood right around the corner from you, your heart racing at the thought of an awkward encounter. who knows how the riki guy would react at the sight of you two after what you did to him.

"let's just stealth it out," you whispered to him, checking behind the other side of the tank to find the coast was clear. "now!" you pulled beomgyu's arm but he wouldn't budge.

"how?" he asked. to which you began replying "we just tip toe quietly and not make a big dea-" but he cut you off.

"how you look so cute even when you're all serious?" he looked at you expectantly and you couldn't help but grin. even in the midst of the most serious of situations, he still made you loosen up and laugh, reminding you that nothing bad would happen when you were by his side.

you took a deep breath, realizing the situation wasn't as serious as you pictured it. so you stood up, bringing him up with you, and turned the corner; simply walking away like a normal couple, unseen by the group. you sighed in relief.

"hey!" a familiar voice of the boy called from behind you, your breath instantly catching in your throat. it could not be...

"oh. shit." you and beomgyu both looked at one another wide-eyed, both thinking the exact same thing RUN!

you completely booked it, running like your lives were on the line, butterflies fluttering through your stomach at the sheer thrill. he squeezed your hand so tight that it made your fingers white, and couldn't help but feel laughter bubble up in your chest at the whole situation.

"wait! the shrimp was good!" was all the raven-haired boy could say before the two of you disappeared around the corner, gone with a cloud of dust behind your heels.

but you didn't hear him with how focused you two were on getting out of there. people wondered what the hell was going on, probably just two unruly kids making a scene. and why are they wearing the exact same outfit? the whole thing was a comical disaster; definitely a memory you would look back and laugh at in the future.

a huffing mess, you finally stood outside the building, hands on your knees as you took a breather, "i can't believe we did that again," he laced his hand with yours as you continued walking further from the aquarium, just in case.

you shook your head, heart still pounding as you laughed it off. the damp wind felt refreshing as it blew on your face, taking it in as it tousled your hair in different directions.

"you know, you never answered my question," he looked over at you with a furrowed brow. "how?"

you remembered his prior question, not exactly knowing how to answer. you shook your head and looked down at your shoes with a soft smile.

he slung his arm around your neck and pulled you close as you walked down a docile street, your head falling to his shoulder.

"i know how. because you're the most perfect girl in the world," he kissed the side of you head as your hearts carried you wherever they desired to next.

. . .

cherry blossoms; the flower that symbolizes life and new beginnings, the beautiful, fleeting nature of existence. its pink haze decorated the ground on which you stood, locking eyes with the familiar, beautiful doe gaze you so loved.

his mouth fell open, absolutely speechless; feeling his heart strum against his chest at the sight of you walk along the path of flowers. you were so unbelievably beautiful to him, the way the setting sun bathed you in a golden glow as you walked; like an angel descended from heaven in his eyes. the air had escaped his lungs at the sight of you in your flowy dress, white as snow.

you felt your heart drum against your chest as you continued your gait to the arbour where he awaited; cherry blossom branches curved into a heart archway behind him. vigilant eyes observed as you carefully walked, but the only pair that ever mattered were his.

the pink and white flower glimmered from the dainty ring you watched the love of your life slide onto your left ring finger. a large grin decorating your lips as you faced one another, hand in hand. he stood there; jaw-droppingly handsome in an all-black suit, hair hugging the nape of his neck, grown out the longest it'd ever been.

the sun and the moon were both visible in the cloud-feathered sky, calling your attention just for a moment. the most beautiful day you had ever lived to see; everything about it radiated absolute heaven.

you may now kiss the bride were the six words that made you tear up more than you thought they would, your glittering eyes becoming visible under your veil as he lifted it up, revealing utmost beauty on both ends.

he held your jaw with gentle fingers, searching your eyes with his; tender-eyed, beautifully vulnerable. a gaze you thought was a portal to outer space, catching a glimpse of your future in an eternity of stars and galaxies. the countless kisses and embraces you would share for a life time.

a single blossom fluttered from the lush, swaying trees above and landed soft as a butterfly on his nose, drawing a sweet smile to your lips. a warm memory bloomed in your chest, remembering the soft petals between your finger as you picked it off of his nose several years ago at this exact spot.

you neared your faces in what felt like slow motion, slowly locking lips with the familiar plush comfort of home. he kissed you strong and deep, able to feel the bright energy radiating from him as he deepened his lips on yours. at the moment you closed your eyes, you heard the claps and cheers of the crowd.

an overwhelming rush of happiness welled in your eyes, heart pounding with the sparkle of elation, you just wanted to jump for joy. if you weren't in a public setting, you would probably break down crying because of how happy you were.

the two of you walked down the isle hand in hand, wearing the brightest smiles one could wear as cheers and kind eyes from familiar faces greeted you. four of beomgyu's college friends waved at you from their seats, snapping tons of pictures as if you were two celebrities walking the red carpet.

you caught the gaze of beomgyu's mom, her kind eyes as she happily nodded towards you, mouthing the words beautiful; to which you were beyond flattered and returned a rosy smile.

it was a small, outdoor venue, only joined by close friends and immediate family as the two of you decided to return to japan for your wedding. yoyogi park; the very same place you had your cherry blossom picnic several years ago when you vacationed here.

no matter how many years had passed since then, tokyo had always called your hearts back. the happiness and love you shared here was something so special, memories like no other place you had visited. it only felt right to return and live it once more. or perhaps, forevermore.

"never thought miss straight a's would end up marrying the class clown," one of beomgyu's college friends yeonjun came over once food and drinks were served at the reception, flashing you a warm smile before jokingly punching beomgyu on the shoulder.

"congratulations man," they shared a laugh and hugged, their conversation muted about the music as you observed beomgyu's gestures; he was beyond elated, eyes animated and sparkling as he spoke, face bright and shining with laughter with his head thrown back. your heart jolted; everything about his smile, his laugh, his everything. you couldn't help but fall in love all over again; watching him from a distance like he was a man you could only dream of being with, let alone marrying.

it really felt surreal; that you were able call your boyfriend your fiancé, and now your husband. it would take some getting used to, of course, since you couldn't help but get red in the face every time you even thought of him as your husband.

"congratulations mrs. choi," the black-haired man bowed to you after he had finished talking to beomgyu, and you returned the bow with a grateful smile, being sure to thank him for coming.

mrs. choi

you felt you could power a city with the pure jubilation that radiated in your heart at the sound of those words. this is going to take some getting used to.

~

fairy lights sparkled in the soft wind, a thin gust fluttering the polaroids pinned with tiny clothespins to the string lights that hung above the quaint, wooden dance floor.

it was your idea to hang some of your polaroids up at your wedding; strung from fairy lights on cherry trees around the venue. out of the hundreds you'd taken over the years, you selected your mutually favorite ones. he looked up at them, giggling every five seconds as a new one caught his eye. he loved it.

"look at that one!" he pointed up at the polaroids as he held you in your arms while slowly swaying to the music of the live band, others dancing around you.

he pointed to the polaroid you took of him standing in his plaid pajamas pants in line at your university's coffee shop, which was hung next to one of him standing at the vending machine at your old hotel, wearing the same pants. and next to that one a selfie of the two of you, the tokyo tower glowing red and white in the background. you could look at old pictures with him forever, just dawning over all the great memories.

"you're so thoughtful. i love this," he lowered his forehead to yours, his eyes wrinkling into a warm smile. "i love you," you responded, only widening his smile. his eyes lingered on yours a bit longer before darting over to the band and then to yours again, squeezing your hand.

"i have a present for you," he muttered after a few seconds of silence, the live band now silent. you noticed only a few notes of the guitar playing repeatedly, a new melody you have yet to hear in an existing song.

"this is a song called nap of a star, i wrote it for you," he smiled, gentle fingers coming up to tuck a stray piece of hair behind your ear. recalling his faint hum in the back of your mind from that rainy night. his promise.

and so he began.

I can see even if you're not by my side I feel you even if you don't say a word..

he sang just loud enough for only you to hear, the rest of the guests kindly observing your slow dance from afar, some teary-eyed.

the guitar melody sounded beautiful, one he crafted the late nights he stayed up in the little at-home studio he had built in your apartment together. nights you would often sit across from him, watching candlelight flicker from the reflection of his guitar as he lulled you with the depths of his voice.

I want to be your nap so I can dream with you no matter when.. As if nothing had happened..

beomgyu had gained more confidence with singing over the years, gaining enough to sing in a public space, even if no one could really hear him. all that mattered was that you did. you swayed with him as he held your waist, pressed flush against one another, his thumbs soft over the lace of your dress.

On a sunset evening, even in the night when the sky is dark.. My heart is full of you.

the full moon gleamed overhead as he sang to you, casting your swaying shadows across the wooden platform in pale light. you couldn't once tear your gaze from his eyes. both slighly teary-eyed as he sang everything he felt for you, putting it all into a song you never wanted to end. you just wanted to stay here forever.

all you yearned to see were the depths of his eyes where you found the promise of eternity. his lips where you found the promise of pure joy and lifelong kisses. his hands where you found never-ending warmth and comfort. that was all you wanted. all you needed, endlessly. you couldn't wait to spend the rest of your life with him.

~

you could hardly see beomgyu over the tall, paper lantern that flickered between the two of you. that was, until he peeked over its brim, wiggling his eyebrows at you.

"ready?" you asked him through a small giggle. only your nose and eyes visible over the lantern's bright glow. he tickled your fingers with the gentle brush of his.

"three...two..." you counted down, looking over at him in anticipation as you each held onto an end, watching the flame dance in his dark eyes.

at "one," you released the lantern together, watching it float weightlessly up into the night sky, carrying the promises and wishes you held in your hearts; ones of lifelong unity and happiness, which you knew were wishes that had already come true long ago.

other guests released their lanterns into the dark sky as well, watching them slowly accumulate in the sky like fireflies. beomgyu's four friends released theirs together as you heard their excited laughs echo behind you. you smiled, content that everyone was having a good time.

he held you, wrapping both of his arms around your waist as you watched your lantern become smaller and smaller in the speckled sky. looking up at the moon reminded him that this night would be completely dark without it. similar to how his life wouldn't be as bright without you in it. you and the moon; always there to brighten the darkness. 

your head fell to his shoulder, simply breathing with him. you thought about your future together; about what it would be like to maybe move here one day. maybe open up a coffee shop or a cute little library and after many years, grow to be the cutest elderly couple in town. always by his side.

you looked up at him from his warm shoulder, his eyes reflecting the sky, you almost couldn't tell the difference between the stars in the night sky and the stars in his eyes. 

no one sees his beauty quite like you do. the way his brown eyes catch the sun rays at sunset and turn gold at dusk, but also reflect the night sky like a mirror. his soft touch; the way his fingers gently graze upon your skin like a feather. the way his cheeks pull upward when there's an oncoming smile, revealing rays from his toothy grin. his thick, soft voice; the way it sings you to sleep or whispers that he loves you.

he looked down at you, the way your hair- like silk as it fell weightlessly over your ear, waiting to be tucked back into place by his fingers. like his fingers were made for you, made for that strand of hair. and they are. and the strand of your hair, falling perfectly, was made for him as well.

you were made for him. and he was made for you.

and so you watched the last bit of the lantern, like a speck now in the sky, disappear into oblivion. you both wondered where it went, deep in conversation about the possibilities. did it just disintegrate or will it survive beyond space? where there are billions of stars with dozens of planets. where there are a trillion comets, supernova explosions and new planets being formed. where there might be other life, but you're not sure. but there is one thing you both know for sure. 

there is nothing in the universe

like you.

the end:)

~

a/n: alas, it's here! if you are reading this, thank you so so much for being patient with me, and with this sequel. this past year has been a rollercoaster, but the whole time i had this fic in mind and always wanted to finish it <3 thank you for all the love on tokyo and i really hope you enjoyed this one! i love you all, please know you are amazing, worth it, and so loved :)

more fics coming soon!! <3

©beomie3

tags: @enhasengene @soobsfairy444 @xiaoting999 @londonchuu @rpkth @dainsleif-when-playable @tatanbin @croissant-san @younglingslayer69 @readingmochi @bangtanattic

[anniebeemine]

cocktail hour- s.r x fem!reader

Summary: Spencer makes every wedding unbearable, but at least he’s fuckable.

Warnings: 18+, dom!Spencer, slight choking (once, nose pinching), hate/anger sex, p in v smut, a little bit of degradation

The first time you met Spencer Reid was at a mutual friend's wedding. It was one of those picturesque spring weddings with blooming flowers and soft, warm sunlight filtering through the trees. You had arrived at the venue, feeling excited to celebrate love, and ready to dance the night away. Little did you know, that day would mark the beginning of a complicated and often frustrating relationship with the man who was now standing across the room, glaring at you.

As you reminisced about that wedding, you couldn't help but smile at the memory of your first encounter with Spencer. You had noticed him immediately, standing awkwardly by the punch bowl, looking out of place but endearing in his own way. His tousled hair, mismatched socks, and slightly wrinkled suit gave him a charm that was hard to ignore.

Feeling a sudden burst of confidence, you walked over to him, striking up a conversation. To your surprise, Spencer had been incredibly engaging and intelligent, his eyes lighting up as he talked about his interests. The two of you had spent most of the evening together, laughing and talking. By the end of the night, you found yourself looking forward to seeing him again.

You both agreed to go on a date the following week, but it turned out to be a disaster. Everything that had seemed charming about Spencer at the wedding now seemed irritating. His endless stream of trivia felt like he was showing off. The date ended with a curt goodbye and a mutual agreement that it was best not to pursue anything further.

Since that ill-fated date, your paths had crossed mostly at weddings and funerals of mutual friends and acquaintances. Each encounter was marked by snarky comments and thinly veiled jabs, a far cry from the initial connection you had felt.

Today was no different. You were at another wedding, and as you observed Spencer from across the room, you felt a mixture of irritation and amusement. He was deep in conversation with one of the bridesmaids, his expression animated as he gestured with his hands. You rolled your eyes and turned back to the conversation you were having with a friend, trying to ignore the way your heart rate had picked up.

Later in the evening, as the guests moved to the reception area, you found yourself standing by the bar, nursing a drink. Spencer approached, and you braced yourself for the inevitable exchange.

"Fancy seeing you here," he said, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

You smiled sweetly, not missing a beat. "Well, it's not like I can avoid you forever. You seem to show up at every single one of these."

Spencer raised an eyebrow, his lips curling into a smirk. "I could say the same about you."

The conversation continued, each of you taking subtle digs at the other, the tension between you palpable. Despite the animosity, there was an underlying current of familiarity and, dare you admit it, a hint of attraction. It was as if that initial connection had never fully dissipated, lurking beneath the surface of your interactions.

You found yourself wandering away from the main hall, needing a break from the noise and the incessant small talk. As you strolled through the corridors, you stumbled upon a window overlooking the gardens. The moonlight bathed the flowers in a soft, silvery glow, creating a serene and almost surreal atmosphere. You leaned against the windowsill, enjoying the quiet and the view. It was a perfect moment of peace, a rare respite from the chaos of the wedding. But it didn't last long.

"You're in my spot," a familiar voice said from behind you.

You turned to see Spencer standing there, his hands in his pockets and a bemused expression on his face.

"Your spot?" you replied, raising an eyebrow. "Are we really doing this?"

Spencer shrugged, stepping closer. "I've been coming to this spot since I got here. It's the best view of the gardens."

You sighed, shaking your head. "That's a bit childish, don't you think? Claiming a spot at a wedding reception?" He stood his ground. You rolled your eyes and began to walk away. “Whatever.”

Spencer smirked, his eyes glinting in the moonlight. "What's childish is you leaving because I'm here."

You opened your mouth to retort, but found yourself at a loss for words. Instead, you turned back to the window, deciding to stand your ground. "Fine. I'll stay."

The two of you stood there in silence for a few moments, the tension between you as palpable as ever. Yet, in the stillness of the night, something shifted. You barely had time to react before Spencer closed the distance between you, his lips crashing onto yours with a rough, needy intensity that took your breath away. His hands cupped your face, his fingers threading through your hair as he pulled you closer. The kiss was urgent, a fierce expression of pent-up emotions and unresolved feelings. Your own hands found their way to his shoulders, gripping tightly as you matched his fervor, losing yourself in the heat of the moment.

Spencer pulled back just enough to speak, his breath hot against your lips. "My room's upstairs."

You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest. "Lead the way," you replied, your voice breathless with anticipation.

Without another word, Spencer took your hand and led you through the corridors of the venue, his pace quick and determined. You followed eagerly, your thoughts racing and your body thrumming with excitement. The distance to his room felt like an eternity, but finally, you reached his hotel door.

He fumbled with the key for a moment before pushing the door open and pulling you inside. The door barely closed behind you before he was on you again, his lips capturing yours in another searing kiss. This time, there was no hesitation, no holding back. The urgency between you only grew as you stumbled towards the bed, your hands exploring anywhere you could reach.

Spencer pushed you away, causing you to land on your back with a flop. The motion sent blood rushing to your core.

“Look at you,” he cooed, his tone condescending. He yanked his tie off of his neck. “Hold ‘em out.”

You shook your head. “That’s not how this is going to go this time.”

He chuckled darkly, leaning over you. His hand came to land on your throat, one hand pulling yours over your head and holding you there. His hips kept yours in place. You shuddered at the sudden contact of his knee against your core.

“I bet you’re fucking soaked,” he added.

He’s right. You shook your head. “You keep me dry as a desert.”

You tried to budge against his arms, roll him over so you could straddle him. He’d gotten surprisingly stronger since the last wedding. Your lips parted to make a reply but all that came out was a pathetic mewl as his knee pressed against your core.

He snaked one hand up to your neck and pulled you up by it, choking the air from your throat. “That’s right. I’m gonna show you who you really belong to, who fucks you to a sloppy mess every time. Do you wanna see?”

He made a guttural sound in his throat before kissing you so roughly, you felt his perfect teeth clash with yours. He held his hand there, wrapped around your throat more lightly now, waiting to see if you would consent to this. Your mind was spinning so much, you couldn’t even think of the quickest way to do so.

“Show me,” you sputtered helplessly, feeling like a rag doll in Spencer’s commanding grip.

He dove at your collarbone with his mouth, biting you so hard you shrieked and leaving behind glaringly obvious bruises and hickeys. You began to move your hips, grinding on his knee. The layers of fabric blocked you from feeling him. He groaned, his left hand coming up to palm one of your tits. His right hand never left your throat as he continued his attack on your neck and collarbone. You smelled his cologne that lingered from the night and it was getting you drunk, you were sure of it.

“Dirty fucking whores don’t get to cum until I say.” His wild mass of curly hair, made even more wild by the night, fell into his ever-darkening eyes. You traced his body, lean and taught, with your eyes, right down to the suit he was still wearing. His cock was already straining against his slacks.

The two of you made quick work of ridding yourselves of all clothes. With the dress kicked to the side and left in your underwear, you pulled Spencer onto the bed. You positioned yourself over his torso, hovering your core over him. His hands came down to your waist. You quickly did what he had done to you and held his hands on either side of his head.

“You always get to be in charge,” you whined.

Spencer bucked his hips. “And that’s how it’s going to stay.” He ground into your cunt with his still-covered cock and you let out an unholy moan.

You let him sit up and place you on your back again. He pulled your underwear off, tossing them to the side.

“You’re so wet.” Spencer’s fingers expertly curled and reached into all the right places. “So wet. Who’s this for?”

You murmured something unintelligible, so blissed out you couldn’t think straight. He cleared his throat, although his eyes had gone just as cloudy with lust as yours had.

“I said—” He ripped his fingers out of you and shoved them deep into your mouth. “Who. Are you. So wet for?” It seemed that for a second, he forgot himself, his jaw dipped slightly as he watched you suck yourself off of his fingers. Then, with a small shake of his head, he recovered. He held his full bottom lip in his teeth, watching you squirm with need beneath him. He had withdrawn his hand from your mouth, placing it back around your throat instead. “That’s what I thought.”

“Dick,” you grumbled

“Tell me who it is that fucks you the best,”—he began removing his boxers—“who makes you scream the loudest,”—the boxers were discarded on the floor next to your dress—“and who’s dick you just can’t wait to come all over.” He thrust into you, forcefully but not rough.

“Oh my god,” you whined. “Spencer!”

He smirked. Spencer grunted with effort of moving out of you slowly. He stilled for a moment, allowing the blinding pain and pleasure to subside, and then immediately slammed back into you, now fucking you incredibly hard.

You moaned and wove your fingers into his hair, tugging to anchor yourself. Spencer hissed out a curse at the feeling and went down to his forearms to fuck you from a new angle. This allowed you access to his mouth, which you took eagerly. He was still rambling almost incoherent filth when you pulled him into a searing kiss.

The feeling of his cock stretching and pounding you was driving you crazy. Your orgasm built up so fast you thought it had to be a false alarm, but before you had prepared yourself, a scream was ripped from your body involuntarily. He squeezed your nose shut with his thumb and the side of his finger, and suddenly you had no air at all; you didn’t even care, you didn’t need air anymore, you just needed this.

It just kept getting bigger and bigger, it kept twisting in your core and you weren’t sure how much more you could take. He let go of your nose and you took a deep breath in, hearing the most deranged noise break out of your throat and peter out in your mouth with his hand keeping it inside. You were crying out his name, at least you were trying to, but it was all just incomprehensible sobs muffled under his hand.

It was too much, it was far too much, but you could already see yourself tomorrow morning, staring at the phone, trying to decide if it’s worth your pride to call him.

“Who fucks you good,” he panted.

You cried out his name followed by a loud moan.

“Let everyone hear how much of a whore you are for me,” he grunted.

He could fuck you in front of whoever he wanted if it was always gonna be like this; he could fuck you in front of your grandmother and you wouldn’t stop him— you were whipped.

“I’m almost there, Spencer,” you whined, starting to lift your hips up to meet his thrusts, to help him to the edge, not that he seemed to need it. But he readjusted his position, hands wrapping around your hips and using his entire weight to press down on them, effectively stopping your movement. You could tell he was close, his rhythm faltering and just as you were about to accept that wonderful, naughty, downright dangerous heat, he pulled out, which stunned you.

Spencer stopped to breathe and push his hair away from his face. The soft glow of the lamps highlighted the sheen of sweat over him.

“Awww, did you want something?” The condescending nature of the question made you moan in disgruntlement. He met your eyes.

“Then beg for it.”

You complied, shocked at the lewd nature of your pleas. “Please, Spencer. I need you back inside of me-”

He smirked, running the underside of his cock against your clit. You began to tremble again.

“So fucking needy,” he taunted.

Your chest heaves. "That's mean. You're mean."

"I never claimed otherwise. Here, middle and marriage." He guides your hand to your entrance. You push your fingers inside with his guidance. He leaves you to work on yourself and you do. You weren’t surprised that it led to this. The sensations build again, another orgasm on the horizon.

“Are you gonna cum already?”

You nodded. His hand came up, rubbing slow circles just around your clit.

“Please,” you panted. “Please let me cum.”

The words had slipped out in the haze of pleasure. His eyebrows raised in shock, a light chuckle escaping his lips. Completely and utterly whipped for him.

“Well, I can’t argue with that,” he smirked, pushing your hand away.

A sob of frustration escaped your lips. He was laughing at you and the shape he’d gotten you in; if you weren’t so hazed out from lust, you could have killed him. “Spencer, I am begging you to-”

“I want to watch you ride me. You deserve a treat.”

Despite being completely exhausted, you let him help you into his lap. He was surprisingly gentle as he helped you straddle him. He lined your pussy to his cock, and upon your nod of consent, he lowered your hips so that you could take him. You both cried out in pleasure as he filled you, stretching your walls with his length as you sank down fully. You looked down at him, and he was still smirking at you as his hands found yours, holding them behind your back with one hand. He began fucking into you at a rapid, hard pace, hitting every single spot perfectly. You were squirming over him. Your hips bucked in rhythm with his, your head thrown back. His free hand pawed at your chest, rolling one nipple before the other.

You began to tremble even more violently than before, the coil in your belly so impossibly tight as you braced yourself. You whimpered, bucking against him for any type of added friction, unable to get enough even with everything he was doing. The flutter of your walls around his cock made his eyes roll back in his head.

Spencer moaned violently, cursing as his fingers dug into your wrists with bruising force. It was the only warning he gave you before he came, a warmth spreading deep in your core with the sporadic thrusts he couldn’t seem to stop. He cut himself off with another vicious grunt when you came too. The flutter of your walls around him left him speechless, gripping your skin so tight you were sure there’d be bruises. He bucked once, then twice before stilling.

You both took a second to catch your breath. He let your hands go and you leaned forward, wincing as you placed your hands on his chest. Spencer let his arms fall beside him. He hadn’t moved, and he wouldn’t, and he didn’t seem to be particularly inclined to in the next few minutes either. You lifted your leg, looking at the mess you’d made on him. As the tip of his softening dick slid out of you, so did a white strand of his cum, leaking out of you in physical evidence that what happened actually just happened. Spencer groaned at the sight.

“I’ll get you a washcloth, just let me…” His head fell back again.

You collapsed beside him, closing your eyes in an attempt to ground yourself. “So who’s getting married next?”

“Next month on the 20th? Clyde and..." he huffed. "Can't remember her name."

You smiled to yourself. “I guess I’ll see you then.”

[jolalibrary]

v. if you cling on, i will too

joel miller x f!reader | chapter five of honey stained hands

chapter summary: things take time to heal, but will you be the same you when you do?

wordcount: 3.5k warnings: typical canon-angst/grief. angst. injury/comfort recovery. joel calls reader honey (because she bakes). smutty? this pair are together but won't admit it. mentions of joels attempt on himself but minimal, lots of healing angst. but it's me so the ending is... nice. an: we should all thank je te laisserai des mots for the final chapter to this series! and also @thetriumphantpanda who i said "hey, can i ask a favour" and then dumped this on her without her prior knowledge.

The grip of winter slowly loosens, the world beginning to thaw as your wounds heal.

Green begins protruding where there had only been white, shooting up hope, a silent promise of renewal etched into every bud and leaf.

Joel supposes the promise came true.

By the time the first flowers emerge in a riot of colours, their vibrant hues a stark contrast against the lingering remnants of frost, he’d asked if you wished to move in. To have your things more officially with his. Less a cluster of things you’d “take back the next time you do” and more a permanent place for them to collect.

Saves you havin’ to walk back and forth.

Joel is thankful you smiled at the kitchen table and said yes.

Because it had been convenient, easy, to have you here with him when the two of you had arrived back. When your wounds were scarlet and tacky, bruises convulsing and growing under your skin until it made you hiss and whine at each movement. Then, there were the bones you feigned weren’t broken, in the same way you pretended your soul wasn’t fragmented.

Then, there was the simple fact you could barely dismount from your horse as a worried crowd approached, news of your missing nature now resolved.

You clung to him as you shied away from questionable eyes and paused glances. Horror sketched into the faces, blanketing over earlier panic—faces that had only shown you prior kindness. Because the monster you kept at bay until you were outside of the walls, was tired, depleted and very much on parade as Joel helped you down from the horse and the others, who had come to help retrieve them both, stood back to let the audience gawk.

If it stung, you never showed it. Holding him tight, gripping. Using all of your left strength to remain upright and desperately rooted to him.

You are stubborn in that way, and in the way you tipped up your chin, daring them to see what had been inflicted for the sake of their survival.

Good girl he had almost whispered into your ear.

He saved whispering that for over a week when you’d clung different to him, when your eye was no longer swollen shut and you begged to feel him—feel something other than hands that weren’t his.

Those two words ran from his tongue like they’d been swallowed back for too long. Pressing to your skin wherever possible, attempting to heal what he couldn’t understand, see or feel.

Things flower in the spring. The sun rises and lingers for longer before darkness crests over the world briefly.

Flowers shift towards the sunlight, laughter runs along the streets; coats are hidden away, with thinner layers covering bodies and trade shifts from boots to things that are easier to enjoy the warmer weather in.

You don’t bloom though.

Something altered in you, forever cracked. A thing that kept you from sleeping and dreaming when your wounds looked angry and raw; the cracks not healing, even incorrectly, when your skin stitched itself together.

It doesn’t ease when you stop hissing as you descend the stairs, when you’re able to walk for longer than a minute before pausing for a break. It only appears to lessen when you visit the bees. You avoid the other animals, though. Weighing it up, acknowledging with your head bowed that the strength isn’t there. Apologising in heavy whispers to Maria, to yourself, to the air and the cold and the breeze.

He waits for you to bake, to begin rolling things in a bowl and allowing the house to smell like yours used to. It doesn’t come. Not even when he returns from patrol and finds you in a similar state to when he left you.

Your monster is more than wounded, so close to dead that he struggles to work out how to heal it.

Joel doesn’t ask, and you don’t tell.

He could assume, formulate a story; he could create the pieces of the puzzle that were missing.

Instead, he leaves it alone. Rather wishing to live with the unknown than what he feels he’d have to pry from your clenched fists.

“You tried talkin’ to her brother?”

“Nothin’ to talk about.”

Because Tommy doesn’t know that the forest and cabin know all the secrets, the rest withered and shaved down inside of you. Doesn’t understand what it is that remains in a person who temporarily hangs between the living and the dead.

The only time he heard you reference it, what happened out there, was when he overheard you with Ellie. Honey-yellow light splayed across the landing, his feet pausing near the creakier floorboards as Ellie’s voice rang out in the quiet, in the heavy air that was desperate to splinter or slither away.

“You survived.”

He likes to imagine your hand sliding into hers, that you nodded, before you realised the meaning of the girl’s words. Maybe your head snapped up, stared into her younger eyes and hunted for the thing that neither of them should have had to suffer through.

“We both did, Ellie,” he heard you say, and his hand goes to the wall for leverage, for stability. “We survived… because we’re stronger than them.”

Then, he breathes out. A heavy one, a puff. An exclamation that loosens the knot around his heart—because it’s that or let the tears burn his eyes. Hand on the wall of the place that now feels home, steadying himself on the stairs that the two of you climb each night before you slide into the bed you now call yours.

Before you call him yours, mouth wrapping around the head of him, taking more of him than he can wrap his head around down your throat. M-i-n-e you stain against his cock, swirl it with your tongue until pulls you from him, burying the same word inside of you, making you arch as the word shifts into something else.

Us.

In the summer, you laugh.

A sound you’ve left escape a handful of times, but nothing like this. Head thrown back, neck elongated—eyes shimmering with mischief and sarcasm and all the other things he noticed in you.

He wonders if you’re better. If things are better.

Ellie has made friends, informs him over breakfast that she’ll be here, there or anywhere, and he just hides a smile behind his mug. Nods, agrees. Asks what time he’ll expect her as he internally grumbles about teenagers. Then, you descend the stairs, half-dressed in you and half-dressed in him, a picture, a sight for the sorest of eyes.

Your kisses have grown softer in the day, than just at night—almost reminiscent of the ones he received before you left that day.

“You still like shortbread, Miller?”

He snorts, elbow on the table that needs tightening, watching you fold your arms—cockiness sewn into your mannerism, in the way you sit. “That what we callin’ between your legs, honey.”

“After last night, y’can call her whatever you goddamn please.”

He snorts, briefly. Instead choosing to hear the lilt of your laugh, watching as it paints sunshine around the room. As it trickles out and flutters, before chair legs scream against floorboards and you’re by his side, palm on his jaw, on the wiry hair that grows in odd ways and leaves patches that never fill.

“Can you walk with me to see the animals?”

He does.

A gut instinct he ignores as your fingers slot themselves in his, tight, holding him as you don’t ask for a breather, don’t sound ragged or out of breath. Only letting go where you near the pen, when your voice becomes that high-pitched tone he remembers briefly—akin to a parent speaking to a baby.

Joel recognises it before you do. Counts, studies—looks for the familiar pattern on the one sheep that sticks out like a sore thumb. He swallows, dread filling his chest, making his stomach bubble and knot.

You look at him.

Sadness blended with hysteria, alarm. Body over the fence, running with awkwardness from healing wrong, until you slow at the side of the place where the animals sleep.

Roscoe on his side, cold, still. Gone.

His heart, whatever remains left of it, breaks when he sees you go to your knees. Tentative shaky hand brushing over sheepskin, before your body rocks, tremors, and you burst.

It’s more than mourning an animal that you’ve cared for. It’s more than mourning itself.

So, he steps back and stands on the other side of the barn door as he listens to the sobs, the cries, the wails and incoherent ramblings. All things that remind him of a loss he never sits too much with. A loss that made a barrel press to his forehead and made him feel like a hole had been left in him forever—one in his chest, not even close to where he’d tried to pull the trigger.

He wonders if you’ll laugh again.

Joel also worries he’s lost you again.

The sun is setting when he returns from patrol, the air sweet when he opens the door—it creaks, protesting against him, and he wonders, briefly if he’s entered the wrong place.

His boots thudding, coat hanging—ache blooming behind his bones.

But it’s all righted when he sees a mixing bowl, egg shells and a pot of honey. In the mess, a plate. Stacked high, and then you.

Different from the person who used to bake in your kitchen, but also different from the person he’d left this morning, tangled in sheets. The one who looked lost, and now appears more found than he’s known in months.

“Hello, stranger.”

Even the sound of you is familiar. That tone, all flirtatious and confident, parcelled in someone who grins as he moves closer.

“Ellie’s out—she stole one, though. So, she’s eaten.”

He snorts. “Just us then?”

Nodding, undoing your apron, sliding it from over your head as you fold it onto his kitchen counter and he keeps approaching. Hand scratching at his patchy beard, watching as you tilt your head, and let your lips slide into your cheek.

You’re back, here—existing.

It’s different, the attraction that thrums in his bones. It had begun as a need, primal, unexplainable, before it shifted, changed, and became something foreign yet oddly familiar, and now it was just desire, longing.

And you kiss him hard as though acknowledging it. Pressing yourself as firmly as you can, smothering yourself to him as though attempting to merge with him. Your tongue licking behind his teeth as you moan, as you equally long, lust and need.

You trail him with your palms, across his chest, shoulders and neck. Trailing them down his back, kneading out aches you haven’t heard him complain about yet, before you’re palming him over his jeans, whimpering at the feel of him hard and desperate.

“Like how you want me, Miller.”

“Like how you take me, honey,” he groans, runs his nose along your neck, licks at your skin—tasting the sweat of your labour having mixed with the sweetness of the air.

It isn’t all the time like he wishes. Tiredness and age played a factor, but right now—like this, a reminder of a memory, he feels anew. Younger. More capable. Roughly shifting you until it’s you pressed against a counter, until he’s pawing at your clothes until he can admire, feel smooth skin with his worn, calloused hands.

“Missed you.”

It leaves his mouth before he can stop it.

Because you’ve been here. But not like this. It is far too honest for what the two of you are technically, but not quite what the two of you have become.

Thankful you grasp his cheek and pull his mouth to yours, but he swears he tastes your reply before he earns it. Before his hand slides inside the band of your cotton panties and makes you hiss against his teeth, slick coating his fingers. An urge to drive you to the edge, to have you pleading, to have you call him Joel and not Miller, to have you seeing white and erode your pain from your body and fill it only with bliss.

He’s a mess, and you’ve barely touched him. The sight of you, unhinged, wild and free. Head thrown back as his thumb swirls circles on your hardening nerves, as your pussy tightens around the fingers he has buried in it. As you moan, as you plea, as you cry and whine for him, almost needing to command you to come so he can sheath his cock in you and feel you.

But, then you surprise him.

As you always fucking do.

“Missed you too,” you whimper, hips grinding against his hand—teetering in the land where you find it hard to shy away and can only emit honesty.

Your eyes, the deepest valley of affection, so much he almost feels he must look away. Undeserving of it. A thing he finds on the tip of his tongue before you call him Joel, before you moan for him.

“Y’perfect, you know that? All o’you,” he confesses, buries it into your ear. “Your tight pussy, your anger, your stubbornness—”

“—Fuck, Joel—”

“Can’t be without you. Not this version. Need you too much—like I need y’to come. Can you come for me, honey? Make a mess of my hand, let me lick you clean—”

“Shit, m’close.”

He knows. Your jaw clenched, body rigid—eyes creased closed as your hips grind slower but deeper, more intense, until they lose rhythm and you snap. In a completely different way than you did all those months ago.

Because this time, he thinks you’ve snapped back into place.

Because when your eyes open, he doesn’t greet a pair that he doesn’t know, but a pair he knows intimately. It’s why he pants, and loses his breath—that, and the fact you grab his hand from between your thighs and bring it to your lips, tasting yourself, licking yourself clean from him.

“Get upstairs, Miller.”

His brow arches, mouth clamping shut. A fire building in his chest, his other hand flexing at his side, wanting to slap it to your ass and ask you to repeat yourself.

But, you straighten your spine, look him dead in the eye. “Wanna ride you, Joel.”

Before autumn comes—before leaves change and the Jackson is shadowed by earlier nights and later mornings. When it looks close to the misery and horror that lives outside of the walls. Joel is on his knees.

Tools close to his fingers, red toolbox to the side.

Itching, necessarily torturing himself by fixing things that don’t need fixing, just to busy his hands, keep his mind on something, to not worry, to not hate, to not be angry.

“She’s going to be alright.”

Joel almost snorts, but buries it under a cough. Twists the bolt into the wood, checking the panel with a rough tug as Ellie shifts position, as she comes to a place he can’t avoid not glancing at her. Now scowling and making her be distant with him even more than she already is.

Because his mind is a storm, all concocted with worry he doesn’t what to do with, with fear he hasn’t been able to displace. Each horrid thought is thunderous, like a crack in the silence as the house creaks and he struggles to keep himself from splintering. Twisted up, insides knotted, every distant shout or laugh setting his already tired heart racing—forcing it to pound against his ribs like a prisoner desperate to escape.

He’s not the same man he was before. Not sure if he’d have the strength to keep you safe in the way you’d not needed then, but could now.

It’s why he keeps picturing you, darkness closing in, shadows formed with malicious intent attempting to take you. It makes his hands shake, as he grips the tool tighter, almost as if by holding onto something solid he can anchor his thoughts. Images of your last injury flashed in his mind—the blood, the pain, the helplessness he felt.

How angelically gothic you looked surrounded by snow. How he can still taste the metallic tang in the air if he thinks about it too much

“She’s not wrong,” a voice says.

One that forces his head up, one that makes him double-take.

You standing, with no scratch, no markings. Not a figment of his imagination, but something real from the shadows that stretch from your legs across the ground. Not an illusion as Ellie throws herself at you, all arms and cheerful glee.

Real, real, real, as you step up the porch, as you crouch down and grumble at the ache in your bones, and kiss his mouth. Warm, and all very you.

“You been worryin’ about me, Miller?”

He chews his tongue, drops his gaze before he flicks it back up. “No.”

You smirk, devious, but yet still so sweet. “Good.”

Hand still caressing his skin, thumb brushing over the patch you comment looks like a heart—one you brought up some weeks back, asking if it’s for you, if it doesn’t grow just for you. Smirking, laughing, leg bent over his hip as you continue to tease. Is this how you tell me you love me, by shaving a heart, Miller? And, just for me, a heart all of my own?

“You fancy getting a drink with me tonight?”

Frowning, he lowers the tool back to the floor. “Y’wanna go out?”

“With you? Yeah.”

Swallowing, he glances over your shoulder to see Ellie smirking, looking more pleased than he’s ever known her. Swaying, folded arms as she begins to nod at him, mouthing say yes, say yes.

“Ellie wants to go to Dina’s,” you add, as though spotting where his gaze has gone. “And, I realised something.”

He hums as you lower to your knees in front of him, as you cup his cheek and tug his eyes back to you.

“We never watched that VHS, either. Did we?”

Clearing his throat, hand coming to rest on your wrist, thumb drawing a shape against it. “No. We didn’t.”

Smiling, face lighting up—shimmering. Exactly like that time you had brought him shortbread in a tin. “Y’wanna go on a date with me, Joel? Drink and a movie.”

Glancing at Ellie, and then back to you. Spreading his hand from your wrist up to the back of your hand, it dwarfing yours against his cheek, staring into your eyes—so sure he sees your monster smiling at him too.

“Let me clean up. You… Y’deserve that.”

“Alright,” you reply.

“What, no arguin’?”

Shrugging, dropping your hand as you sigh. “I know when to pick my arguments with my man.”

He tries not to show how that warms him, the words replaying over and over. It makes his chest tighten in a way he doesn’t hate. My man. A phrase that carries a weight, an intimacy he's not accustomed to out here, only ever when he’s buried inside of you and your skin is glistening with sweat, him and his spend.

He swallows hard, masking the fluttering in his chest, concealing the way his breath catches ever so slightly. A vulnerability in those words—how you’ve exposed yourself. Changed your tune from no names to this. A soft promise he’s struggling to wrap his head around. He knows you see it, that flicker of something unguarded in his eyes.

His hand balls into a fist, his thumb sliding over his fingers, levelling himself as the emotions surge, unbidden and uncontrollable. Feeling exposed, as though you’ve peeled back the layers of his defences with a single phrase, laid bare the raw, tender part of him he thought long buried.

But he doesn’t hate it. Not the strange comfort in being wanted or seen, even less so by you. How it makes him want to run and stay all at once. He suspects you know the turmoil you’ve stirred, having done so to yourself with the confession.

And somehow, knowing that helps him swallow it, accept it, finding it true.

“Tha’ make you mine, then?”

Shrugging, you roll your lips, a coy, more nervous smile there. “If you want.”

If he wants, he snorts.

Three words he repeats hours later, when he’s stripping you bare, lying you down on the bed that belongs to you as much as him.

“If I want?” he repeats, your lips curling into a smirk.

Before he’s dipping his mouth between your thighs, writing with his tongue how he's wanted that for months now, maybe even since the very beginning.

an: it may have taken me a long time, but, i hope in some way it was worth it. thank you for reading! eeeep I finished a joel 😂

-

npts for those who loved them the whole time (sorry if you didn’t want this tag, forgive meeee):

@swiftispunk @missladym1981 @ptime1999 @survivingandenduring @pimosworld

@sawymredfox @thelightsandtheroses

[konigbabe]

like real people do

Pairing: ID!Leon Kennedy x fem!teacher!reader | single dad AU

Word count: 5.8k

Tags/warnings: no y/n; fluff; eventual smut; p-in-v; slice of life; gendered female reader; gendered female anatomy; original kid Kennedy character

Summary: He's the sun, and you're the earth, drawn into his orbit; yet, he's your student's father. Handsome. Confident. Alluring. But off limits–at least he should be.

a/n: Inspired by @yeyinde’s ask. Also, canon ID!Leon is around 29 but Leon in this '"universe" is aged up to be in his 30s (age won't be specified but I imagine him to be in his mid-to-late 30s).

divider by @benkeibear [source]

series masterlist • masterlist • navigation • faq • AO3 • ko-fi

The voice in your head keeps telling you to be professional, the thought of spending an evening with this man hard to resist; his confident, easy-going demeanor, the way he doesn’t give up easily– “So? It’s just dinner.”

The innocence of children always manages to brighten up even the darkest of days, their smiles and eagerness to learn contagious; filling your heart with positivity. It's a feeling that's hard to come by as an adult; life's challenges tend to chip away at your soul and slowly rob you of that childhood magic.

As the clock strikes five and your shift comes to an end, the school falls into an eerie silence. A lingering sense of relief washes over you when leaving the building; you've done your part in shaping young minds.

Walking out the front door, the warmth of the sun caresses your skin, its rays sliding around your bare arms like silk.

Twisting the key in the lock, your eyes catch a glimpse of slight movement from the corner of your vision. Turning your head, you see a little girl perched on the concrete steps below, her delicate features illuminated by the warm glow of the sun.

Her hair, a cascade of light brown waves, frames her chubby cheeks and the crown of her head is adorned with blonde highlights that shimmer like golden threads.

She turns to you when you address her, slowly stepping down to her level.

"What are you still doing here," you sit down, her small backpack creating a wall between your bodies.

As you sit side by side with the little girl, basking in the comforting embrace of the sunlight, she kicks her legs up; eyes up front, both of you watch the cars pass by on the street.

The Washington Spring air’s filled with the sweet scent of blooming cherry blossoms, carried on a gentle breeze that rustles through the trees. The distant sounds of children playing in a nearby park mingle with the honking of cars and the chirping of birds, creating a symphony of noise that signifies the arrival of spring in the bustling city.

"Waiting for daddy," she says with a hint of excitement in her voice.

The little girl looks up at you, her eyes full of wonder and innocence. You can't help but wonder about the mysterious Mr Kennedy and his absence; an enigma surrounding his name.

Like a forgotten toy left on the shelf, the girl's father remains absent from any involvement in her education. Despite several months passing since her admission to your class, there has been no sign of him. No parent-teacher meetings, no Father's Day celebration, nothing.

An enigma.

"Speaking of," your voice trails off for a moment, "How’s your daddy doing?" you question her. You shouldn’t; it goes beyond your job description to put a kid in situations like these. But still–

Her eyes, a vivid shade of cerulean, sparkle like sunlit water as she gazes at you; smile wide upon the mention of her father, the young kid toys with the straps on her bag.

"He’s busy."

A pang of understanding pinches your heart.

–his presence (or rather the absurd lack of it) keeps gnawing at your brain.

"He fights monsters," the girl adds after a moment of silence; her tone more serious. It's as if she's describing a mythical hero, fighting off beasts in some far-off land.

"He seems to be busy quite a lot," you smile to ease the topic; well aware that the girl, as bright as she is, surely catches on as you keep asking the same question every week, "is your mom coming to the parent–teacher meeting?"

The girl shakes her head before she speaks, "I don’t know my mom."

Oh.

You know you shouldn’t push more; well aware of the unprofessionalism you’re displaying.

"The woman who picks you up–"

"–aunt Claire," the kid corrects you, "I’m sorry for interrupting, miss teacher."

You smile, trying to put her at ease. It's clear that she's been brought up with good manners.

Lost in how to answer her, you almost don't hear the sound of a car approaching. The girl jumps up, her face alight with excitement. A low rumble reverberates through the air as a sleek black SUV glides up to the curb, its shiny exterior reflecting the warm rays of the sun.

The tinted windows obscure the view inside the car, adding an air of mystery to the vehicle. As the car comes to a stop, the quiet hum of the engine fades to a gentle purr, and the driver's door swings open.

The girl grabs her backpack at the same time a man steps out of the car; you’re able to only see the light brown hair decorating his head.

"Daddy," the girl yelps in excitement. You stand up, dusting the invisible dust from your jeans.

He stands tall, his broad shoulders stretching the fabric of the crisp white shirt, tucked tightly into the blue dress pants. A single button undone on his collar, revealing the curve of his clavicles. The sun glints off his aviator sunglasses, hiding his eyes from view. He approaches the little girl with a warm smile as she runs into her father, you presume; standing still, watching the situation unfold before your eyes.

Lowering himself to her level, he extends his arms, inviting her in. She eagerly accepts, wrapping her little arms around his neck in a welcoming embrace.

"Hey there, pup," you manage to hear his voice; low and soft. Gentle. "Sorry I’m late; got held up by paperwork. Y’know the drill."

The kid chuckles before pulling away, a sound so pure and innocent it brings a smile to your face.

Standing back up, his face turns towards you. You're struck by his imposing presence, the way he commands attention without even trying. His chiseled jawline is dusted with a light stubble, giving him an air of ruggedness. He moves with confidence towards you, one hand enclosed with his daughter’s.

The girl tugs at the sleeve of his shirt, introducing you before he even reaches your standing point–to which he smiles gently.

"Well, nice to meet you," his hand extended in greeting, "I’m Leon Kennedy. Her dad," he nods towards the girl.

"Mr Kennedy," you murmur, taking his hand in yours; noting the callouses on his palm.

As your eyes travel up his arm, they catch sight of a fresh bandage peeking out from under his slightly rolled up sleeve. But it's not until you look up at his face that you see the true extent of his weariness. Small scratches mark his jaw, subtle hues of purple and yellow decorate his cheekbone like a watercolor painting.

It’s clear that he's been through a rough patch. Makes you wander back to the girl’s words–

("He fights monsters.")

–and maybe he does. In some twisted sense.

"I actually wanted to speak with you," you release his hand, feeling the warmth of his skin lingering on your fingertips., "are you free next Tuesday? Around one PM?"

"Am I in trouble," he chuckles; the stretch of his lips exposing a slight scar on his lower lip.

The girl tilts her head, eyes studying you intently. You can't help but notice the slight beauty marks across her neck, the softness of her features, the way she looks up at her father with curiosity.

"Not really; I just need to discuss some matters with you."

"Okay," he responds, a hint of a smirk playing at the corners of his lips, yet he remains stoic. Posed. "Sure."

"I’ll see you then," you nod and take your leave, but not before stealing a few glances at his back as he turns away from you. It’s impossible not to notice how his broad shoulders strain against the fabric, or how his hair cascades over his forehead; tousled yet somehow perfectly in place.

The weekend flies by, the days blurring together until suddenly it's Tuesday.

Despite his daughter's reassurances from yesterday that he'll be here, the uncertainty of whether he'll actually show up still grips you tightly.

A knock on the open door disturbs your grading.

"Mr Kennedy," you remark upon his arrival. The pen falls onto the desk with a clunk; back straighten, you invite him to sit on the chair prepared for him beforehand.

He’s dressed more casual–the black, expensive looking leather jacket squeaks against the wooden chair as he sits down after a simple "Hello". The faint but distinct aroma of sharp, citrusy notes wafts from his collar; the refreshing and invigorating aroma that catches your attention before your eyes trail to the bandage on his wrist.

Clearly seeing the way your eyes subconsciously linger on the piece of medical tape, Leon puts his other hand over it, shielding your view. Silently focusing your attention back on his eyes; the same blue hues as his daughter’s.

Sitting before you, legs spread apart, the undeniable similarities between him and his daughter are glaringly apparent. The way he holds himself commands respect, his posture erect and confident.

"Mr Kennedy, there’s something I wanted to discuss with you in person."

Fingers interlocking as you lean on your elbows, his gaze following your every movement like a predator stalking its prey; almost as if he’s sizing you up. His eyes watchful.

"Okay," he responds casually, a hint of question behind the simple word.

You clear your throat before continuing. "Your daughter is a remarkable child," a small smile accompanying your words. "She's well-behaved, intelligent, and often surpasses her peers."

Leon nods, lips pressed together.

"Got that from her mother, probably," he remarks. Almost bites back. Jaw tightening.

Leaning back, your fingers drum a quick rhythm against your desk.

"But we’re not here to evaluate your daughter; but you, actually, Mr Kennedy."

Leon’s brows arch up, highlighting the soft surprise that flashes across his face. The subtle shift in his expression does not go unnoticed by you.

"Didn’t know I was being evaluated," his voice trails off.

You nod in acknowledgement, sensing the man's confusion.

"You’re aware of our school assemblies, right?"

His face remains stoic, so you continue.

"Father's Day, parent-teacher meetings, career days, sports day," you list a few, hoping to spark the idea in the man’s mind.

"So," he leans back against the chair, arms folded on his chest.

With an exhale, upon your failed attempt to make him take the hint, you resolve to explaining the school rules to him.

"Our school mandates that the child’s parent or legal guardian be present at at least three of those assemblies per school year. You haven’t been present on any of them, not even last year."

He lifts his chin slightly and raises his eyebrows, eyes fixed on you with a look that suggests he's waiting for more information or an explanation.

"There’s actually a policy within out school that allows teachers to prohibit the child from participating in certain activities or events if a parent is not present–"

"–you’re kidding," Leon interjects, his tone laced with disbelief.

Raising your hand, you stop him from continuing, "and your daughter is a great student, so I don't expect that to happen to her. But with your continuous absence, she's at risk of being excluded from certain activities."

"My job keeps me busy. And I don’t really have a say in it," Leon retorts.

Arms still folded across his chest, his brows furrow in frustration. Defence sets inside his flesh; jaw slightly twitching, his eyes bore into yours.

"Maybe her mother could–"

"–not an option," he stops you before you manage to finish the sentence.

You nod in understanding. Leaving forward, you hope to appeal to Leon’s sense of responsibility a little more.

"In that case; we’re having a sports day this Friday. If you could just show up to support your daughter, I could mark it as you being present."

Leon chuckles, his voice smooth. Looking out the nearby window, he stares into the field right next to the school for a moment, deep in thought. The sunlight filtering through the window casts a warm glow on his sharp features, highlighting the intensity in his eyes.

Silence passes before he speaks up, "Wouldn't a dinner suffice instead?"

You clear your throat and try to compose yourself, feeling your heartbeat pick up at the unexpected request. "That's not very appropriate, Mr Kennedy, " you say softly, attempting to hide the fluttering in your chest. "Let's see each other at the soccer match."

"Sure. I’ll see what I can do; is that all?" he asks, head turned to the side. You gaze upon the now exposed wound on his jawline, vaguely resembling a cat’s claw scratch. The bruise colors on his cheek faded over the past few days.

"Yes," you assure him.

"Y’know, this whole thing could’ve been an email."

You smile wryly, "Would you react to that email?"

Looking back at you, there’s a flicker of mischievous dancing in his eyes. Leon's gaze holds yours for a moment longer, and you find yourself drawn to the subtle crinkles at the corners of his eyes, evidence of his amusement.

"You got me there."

The sun blankets the field in gold, casting elongated shadows of the children as they scamper around in pursuit of the ball. It’s still quite early. The air’s crisp and fresh, carrying the scent of freshly cut grass and; sound of excited cheers and shouts echo throughout the surrounding area.

It’s comforting. Soothing in a way.

With a group of teachers, you watch the little girl darting across the field, her movements resembling that of a graceful gazelle as she expertly maneuvers the ball. She weaves in and out of the other players, a look of determination etched on her youthful face.

A chorus of her name echoes across the field, drifting like a wispy trail of smoke. The other kids cheer her on as she makes her way towards the goal, her tiny frame seemingly defying the laws of physics with her quick and nimble movements.

A round of applause erupts when the ball meets the back of the net. You watch as the little girl’s teammates rush to congratulate her.

"And who is that," a woman’s voice tears your gaze away from the cheerful moment, hands stopping mid-clasp.

Curious, you look at her. The other teachers already gazing to your right. To the parking lot.

Leaning against the sleek car, its design demanding attention; even from further away, he exudes an air of quiet confidence that's impossible to ignore. Eyes covered by another set of sunglasses, the same leather jacket strains against his folded arms.

Mr Kennedy.

Leon Kennedy.

Something about him always seems to draw attention; to captivate anyone who catches a glimpse of him.

It’s odd. Uncanny–

You should know better than to think in such a way about your student’s father.

–and you wonder if it’s just you who feels that way.

As the group of teachers chatter, a voice pipes up, "Is he someone's father?"

"He has to be," the conversation carries on, "or he wouldn’t be here–"

"–or he’s a creep."

Turning to face the person who said it, you scoff at the teacher before speaking up.

"He’s her dad," You nod in the direction of the girl with a beaming smile on your face, as she energetically waves at Leon. His response, though polite, is less enthusiastic, evident by the restrained movement of his hand.

Escaping the gossip, you follow the white boundary lines of the field towards your target, the soft grass crunching beneath your feet. Leon's eyes are fixed on the field, his sharp features softened by the spring glow.

But he's quick to notice your approach, turning his head ever so slightly to the left. It makes you feel naked as he shamelessly watches you coming closer.

"Mr Kennedy," you greet him.

As you approach, the warm spring breeze ruffles your hair, the sweet scent of blooming flowers mixing with his heady aroma. Posture relaxed, his broad shoulders almost blend with the darkness of the car behind him.

"Just call me Leon."

Eyes back on the field, a tinge of carelessness in his voice, a small tug on his lips. Hesitating momentarily, you put your hands in your pockets.

"I’d rather stick to being professional."

It makes him chuckle; voice rumbling with amusement–

"You’re making me feel old," he teases.

–making your chest tighten. His words brush against your ears like the gentle rustling of leaves on a cool autumn breeze.

The lightness in his tone, the hint of playfulness, stirs something deep within you.

It’s your turn to return the light laugh. The sound mingling with the chirping of birds in the distance.

"It’s good that you’re here. Your daughter seems to appreciate it as well."

Leon's eyes flicker to his daughter, still surrounded by her teammates; a small smile tugs at the corners of his lips.

"Yeah," he says, the warmth in his voice evident, "she’s been talking about this game for a week."

"She’s really talented in sports."

A cool breeze brushes against your skin as he removes his sunglasses. Eyes reminiscent of the clear waters of a mountain lake–the color seems to deepen and intensify as he looks at you, drawing you in.

"That she got from me," the corners of his mouth curve up into a charming smile. His voice deep and smooth, like a glass of well-aged whiskey. You can sense his confidence, the way he carries himself with ease, and it's hard not to be drawn in.

It's alluring. The way he exudes a sense of self-assurance.

Smiling lightly, hand resting on the cool hood of his car, you both watch the children race each other. Cheers fill the soccer fields.

Even in momentarily silence, it’s comfortable–

"Well, she certainly inherited some good genes, Mr Kennedy."

–there’s no awkward cluster around the two of you. It’s natural.

It draws Leon’s attention back to you. Arms folded, his fingers sneak around his bicep, gripping gently as he shamelessly looks at you. His face a canvas of chiseled features and sharp lines. reminiscent of a Greek statue carved out of marble. A faint scent of musk and cologne lingers around him, blending with the sweet aroma of blooming flowers in the air.

"Just so you know, miss teacher," his voice soft melody that lingers in your mind, "the dinner invitation still stands."

It’s tempting.

The words hang in the air, tantalizingly close.

A whistle cuts through the sounds of the soccer field, interrupting the moment. Leon’s attention briefly flickers towards his daughter, checking as the little girl sprints towards the two of you, before returning to your face.

"And I should remind you, Mr Kennedy, that it’s not very appropriate to ask your daughter’s teacher out."

The voice in your head keeps telling you to be professional, the thought of spending an evening with this man is hard to resist though. His confident, easy-going demeanor, the way he doesn’t give up easily–

"So? It’s just dinner," his tone is almost conspiratorial, as if he's sharing a secret with you.

–it makes you feel alive.

(Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. It’s not strictly forbidden.

Only frown upon. Harshly.)

It's like he's the sun, and you're the earth, drawn into his orbit.

"Daddy," his daughter doesn’t hesitate, jumping straight into her father’s arm; yet Leon isn’t phased at all, hoisting her into his arms, "Did you see my goal?"

"I did, pup," arm sneaking underneath her knees, you notice the bandage gone, "you killed it."

"Miss teacher," the kid addresses you, hand sneaking into her dad’s hair to hold him tightly while looking up at you with bright, curious eyes, "Did you see me? Did you see my goal?"

"Of course," you answer with a warm smile, "you did great. Seems like you got good genes for it."

The little girl beams with pride, hugging her father even tighter. Leon chuckles, the sound low and rich, and nods his head in agreement.

"I’ll see you on Monday then; pleasure seeing you, Mr Kennedy," as you turn to leave, you can't help but feel a twinge of regret.

The low hum of chatter fills the air, punctuated by occasional laughter and the clink of glasses. The dim lighting casts a warm glow over the wooden booths and bar, giving the place a cozy feel. The smell of fried food and beer lingers in the air, adding to the ambiance of the traditional American pub.

From a corner, a live band plays classic rock tunes, and the patrons nod along to the rhythm, singing softly under their breaths. It's a perfect spot to unwind after a long workday, catch up with friends. Or even make new connections.

Your little freedom.

Away from responsibilities. From the stress of daily life.

This is your escape, your sanctuary, where you can let loose and just be yourself.

Coming to the bartender, you order another round for the group you’re with, only to be taken back by a familiar voice saying your name.

Turning to look at the man by your right, the white stripes on his jacket contrast against the dim, warm ambiance of the room. Fingers tapping on the rim of the glass of whiskey, he takes a sip, his gaze fixed on you; the amber liquid catching the light, casting a glow across his features.

"Mr Kennedy," you exhale, almost in disbelief by the sudden situation.

Mind whirling with surprise and curiosity; the bar is chill against your exposed arm as you lean onto it, turning to look at the man by your side.

"Wouldn’t expect a teacher to be in a bar on Friday night," he smirks, the corner of his lips curving up in amusement.

"We’re not as frigid as people have us to be," you replied, feeling a smile tug at the corners of your lips.

Voice like a smoldering flame, waiting to be ignited, he tilts the glass towards you, "Oh, really."

The allure of his presence tangible.

A gravitational pull.

"Well, Mr Kennedy," the words roll off your tongue smoothly, "I suppose we all have our ways of letting loose after a hard week."

He chuckles, the sound deep and throaty; making your pulse quicken, heartbeat pick up. "I couldn't agree more," he says, taking another sip of his drink.

You study him for a moment; taking in the way his eyes crinkle at the corners when he smiles, how his hair fal across his forehead in a disheveled yet stylish way. There’s something undeniably attractive about him, something that draws you in against all odds–

–like a moth to a flame.

Life has a funny way of working out.

You should stop.

But ‘should’ doesn’t exist in the moment of impulse. In the realm of desire. Pure, unblistered passion. The temptation to follow desire is too strong–

The world falls away.

–and all thought of 'should' dissipates.

Leon's hands slide around your thighs, gripping the flesh firmly as his body pushes against yours. Pinned to the wall; his lips trail the pulse of your neck. The tip of his tongue leaving wet patches on the heated skin.

The sudden intrusion of reality makes you gasp,"What about—".

It’s Leon’s hand on your breast; squeezing, teasing the clothed flesh through the thin material, thumbing at the erect nipple, that earns him a moan. His daughter’s name spilling over into a sound so soft. Inviting.

Like a hummingbird.

A content hum echoes in his chest; pressed tightly against yours. Feeling the muscles contract beneath you, respond to your movement; to the way your hips press against the growing bulge in his pants.

"—she’s stayin’ at my friend’s," he mumbles against the curve of your collarbones, teeth grazing the firm area.

With a strong grip, your fingers entangle in his hair. The texture soft and silky, like running your hands through fine threads of spun gold.

"Isn’t she young for sleepovers?"

It makes him look at you. Eyes glazed over; hungry. Primal–

He pulls you into an embrace, arm wrapping around your back, his palm cupping your ass. The heat of his body seeps through your clothing, searing your skin with its intensity, his breath ghosting over your lips as he whispers, "I really don’t wanna talk about my kid right now."

It’s a command rather than anything else.

Followed by your clothes.

He has you bare before you make up your mind.

–causing your skin to crawl.

With every touch, every whisper, every breath, he leaves you feeling more exposed, more vulnerable.

Limbs tangled together, lips pressed against each other; there’s no beginning and no end. When one begins, the other follows, like an unbroken circle of passion and desire.

Utter consumption by the fire inside you.

Leon’s hands feel scorching. Each stroke branding your skin.

He splits your apart, fills you to the brim. The head of his cock kisses the innermost parts of you as you stay seated on top of him. Nails scratching the firm muscle of his breastplate; he grips your sides. Digs his fingers into the soft, plump flesh there.

Teeth nip at your chin. Gently nibbles accompanied by your hips circling on top of him.

Cascade of groans, grunts and moans echo throughout Leon’s bedroom; each sound building on the other to create a crescendo of pleasure. The mattress beneath you creaks and strains under your knees.

Lost in the feeling.

His words a salacious melody; sung in a sultry whisper followed by his teeth, nibling at your earlobe; securing your grip on his shoulders feeling the strength of his muscles as he guides your moves.

Up and down. Up and down.

Circle your hips when your pelvis meets his. When your ass touches his thighs; when his fingers dig into the round flesh.

The rhythm builds, the tension mounting with every breath. The ache of desire deep inside, a longing that can only be sated by him. With each movement, you feel closer to the edge, your body aching for release.

Leon whispers encouragement, his voice like a caress against your skin. Head buried in the crook of your neck, your arms tighten around his shoulder. Face buried in the top of his head, the scent of him fills your senses; a heady, intoxicating aroma that envelops you in its warmth.

You breathe him in, savoring the subtle notes of bergamot and spice, the rich undertones of musk and earthiness.

Leon’s name leaves your lips in a soft, breathless moan, a prayer to the god of pleasure.

His lips brush against your collarbone, lingering there for a moment before trailing lower, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. Skin erupting in goosebumps as his breath tickles your chest, your body bows like a taut bowstring, a supplication to his touch. Offering yourself up to him completely.

Hands roam over your body, tracing the curves and planes of your skin with reverent fingers. As if he knows just where to touch you.

With a strong pull and push, your back meets the hard mattress. His hands move over you like a painter's brush, each stroke bringing out a new hue of pleasure. Hips grinding against yours.

Pressing your body closer to his, chest to chest, he rocks against you. The intensity of his movements leaves you gasping for air, a low moan escaping your lips as you feel yourself getting closer to the edge. His hands grip your hips tightly, fingers digging into your skin as he continues to rut into you.

Long lost is the slow motion–

Your pelvis meets his in a harsh, demanding thrust.

–now he’s chasing his own high. His own release.

His hand slides to cup your jaw, grip your shoulder, eyes boring into yours; intense and unwavering, as if he’s trying to read your thoughts through the depth of your eyes. Consumed by the heat of you.

Head thrown back, you close your eyes; unable to match the fire in his as he grinds against you; his breaths ragged gasps, the only sound in the room the soft rustling of sheets and the slapping of skin against skin.

Leon knows he won’t last long. Not with the way your mouth remains agape, nails digging into the firm tendons of his biceps; heels digging into the flesh of his ass, pushing him deeper. Demanding him to go harder.

You just look so pretty underneath him.

Fingertips trace the warm flesh of your curves. They move slowly, mapping the supple contours of your body with precision; each touch deliberate, a way of committing the curves of your form to memory.

The sensation is electric, every nerve ending on high alert.

His thumb finds your clit, circling it with teasing precision, a feather-light touch. Pushing your hips into his, he obliges your silent demand – adding a bit more pressure with each pass. The slow, steady rhythm of his touch in bright contrast to the sharp thrusts.

Building the tension inside you, until you feel like you might burst. But he doesn't let up, not yet. He's savoring every moment, enjoying the way you writhe beneath him.

Your breath hitches, body tensing as he works you with an almost clinical precision. The ache between your legs grows, spreading through your entire body. He watches you, gauging your reactions, and adjusts his touch accordingly.

The way he focuses on you, with a singular, unwavering intensity, is both thrilling and terrifying.

As for Leon, every movement, every sound, is calculated. He wants to make this last. He wants to make you lose control.

His muscles tense as he drives into you, each thrust bringing him closer to the edge. His breaths come in short gasps, matching the rhythm of your moans. The heat between you intensifies, a physical force that binds you together.

With one final push, final flick of a thumb, he takes you over the edge, his name on your lips.

Clenching around him, walls fluttering, his thrusts grow slow. Leisurely.

As if he’s tantalizing himself. Savoring the feel before he lets go with a groan; a guttural sound that echoes through the bedroom; body spasming. The two of you entwined in a moment of pure, unadulterated bliss.

There should be some sort of regret.

Standing by the foot of Leon’s bed, still searching for your clothes amid the scattered chaos of the apartment, covered by a random shirt you’ve found on the ground (that’s definitely not the one you’ve come with), you can’t help but be drawn to the sleeping man lying before you.

The sheets barely cover the curve of his lower back, and even in slumber, the muscles of his back remain visible; the outline of his physique remains defined and sharp, even in relaxation. The memory of his back muscles beneath your palms lingers on your skin, as if he were still present with you in that moment.

There’s no regret.

Exiting the bedroom, you walk past the kitchen into the hallway. The emptiness of the space is palpable, with nothing adorning the plain white walls; no family photos or decorations to add personality. Only the essential pieces of furniture remain. The floor creaks beneath your bare feet as you open the door closer to you–

(It’s almost like he doesn’t have anyone.

A sense of desolation creeps in you.)

–and are met with a blinding contrast to the rest of the apartment. Rainbow colored sheets neatly tucked into the small bed, pillows in shape of various animals. Light furniture covered in school supplies; and a photo decorating the nightstand.

You pick it up, immediately recognized the two people. It might be the first time you’re seeing Leon actually smile, wide and bright. Happy; with his daughter tightly wrapped in his arms. Faces pressed together, smiling at the camera.

"I hope you're not trying to steal anything," Leon's voice interrupts your reverie; low and husky, still laced by the morning sleep, "I don't have much, y’know."

As you pivot to face him, you can't resist noticing how his bare feet stand out against his fully-clothed form. Hair tousled and messy, only adding to his rugged appeal.

An irresistible wave of attraction washes over you as you scrutinize his appearance, and his playful tone only adds fuel to the fire.

"Don't worry, I'm not after your prized possessions," you reply with a smirk, feeling emboldened by his proximity.

Leon's eyes twinkle mischievously as he steps closer to you, his warm breath brushing against your cheek. "Well, in that case, what’re you after?"

"I was just looking for a bathroom."

Leon's gaze lingers on you, lips curled up in a half-smile. "The bathroom’s down the hall to the right," he points with a nod of his head.

You nod back, trying to ignore the electric sensation that courses through you at his proximity. "Thanks," you say, stepping past him towards the direction he indicated.

As you walk down the hallway, you can't shake off the feeling of emptiness that you felt earlier. It's clear that Leon lives a minimalist lifestyle, but the lack of personal touches leaves you with a sense of melancholy.

Entering the bathroom, you take a moment to splash water on your face, trying to compose yourself before facing Leon again.

His voice echoes through the small apartment as you make your way towards his voice, entering the kitchen; you're struck by how immaculate it is. Everything’s in its place, and there isn't a single dish out of place. The countertop is spotless, the sink free of any debris, the stainless-steel appliances gleam in the light.

The scent of freshly brewed coffee fills the air with the morning sun streaming through the windows, casting a warm glow over the room.

"I’ll pick her up in an hour," Leon stands in front of the refrigerator, two mugs in one hand, bare feet making a soft thumping sound against the linoleum floor. His hair’s still tousled from sleep, his t-shirt is wrinkled, clinging to his muscles as he holds the phone to his ear.

There’s a certain charm to his disheveled appearance that you find appealing.

Looking at you, he makes no effort to stop the call, instead a playful undertones his voice as he hands you a mug and motions towards the coffee machine, "yeah, just woke up. Had a long night."

Shaking your head at his words; he watches you with a small, amused smile, the corners of his lips twitching upwards.

"See you then. Bye, Claire,” he ends the call, turning his full attention to you.

"Y’know, miss teacher," he pours himself a glass of water, "if you just wanted to skip the whole dinner thing, you should’ve just said."

[ficsilike-reblogged]

As High As Honour - III

Summary: You never expected Aemond Targaryen. Pairing: Soft Dark!Aemond Targaryen/F!Reader (No use of Y/N) Warnings For This Chapter: Attempted assault (not by Aemond) Emphasis on the soft and the dark! Highly dubious consent! Fem-receiving oral, unprotected p-i-v sex, age-gap, canon typical violence, babies Word Count: 26.5k (is anyone surprised?)

Book Three: The Dragon and The Lark

You scarcely remembered shoving Aemond’s hands off of you before stumbling toward your dragon. The mournful cry he let out had fresh tears stinging your eyes as you climbed atop his back. You flew back to your camp in a haze—the one thing you do remember is that Vhagar was nowhere in sight. It could be hypothesized that Vhagar had done her rider’s bidding and then flown back to the Red Keep, but surely you would have seen her massive form in the skies, even from a distance.

You did not want to believe that Aemond would do this. But what other option did you have? Other than a dragon, nothing else would be able to burn a fortress like Harrenhal. You would never forget the heat of those flames. Never forget how green…

“Not all green is true.”

What had Helaena meant?

You turned that question over and over in your mind as you went through the motions of informing the Crown of what had happened and having your traveling party turn around to return to the Vale. Their efforts wasted. In a single night, the future you thought you could have was ashes.

Your temporary apartments in the Red Keep were comfortable, as usual, but you could not shake the feeling that something else was on the horizon, waiting for you.

Rhaenyra and Alicent had been kind to you, offering their company in your sullen silences as you tried to make sense of it all. You did not tell them of what Helaena had said and you refused to ask the younger princess about it; you would not ruin the first few moons of her marriage with your questioning.

It seemed that your one avenue was Aemond. Despite knowing that he could very well be lying to you, what other choice did you have? You found him in the shadows of the Red Keep’s library, long fingers curled around the leather spine of a book.

“You have not gone to my father with your suspicions,” he mused quietly before setting it aside. The prince waved a hand at the chair opposite him but you did not move to take it. His tilted lips slowly slid into a sharp smirk when he realized you would not sit.

“You and I both know that taking anything to your father is a waste of time.” You sucked in a breath, trying to steady your thundering heart. This was someone you had trusted. Someone you had a fondness for. You wanted to believe him but you could not deny how damning it looked. “Make me believe that you did not do this, Aemond. Tell me what you know. Why you were there.”

Aemond hummed as you looked at you, eye dragging from the toes of your boots to your silver hair and you had to stop the shiver you felt trying to work its way down your spine. But it was visceral and consuming. “You seem convinced of my guilt.”

“I am giving you the opportunity to try to sway me. I do not want to believe that you did this. Do you not understand? The boy I knew-”

In a flash, Aemond was standing, pushing toward you with quiet but purposeful steps. “I am not a boy any longer, my lady.” The heat of him once again bled through your gown and your next breath stalled in your lungs. Everything about him burned. Burned like dragon fire. But you could not and would not voice that to him. It would only give him hope where you know there could be none. “You were a boy when I told you I’d race you through the skies. You were a boy when you called me a witch. A boy when-”

“Not anymore. Would you have me do to prove myself to you? What task would you set for me to prove to you that I am a man?”

“Tell me what you know, Aemond.”

He was quiet for another stretched moment before his chin tilted up. The move let more sunlight bloom behind him, framing in light but casting the sharp, beautiful angles of his face in dark shadow. He looked like some sort of dark god, craving vengeance.

Or something else. Something, someone you would not name.

“I did go to Harrenhal with the intent of seeing you. But I arrived on horseback. Ser Criston can confirm that as we traveled together. Vhagar remained in the valley outside the city. I was welcomed into Harrenhal’s storied halls by Lord Larys.”

Larys had been the only Strong to survive the fire. Everyone else had perished, having gathered together to celebrate your betrothal to Harwin. He had not accompanied you to the Red Keep but arrived later and was welcomed with softly spoken condolences and offered his father’s spot on the Small Council.

“He had invited me. It seemed I was not the only one who believed you were throwing your life away by tying yourself to an oaf like Ser Harwin Strong.”

You recoiled as if he had struck you. “Harwin was kind to me.”

“You deserve more than kindness.” The smoke of his voice had your eyes fluttering shut for a moment. You did not understand why he had such an effect on you. “And I plan on giving everything to you.”

“Aemond.”

He hummed again as if he were amused. “I left the castle after dinner, wanting to see the godswood. I noticed the fire had started when I started to walk back. There was nothing I could do. Nothing you could do.”

You shook your head. That was too easy. “The fire was green. Only Vhagar and my dragon breathe green fire. Are you suggesting I set Harrenhal ablaze?”

“Of course not. You have a soft heart.”

A scoff tore itself out of your throat. A soft heart. You did not have a soft heart. “Tell me, then, what it is I saw.”

The prince moved closer and you could once again smell him, dragon, mint, lavender, and leather. Intoxicating and-

Stop it. Stop it.

“I do not know what it was, my lady. But I intend to find out.”

Before you could tell him that answer was not adequate, he had grasped your hand and pressed a searing kiss to your fingers. And then he was walking away, leaving you only with the scent of him to burn your throat.

But Aemond, it seemed, was simply waiting for you to confront him before truly revealing his plan. On the eve before you were set to return to the Vale without any sort of answer, your presence was demanded in the Great Hall. What greeted you was nearly the whole of the court waiting in anticipation and Larys Strong in chains.

Your ears rang as he was accused of killing his family and destroying his ancestral seat. And it was Aemond who had brought forth the accusation.

“And how do you plead, Lord Strong?” Rhaenys asked.

Larys looked at Aemond for just a moment before blandly looking back at Rhaenys and Viserys, who sat slouched on the Iron Throne. Aemond stood at the edge of the royal dias, hands folded neatly over the pommel of his sword. He said nothing and the silence stretched throughout the Great Hall.

And that, it seemed, was damning enough.

“I, King Viserys Targaryen,” Viserys started, his voice shaking and wet from his affliction, “first of my name, sentence you to die for your crimes of murder and kinslaying.”

Larys turned and his eyes landed on you, almost as if he were expecting to see you. His gaze did not move from you, he did not blink, even as he was forced to his knees and Ser Harrold raised his sword. And you could not look away either, and then-

“I would prefer if Prince Aemond took my head, if it is all the same.”

The crowd held its breath as Ser Harrold turned to look at his king and the prince. But, like Larys’ refusal to speak out against the accusations, Aemond said nothing but he drew his sword from its sheath at his waist and in a handful of steps, stood in front of Larys. And still your gaze did not move. Larys was still looking at you and Aemond moved his head just enough to follow the other man’s line of sight…and saw you.

Larys’ head was cut from his neck and fell to the floor with a wet thud. His body fell, too, and crimson started to puddle immediately across the light stone. And that was the end of House Strong. A small splash of blood streaked across the high arc of Aemond’s cheek but he did not brush it away, instead focusing on cleaning his blade before walking away, his stride long and powerful.

As the crowd’s murmurs started to reach a crescendo, you blindly walked back to your apartments and tried to wrangle the thoughts coursing through you. Larys had killed Harwin. Larys had killed him and the entirety of his family…

Your thoughts came to a screeching halt with the announcement of Aemond’s presence in your rooms. You turned to see him striding him, skirting around the serving girl who had let him in.

“It is done, my lady.”

“It is.” The words sounded muffled in your ears. But it was done. Silence stretched between you, tight and uncomfortable, but you could not find the words to break it. What could you say? What else could be done? “What did you say to him to have him reveal such atrocities?” Was all you could ask.

Aemond hummed and his chin tilted up, and it reminded you of a cat who had just devoured a fat canary. “I simply appealed to him as a fellow second son.”

The simple sentence felt like you had plunged into an icy lake. You remembered how they spoke at Jacaerys and Helaena’s wedding and one thought jumped to another to another before... “It was you who gave him the idea.”

“Careful, my lady,” Aemond said softly but you could hear the iron beneath it. “Be wary of your accusations.”

“Accusations?” You hissed. “You have already confessed to appealing to him as a fellow second son. What other conclusion would you have me make? What other option have you given me?”

“It was not I who killed him. And it was not my intent to have him burnt to ash. Harwin deserved a cleaner death than that.”

“Stop it! Do not be so cruel!”

Aemond moved closer. “But he was always going to die, my lady. He claimed what was mine.” He reached out and gently set his hand against your cheek; a soft touch in contrast to his cold words. “But now you can rest knowing that it was not my hand that struck him down.” His thumb traced the curve of your cheek and he leaned in just far enough to brush his lips against your temple. You should have pulled away. Should have told him, again, that his affections were misplaced and unwanted. But you were rooted to the spot and your skin burned where he had kissed it.

The next breath rattled out of you and you felt Aemond’s lips pull into a smile against your skin. “Larys could have taken the Black.” You weren’t even sure why you were still speaking or why you even would suggest Larys still draw breath with his crimes.

Aemond pulled back just enough to look at you. He did not move far, his chest still brushed yours with each of his steady breaths. “I would not have doggedly pursued him if he had not meant to kill me as well. He had wanted to leave you no option but himself.” The prince paused and then his hands curled around your arms. “Nothing and no one will keep you from me, my lady.”

Even as you shook your head, you burned. “You will find another. Someone closer to your age-”

His grip tightened and then moved, anchoring at the base of your skull and giving you no room to wrench yourself free. “There is no one who could compare to you, your light, your fire. I have deprived myself of you and your attentions and I shall suffer no longer.” Aemond pulled in a slow breath. Calm and measured. “I will give you time to mourn. I am a man of honor and I know you felt something for Harwin, no matter how unworthy he was of your heart.” He dragged his lips down your temple to press another whisper of a kiss against the highest part of your cheek. “But I’ll not wait forever. My patience grows thin.” And then he was gone, leaving you with the echo of his scent and the burn of his touch.

If you thought that Larys’ execution was the end of it, you found yourself sorely mistaken. Aemond was not finished. The green fire that had destroyed Harrenhal had been a mystery you thought would never be solved, thinking that perhaps there was something in Harrenhal’s stone that turned the flames green. Larys was gone, that was what mattered, wasn’t it?

Not to Aemond. Rhaenyra summoned you into the Small Council chamber on the morning you were set to leave again. Aemond sat beside her as she sat next to her father who looked like he had been roused from a deep sleep. The golden mask Viserys had taken to wearing to hide the rot was loose around his head. But the light in his purple eyes was more present than it had been in years—that gave you pause, more than the tight line of Rhaenyra’s mouth. Rhaenys almost looked relieved and the rest of the royal family had also joined you alongside the Small Council. Helaena took her place beside you and wrapped a hand around the meat of your arm, as if she needed grounding for what was to come.

“Tell them, Aemond. Tell us all what you have found.”

Aemond nodded once and his lilac eye dragged across the crowd for a moment and then settled on you. He explained the Alchemists’ Guild had created something called Wildfire. A synthetic dragonfire—and wild, as the name denoted. The order to create it had come directly from the Citadel itself.

Larys had procured a handful of jars for himself and had stashed them within Harrenhal, waiting for the correct time, as he had put it. Those jars had been enough to destroy the largest of the towers of the storied fortress and kill dozens.

Larys killed them with fire. Killed his father and brother for their titles and inheritance…and for you. (His confession of that last point came to you by the shaking hand of a servant girl who had been told to wait to deliver it to you “at the right time.” She had found you the night after his execution, slipping through the passageways you had once traversed yourself as a girl in the Red Keep. The missive had been brief but would haunt you for the rest of your days. If you had been mine, my brother would still live. There had been other accusations, too, stating that you had intoxicated him the moment your eyes met his when you first were introduced at the Eyrie. It had been a cruel final act, leaving you under the crushing weight of guilt you had to suffer with alone.)

Aemond enlisted the one-time paramour of Daemon, a woman named Mysaria, who had a network of “spiders” throughout the city. When digging further, Mysaria’s spiders found that the plot was truly beyond what anyone could have been expecting. Since the Conquest, a certain powerful subset of the Conclave had been hellbent on destroying the dragons and any trace of magic left in Westeros. They had studies of how the dragons’ growth stunted since the creation of the Dragonpit. There were collected tomes upon tomes of how to kill dragons within their eggs.

The suspicions you had about something being wrong with the dragons had proven true. Did you feel any pride or righteousness about being right? Of course not. You would have preferred to be wrong—but the truth was out now.

Your mind was filled with thoughts of your dragon and how there was a centuries’ long plot to destroy him and all others like him. He was yours. Your freedom made tangible. How could you ever think to live without him? How could anyone think to take him from you?

When you were finally able to leave the Red Keep, you pressed yourself along your dragon’s spine, wanting to feel as close as you could to him. Each flap of his massive wings echoed in your chest. And he seemed to feel your want for closeness and took a few extra turns around the Eyrie before landing, keeping you atop his back for a little longer.

It was a balm to be back in the Vale. Dealing with your duties was a welcome distraction from the ache in your chest. Harwin was gone but your dragon was safe. Perhaps that was all you could have. A dragon of your own and the diadem on your head.

True to form, Viserys was slow to act upon the information Aemond had presented. He feared gaining House Hightower’s ire by demanding the maesters and archmaesters still involved in the plot be remanded to the Crown’s custody. Daemon and Aemond held no such qualms and landed Caraxes and Vhagar atop the Seneschal’s Court in the Citadel and demanded all who were involved to be handed over.

From what you had gleaned from the whispers in the Vale, there had been a short-lived stand off before Lord Ormund Hightower faced threats of a revolt of his vassals and also pressed the Citadel to yield to the princes’ demands. Your courtiers sometimes whispered of how Aemond had ordered the maesters who had taken part of the conspiracy to be fed to Vhagar and the wildfire caches to be destroyed in the maw of the Dragonmont on Dragonstone. When that was finished, Aemond and Rhaenys destroyed the Dragonpit atop Meleys and Vhagar when he returned. The dragons would be cared for on the outskirts of the city, without chains and dark roosts.

“He is a true Targaryen,” Lady Waxley said. You weren’t entirely sure if you liked the breathy tone she used but you quickly dismissed that thought. Aemond was not yours to covet.

“And I hear he is still unattached,” another woman added. “Unusual for a prince—even a second son, no?”

Aemond was not just a second son. He was his family protector. He rode the largest dragon in the world. He was studious and a master swordsman and-

You bit your tongue so hard it bled.

Moons waxed and waned, and you thought that you had rid yourself of Aemond and his attentions. And you worked to set him out of your mind as well. It was strange, how often you thought of him. He was haunting you.

And you knew that was what he wanted.

But you knew this wayward infatuation he thought he had for you would fade. He would marry a young highborn lady and you would find a suitable heir from one of your distant cousins. The events of these past moons would be…relegated to the dark of your memory. In time. Even if the ghost of his kisses still followed you in your dreams. The thought of telling Alicent of his affections briefly crossed your mind, but decided against it, knowing it would only embarrass you and Alicent. And with the burn of his touch came the realization that you would be alone. It had been a girlish, childish hope that you would find a husband and have a family of your own. You had put your obligations to the Vale above your own wants. It had been the honorable thing to do. And then Harwin had given you hope. He held you gently and kissed you passionately. He had wanted a family, too. One with you despite your differences. The tears you shed for Harwin were, selfishly, also for the life you would not get to live. A handful of new suits were brought before you after returning to the Vale and you rejected them outright after they made it seem like they were granting you a boon by even considering you as a potential bride. You could and would rule the Vale without a husband and a few were even younger than Aemond. Harwin had been the ideal choice: older than you, mostly understanding of your position, and in possession of a kind heart and handsome face. And now he was gone. So be it. As you looked over the subpar qualifications and lives of your Gulltown cousins to pick a potential heir, Ser Oswin came into your solar, holding a missive and his cheeks sunken with shock: Viserys was dead.

While you led a coalition of the highborn of the Vale down to the Red Keep, your dragon circled restlessly overhead. You would have preferred to fly with him, but you knew that leading the Vale and publicly showing your support for Rhaenyra as heir was more important than your comfort. The Houses of the Vale may not follow you blindly, but they did trust your judgment. And you were going to see Rhaenyra crowned without question.

When you arrived, the city was draped in black and mostly somber, but you did hear a few whispers about the impending coronation. You had your handmaidens distribute food on your way in, stating it was a gift from Queen Rhaenyra. It was a small way you could help sway favor. Things were changing—you just hoped it would be for the better. And as your wheelhouse continued on, you were pleasantly surprised to realize the city did not hold as putrid of a scent as it had previously. There were fresh water fountains tucked between buildings and it looked like the streets had been recently cleared. Daeron’s plans seemed to be working marvelously to better the city for everyone.

Your dragon settled in the deserted tourney grounds and you made sure some of your younger lords and ladies were comfortable in their apartments before you set off to find Alicent and Rhaenyra. You found them in Rhaenyra’s solar, quiet and holding each other’s hands. You greeted them with a curtsey followed by tight hugs. “Tell me what you need,” you whispered.

Rhaenyra shook her head. Salt from dried tears had left streaks down her cheeks. “His suffering has ended.”

Alicent brushed a lock of Rhaenyra’s silver hair away from her cheek and kissed her temple gently. She also had tears in her eyes, making the brown of her gaze all the more vibrant. “And he went into the Seven Heavens knowing you would carry on his legacy faithfully.”

Rhaenyra nodded before sighing. “He has been ill for so long, but I still feel as if he was taken from me too soon. What if I still have more to learn? More for him to teach me?”

Truthfully, you thought of telling her of how she had been ruling in his stead for years with Rhaenys and Alicent as her guides and a strong Small Council at her back. But she was still delicate and she loved her father, no matter his faults. “He was a peaceful king. And I have no doubt you will be much the same. You have a strong council, a respected and loyal Hand, and you have us,” you said, curling your hands around one of hers. “We are here for you, Rhaenyra.” You turned to Alicent and saw the ache in her eyes as well. No matter how unfair her marriage had been, Alicent was still a dutiful wife. “And I am here for you as well, please never forget that.”

After the prayers and services for Viserys were finished, Alicent was the one who crowned Rhaenyra, setting Jaehaerys’ crown on her brow and proclaiming her Queen for the Seven Kingdoms to behold. The crowd, full of highborn and smallfolk alike, cheered and chanted her name like a benediction. Jacaerys was publicly named as her heir as Helaena stood at his side. You were pleased to have been given a seat in the first row of revealers and you readily curtsied with the rest of the crowd as Rhaenyra held out her arms, like she was greeting all of them, welcoming them all into her arms. Daemon chuckled at his place beside Lucerys—his lady wife and daughter were seated beside you and were likely to be busy with courtly life as they had been away from Westeros for some time.

As the crowd continued to cheer, you caught Aemond’s eye as he stood behind Rhaenyra on the raised dias. His sword was sheathed at his side and in his fine leather and linen clothes, he looked every inch the prince of a dark fairytale of Old Valyria. His silver hair was a curtain of silver silk and his lilac eye nearly sparkled in the sunlight of the Great Hall. Yes, a dark prince indeed. And you steadfastly ignored how a flock of hummingbirds seemed to have taken up residence in your stomach when you looked at him.

You danced with Lord Blackwood’s nephew, Davos, at the festivities that night, Daemon, and then also took a turn with Aegon’s Lady Farwynd. She was a riot of spring colors and bright smiles; you understood why Aegon was so taken with her. Hopefully their betrothal would be announced soon. But as you looked at Jace and Helaena, Aegon and his lady, and Rhaenyra and Alicent, any joy you might have felt soured in your chest. Of course, you were thankful that Rhaenyra seemed to be at least mostly welcomed by her subjects, but you were alone. And you had no one to celebrate with at your side. But you shoved that self-pitying part down until you could hardly feel it. You were the Lady of the Eyrie. You had so much to be thankful for. That was what mattered.

“That’s her,” someone whispered as you nibbled on some roasted boar and honeyed carrots at one of the tables. “Ser Harwin’s betrothed.”

“Well, certainly not anymore.”

Someone tittered a laugh and your heart twisted.

“A shame, is it not? And she was lucky to-”

You stood from your chair and walked away, unable to listen any more nor caring if they saw you. Yes, you had been lucky. And that luck ran out. But you would still be an honorable Lady of the Eyrie. That would be your legacy. Something wet splashed against your neck and it took you a moment to realize you were crying. Hot, fat tears were trickling down your face and you hastily wiped them away as you ducked behind a pillar, hoping no one saw your pitiful display. Now was not the time for your heart to crack open.

Seven Hells, these last handful of moons had been confusing and volatile. You had mourned Harwin and the future you had hoped for. Larys had been dealt with. A plot to destroy the dragons had been foiled. Viserys was dead. Rhaenyra was Queen. And you would support her and quash any murmurs you heard of dissent. You had to be…content with that, with what the gods have given you.

“What has you so forlorn?” You turned to look at Helaena as she rounded the pillar to stand beside you.

You pressed a smile to your face but you knew it was not convincing as she continued to frown at you. “It is a joyous night, princess. I simply am a little overwhelmed.”

Helaena’s purple eyes moved across your face before nodding. “There are many people here. And they all seem to want something. Even if it is only a moment of our time.”

You could only imagine what an event like this would be for Helaena. It had to be an assault on her senses but she seemed to have resigned herself to soldiering through it as a duty. “Shall we hide here together, then?”

Helaena nodded, a soft laugh pressing at her mouth. “I think that would be wonderful.”

You spoke quietly with her for a few moments, letting her tell you of the newest additions to her collection and how she was settling into married life. She seemed to be handling all of it with the soft grace you knew her to always possess and that she would need as the future queen. Jacaerys eventually came to steal her away for a dance and they smiled at each other, heads angled toward one another with matching pink on their cheeks. You leaned against the pillar and watched the pair move through the steps of the dance with a wistful sigh. Yes, they would be good—together, to each other, and for the Realm. You had no doubt. It was something you could feel in your bones.

“You have been avoiding me.”

You had not been avoiding Aemond, per se. The funeral and celebrations and all the pomp and pageantry between had been exhausting. As a head of a Great House, there were certain expectations. An example you needed to set. And if all of that kept you from this exact situation? That was a happy happenstance. “What do you need, my prince?”

“You know what I desire.”

Your eyes shuttered for a moment as the smoke of his voice wrapped around you. “I know what you think you desire.” Steeling yourself, you turned to face him. Gods, he was beautiful. Even more so from this distance. You could see the fine stitching of his doublet and the silver and blue threads of the three headed dragon embroidered over his heart. It suited him, the blue. “But I do suppose I have been remiss in thanking you for uncovering the plot to destroy our dragons. You have done a great service to us all. I do commend and thank you for that.”

Aemond moved closer and you fought the childish urge to turn and flee. It was strange to find yourself feeling like prey. But with that knowing light in his eye and the set of his shoulders, what else could you be?

“I would not leave the Crown or House Targaryen defenseless.” His eye dragged down your body as he said it and you felt every inch of it. “I must protect them. Just as I must protect you.”

You were not entirely sure what you could or should say to him. You thanked him, that should be the end of it. It needed to be the end of it. Rolling your shoulders, you prepared to leave and gathered a handful of your skirts. “I will leave you to enjoy the rest of your evening-”

“I did not say I was finished yet, my lark.”

“I do not need your per…” Words stalled. “What did you call me?”

Aemond moved closer again, with all the grace of a trained warrior. One of his long fingers trailed down the fine stitching of your sleeve, and then pressed against the scar you had hidden. Again, your senses were clouded with the heat of him, the scent of him. Of metal and dragon and heat and lavender. “A lark.”

“Lark.” You knew the bird. You knew its sweet song and its gentle nature. You knew its place in the songs of lovers and on the tongues of poets. You were not a lark. You were your mother’s shrike. You were House Arryn’s falcon. But a lark? Is that how he saw you?

“Yes, my lark.”

“I am not yours, Aemond,” you nearly hissed before turning on your heel and walking away before he could whisper again. But with each step you took, the sobriquet echoed in your mind.

My lark.

My lark.

My lark.

You sat beneath the shadow of the heart tree and watched as Jeyne walked around the Red Keep’s godswood with Cregan Stark at her side. The young lord of Winterfell and a host of other Northern Houses had come to the capital to attend the coronation and swear fealty to Rhaenyra. And it was there that Cregan had caught Jeyne’s eye.

It would be a good match, to be sure. Politically it made sense and the way Jeyne was smiling was certainly an indication of how she felt, too. Cregan’s cheeks were often pink in her presence and you were fairly certain it was not because he was unaccustomed to the southron weather. Rhaenyra had asked you to chaperone them as they became better acquainted with each other. You were happy to oblige. The youngest princess was about to reach the age of majority and Cregan had just done so himself, after a long regency over his own seat of power. It was a little melancholy for you to see the last babe you had held in your arms now entertaining suitors.

You would watch them out of the corner of your eye as you worked on the embroidery in your grasp and look away whenever Cregan nervously looked in your direction. The last time he did so, he seemed confident enough to grasp Jeyne’s hand and press a shy kiss to her fingers when he thought you were not looking. Jeyne’s answering giggle kept you from stepping in. By the time you finished the moonbloom and dragon’s breath flowers on your small bit of linen, Jeyne was floating over to you with a smile on her face.

“Come, my little love,” you said as you rose from your seat. “Let us go speak with Her Grace, hm?”

Rhaenyra was pleased Jeyne was so smitten and you let yourself out to allow them discuss what the future could possibly hold—that seemed like it would be a special moment to be had between mother and daughter. To pass the time before tonight’s feast, you had a serving woman get you a bit of Arbor Gold from the kitchens and you sipped on it as you reclined on one of the holdfast’s balconies, watching the comings and goings of the city below.

“Lady Arryn, is it not?”

You stood and turned at the sound of the unfamiliar voice and saw a tall man dressed in extravagant silk and samite robes the color of the sky at dawn. “It is. And it seems you have caught me unawares; I apologize but I do not recall your name.”

The man bowed with a laugh. “I am Alios, a Magister of Pentos. Your queen was gracious enough to extend an invitation to me for her coronation.”

You tried to keep the surprise from your face. Inviting foreign dignitaries wasn’t unheard of but you knew the current Sealord of Braavos in attendance and the bad blood between Braavos and Pentos was storied. “And how are you finding our fair capital?”

“It is pleasant enough. But I am most fond of its art.” His sand colored eyes made a lazy path down your form as the corners of his lips turned up into an appreciative smile.

And you had to laugh at the unmitigated gall of it all. “The art is hanging on the walls, my lord. I am sure you would appreciate it all the more.”

Alios stepped closer and you found your grip tightening on the chalice in your hand. He might be handsome in certain ways, but there was something rotten about him—it did not help that his pallor reminded you of curdled milk. “What is paint and fabric compared to the beauty in front of me?”

Another laugh escaped you but it sounded stilted and uneven to your ears. “You are bold, my lord. It has been some time since I have been in Essos, but I do not recall such overtures being polite across the Narrow Sea.”

Alios waved it away. The golden rings on each of his fingers parkled in the dying sunlight. “I am an impatient man. If I see something I find beautiful, why waste my time on being polite?”

“And am I to assume that you are accustomed to getting everything you desire?” You replied. It was almost charming for a complete stranger to approach you in such a way. An affront to good decorum, but charming in a way that reminded you of a child that had not yet learned the way of courtly machinations.

He stepped closer still and smiled, revealing gleaming white teeth. “I am.”

The Arbor Gold was sweet on your tongue but you had to consciously keep your face from pulling into a frown as he took yet another step closer to you. “A pity, then, that I will have to be the first to teach you the lesson that you cannot also get what you want. Usually it is babes in arms who are learning such.” You pushed out another laugh, trying to retain some sort of jovial matter. It would not do for you to insult one of Rhaenyra’s guests, no matter how ridiculous you found them. “I would be obliged to show you where the tapestries House Targaryen saved from the Doom are hung. The Red Keep can be a maze to those not acquainted with its halls.”

“I would accept your offer, my lady. Please, lead the way.” He was saying everything correctly, aside from his overt flirtations. He was arguably handsome. Wealthy, if his clothing and standing as a Magister was any indication. And about your age. He could be…suitable. But why could you not find anything but barely checked revulsion for him? You hurriedly gulped the rest of your wine and led him through the halls to the storied tapestries. Thankfully, there were other courtiers viewing them and a small bit of tension slipped from your shoulders. You were not alone with him. “Will you not tell me their histories?” Alios asked.

Your tongue rolled in your mouth for a moment. “I do believe there are placards beneath each. They would be much more succinct than I could ever hope to be.”

“And if I do not care for brevity?” He arched a brow. “I must confess, Lady Arryn, that it seems you want to be rid of my company.”

You pressed a smile to your face. Well, at least he was not completely dense. “I do apologize for any slight you may feel, my lord, but I do not have the patience for such frivolities today. I am needed elsewhere. Please excuse me.”

You were quick to quit the hall, even when you heard him call your name with a laugh on his tongue. You would not suffer his presence any longer. And it was fortunate that you spied Rhaenyra rounding the corner a few paces later, flanked by a pair of Queensguard. She smiled as she spotted you and was quick to wave you to her side. “I have much to tell you,” she said as she linked her arm with yours.

Finally pulling in a full breath, you let her lead you into the Great Hall where the kitchen maids and staff were preparing for the night’s feast. A handful more were starting to lead carts filled with bread and vegetables out of the hall, too, no doubt being distributed throughout the city. Lady Mysaria, the new Mistress of Whispers on Rhaenyra’s Small Council, Princess Rhaenys, and Daeron had continued to voice the need to provide for the Smallfolk in abundance and Rhaenyra was happy to oblige.

Rhaenyra plucked a bit of cheese from one of the platters on the nearest table and handed it to you before popping some into her mouth as well.

“You are in a jovial mood,” you mused.

Rhaenyra’s smile widened and she drew you closer with a hand in yours. “Helaena is with child.”

Something akin to a yelp escaped you before you were pulling Rhaenyra into your arms. “Blessed news. A babe on the way. They will be wonderful parents.”

Rhaenyra pulled back after a moment, a smile still splitting her face. “I cannot fathom it. My boy will have a child of his own. And Helaena, the sweet girl, has been simply glowing.”

A giggle slipped by your lips as you shook your head. “Of course she is. I expect nothing less.” The news had something fluttering in your chest. Rhaenyra was queen, her line secure, the Realm at peace. House Targaryen was flourishing.

The feast that night was jovial, even more so with your secreted knowledge of Helaena’s condition. You made sure she had an extra plate of lemoncakes sent her way after the first course was finished and Helaena gave you a smile as bright as sunlight when they were placed in front of her. It was enough for you to focus on and not how you felt two insistent and very different gazes trailing your every move.

One burned. The other made you itch.

When the feast was finished, you welcomed your handmaidens insisting on you resting for the night. To be true, the festivities had taken a toll on you. You preferred the infrequent crowds of the Vale and Eyrie to the constant bustle and pageantry of the capital. But you would not squirrel yourself away for long. It was time to celebrate. Hopefully this would be the first, last, and only coronation you would have to attend. Focusing on the smiles of your dear friends and family would surely be enough to soothe any discomfort you had. Only a small group of your fellow Valemen had come to you with grievances they wanted you to mediate or settle during the celebration, so you supposed that was another mark of good fortune.

You slid into the near-scalding water in the copper tub with a sigh. Lavender oil had created small, rainbow slicks in the water and you let it soak into your skin as you rested your head against the back of the tub. Pulling in a deep breath, your tight muscles started to unclench and your mind finally went quiet.

Just for a moment.

Your eyes snapped open as you sucked in another lungful of the floral fragrance. Lavender. Aemond smelt of lavender. It would be egotistical to think that he had taken to using lavender oil simply because you did, would it not? But now the seed of the thought had been planted. You dragged a hand down your face and sunk a little lower in the water, letting it lap at your upper lip. Lavender. Lavender. Lavender.

The scent had always reminded you of home, of your mother. Wherever you went, so did the scent of the purple bloom. Your mother had used it, credited it to her healthy glow and soft skin. And you had always wanted to be like her and had insisted your maids use it with you as soon as you could accurately form the argument.

And now it was Aemond. Aemond who smelt of dragon and mint and leather and lavender.

Despite the coming autumn, it was a warm day. You fanned your face as you watched Jeyne and Helaena try to capture a dragonfly with a fine silk net. The younger princess had wanted to gift it to Helaena in celebration of her pregnancy, but could not figure out how to best capture the insect and eventually had to ask Helaena for help. Helaena didn’t seem to mind, spouting off all the ways she had tried before and had led Jeyne this way and that for materials for their “hunt.” It warmed the recesses of your heart to see them together. Jeyne did insist on being the one to wait in the tree for the dragonfly to pass by again, telling Helaena she was to remain “both feet firmly planted!” on the ground. Jacaerys eventually joined the pair, shouting a brotherly “be careful!” to Jeyne in the tree before sitting beside Helaena on the soft grass below.

The coronation celebrations were slowly coming to an end and you would soon be home in the Eyrie again. Away from Alios and his disconcerting attentions. Away from Aemond and his silent stares. After arriving in the capital, you thought Aemond’s quiet had meant a new chapter had started. Perhaps his feelings for you had started to wane. But he stared. And his stare burned. You could not deny the heat of his gaze nor the tilt of his mouth when you caught his gaze. He was unrepentant and would not look away.

Your thoughts of Aemond were quickly usurped as Rhaenyra settled beside you on the bench. “They are considering the name Aerion for the babe,” she said instead of a greeting.

“And what if they have a girl, hm? What shall they name her? You were quite taken with the name Visenya as a girl, if I remember correctly.”

Rhaenyra hummed, not taking her eyes off the couple as they continued to sit quietly together in the shade. “Your mother was the one to sway me from that name.”

“Oh?”

Rhaenyra nodded. “She said that some names hold more weight than others.”

You knew what she meant. Your mother had long pondered if Queen Visenya had placed a curse of some sort on her own name, guaranteeing that she would be the one and only. Tragic demises usually awaited any babe that was considered for it. “Well, we shall just have to see what they choose for their little heir when the time comes.”

That seemed to be enough for Rhaenyra who sat quietly beside you for a moment—until Jeyne fell out of the tree. Thankfully, the princess was unharmed but it was deemed best that her hunt for the dragonfly resume tomorrow. You plucked a few blades of grass from Jeyne’s hair as Rhaenyra herded everyone back into the shadows of the Red Keep.

“Lady Arryn!” You turned and saw Alios striding toward you, a gaggle of similarly dressed men at his back. “I was hoping to have a moment of your time, if you would be agreeable.”

You certainly were not agreeable but courtly politeness kept you from voicing your displeasure. “Is there something you need, my lord?”

His smile stretched across his face and it instantly rolled your stomach. “Just as I said: a moment of your time. I would have you walk with me.”

You smashed your tongue between your teeth for a moment before nodding. “A moment, my lord. I have other duties to attend to.” As you passed a handmaiden, one of Alicent’s retinue, you were quick to wave her to your side. You would not leave yourself alone with Alios and his ilk. His intentions were unclear and you did not want to know them, truthfully. The more time you spent in his presence, the less you wanted him near you. It did not leave you with any comfort when Alios eyed the handmaiden at your side with barely checked contempt, but when you blinked again, his face was back to its placid smile again.

He led your small group back out into the gardens and you again bit your tongue to avoid something unkind slipping by your lips. This was a waste of time. Surely he had to see your disinterest.

“Have you ever been to Pentos, my lady?”

“No. But I hear it can be agreeable.”

“‘Agreeable.’” He laughed. “It is far more than agreeable. It is the jewel of the Free Cities.” Pride oozed from every syllable as he tapped at his chest. “I would be honored to show you its beauty and wonders.”

“That is a most gracious offer, magister, but I must decline. I have my duties and responsibilities here. I must not shirk them. No matter how tempting the offer.” The offer was not tempting but, again, courtly politeness kept you from saying so. But you were tempted. Gods, you were tempted.

“Perhaps I shall spirit you away regardless. You would warm to my city eventually.”

The handmaiden gasped behind you—the man had just proposed kidnapping you, it was a polite reaction compared to what you wanted. But still, you reached back and looped your hand through her arm and held her to your side. “I will not be warming anything of yours. I would thank you for the company but I found no enjoyment in this exchange. Please excuse us.” You then steered you and the handmaiden back toward the Keep without fanfare and your tongue now bleeding behind your teeth with how tightly you had bit. As soon as you were in the safety of the shadows of the Keep, you shooed the handmaiden back to her duties after thanking her for her company and hurried to Rhaenyra’s solar.

Luck, it seemed, was on your side as the royal family was still inside and the Queen was fussing over her daughter, just as she had been before Alios had rudely intruded.

“Where did you go?” Helaena asked, turning to look at you from her perch on an overstuffed chaise. “You were here one moment, gone the next.”

“I was called away. It is no matter now. It shall not happen again.” You pressed a smile to your face and hoped you were telling the truth. Surely Alios would now understand that you wanted nothing from him. Short of telling him that you found his very presence repugnant, you had made your opinion of him clear. Briefly, you thought of telling Rhaenyra of Alios and his unwanted attentions, but as you watched her fuss over her daughter and then pivot to also fuss over Helaena while balancing her father’s crown on her brow, you decided against it. It was not the time. You handled this yourself. Asking anything of Rhaenyra now would simply be selfish.

Over Rhaenyra’s shoulder, Helaena caught your eye. Her purple gaze was heavy, like she was seeing something on you that you could not scrub away. The queen-to-be saw something.

The door to the solar opened and Daeron strode in with a teasing smile at the ready. “I heard you fell out of a tree trying to catch a bug.”

Jeyne squawked in embarrassment. “Who told you?” And as the room descended into familiar familial chaos, you tried to smile. You had made the right choice, hadn’t you?

The day faded into the next and you were thankfully tied up in showing a few of your younger bannermen and their families around the capital and presenting them to the Crown. It was a bit monotonous but you would not complain. You were helping, in your own way, to solidify Rhaenyra’s reign and your own power over the Vale. And it mostly kept you out of Aemond and Alios’ lines of sight. They were off…busy with their own endeavors, you were sure, and you were happy to not think of them. But your mind did wander to Aemond. Now would be the most suitable time for him to find a more agreeable match. You hoped whomever he found would treat him well. He deserved it.

And you steadfastly ignored how hope and something you could not name twisted in your chest at the thought of it.

But it was no matter as you retired to your chambers before supper service, trying to regain a bit of energy you would need in order to play the part of Lady Arryn for the masses. And it was a blessing that you had such a high title and sway. But gods be good, it could be tiresome.

As you took a moment to breathe and attempt to sort through all the dynamics between your bannermen’s houses (there seemed to be a bit of tension between Lord Coldwater and the newest Lord Elesham and Lady Waynwood had come to you in hopes of helping her son and heir secure a suitable match and that was just the last hour) and how you should approach each of them. It helped soothe your mind as you rolled one of your mothers rings around your finger. Unladylike, true, but it helped nonetheless.

A quick knock at your chamber door had you turning, thoughts halting for a moment. You expected to see one of your handmaidens, or one attending to one of the other royal women summoning you to one solar or another. But what you found instead was Alios, leaning against your closed door, fingers twirling the lock with a smile on his face. “It should not have been this difficult to get you alone.”

Something vile rippled down your spine. Nothing good could come of this and your stomach twisted. “This is inappropriate, my lord. I must ask you leave at once.”

But he only stepped toward you. “Why should I? I have gone through much and more trouble to finally speak to you like this. Without any unwanted ears listening.”

Danger. Blood. Violence. Something whispered at the back of your mind for you to run. To scream. To flee. To fight. “Leave. It has been some time since I lived on the other side of the Narrow Sea, but I do not recall unannounced and unwanted visitors being polite.”

He took another step. And then another. And you took one back—only one as the back of your legs hit the edge of your featherbed. Your eyes darted to the door behind him. Surely you could be swift enough to evade him.

“If you try to run, I assure you that you will regret it, my lady.”

Ice ran through your veins at his words. “You dare threaten me?”

“I dare,” Alios said, smirk pushing at his mouth. “And I am certain you would prefer that your mother’s transgressions were not revealed to the court.”

Questions ran through your mind as your ears rang. What could he possibly mean? What connection did your mother have to this grievous and foreign man? And what did he want? He did not wait for you to voice these questions and pressed on with another taunting step toward you.

“Pentos and Lys do not often trade with one another, but I enjoy their wares when they arrive on our shores. And one such man came to Pentos not a year past, with quite a story to tell.”

You knew instantly of whom he spoke. Ghael. Your kinslaying uncle. But you would not let this interloper know that he had struck at a part of you that still ached. “I would not have you waste your breath recounting stories. I’ll not ask again: leave.”

But Alios inched closer still. “Your uncle told me stories of his maiden niece, locked in a tower of her own making, surrounded by stolen wealth.”

“He was the thief,” you seethed. “He stole my father’s life and livelihood. He would have murdered me in my bed, a child, had my mother not spirited me away to Westeros. Whatever he has told you, you have been misled.”

And as Alios’ infuriating smirk continued to grow, you realized you had already shown your weak spot. “I do not believe I have, my lady. Here you stand, as he said. A lady of considerable standing and wealth. You are kin with the new queen. Her children seek you out for comfort and conversation. Now, tell me, why would the only daughter of a Lyseni merchant be of such high standing if she had not taken something that belonged to another?”

You rolled your lips into your mouth for a moment. It would be worthless to try to convince him in seeing how he had been led astray, would it not? But still, you could not stand for such slander. “My position in court has nothing to do with my misbegotten uncle. My mother was the queen’s aunt, she was a cousin to the late king. Anything my mother brought from Lys was my father’s. All of it was my father’s and Ghael usurped what he could after murdering him. All that my father had was my mother’s by right. I now see Ghael has not learned in these years how to handle his own affairs. He offered you a great sum, did he not, to return what he says was stolen from him? The last man he sent this side of the Narrow Sea met his end swiftly.”

“That man was not me and your uncle promised me something far greater if I returned what you and your mother stole.”

Another step.

Another.

“And what is that?” You asked through gritted teeth. Sweat lined your palms but you fought the girlish urge to wipe it away on your gown.

“You.” And then the man lunged and his grotesquely slick lips pressed against yours. Your next breath was a half muffled shriek as you shoved at his chest. He stumbled back for just a moment before he surged forward to again claim your mouth with his; one of his hands wrapped around the back of your neck as the other grasped your breast with a cruel grip. One of his boots knocked into your feet and had you falling backward against your featherbed with a yelp. Alios laughed as you, again, shoved at his chest, and you nearly screamed as his tongue traced against the seam of your tightly closed mouth.

You raked your nails down his cheek and snarled in near delight as blood bubbled beneath your fingers but you were not done. Shoving your knee up, Alios let out a gasp of pain as you found your mark and he reared back, giving you just enough room to move out from under him and stumble to your feet. But he lunged again, grasped at the sleeve of your gown and yanked. The seams popped beneath his grip but you surged backward as the fabric tore and ripped down your arm. Alios threw the ruined fabric aside as he stood straight again. His sneer returned even as his chest heaved.

The door burst open and Aemond strode in, no doubt having heard the disturbance. And to your horror, several courtiers were peering around him into the room, already whispering.

And Alios was the first to speak. “I did not know the women this side of the Narrow Sea were so tenacious!”

The whispers increased in volume but you scarcely heard them over the roaring of blood in your ears. “You impudent liar! He has attacked me-”

“She is embarrassed! You have caught us in quite the position; I daresay I usually leave my lovers much more satisfied than this.” His following laugh had your blood boiling.

“He continues to spew falsehoods!” Despite wanting to appear calm and collected, as you were known to be, as the Lady of the Eyrie should always be seen, the terror and unbridled rage was starting to gnaw at your bones. This could ruin you. Ruin everything. Your mother’s legacy. Your legacy and legitimacy as the rightful ruler of the Vale. All of it would be lost to the scandal.

But Alios simply laughed again and bent to grab your discarded sleeve. He waved it around like a tourney favor. The blue and silver fabric shimmered mockingly in the dying light. “We were in quite a rush, as you can see, Prince Aemond.”

It took you a moment to realize Aemond had his sword readied in his hand and he had not moved to sheathe it again. “And will you deign to tell me that the blood on your face is from her passionate embrace?” Aemond’s tone held the icy formality you knew him to use in court but it now had a steely underbelly you could not ignore. And his sword still glinted in the light.

Alios’ smile faltered a fraction and he touched his cheek, as if he had forgotten the small injury you had bestowed upon him. “As I said: we were in a rush.”

The whispers at the prince’s back continued to grow and your heart raced. You stared at Aemond, silently begging him to believe you. Despite your rejection of his suit, he had to believe you in this, did he not? He had to know you better than to cavort with a near stranger so openly.

“I know Lady Arryn to be a woman who holds honor above much else. Her honor has been without question.”

Tears sprang to your eyes as Aemond’s words as the smallest bit of tension fell from your spine. He believed you. “Thank you, my prince.”

But it seemed that the Pentoshi Magister was not yet finished. “Fine! I was trying to protect her honor by implying our tryst was amicable but Lady Arryn attacked me.”

Someone gasped and any relief you might have felt vanished as bile coated the back of your mouth. “Cease your lies! You are-”

“That is a dire accusation to levy against Lady Arryn,” Aemond said, his tone not wavering, but you would swear you saw the grip he had on the hilt of his sword tightening for a moment. Just a moment.

The fortress shook for a moment and your dragon’s distinctive shriek echoed through the halls and air. He had come for you, too.

“Indeed it is,” Alios agreed, the smile returning to his face for a flash before he schooled his features into a mockery of genteel resignation. “I wanted to spare her the embarrassment of-”

“You will not accuse me of your own crime.” Despite the shake in your voice, it rang out for all to hear. This would not stand.

“And I will not have you accuse me of such treachery,” Alios sneered in return before turning to Aemond again, his chin tilted up for a moment. “Your country allows trials for such matters, does it not? We should have this settled, for all to hear.”

“I choose violence.” The words spilled from between your lips and you would not and could not take them back. He had tried to dishonor you. In front of the court and your Valemen, no matter how small of a crowd. And your honor was your armor. “I demand a trial by combat.”

The smirk that stretched across Alios’ face was all teeth, like a rabid jackal. “I was so hoping it would come to that. Have I mentioned that I was once a bravo? I have killed many men for less.”

You bit back the snarl you felt growing. Alios being a bravo might give him a fair fight, but you knew Oswin would fight gallantly and prevail. The truth was on your side. He had never faltered in his protection of you. You might not be able to truly wield a mace, and your true weapon was a dragon. Your dragon. But you knew that using your dragon as such would be seen as dishonorable if not completely underhanded. Yes, you would have to rely on him, your sworn shield.

You were herded out to the training yard, the crowd growing with each step you took. Seven hells, how were you going to explain this to Rhaenyra? She was to be celebrating her ascension and you were demanding a trial by combat against one of the foreign dignitaries during the festivities. You asked one of your handmaidens to fetch Ser Oswin with haste before you were all but shoved into one of the chairs on the small overlook of the training grounds. A queensguard was posted at the entrance to the hall and you were unsure if this was to keep you safe or to keep you still. Your heart was still thundering in your chest and blood roared in your ears. How could so much go so wrong so quickly? The crowd had grown, too, much to your horror. The whispers you could catch told the story of how this could be the end of you. A harlot or a lady caught unawares by a man with ill intent? The gods would decide. Your dragon had followed you, paced atop the Red Keep, to peer down into the training yard with his blazing eyes as he loomed over you. For better or worse, he was with you.

You looked down at your hands and saw streaks of Alios’ blood beneath your fingernails and soaking your nail beds. You must have dealt him quite a blow—but you could find no satisfaction in it now. But you still pushed out your next breath as you curled your fingers together against your palms, whispering one of the few chants your mother had drilled into you for protection. She had once told you that having the blood of your enemy made it all the more potent. And with the fear and growing loathing coursing through your own veins, you knew it would be formidable. But you wished not for your own safety, but for Ser Oswin’s. His son was still growing. His lady wife adored him. And then regret started to tug at the back of your mind—should you have asked for someone else? Anyone else?

But as your handmaiden slipped back to your side—alone—your hope for protecting Ser Oswin might have come to fruition regardless.

“Where is Ser Oswin?” You whispered, blood pumping past your ears.

“I have not been able to find him, my lady.” Her eyes lowered and you saw tears lining her lashes.

Alios laughed as he lounged against a training brace, a thin and sharp sword dangling between his fingers. He no doubt heard your handmaiden. “Do you not have anyone who would fight for you and your supposed honor, my lady? Perhaps they see you as I do.” His self righteous smirk only faltered when your dragon blew green smoke into the air.

“Hold your tongue.” It was Aemond who spoke next.The gathered crowd parted for him immediately, letting his powerful stride carry him forward. He wore no armor but his sword was sheathed at his side, waiting and wanting.

Whispers ripped through the group as Aemond continued to close the distance. What would a prince of the Realm be doing here?

“I shall fight for Lady Arryn’s honor.” Your heart started to claw its way up your throat as you watched his long fingers curl around his sword’s pommel. “I know she tells the truth.”

Alios scoffed and stood straight. “The woman is a trollop. Trying to seduce me and then turning to violence when I declined her advances. She is no lady.”

Aemond hummed and looked at you as you leaned forward in your seat. “I think I should have your tongue for that.”

“You may try, princeling. But I’ll have your blood first.” Before the septon could even recite his prayer or Aemond unsheathe his sword, Alios lunged. His sword arched toward Aemond’s neck who simply stepped back to avoid the blade. With Aemond’s next step, his own sword was pulled and met with Alios’ in a heavy clash.

Aemond shoved Alios back and ducked in time to miss the blade coming at his face again and then rolled as Alios swung down, hoping to stab the prince in the back. But Aemond was quick. And cruel.

He pivoted and thrust his sword out, driving the blade through Alios’ knee. Alios tumbled into the dirt with a scream as Aemond pulled his sword free and stood tall again. Blood dripped from his sword but you doubted he cared as he calmly crushed Alios’ wrist beneath his heel. The other man’s screams choked him and you leaned further still and watched as Aemond pried the sword from Alios’ grip and cast it aside.

“Recant your accusations against Lady Arryn.” His voice was smooth and light. The fight had been short, true, and had presented him little challenge, apparently. “Now.”

Alios spat at him but it did not land, instead slithered down Alios’ splotched cheek. “I spoke true! She is-”

The point of Aemond’s sword sunk into the center of Alios’ sternum. “Careful, my lord. I would consider letting you keep your life if you proclaim that you falsely accused Lady Arryn. But I will not allow you to continue to proclaim these lies.” With a flick of his wrist, you watched blood bloom across Alios’ chest and he let out a short gasp as Aemond stared down at him.

Something you could not name stirred in the dark of your chest. Aemond was an unmoving force. A shadow of death cast across his opponent.

You could see Alios’ chest heave with each breath before he nodded, body going lax. “Lady Arryn did not try to seduce me. It was I who sought her company and was refused.”

Hushed conversation ripped around you but you could not tear your eyes away from Aemond. And, as if feeling your gaze, Aemond turned to look at you. His lilac gaze met yours—just for a moment—before he turned back to the man beneath his foot and sword. He did not move.

“You said you would let me live if-”

“I said I would consider it. I have considered it. And I still find you lacking.” He hummed. “But it would be dishonorable for me to kill an unarmed man. I shall let you try to best me.” The prince pulled his foot and weapon back and watched, almost disinterested, as Alios scrambled to find his footing and sword again. More blood started to dribble out of Alios’ chest but he still raised his weapon.

And then Aemond moved. He parried Alios’ sluggish advance and then turned and sunk the entirety of his sword through the other man’s chest. Up to the hilt. Alios froze for just a moment before pulling in a stuttering breath and then sprayed blood across Aemond’s face with his last moments before the Stranger took him.

He was dead before he hit the ground.

The crowd’s whispers reached a crescendo just as the septon, pale and shaking, stepped out into the dirt of the training ground and clasped his hands together. “Th-the Seven have spoken. Lady Arryn has been proven innocent of…of the accusations levied against her. Lord Alios was a deceiver…” He droned on a little longer but you scarcely heard it. And you could not tear your eyes away from the growing pool of blood beneath Alios’ body. Not until your dragon extended his ridged neck and took the magister’s body between his blackened teeth as the crowd below screamed again and quickly fled. But he paid them no mind as he devoured his snack before taking to the skies again, satisfied that you were safe and his own hunger sated. For now.

It took you a stretched moment to realize Aemond had gone. And you were alone on your little perch as the rest of the crowd dispersed, satisfied with your innocence and their unconscious need for bloodshed. Alone with your thundering heartbeat and racing thoughts.

You curled your hands into your skirts for a moment, trying to breathe through…everything. Your hold shook. How had this happened? All of it? And now it was over. The blood was surely cooling on the dirt now, waiting to be washed away by some squire or master-at-arms who tired of looking at it.

A soft footfall on the stone floor at your back had you rising and turning—and there stood Aemond. Crimson stained his hand. The wound he had dealt Alios must have been deep, deeper than you witnessed. Before you could form a single word, he moved, closing the distance. The blood was still warm as Aemond grasped at your face, pressing his hands to your cheeks and dragging you close. “Do you see now, my lark? Have I not sufficiently proven myself to you?”

You could feel Alios’ blood starting to grow tacky and cool, leaving streaks across your face that you would feel even after you had scrubbed the crimson away. “I did not wish for you-”

“But you have me. And I have spilled blood for your honor. For your house. For you.” His thumbs pressed into the plump of your cheeks, burning and viscid. “I have proclaimed it for the Realm to see. No one shall speak against you. Not while I have air in my lungs.” Aemond leaned his forehead against yours and his eye shuttered.

“Aemond…” The scent of blood had your throat tightening. He was safe. You were safe. “Thank you.”

His eye opened again and for a moment you thought he would kiss you but his grip on your face only tightened a fraction before he reached up and dragged one of his bloody fingers between your brows. Another hum rumbled through him as he looked at the mark he’d made before he turned and walked away without another word. As he disappeared back into the Keep, the blood grew cold on your skin.

It was not until you were back in your room that you realized that he had marked you in the way a groom would in a Valyrian marriage ceremony. And your heart ached.

You could feel Alicent and Rhaenyra’s eyes boring into each side of your face as you stirred honey into your tea.

“I have already apologized,” you muttered into the fine porcelain as you raised it to your lips.

“You needn’t apologize at all,” Alicent said, again, as she glanced at Rhaenyra. “I was the one who arranged for the magister to attend the celebrations.”

“His actions do not reflect upon you, Alicent. How was anyone to know that my kinslaying uncle had such reach or such patience?” The tea cup rattled in its saucer as you set it down. “But I must, again, apologize for having Aemond be wrapped up in this folly.”

And for the umpteenth time in your life, Alicent and Rhaenyra exchanged a look before turning back to you. “Aemond can act rashly, I will admit, but I believe that his defense of you was something we all knew was inevitable.”

You froze for a moment, fingers still half-curled around the teacup’s handle. “What do you mean?”

Rhaenyra let out a small noise—you weren’t entirely sure if it was a laugh or a sigh. “You cannot be so blind to see that my brother is devoted to you.”

Devoted. It was a terrible, heavy word. But your heart still skipped a beat at the thought of it. And you hated that it did. But it was involuntary.

Before you could form a thought to sway them away from the current topic of conversation, they were, thankfully or not, called away to wish some of their guests safe travels back to their homes in the Westerlands.

You found your way back to your own apartments and were pleased to find Ser Oswin at your door. The gold cloaks you had sent out to find him after your trial concluded had returned with news that your sworn shield had been found and was being tended to by maesters. While you had a strange solace in knowing that he had not abandoned you, it was quickly wiped away by concern for him when you saw the bandages around his head. The maesters told you that he would heal completely, but he would need some time to find his bearings again. They hypothesized that he had been struck about the head and moved into the dark alleyway near the Red Keep where the gold cloaks had discovered him. It seemed Alios had planned for nearly everything in his attempt to destroy and possess you. Having Ser Oswin indisposed when you were alone in your chambers and still missing when you called for a trial by combat had been a devious plot.

Ser Oswin was not wearing his armor and you were quick to have him sit on the chaise your apartments offered and sent another handmaiden to fetch tea for him. “It gladdens me to see you upright, Ser, but are you sure you should not be resting?”

The knight shook his head but grimaced with the movement. “The maesters said I am well enough to return to the Vale with you, my lady. And I had to see you.” He pulled his lips into his mouth for a moment. “I have not fulfilled my oaths to you as your sworn shield.”

“Ser-”

“You have given me a sacred duty to keep you safe. And I was caught unawares when you needed me most. I will wear this shame forever.”

As your handmaiden returned with the tea and quietly made herself scarce in the shadows of your chambers, you tentatively reached out to grasp Oswin’s hand. “Alios was a cunning man. Underhanded and cruel. You are a man of honor—you are not to blame for anything. I am grateful that you will be well again soon.”

Oswin set his other hand over yours and his gentle eyes met yours for just a moment before he, again, shook his head. “You have always been kind to me, my lady. You and your lady mother both.”

“You are deserving of that kindness, Ser Oswin,” you whispered, trying to press as much gratitude as you could into your voice. He was a stalwart sword and shield. A good man. A loyal father and husband. “I am thankful, truly, that I still have you at my side. And I would have no other. You must know that.”

Oswin eventually excused himself after you swore to him that he had not lost his place as your sworn shield and that you would not hear a single word against him and his honor. It was not his honor that had been revealed to be wanting. Alios was more of a villain than you had first thought. It was one thing to plot to destroy you but to also destroy the life of your stalwart shield was another. You hoped his soul was never given rest.

Princess Rhaenys, wearing the thick necklace of interlocked hands denoting her position as Hand of the Queen, had told you to refrain from drawing any more attention during the remainder of your stay. But as soon as the words left her mouth, she had to stifle a small smile. She gently squeezed your shoulder with a shake of her head. “I am glad you were not harmed further.” That was a kindness, to be sure. But you did keep to the edges of the last day’s celebrations. It was a balancing act; being seen in public to show you were victorious but not be too much of a spectacle as to invite more whispers. Everyone needed to believe the fact that you were innocent.

Daemon was the only one who found some humor in it all and bemoaned the fact that he had not borne witness to the short trial and asked you, only somewhat jokingly, to “accidentally seduce” another magister so he could have his turn at killing someone. “It’s been too long. My gentle lady-wife despises violence.” You tried to laugh. It marginally worked.

As you sat in the shadows provided by one of the pavilions set up along the courtyard to watch a troupe of mummers reenact the love story of Florian and Jonquil, you could hear a few whispers. Most, thankfully, were content with your innocence being proven by the trial by combat. But there were some that questioned why a prince was the one to defend you.

“Perhaps that simply shows her innocence all the more,” a woman bedecked in the colors of House Reyne said. “The gods sent a prince as her champion and he prevailed. And swiftly.” The woman waved a hand. “I’ll hear nothing more of it. I am not one to question the gods.”

You almost smiled at that. Almost. It was a boon that the masses of the Seven Kingdoms took the Faith of the Seven as law. It was hard to argue with a god’s will.

But you knew it had been Aemond.

As if you could not help it, you turned your head and spotted him in the crowd. He was seated behind Rhaenyra and beside Jeyne and Daeron who both looked like they were enjoying the performance. But he was looking at you.

He had once told you that his patience was growing thin. That had been many moons ago. Even with his defense of you against Alios, could he possibly…finally be seeing that whatever feelings he thought he harbored for you were mislaid?

And why did that twist at something in your chest?

You shook that thought away as the mummer’s finished the first act of their performance and you clapped politely with the rest of the crowd. The crushed velvet curtains that had been strung up that morning to create a stage closed and you smiled as Jeyne caught your eye and waved at you, full of girlish giddiness.

You stayed seated as others milled about, socializing during the intermission. A few were brave enough to give you shallow pleasantries in passing but they scattered as Alicent approached and claimed the seat beside yours with a flutter of her cerulean silk skirts. “How are you, my lady?” Her mouth tilted up with the honorific, mirth coloring each syllable.

“I am pleased Her Grace’s reign has started with such peace and festivity.” I am grateful to be going home soon was unspoken but understood with how Alicent patted your hand with a wry smile. The Dowager Queen linked her fingers with yours and stood, wordlessly tugging you to your feet and leading you away from the crowds and into the shadows cast over the yard by the Red Keep’s reaching towers. It was only when you were truly alone did she drop your hand.

“Tell me true: are you well? You have been out of sorts these last days.”

And you could not deny her and her gentle, brown eyes. “It has not been without its surprises. But I am thankful that I have not sullied Rhaenyra’s celebrations.” You sighed and squeezed her hand. “You mustn’t think any more on it. I am trying to do the same.”

Alicent nodded after a moment, accepting your want to not speak of Alios and his plots. “My son, Aemond, asks of you.” She paused and your heart thudded. What had he told her? “You must know that what Rhaenyra said was true: he is devoted to you. I want to see him happy. Content.”

Alicent loved her children, you could not and would not deny that. If her children needed warmth, she would burn the world for them. But sometimes, you noted, that she seemed to have missteps in connecting with them. Your mother had been the one to say it out loud: Alicent was a child herself when she was forced to become a mother. It was unfair and another strike against Viserys that you would never forgive. Alicent would fight for her children, support them, make sure they were cared for. She loved them. She did. Truly. But the divide persisted. It might have lessened a fraction as the years passed but you knew that families and the blood they had running in their veins were complicated.

“That is a worthy want.”

She nodded, the golden circlet atop her auburn curls catching the sunlight with the movement. Four tiny, golden dragons curled around it, each with different gems for eyes. Rhaenyra had commissioned it for Alicent’s last name day and you had smiled like a fool when you received Alicent’s raven detailing it. You were so pleased that she and Rhaenyra were so fulfilled with each other, finally free of the constraints of societal obligations and the like.

But the joy you felt fizzled when you saw her gnaw at the edge of her thumb. Why was she so nervous? “Alicent?”

“My son has told me he has been courting you. Why have you kept this from me?”

Your heart stuttered in your chest. “I… I assure you, he is not courting me, Alicent. He has made…overtures but I told him that-”

“He has said you make him happy. You make him happy.. Do you refute it?”

Your tongue was sand in your mouth as you stared at Alicent, your surrogate sister. “I have given him nothing to have him think that way.” It was the gentlest of phrasings you could muster at the moment. How could you tell her that her son was delusional in his affections for you?

Alicent took a single step toward you, the soft sole of her slipper silent on the stone. “But you make him happy. Surely you could at least consider him-”

“Consider him as what?” You asked, agog. “I am more than a decade his senior. He is-”

“He is devoted.” Her voice rang out, clear and unmoveable. “You wanted a family, a husband. You have been the one to encourage him in all of his endeavors and now you want to deny yourself this because it is my son?”

The unchecked vitriol in her tone nearly had you recoiling but you could do little else besides let your jaw drop. “Alicent…surely you would want someone more suitable for him. Younger, more-”

“He wants you. While I shall not force you to accept his courtship, I would ask that you do not dismiss it out of hand. My son…” She rolled her lips for a moment and her dark eyes hardened. “Aemond has been denied most everything. I’ll not have you refuse him so callously.”

“It is not out of callousness. It is out of concern. I am not… I am so much older than him. I want the best for him, as you do. I am… I have come to realize that having a family is not what the gods have planned for me.” The words hurt to say but the next rolled your stomach, “If Aemond also has a hope for a family of his own, I can help him find a suitable bride-”

Alicent scoffed and you recoiled as if she had struck you instead. “He has chosen you. You are the sole heir to a Great House and a Prince of the Realm wishes to take you to wife. There is no one else worthy of him.”

Before you could even think of a rebuttal, she turned and walked away, letting her words echo in your mind as she retook her seat at Rhaenyra’s side. Your entire chest ached. One of the few people who had been an unmoving presence in your life was mad at you. It felt like a knife between your ribs. And it only continued to bite at your marrow when you looked out into the crowd and saw Aemond watching you. Again.

Why couldn’t he see that you were trying to help him? Even if it left you feeling sick and cold for reasons you could not name. Even if the show had not finished, you murmured to one of your handmaidens that you were retiring for the afternoon and she hurried to keep step with you back to your chambers before you dismissed her for the remainder of the day.

It was better to be alone right now. To try to gather your thoughts that were racing through your mind with increasing, dizzying speed. What had Aemond said to his mother to convince her, so fervently, of his supposed feelings for you? In your desperation, you pushed the fat of your thumb into the quill on your vanity until blood bubbled across your skin. The pain was fleeting but the solace it gave you, as you murmured the chants your mother once whispered to you, was immeasurable. You would move through this. You would go home. This would end.

You licked the blood away and wished, as you so often did, that you could see your own future as you saw others when they had come to you and your mother under the shadows of the Eyrie. It had to be willingly given, not forced as it had been with Alios. If you could have seen his death, perhaps you could have… Well, that doesn’t matter now.

You eventually collapsed across the fine blankets of your bed and shut your eyes against the sunlight still streaming into your room. Perhaps more rest would help you. Or at least distract you from your thoughts for a moment. And the brief nap was restful, thankfully. When you opened your eyes a few hours later, it felt as if you hadn’t moved at all.

A knock sounded at the door—that must have been what woke you. You stood and shuffled toward it and welcomed in the handmaiden who said you were being called to supper with the Targaryens. She helped you change into yet another fine gown and straightened your appearance.

Just as she finished righting the ties on the back of your gown, another knock sounded. She was quick to answer it and turned with a small smile. “Prince Aemond, Lady Arryn.”

The silver-haired prince stepped in as the handmaiden curtseyed and dismissed herself before you could think of keeping her from doing so. Your stomach clenched as you looked at him. Both dread and a strange sense of furor swirled beneath our skin. “What do you need, Aemond?”

“Is it so uncommon for me to come and visit the lady whom I defended?”

That was a fair point but, thankfully, he did not wait for your reply and swept his hand into the folds of his doublet and produced your silver necklace, the one Alicent had given you ages ago which matched your diadem.

The necklace was one of your favorites, even if it was now always associated with the first time Aemond kissed you. But why did he have it? When did he spirit it away from your chambers?

“Aemond…” You started, already reaching out for it.

“Turn around.” He twirled a finger between you, that same smirk tilting his lips.

You wanted to argue and perhaps mention that he had stolen the necklace from you and the entirety of this situation was inappropriate and unbecoming. But you bit your tongue, hoping that this small acquiescence on your part would hurry this along. Your eyes fluttered shut as the scent of him enveloped you and the warmth of him bled across your back as he stepped closer. It was involuntary, wholly out of your control. And you could not stop the shiver when you felt the metal of the necklace wrap around your neck. It was warm, almost uncomfortably so, from when Aemond’s body heat had leached through it.

But your eyes snapped open when something heavy fell against your sternum instead of the delicate feathers you had memorized from your constant wear.

You looked down and your gasp nearly choked you as you grasped at the new addition to your necklace. The sapphire was large. It fit neatly into your palm and had been cut so it sparkled with even the smallest of movements. It took your breath away. Even more so when you noticed how the delicate silver feathers fell towards it. The clasp at the back of your neck clicked in place and Aemond’s long fingers moved over your shoulders, pressing until you turned in his grasp. His minted breath swept across your mouth. He looked down, watching as your fingers mindlessly clutched at the sapphire. His mouth tilted up into a smirk, pleased.

“It suits you.”

Your mouth opened with a rebuttal but all that came out was another soft breath. There were no words you could conjure at that moment. Nothing you could say.

He curled his hand over yours and then raised your joined hands to his mouth, brushing his lips against your knuckles. “Come. They are waiting for us.” And then he was moving, pulling the sapphire from your grip to let it rest against your sternum, and linking your fingers together as he started to lead you from your chambers. And when you tried to pull your hand from his, his grip only tightened until you were hissing. “Do not fight me, my lady. I have told you: my patience wears thin.” His voice was low, steady, but you could not deny the authority that dripped from every syllable.

It did not stop you from loosely tugging at your hand again with little success. “Yes, I have been informed by your mother that she believes we are courting.”

“We are.”

“Aemond. You must cease with this delusion. If you want a wife, I shall find you one. One that is worthy of you, closer to your age, and-”

Aemond drew you both to a sudden stop and his lilac eye blazed as he looked at you. “You are mine. You have always been mine. Did I not tell you that the gods shaped you for me? And I for you? I will have no other.” And then he was moving again, and you were pulled alongside him, trying to match his long, powerful strides. And it only took you a moment to do so. Your steps fell beside his with ease once you put in a small bit of effort. Each step was in sync. Aemond seemed to notice it as well and let out a small hum as you neared the doors to the Great Hall. The men at the doors bowed to both of you and announced your names as you walked inside.

Almost immediately, Alicent’s brow arched and Rhaenyra leaned over to whisper something in her ear as you bowed to them, seated at the high table. Seven Hells. How were you going to explain this? You had little time to think of anything before you were tucked into your seat at the table. Of course, Aemond was at your side. You bit your tongue for a moment and watched silently as food was loaded onto your plate by a few of the serving men and women but your heart gave yet another lurch when Aemond’s hand covered your plate just as a ladle of mushroom sauce was about to be poured over your boar.

“My lady does not care for mushrooms. Thank you.”

The serving man dipped his head in apology and carried on to the next plate and you stared uselessly at your unmarred plate as words tangled in your throat. “When did you learn I detested mushrooms?”

The smile that pushed at Aemond’s mouth was soft and you fought the urge to return it. “I listen, my lark.”

Warmth bloomed in your chest and you hated it, just for a moment. No one had… Your people listened when you gave decrees and held mediate disagreements. But you knew they didn’t listen when it came to small matters as to what you liked or disliked on your plate. And why did that make this small act of knowing all the more precious to you?

That realization had you pressing your fingers to your mouth for a moment. You could not feel like this. Not with Aemond. Harwin had made you smile. He was kind. But he had not listened when you tried to tell him how you felt about your dragon, what he meant to you. But you knew that Aemond would understand. Your nails dug into your upper lip for a moment, trying to will the comparison away. Aemond had overstepped. He had put into motion Harwin and House Strong’s demise. He had kissed you and kissed you and kissed you despite your protests and simply said that you were his for the taking. Surely you could not be feeling…

Your chair nearly toppled as you stood up. “I am afraid I’ve taken ill. I must retire.” You then hurried from the Great Hall after making another quick curtsey in Rhaenyra’s direction. Your heart thundered in your chest as you swept down the hall back toward your chambers. As you turned a corner, you pulled at your necklace, needing to be free of its added weight and the way Aemond’s sapphire thumped over your heart.

But it would not come free.

The necklace’s clasp would not give, no matter how you pulled or how you fussed, it would not come undone. At your wit’s end, you strode over to the looking glass and turned the necklace around so you could look at the clasp and you nearly screamed. The clasp had been replaced—you had only seen clasps like this in Lys as a child, meant for jewels denoting a man or woman’s status as a prize within a pillow house. Only the madam or master of the establishment had the small, intricate key to undo them.

And Aemond had made sure the necklace, with his jewel, his mark, would not leave your neck without his consent.

Rage and something akin to delight bubbled beneath your skin for a moment. And then you were moving, throwing the entirety of your traveling wardrobe into your trunks and yanking off your gown and changing into your riding clothes. Your handmaidens would see that you were ready to leave when they came into the room tomorrow but you would not be there.

No.

You pushed at the hidden door, muscle memory telling you to lean into it for an extra moment, before it clicked open. You hurried down the sloped staircase and finally pulled in a breath when the chilled night air hit your face. You pulled your cloak higher and slid its hood over your silver hair as you made your way through the still-bustling city streets. And while your dragon tended to roost wherever he wanted, you always knew where to find him. Tonight, it was just outside the Iron Gate and at the start of the Rosby Road. What you weren’t expecting, however, was your dragon to be coiled around Vhagar.

His large head was nestled between her wing and flank, content to watch you approach in the dark with his blazing green eyes. Vhagar rumbled a greeting, too, not moving. You weren’t…entirely sure what you should make of this revelation. True, your dragons had flown together over the city. But this was more than that. This was a familiarity usually reserved to bonded pairs. Mated pairs. And that feeling you wouldn’t name twisted behind your ribs again.

“We must go, my darling,” you said to your dragon in Valyrian.

He huffed.

“Please? I cannot stand to be in this place for a moment longer.” You hated how petulant you sounded, how desperate. But you needed to leave. Before Aemond did something else. Before another move was made against you.

Your dragon grumbled but started to move, nudging his head against Vhagar’s as they slowly disentangled from each other. It was a sight to see, to be true, to see the two largest dragons move so effortlessly around each other, imposing shapes made gentle in the moonlight. He bent his wing to you and you slowly took your seat astride his spine. The familiar heat of him settled your frazzled mind for a moment and he let out a worried grumble as you curled your hands over the spikes you usually held.

“I simply need to go home,” you muttered before leaning down to pat at his side. “We need to go home.”

The night air bit at your skin as he took to the skies but with each lungful you breathed in, your heart felt a little lighter. Home. You were going home. A loud rumble had you turning in your perch and you saw Vhagar behind you, slowly flapping her wings as she followed you north. If your dragon went left, she followed, if she curled east, he matched her movement. They were dancing. Then, just as you hit the border of Rosby, your dragon started to climb higher into the sky. You held tighter and leaned forward to counteract the sudden change in altitude, content in knowing he would never let you fall, and watched as Vhagar mirrored him. They twisted together for one turn, then two, and three before they both spit green fire into the air with a matching, heartbreaking roar as they leveled out. You shut your eyes against the flames but felt them warm your skin for a moment. But, as you opened them again and your dragon continued northward, you turned back to see Vhagar holding her spot in the moonlight, watching you and your dragon fly away.

The Eyrie was growing colder by the day. It would be a short Autumn. You tried to focus on the coming Winter instead of the unease you felt brewing like a storm in your stomach.

You had received four ravens from the capital. The one from Helaena was short and lovely, thanking you for the embroidered blanket you had given her before your abrupt departure, meant for her coming babe. Another was from Alicent who maternally scolded you for leaving without a proper goodbye and then immediately forgiving you for it. But, with the next line of her flourished handwriting, she told you, again, of Aemond’s wants. Alicent remained ever confusing. The next was from Rhaenyra who thanked you for your attendance at the festivities but also questioned you about your lack of proper goodbye. Much like Alicent, which should not have been a surprise to you as they shared much more than a close friendship, the Queen mentioned Aemond, although in a much more subdued way. My brother remains devoted to you, as ever.

Devoted. It was a double-edged word, you were coming to learn.

The last was from Aemond himself. I shall let you have your peace for now, my lark. But I will claim recompense soon enough.

You threw his into the fires of your solar’s hearth with shaking hands as if that would protect you. For a few days, there was the blissful quiet of the Vale. You were glad to see the resolution you had demanded between Houses Coldwater and Elesham seemed to be sufficient and Lady Waynwood was delighted to tell you that her son was delighted with the match you had made with Ser Oswin’s comely niece. It was fine. Until it wasn’t.

It seemed that you wanting to hear any whispers from Lys years ago was still bearing fruit. You heard rumblings of further discontent in Essos. When the Triarchy had dissolved after Daemon and Lord Corlys smashed their hold on the Stepstones (and constant infighting between the city states), there had been a tepid peace in the Disputed Lands…for a moment. But soon old grudges were reignited and war erupted again. Some captain, Shakaro, had been vying for the affections of the famed courtesan, The Black Swan, and had been murdered. That was only after the Myrmen and Tyroshi captains stewed in their anger that Shakaro had held back her fleet of Lyseni ships during a bloody and long battle with Lord Velaryon and his fleet—and it did seem to have a kernel of truth. The Lyseni suffered the fewest losses. But the specifics of why didn’t particularly matter to you right now. What mattered was that Lys was in the middle of a war and your uncle had tried to have you destroyed in one way or another for his own gain. The war must be hurting his coffers.

It started with whispers of a skirmish here or there in the Narrow Sea. Someone new called himself the King of the Stepstones and the northern Free Cities of Braavos, Pentos, and Lorath were quickly pulled into the war as well. It should have been a foreign war that you simply monitored via whispers or raven. But you soon received reports that the war was hurting trade from King’s Landing up to Gulltown.

You would not stand idly by when there was a threat to your people. Trade was crucial and necessary. Doubly so now with the threat of a looming winter. You flew your dragon down to Gulltown to receive their reports personally. And it was true. The blockade the war had created had spilled as far north as your shores. And while your granaries were full now, you would not have your people potentially starving in Winter because of a war you did not start.

Lord Torrent was watching as you looked over his reports, taken by his men as they sailed from Littlesister in the Bite into the Narrow Sea. You were not going to ask why his men were sailing in the Narrow Sea nor why he had a large gold necklace with a pendant stamped with the mark of the powerful Rogare family from Lys that looked like it had blood on it. That wasn’t your problem right now.

“You are estimating we have lost a dozen ships?” You let the parchment furl back into itself before handing it back to Lord Torrent.

“Yes, my lady. If not more.”

“Livelihoods were on those ships,” Lord Grafton said, stepping forward. His pallid cheeks were splotched with red, emotion he was trying to suppress. “House Grafton and the people of Gulltown will not survive if this were to happen again.”

You rolled your lips into your mouth for a moment. “I am giving you both leave to defend your lands as necessary but you may not engage further. There must be no aggression from the Vale until I am given leave from the Crown. I will not have our people die needlessly by inviting this war onto our shores.”

Your dragon grumbled at your back and both of the lords gave you a cautious look, wondering what you and your dragon would do. He was an extension of you. And while you had learned to swallow your anger in mixed company, he was still free to express it. But, as the years had passed, you thought he had learned to stymie his anger when others were around, too. Most of the time.

“My lords, I thank you for your reports and I pray the gods bless you all. I shall fly to King’s Landing to bring our concerns to the Crown.” And fly you did, telling Ser Oswin and your trusted handmaidens that they would be sending out ravens to the rest of the Vale, preparing them for the near-inevitability of war. You tried to focus on that instead of the growing, gnawing pit in your stomach when you thought of who else awaited you at the Red Keep.

Your dragon landed atop the remnants of the Pit and then took to the skies when you steered him away from landing atop the Red Keep again. He watched over you as you made your way through the city but finally deemed you safe when the Queensguard posted at the front bowed to you and let you in.

You were led to the Small Council by a grim-faced Jacaerys who met you in the hall and then shuffled into one of the vacant seats around the table. The somewhat spacious room was far more crowded than you had ever seen it, filled with gold cloaks, Queensguard, heads of noble houses and the like. Rhaenyra was the picture of regal power at the head, with Alicent and Rhaenys on either side and Jacaerys stood at his mother’s back, spine straight. There were already discussions of the coming conflict and you heard of the incursions onto the isle of Tarth and Estermont and the battering of the Stormlands, the edges of the Riverlands, the Crownlands and, much to your astonishment, Dorne. When the ruling Princess of Dorne, Aliandra, had refused to engage with the envoys from Lys, Tyrosh, and Myr, they had sent small but creative bands of mercenaries to Dorne’s shores to show their displeasure. While Dorne continued to prove itself a formidable adversary and quickly dealt with the mercenaries, Princess Aliandra wanted retribution.

And who better to help than the Dragon Queen? Their alliance was tenuous at best, everyone in the room knew it, but it was still an alliance. The Princess would arrive with her councilors within a fortnight and Lucerys blushed the tiniest bit when Rhaenyra announced that he was the Princess’ betrothed as part of the alliance. He and his dragon, Arrax, would patrol the easternmost Dornish shores. You could tell that it made Rhaenyra nervous, just as it did when she gave Jacaerys leave to patrol Blackwater Bay. Jeyne and Silverwing would remain at the capital as a safeguard, doubly so as Helaena could not fly in her condition, despite her love of doing so. Daeron and Aegon would bolster defenses along the Riverlands and Stormlands shores while Laena, Rhaella, and Rhaena were asked to fly above certain parts of the Royal Fleet as they guarded Dragonstone, Driftmark, and the rest of the Gullet, including their home of Sweetport Sound. Ser Laenor would provide coverage to Lord Coryls’ fleet as they pushed into the Narrow Sea with Princess Rhaenys and Meleys.

“My hope with all of this,” Rhaenyra started, hand curled tightly over the marble ball in front of her, “is to keep our people safe, to finish this quickly. We must be victorious.” Her purple gaze cut to Daemon as he sat in the chair opposite her. You had tried to avoid looking in that direction as Aemond was seated beside him. “Princes Daemon and Aemond have graciously accepted to fly to Essos and meet with the magisters of the other Free Cities.”

“Even Pentos?” Someone asked—you vaguely recognized him as Ser Alfred Broome. Why he was even in attendance was beyond your comprehension at the moment and you felt several pairs of eyes move to settle on you.

“Pentos was the first of the Cities to ask for aid. They know that Alios’ crimes against Lady Arryn were an abomination. Or need I remind you what happened?” Aemond’s voice cut through the tension-thick air with a vicious ease and you saw Aegon trying to stifle his smirk behind his hand.

Ser Alfred’s face went red and tried to hold the prince’s gaze for only a moment before looking down. “No, my prince. Everyone here knows of how you defended Lady Arryn’s honor.”

“What news do you bring from the Vale, my lady?” Rhaenys asked, effectively pulling the conversation into a different direction. But she, too, was fighting a smile of her own. It faded, however, when you spoke of the lost ships and the sightings of the boats nearing Gulltown.

“It seems we must truly fight on all fronts,” Rhaenyra said, grave. She then gave you an order to protect your shores and the Bay of Crabs atop your dragon and your bannermen were given leave to defend their shores and lands.

The queen reiterated that she wanted this dealt with quickly. There was a hint of darkness to her tone but no one commented on it. It stirred a strange sense of pride within you. She was the sword and shield of the Crown. She wanted her people safe, by any means necessary. You were thankful that the crowd dispersed quickly when she dismissed them, either to ready their bannermen or deliver news with the like. Before you could also take your leave, Rhaenyra called out your name and told you to wait a moment. A handful of people sent you glances out of the corner of their eyes but none had the audacity to linger in an attempt to understand what the queen wanted with you. And as the gods continued to test you, Alicent and Aemond were the last to leave, each of them giving you looks you could not decipher before leaving.

“I was not expecting you today,” Rhaenyra said, shoulders finally losing a bit of the rigidity they’d held throughout the meeting. “But I will never be unhappy to see you.” She rounded the table and took one of your hands in hers with a squeeze.

A small smile pushed at your lips. “I did not want to wait to bring you reports from the Vale. I had not known you were gathering others.”

“It was not planned to be so large, but I am pleased that you were able to attend. I am sure it was the gods themselves who sent you to me at this moment.” She sighed and squeezed your hands again. “I am also wondering why my brother has been so despondent this last moon. Could it be because his betrothed absconded to the Eyrie without a proper goodbye?”

Your breath stuttered in your throat. “I am not betrothed to Aemond.”

Her silver eyebrow arched. “That is not what he nor Alicent seem to think. And the way he behaves around you, and you with him, it does not seem as if you are opposed to the match?”

You tried to steel yourself to the fact that yet another person had been sucked into this delusion but all you could do was shake your head. “Your brother and I are not promised to each other, Your Grace.”

“It would be a fine match, though, would it not? Dragons in the Vale.” She sighed and you fought the urge to scream. How could Aemond be so adamant with this lie?

“I will fly back to the Eyrie. I-”

“Oh, you must stay for the night. Surely your dragon needs the rest, and you as well. Before this war truly starts, rest now; let me know you are safe for a few hours more.”

You could not deny her that, not when her purple eyes looked at you like that. But you did not allow yourself to stay a moment longer and left before the first light of dawn started to crest the horizon. You left missives for Alicent and Rhaenyra this time, wishing them and their children safety for the upcoming conflict.

And you meant that. You wanted them all safe. Healthy. Happy. Even Aemond. No matter his delusion and your own conflicting feelings, you only wanted the best for him. And soon you were consumed with readying The Vale for war. The armor your mother had commissioned for you still fit with a few additions and your dragon seemed pleased to see you in it. A small comfort to you both. Your mother was with you still. As was he.

Your handmaiden, a girl of barely ten-and-four namedays named Mya from House Woodhull, helped you out of your armor after your latest fitting. She had just started her duties at the Eyrie a moon ago and was a quiet, timid girl. You hoped her time under your care would bring her a little more out of her shell.

“You depart tomorrow for Gulltown, do you not, my lady?” She asked as she set one of your gauntlets atop the velvet cushion on your table.

“I do. And I know I shall return here to find the Eyrie just as I left it, in your and the others’ capable hands.”

Mya went pink with the compliment but nodded and tucked her chin to her chest. “Of course, my lady. I would never dream of letting anything go wrong in your home.”

She was a sweet girl and you smiled as you dismissed her for the evening after she helped you into your nightgown and robe. Your skin still smelt of lavender from your bath—you never could find the will to stop using the oil, even if it now also reminded you of Aemond. And you once again ignored how your chest twisted and your traitorous mind conjured his face whenever you closed your eyes.

You turned toward your bed, seeing that Mya had turned down your blankets for you as well. Sweet girl. Your pillow was cool, too, and you shut your eyes tightly as you murmured a chant to your mother’s gods. Tomorrow was the day. Tomorrow was the start. Tomorrow was…

You pushed out a breath.

A familiar roar rattled the night sky and your eyes shot open. Just as your feet hit the cold floor, a quick knock snapped against your door and Mya was bursting in again. “Lady Arryn, a dragon has come to the Eyrie.”

You knew who it was. In your bones, you knew it.

She led you out to the High Hall where you knew he would be waiting.

“Prince Aemond, my lady,” another of your knights said with a quick bow in your direction as you entered.

Aemond stood in the center of the cold hall, draped in his riding leathers and a deep, dark cloak stretched over his shoulders. “Lady Arryn. I would have a word with you.”

Your heart leapt and raced. He was meant to be leaving for Essos soon, was he not? Just as you were to start defending the Vale in earnest. What was he doing here? Before you could even think of doing something else, you mindlessly led him to your solar as thoughts raced. Had something happened? Had someone been killed?

Mya set about stoking the fire in the room before skittering out of the room with a quick, matching pair of curtseys toward you and Aemond. He, on the other hand, seemed to be trying to memorize the entirety of your apartments and lingered on the open archway that led into your bedchamber.

“What have you come to say?” The words tumbled out of your mouth before you could think of a proper greeting or line of questioning. “Is it Helaena? Are she and the babe well? What-”

“I am leaving for Braavos at dawn. I will meet Daemon in Pentos after securing the city’s alliance and we will then move to destroy Lys, Myr, and Tyrosh’s strongholds in the Disputed Lands.”

Even as you felt your brow furrow, you nodded. That was a suitable plan for him and Aemond, the riders of the largest and most battle-hardened dragons with matching temperaments. They would be a formidable pair and cutting off their supplies should keep their focus pulled into two directions and make them easier to defeat. Hopefully.

“I wish you good fortune and blessings upon your endeavors, Aemond.” You paused and felt his lilac gaze rake down your form. “But why are you here?”

Aemond took a step toward you and you instinctively took a step back, feeling like a mouse being cornered by a cat. But your retreat only seemed to spur him on and in a few short steps, he had closed the distance between you, filling your lungs with that familiar scent of Aemond Aemond Aemond. Leather, mint, dragon, lavender.

“Would you have me sent out without knowing that I would return? You would deprive me of one last taste of you?” The tips of his fingers were firebrands against your skin as he closed his hand around your wrist and tugged you close. His breath puffed against your mouth as his lilac eye bore down into yours.

Your next breath stalled in your lungs. Gods, he was beautiful. But you could not. “I do not wish you dead, Aemond. You must know that. I only wish that you see-”

“See what? See that you refuse to accept my affections?”

“They are misplaced!” You retorted.

His grip tightened on your wrist, just shy of painful. “They are yours. My affections, my heart, my body. They are yours. I am yours. Just as you are mine.” The prince moved ever closer and the familiar burn of him enveloped you instantly. “Ask anything of me, and you shall have it.”

“I ask that you find a lady wife that will love you as you deserve.” It was your last, gentle refusal.

And Aemond shook his head. “There is no one else. There is only you. There has always only been you, my lark.”

A knock at the door had him pulling back and Mya once again stepped inside, carrying tea for you and Aemond. She smiled at you and you must not have managed to press the answering look to your face quick enough because she lingered at the table, her small fingers still fiddling with the teapot. “Are you well, my lady?”

Just for a moment, you thought of telling her to call for Ser Oswin, for the guards further down the hall. You could have him sent away, surely seeing the error of his thoughts and actions in a way he could not unsee. You licked your lips as your eyes darted between your handmaiden and Aemond. But a small movement, just a simple change of stance, had Aemond’s hand brushing against the hilt of one of the daggers sheathed at his waist. It was a silent threat, but a threat nonetheless.

And so, you pressed a smile to your face and shook your head. So be it. You would not put an innocent in harm’s way if you could prevent it. “Retire for the night. Prince Aemond and I have much to discuss. You have more than earned your rest. I thank you for your hard work.”

She waffled for a moment longer before sighing and dipping into a curtsey. “Good night, my lady, my prince.” And then she was gone and you were alone with Aemond once again.

A satisfied hum slipped between his lips as his hand slipped from the dagger’s hilt. He had won. “See how simple that was? Not everything need be a fight, my lark.”

“Simple?” You spat the word. “When you threaten the lives of the people in my care, what choice have you given me?” Your next breath stalled in your throat but you pushed it out anyway. “What do you want? You have made it so I cannot refuse you. Let us get on with it.”

Aemond moved closer still, clouding your mind for a moment with the scent of him. For just a moment, you wished that your body did not react to him in such a way. But it was visceral and unconscious on your part. It was like every part of you was simply waiting to be devoured. By Aemond.

“Take off your clothes.”

Your heart stuttered and shattered. Tears stung at your eyes as you shook your head. “That is not fair, Aemond.”

The prince smirked. “I did not ever state that I was fair.”

“You would take this from me? Unwillingly?”

“You can deny it all you want, my lark. But I know your heart is mine. If I must start with claiming your body, so be it.” He reached out and undid the velvet tie of your robe, spurring you on, before moving back, allowing himself to enjoy the view.

Your hands shook as you peeled away your robe, leaving you only in the fine silk of your chemise. Aemond cocked his head to the side, wordlessly telling you that you were not finished. You clamped your eyes shut as you reached for the straps and pushed one and then the other off your shoulders. The fabric pooled at your feet with a whisper, leaving you in just your smallclothes and the necklace you still could not remove.

And then he moved. Again, he grasped your hand and led you through your solar and into your bedchamber, to your bed as your heart thundered behind your ribs. You could do little else but stare as he undressed, revealing his pale skin and corded muscle until he was standing tall and bare before you.

It felt as if you had walked through your dragon’s fire the more you stared at him. Gods, he was beautiful. Carved from marble by the gods themselves. And then shame burned, too.

You could not want this. “Aemond-”

But he simply reached out and pushed you back across the bed until your spine pressed against the mountain of pillows you usually slept on. Your heart hammered behind your teeth as he climbed atop your bed and closer to you. His warm hands slid up your legs and curled around the plush of your thighs and a slow breath slid out from between his lips. “I have dreamt of this. Of you. I always knew you were perfect.”

What would he do to you first? Would he simply rut into you like an animal and spill his seed inside you? Or would he toy with you more? Try to-

The questions went still in your mind and Aemond simply pressed himself over you. He reached around to the back of your neck and you heard a distinct series of clicks before your necklace finally came loose. He let the sapphire drag over your heart before he set it aside and then pressed his head between your breasts. It was almost gentle. Almost innocuous. Almost the careful touch of a lover you had quietly yearned for and read about in the scandalous books of your younger years.

Then, as if you could not help yourself, your hand found the silk of his hair. You gently pushed your fingers through it and let it glide against your skin. His next breath was a slow exhale that wet your skin.

Aemond reached up and pulled the ribbon from around his head and set it aside. And then all you saw was blue blue blue. The sapphire he had used in place of his eye glimmered in the low light of your chambers, cut beautifully and cruelly; it matched the jewel of your necklace, the collar he had given you. Without a thought, you reached out to press against his cheek but he caught your wrist before you could touch him. You could see the question in his gaze, the want, the ache. And you pressed forward again until your palm rested against his warm cheek. You traced the cruel, jagged scar beneath his eye with the edge of your thumb before simply holding his face in your grasp. You could not help it. He was beautiful. So beautiful.

And the prince leaned into the touch, like he needed it like his next breath.

“You care for me.” The words were whispered before he turned to skirt his lips against the delicate skin of your wrist.

“Of course I care for you,” you murmured. How could you do anything but care for him? Even at his worst, even when his affections scared you, hurt others, you could not simply stop caring for him.

His fingers traced circles up your sides until they brushed against the soft skin of your breasts, soft but purposeful. “You told me, promised me, that I would have a dragon. You knew it.” He turned his head just enough to drag his lips above your thrumming heart. “You came, you rode your dragon hard, when you heard of the loss of my eye. You came, knowing that I would not understand that you were risking your honor and reputation to make sure I was well.” His large, warm hands cupped your breasts fully, thumbs skirting against your nipples until they pebbled. “And, despite how I know you will deny it, I know you had a hand in House Harlaw’s eradication.”

“I-”

He turned and pressed the point of his chin to your sternum so he could look up at you. “You cannot lie to me, my lark. I have mine own spiders whispering their truths to me.” He paused, lilac and sapphire anchoring on your face. “You killed for me. Because I was harmed. When my mother cried and my father refused to move against a lesser house, you killed them.”

“Your mother did all she could.”

“She did. And she called for you and you came. For me.”

And you could not deny it. You had gone, dashed to your dragon and sped through the skies to do all you could to help heal him.

But your thoughts of how you had only wanted to heal him quickly fizzled to nothing when his long fingers started to do the ties at the sides of your smallclothes. He pulled the fabric away from you and, just for a moment, brought the bundle of cloth up to his nose and he sucked in a greedy lungful of air, like he was trying to memorize the scent of you. The simple action had heat racing through you, coiling further in your belly.

But still, he set the small bundle aside and Aemond’s warm hands skimmed up your thighs again, kneading the supple flesh there as he pulled in a slow, steady breath. It brushed against you, making you embarrassingly aware of the slick that had pooled there, betraying your own ache. His nose brushed against your curls, and the pleased hum he let out vibrated against you, stealing a whimper from between your lips.

“Divine,” he murmured. You were not sure if he was speaking to you or simply about you. But it mattered little as he pressed a kiss right above your mound before licking a bold stripe up your folds. A gasp tore itself out of your throat and another came closely behind it as Aemond continued to lick and suck and twirl his tongue. He was ravenous. Immediately insatiable. Your hips lifted, either in an attempt to buck him away from your core or to pull him closer, you could not tell—but it mattered little when he slung an arm across your waist to pin you to the bed, pliant and controlled.

His tongue continued to move, delving into you and then wrapping around your clit until your chest heaved with each breath. You still leapt when you felt his fingers start to slide against the soft skin of your thigh. Aemond deftly circled through your folds, coating them in your slick. But then he moved, and you gasped as you felt the pads of his fingers circle your entrance before pressing in. Further and further he delved, as his tongue continued to pull you apart. His fingers curled and found a spot inside of you that had you keening. Pleasure sparked up your spine and your hands tugged uselessly into the fine blankets of your bed as the prince hummed against you, drunk on your taste, before pulling your clit into his mouth entirely and sucking on it until you let out a choked wail into the sticky night air. Your entire body hummed with the aftershocks but Aemond continued to lick at you for a few moments longer, only pulling back when you whimpered. He pressed his cheek against your damp thigh and looked up at you as he pulled his fingers free of your cunt and pressed them into his mouth. His eye closed as he groaned at the taste. “I will never get enough of your taste.” He turned his head just enough to press a searing kiss where your thigh and your hip met before he sat up.

His cock was rigid and long and wanting. Your heart continued to hammer in your chest as Aemond moved to press his hands on either side of your chest, staring down at you with a sense of vicious knowing. You could feel him, warm and hard against your thigh. “Aemond?” His name broke in your throat.

“I could stuff you full of my seed right now, leave you dripping. I could put a bastard in your belly and have you need to marry me when I return to avoid the scandal.” His long fingers trailed a meandering path over your womb, dancing across your heated skin. “You’d look so beautiful, round with my child.” He hummed.

Tears stung at your eyes again, for an entirely different reason. “Please…Aemond. Please do not do this to me.”

But he simply leaned down and pressed a kiss just below your navel. “I could do it, my lady. And I cannot tell you how I have contemplated it when I am alone in the dark, with naught but your memory to soothe me. But I am a man of honor. And any child I have you bear will be trueborn.” He sat straight and gently cupped your face as if he had not just threatened to ruin you. “No, I shall wait until I return to know what it feels like to fuck you. And it will be after I call you wife.”

The next kiss he pressed against your mouth was gentle and tasted sharp and sweet as his tongue plundered between your lips. A low groan vibrated against your mouth as he pulled back and it took you a stretched moment to realize he was touching himself. His hand was wrapped around his length, harshly moving up and down, up and down with a wet sound that had your core clenching.

“It should be you,” he said through gritted teeth before nipping at your bottom lip. “This belongs inside of you. I want to see it drip out of you.” His hand moved faster, faster. You could not look away. “I am going to put a babe in you. As many as you want. Make you come on my cock like a whore, my own personal whore. My perfect lady wife.” With the last word, he came, spurting his release against his hands and the warm skin of your stomach. Aemond’s chest heaved for just a few breaths before he stood straight, his pale skin pink with the exertion. You watched, heart in your throat, as his sticky fingers gathered the rest of his spend and he brought his fingers up to your mouth. “Open,” he commanded.

And you did, allowing him to press his digits to your tongue. He tasted…salty with a hint of citrus and his lilac eye was blown wide as he made sure you licked him clean. Aemond drew his fingers back when he was satisfied but still hooked his thumb on your chin and tilted your head up just enough to press a lingering kiss against your mouth with a pleased hum.

“You were perfect. Just as I knew you would be.”

He did not let you leave your featherbed as he curled his sinewy arms secured around your frame. He had cleaned you with a strip of damp fabric and delicately kissed you, now, as if he had not just debauched you so thoroughly.

Sleep sank its claws into you a few moments later, as you listened to Aemond hum against your skin. It was a lullaby. A lullaby for you.

And when the dawn came…he was gone. But your necklace was once again secured around your neck and your skin still burned from where he had touched it.

Your dragon was well fed. But you know he craved more. And you did, too.

You had not heard a single word of how Aemond’s campaign had gone across the Narrow Sea. And no matter who you asked, no one seemed to know if Aemond was successful. Or healthy. Or alive. Your one solace was hearing that the strong defenses to the south were mostly successful and a massive dragon had been spotted off the shores of Myr but that had been the end of it.

Or the start of it. It seemed your thoughts could never be free of the prince. It was a curse, truly. You wanted to see him again. Just to know he was well. And if you spent the nights alone in your tent, hand clutching the sapphire of the necklace, that was your secret to keep. It hadn’t been a lie when you said that you cared for him. You did. You do. But you were not sure when your care had mutated into this. And you could not rid yourself of the ache you now felt between your thighs and twisting in your chest when you thought of him. It was ridiculous and cruel and left you with a sense of self-loathing. How had he manipulated you into this? Into this strange longing? You threw yourself into making sure the Vale and its people were still taken care of to try to rid yourself of those warring emotions. And that was your duty. To provide. To protect.

They still called you The Flame of the Vale. And you heard more than a few of your courtiers whisper of you and your dragon’s wrath as you passed.

Sitting astride your dragon often reminded you of standing atop a rocking boat. Waiting and moving with each of his long, slow breaths. He was an extension of you, and you of him. Both of you stared at the horizon, waiting for the telltale sight of foreign ships. You knew they were coming and you itched to meet them. This was what you needed, what you wanted. You could be a dragon now. You could be cruel and rage and reduce something to ash without care for your reputation.

Only one band of Myrish corsairs had made it ashore and they had been quickly met with the might of the Vale. All others had been reduced to ash in their boats or torn apart by your bannermen’s fleets. But more had come, trying to catch your forces unaware just before dawn. Your dragon’s roar had rattled the very ground, nearly drowning out the alerting horn blasts along the shore, warning all of you of the sneaking threat.

And now, as the sun beat down on the bloodied sand and water, you felt that biting sense of savagery continue to grow. “Dracarys!” you bellowed, diving out from above a cloud and setting ablaze another ship. Green flames danced along the wood and the screams that followed were almost musical to your ears. Another ship came and met the same fate and another and another. But the Lyseni fleet was nothing but tenacious. You had counted five scorpions—four had been destroyed before they could be fired but the fifth-

Your dragon turned abruptly with a screech and a drag of green fire lighting up the clouds. And you felt the scorpion bolt rush by your head. You let out a frustrated scream as you steered your dragon back around to dive down down down toward the ship that had just tried to kill you both. And your dragon echoed your scream with one of his one before bathing that ship in his green fire as well.

But you should have known. Should have known it was too easy. Just as you turned to set your sights on another ship, another bolt barely missed your head—you felt its fletching tear across your face. And then another was shot, clipping the edge of your dragon’s wing but doing little more than agitating him. And then another and another. To your horror and rage, you realized there was a line of small ships just cresting over a large wave, a scorpion tethered to each of their bows. For a stretched moment, you watched the sailors hurry to load their weapons again. They were not going to stop. And neither could you. With your heart in your throat, you chanced a look back toward the shore, watching the few ships that had managed to get through your line of ships and dragon fire start to batter the waiting knights and bowmen on the shore. Your men were holding them back, but you knew that you must keep them from being overwhelmed. You needed to protect them.

You urged your dragon forward with a shout and you heard the sailors screaming for the others to hurry, to shoot, that they were going to kill you and your dragon. But you could not stop. “Angos!” You cried and you instantly felt the rumbling of his growing fire beneath your legs just as another bolt shot past your dragon’s neck, and sprayed your armor with his boiling blood as he reared back, angry, for just a few breaths. But another bolt came and you had to dip down until his feet dragged in the sea for you to avoid it. But they were getting closer closer closer. Your dragon spit his fire at the first ship, turning its crew and scorpion to ash to be washed away.

“Turn! Turn! Turn!” You heard the sailors bellow.

You turned your dragon toward them, watching as they hauled their scorpions to the side, still aiming for you. But, just as you watched one of them pull back the bolt, green fire from above drenched the ship, snuffing out their screams. And your dragon let out a pleased rumble as you craned your head up to see Vhagar descending like a leviathan from the clouds above, dark and terrible and beautiful. As she turned left, you and your dragon went right and in just a few moments, the last of the scorpions and their crews were gone. The ancient she-dragon then turned toward the shore and swept away the invading forces in more green fire. You could hear the cheers from the shore, celebrating with you. Tilting your chin up to feel the sun and smoke on your skin, you saw Vhagar swooping toward you again and without your steering, your dragon moved to mirror her. The massive dragons were achingly delicate in their movements as they turned and twisted, pulling higher and higher into the sky and clouds. They were dancing. Together. An exhausted laugh bubbled out of you at the realization.

It came crashing down on you then, that your dragon was happy. You were alive. The battle was over. And you let your hands peel away from the spikes that served as your reins and held them out straight, letting the air sweep through your fingers. This was freedom. Your eyes closed for just a moment, allowing yourself to revel in the ash-covered victory, but they snapped open when you heard Vhagar’s distinctive screech. She circled left and your dragon flew right and you turned your head to see Aemond in the saddle, his silver hair mussed by the wind and his mouth tilted into his familiar smirk.

He was alive. He was here.

Your dragons eventually leveled out and slowly made their way toward the shore, the very tips of their large wings just barely brushing against each other as they kept each other close.

“Dragons!” Someone shouted as you drew ever closer. The crowds below, victorious and celebratory, darted away from the shadows your mounts created.

Sand spit beneath the pair of dragons as they landed and your dragon rumbled, pleased in several ways, as you slid from his back. Aemond descended the well-worn ladder of Vhagar’s saddle and you watched as he rolled his shoulders back before turning toward you. And your heart leapt.

And you couldn’t find it in yourself to hate it now.

But you still refrained from wanting too much. He was still so young. And you were…you.

Before he could take more than a half dozen steps toward you, he was surrounded by knights, thanking him for his help and lauding in the victory with him. You watched the smallest of smiles pushed at his mouth. Yes, this was his victory, too.

The camp was soon devolving into a somewhat refined celebration of the battle won. Food was carried in from the nearby Gulltown and set up on tables along the beach that now looked more grey than golden. But no one truly cared, not when the mead and wine were passed around and stories were shared of battles not soon forgotten and the honor they had earned. The cut on your cheek was cleaned and bandaged, and would leave you with only a small scar according to the healer. But it was Aemond’s low voice that you listened to, listened for, over the din of the revelry.

He and Daemon had easily secured the allegiance of Pentos, Braavos, and Lorath, before also managing to have Qohor and Norvos join their ranks as they moved into the Disputed Lands. It had been a bloodbath.

“Her Grace wanted this dealt with quickly. My uncle and I were happy to oblige.” His eye anchored on you on the other end of the long table and your grip tightened on the thick tankard in your hand.

Swallowing your pride, and the other rising feelings, you stood and raised your drink. “To Prince Aemond, Prince of the Realm, and hero of the Bay.” The crowd cheered and raised their cups, too. “And to each and every one of you, of my knights, the finest of the Seven Kingdoms: the Realm will speak of this day and of your bravery during this war for ages to come!” The crowd cheered again and the music that had been played in the background grew in earnest volume, letting the merrymaking continue and grow.

You hadn’t spoken to Aemond since you landed. And with every passing second, the sapphire around your neck grew heavier. This was wrong. All of it. You knew that. Aemond’s feelings would fade and yours had been so muddled and confused. You needed to be free of this all. After graciously accepting a few of the toasts given in your honor, you dismissed yourself back to your tent.

How had you become this? Hadn’t Aemond hurt you? Nearly forced you? But hadn’t he also kissed you softly and kept every single one of his promises? As you pressed a damp strip of cloth to your neck, you tried to clear your mind. Tomorrow you would be back in the Eyrie, away from it all. You just needed a bit of peace. A bit of quiet. Guidance. You pulled a small dagger from the dark of one of your bags and raked it across your palm as you settled on your knees in front of the small fire in your tent.

The undulating language your mother once sang to you felt a little stilted on your tongue, but you still continued on, asking for guidance, asking for peace, as you raised your bleeding hand above the fire and let the crimson drip into the flames.

One.

Two.

Three.

You sat on the weirwood throne, a babe on your lap. The little one’s hands drummed against your protruding stomach as they let out a happy giggle, lilac eyes alight with joy.

“Be kind to your mother, my son.” Aemond was at your side, reaching out a hand to cup the back of the little one’s head. “She is delicate right now.” And then his lips brushed against your temple and-

“My lady!”

You pulled back with a gasp, your skin burning from the flames. You curled your hand against your chest with a hiss as flashes of the vision danced on the backs of your eyes. Turning toward the sound of the voice, you saw a man standing at the entrance of your tent, his face hard and furious.

“The whispers are true! You’re a witch! A defilement of the Seven!”

You teetered to your feet. It felt as if all your limbs had been weighed down with sand and your tongue was useless behind your teeth. “I am n-not a witch, my lord. I-”

“Do not deny it! I have seen it and I shall make sure that all of the people who swore fealty to you were-”

The rest of the words were gargled as blood filled his mouth. Aemond stood behind the man, a bloodied dagger in one hand, the man’s tongue in the other. You hadn’t even seen his approach and your knees nearly knocked together as he moved to press the tip of his blade against the man’s throat. “You shall speak no word against Lady Arryn at all. And if you think to write it, I shall have your hands next.” He then grabbed the back of the man’s jerkin and all but threw him out of your tent. “Get yourself to a maester. I’ll be sure to tell everyone that you were too into your cups and mistook your blade for your fork.”

The man stumbled away with a wet cry and Aemond turned his gaze to you. He tossed the man’s tongue into the fire and set aside his dagger as he strode toward you.

“Aemond…” His name was a weight on your tongue.

“Did I not tell you that I would protect you? That you were mine to hold?” He reached up to press his thumb against your quivering mouth before he pulled in a slow breath. “I have a gift for you.” He led you to sit at the small table near your bedroll and then grabbed at a dark bag he must have dropped near the flap of your tent earlier. He set it atop the small table and opened and…

It took you a stretched moment to realize what he had set in front of you. The hair was grey, longer, too. Age had lined his dull orchid colored eyes and he still wore a single gold hoop in one of his ears. This was…

“Aemond…”

“He will never threaten you again.”

He had given you the head of your uncle.

You had not asked for it. Had not entertained the thought of killing him with anyone aside from your dark daydreams in years. “How…” the question trailed off. “Why?”

The prince did not look away from you as he answered: “I swore to you that no harm would come to you, did I not? You refused to become a kinslayer but he was no kin of mine.” Again, he reached out to hold your face as he stood above you. “I care not that you have secret rituals and gods to which you pray. I want you and all of your shadows.”

You had prayed for peace and guidance and the blood and flames had shown you Aemond and children. He had carved a man’s tongue out for you. He had bathed your enemies in dragonflame when they thought to shoot you from the sky. But, gods, there was a darkness to his affections for you. But were you not a child of shadow, too?

You stood from your seat and Aemond’s hand fell from your face for a moment, allowing you to be the one to reach out now. Your fingers shook as they pressed against his cheek. His scar was scalding beneath your thumb. “Any children we may have would not carry the Targaryen name. They would be Arryns. You would have to defer to me for counsel whenever another house came to the Eyrie to settle a dispute. I cannot and will not ask you to lower yourself in such a way-”

Aemond all but snatched your hand from his face and pressed it against his chest, letting you feel the steady beat of his heart beneath your palm. “Let me be the one to judge if something is lowering myself, my lark.”

You shook your head but couldn’t find it in yourself to take your hand back. “Aemond-”

“Your mother was a Targaryen to her core but carried the name Arryn. You were born in Lys and adopted the House and its colors only after you were named heir. You ride one of the largest and oldest dragons in the world. You may be called an Arryn, my lady, but you are a Targaryen. You are the Blood of Old Valyria. Our children, no matter their name, would be the same.” He moved closer, until you could feel each of his breaths against your mouth. “I love you, my lark. I have loved you since I was a boy and I shall love you until my heart no longer beats in my chest.”

Tears started to cloud your vision as you nodded. He loved you. There was no escaping it. And perhaps you loved him, too. With that thought, you surged forward to press your mouth to his.

The wedding was a grand but small affair. Well, your second wedding was. The first had simply been you and Aemond on the shores of Dragonstone, wed together in the Valyrian tradition with blood on your mouth and staining your tongue. The second had been in the small sept of the Eyrie, after the Daughters’ War had officially ended and the Realm was at peace. He draped you in a cloak embroidered with a three headed dragon, stitched in blue. His color. Your color.

Both of you refused a bedding ceremony. And it was probably for the best as Aemond certainly took his time taking you apart on his tongue and then again on his fingers before finally sliding his cock into your velvet vice.

His thrusts were slow but powerful. Stars burst behind your eyes with each of them, only coupled with his wet mouth clamping over your neck, the swells of your breasts, anywhere he could sink his teeth. He hauled one of your legs into the crook of his arm so he could drive deeper deeper deeper into you until you would swear you felt him in your throat.

“Do you feel me, my lark?”

“I…” Sparks of pleasure were cracking at every nerve ending and hazing your mind until that was left was Aemond. “I feel you.”

He took you three times that night, leaving you gasping and leaking of him. Sated. And, despite it all, because of it all…happy. Little Rodrik Arryn came screaming into the world less than a year after your wedding. It became a regular occurrence for anyone visiting the Eyrie to see the little lord asleep on his father’s chest as Aemond sat on the Weirwood throne beside you. When he reached his sixth moon, Aemond secured Rodrik to his chest and climbed onto Vhagar’s back, letting his son have his first flight on the oldest dragon in the world. He did the same when Artys was born a year later. Your vision had come true.

It had been a conscious decision for you both to give your children names native to the Vale. But, when your daughter was born, it had been a mutual decision to bend the rules. A subtle nod to Visenya and your mother.

“Lady Vaella Arryn!”

The crowd assembled in the High Hall cheered as you held your daughter close, nestled safely against your breast. One of her small hands was tightly curled into the soft fabric of your gown and she let out a short whine when Alicent came to hold her granddaughter.

“Well done, darling,” Alicent cooed as she let the babe get comfortable in her arms. “Oh, she is just as perfect as your boys.”

Aemond hummed and pressed a brief kiss to your temple. You could feel his smile against your skin. “Of course she is.”

When the guests had retired for the night, Rhaenyra being the last as she sang a Valyrian song to the giggling babe to help settle her, you heard a familiar rumble come from above. Echoing elation nearly consumed you as you sped through the halls of your castle until you were in the gardens and staring up at your dragon.

“Have you come to meet her?” You asked, holding Vaella close with a smile.

Your dragon grumbled, as if this was not his idea (and as if he had not come to meet your sons, too), and moved closer, his uncareful steps spitting rocks and trampling flowers. But you hardly cared. Holding Vaella a little higher, you smiled as he neared her, bright green eyes focused entirely on the small bundle in your grasp. The elation you felt settled in your bones, a far cry from the panic you’d felt only a few moons ago when you’d given birth. He always worried over you. But he knew you were happy and he was happy, too.

“This is Vaella.”

He rumbled in greeting and Vaella reached out a tiny hand toward him with a gurgle of her own. He then nudged at your hip, as softly as he could, until you got the hint and strapped Vaella to your chest and climbed onto his back and held tight.

“Just a few turns, yes?”

An answering plume of smoke curled from between his teeth and then he took to the skies, letting the winter air sting your cheeks. But your daughter smiled contentedly up at you, letting out a happy sound as your dragon burst through a cloud. She would be a fearsome little one. You knew it.

The Vale, even as the last vestiges of Winter were slowly slipping away, was prospering. As were the Seven Kingdoms. As part of the alliance with Dorne, Rhaenyra declared the Stepstones were granted to them. Lucerys was a fine consort to Princess Aliandra, and it seemed that Dorne had accepted becoming part of the Seven Kingdoms. They retained their titles and their customs and Rhaenyra seemed pleased that she would rarely have to mediate any of the disputes between Dornish houses anyway. As long as Lucerys was happy, Rhaenyra was happy. Jacaerys and Helaena had welcomed Prince Aerion just at the war’s end and then Princess Rhae soon after. Aegon and his Lady Farwynd were starting their own family on their remote island and Jeyne was busy planning her wedding festivities to Lord Stark, set to be held on the first true day of Spring. Rhaenys was pleased when she announced that Laena had given birth to another girl, a beauty named Alysanne, and Rhaenyra proposed a tentative betrothal between Aerion and newest addition to House Sunglass. Daemon and his wife and daughter had been invited to Pentos as guests of esteem and they were taking full advantage of it. Daeron was on his own adventures, too, discovering the secrets of Qohor and hoping to visit Qarth soon, as well.

Yes, the realm and your family were at peace.

Aemond was waiting for you as you landed, a teasing smile on his face. “My ladies are courting scandal by staying awake at such an hour, out of bed.”

You laughed and stole a kiss against his mouth as you dismounted and your smile only grew as he bent to kiss Vaella, too. He stood straight and your heart clenched as you looked at him, your husband. You no longer fought against the feelings he conjured within you. He was all you wanted, him and your little family.

“I love you,” you murmured against his mouth after putting Vaella in her bassinet.

You felt his smile against your lips before his hands curled over your hips and he dragged you close. “I know, my lark.”

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed it. Please let me know what you thought of it all! I have a side-story Aegon and Lady Farwynd coming soon(ish) and two more Aemond one-shots on the docket, too.

[lalacliffthorne]

💜 starshine pt. V 💜

Rhysand x Reader

part I part II part III part IV part V part VI

summary: some long overdue introductions are made.

notes: god, I can't express how fucking happy the love you show for this makes me. I'm honestly pinching myself every time I read all your messages and comments, and I'm not even sure I'm actually processing them all because it's just so completely bonkers. anyway. I'm currently planning on how to proceed with this, and you can probably expect at least a few more chapters *winks and wiggles brows*. I realised we need a few more things before this feels complete. so, here's the next part. I will not be blamed for swooning or emotional damage or anything else.

______________________________________________________________

Exhaling softly, I buried my nose in my pillow, blinking and scrunching my brows. I could feel sunlight on my face and a soft breeze brushing over my skin that smelled like sweet blooming trees and cool mornings, intertwining with another scent that surrounded me, filling my lungs, familiar and warm, causing something to flutter against my ribs.

Slowly cracking open an eye, I squinted into the sunlight filtering through high glass doors. They were opened wide, allowing the morning air to filter through the big room, and as I blinked against the sleep in my eyes and my vision became clearer, my breath hitched a little at the sight of the mountain palace in the golden morning sun.

Hiding my big yawn in my pillow, I turned my head, craning my neck. But the bed behind me was empty.

Something skipped a little in my chest, and I slowly sat up, scrunching my brows against the light and blowing a strand of hair out of my face that had fallen from my braid. Rubbing my eyes, I slid off the mattress, and my gaze flickered towards the door leading into the hall, but then I caught a glimpse at something in the big mirror, and when I turned around, I saw the person out on the balcony.

My heart moved gently in my chest, and breathing out softly, I slowly started to make my way outside.

The sun was warm, just like the stone under my bare feet as I squinted into the light, my breath hitching a little when I caught a glimpse at Velaris down in the vale, the Sidra glittering. Then my gaze turned back towards the male sitting on the ground on the terrace, right in front of a few steps leading down to another, arms resting on his knees, eyes closed as his brows crunched a little against the bright sun. His dark hair was tousled from sleep and the soft breeze, the muscles in his back shifting when he laced his fingers together, and something warm spread through my chest.

Quietly padding closer, I let myself plop down next to him on the stones heated up to by the sun, so close that our shoulders and elbows were touching when I pulled up my bare legs and wrapped my arms around my knees. Drawing up my shoulders a little, I exhaled slowly, blinking into the sun as my gaze moved over the palace stretched over the side of the mountain, the balconies and terraces, huge windows open to let in the breeze, and the city far below. Then I turned my head.

Rhys' eyes were still closed, but the crease between his brows softened as I watched. The warmth of his skin was seeping through the thin cotton of my shirt, and his scent rose into my nose with every breath.

Feeling something gently thrum against my ribs, I carefully shifted a little closer, my shoulder pressing more into his biceps. Then I turned my head back ahead, breathing in the morning air and the smell of flowers as the light wind brushed through the strands fallen from my braid and the sun warmed my skin. My nose crinkled a little as I squinted into the light, something fluttering gently against my ribs.

From the corner of my eye, I saw Rhys blink, brows drawing together as he opened his eyes, his gaze focusing on the city below. His iris looked lighter in the sun, almost like lavender.

A muscle in his jaw shifted, then he mumbled softly: “I don't know whether I deserve this.”

The flutter in my chest turned into a soft twinge, and I felt my brows furrow gently as I looked over at him.

“Deserve what?”

Rhys stared at the palace, the city in the vale.

“All of this. The people down there. I'm not sure I deserve them.” His voice was quiet and raw when he added softly: “Not after all I did.”

The twinge in my chest sharpened, and I swallowed a little.

“Rhys?”

His head turned like my soft call of his name ripped him out of dark thoughts, and I stared at him, feeling something tighten under my ribs when I whispered: “You can't save everyone.”

Rhys stilled, and I offered him a careful, crooked smile. “I know.” I raised one shoulder in a soft shrug. “I tried.”

The male stared at me, the muscles in his cheeks shifting as he swallowed and his eyes darted over my face. I could see the pain buried deep within, felt the emotions whirling under his skin that caused my chest to ache.

“It's the best we can do.” My brows furrowed gently, something churning softly under my ribs when I whispered softly: “Try.” My gaze flickered over his face. “And you did.”

Something rose in my chest, and I pressed my shoulder into his, staring at him. “All you did was to keep them safe. Keep your family safe, your home.” I swallowed softly and mumbled: “You gave everything to protect them.”

Rhys blinked, and something within him seemed to crack when he whispered hoarsely: “What if I gave so much, I ended up broken?”

I stared at him, feeling something tug and tighten in my chest. Then I shrugged just a little, smiling softly.

“Everyone is a little broken. Some maybe more than others, but – it's hard not to. In this world, how can we be anything but?”

Rhys' lips parted, his violet eyes shimmering in the sunlight as they found mine.

“Maybe we're broken.” I felt my brows crunch softly. “But that's not what matters.” I returned his gaze, steady, calm, feeling my heart thrum against my ribs.

“What matters is what we do with the pieces. Whether we put ourselves back together or push the broken pieces away and stay broken.” I smiled, soft and crooked. “I know that mending yourself back together is scary. Because – it probably won't end up looking like before. Some pieces are missing, others are broken beyond repair.” My eyes flickered over the male in front of me, his brows crunched up like he was fighting to keep himself together, iris shimmering as his gaze darted over my face.

“But what you build from the rest is still complete.” I felt my throat tighten a little and smiled softly when I whispered: “And it can still be beautiful.”

The muscles in Rhys' jaw shifted as he swallowed harshly, his eyes a little watery as they searched mine, emotion raging deep within them.

Pressing my shoulder into his, I watched him steadily.

“You're allowed to grieve what you've lost along the way.” I suppressed the urge to swallow again, staring at him firmly as something tightened harshly in my chest. “Just never think that because you've been broken - you can't be whole again.”

Rhys' nostrils flared, and he closed his eyes tightly. My heart tilted, and quickly, before I could stop myself, I stretched.

A light shudder seemed to travel through Rhys' body when I pressed my forehead against his.

“You gave everything for them,”, I whispered, squeezing my eyes shut. “Nothing about that makes you less of a male.” Something skipped and tumbled in my chest, and I smiled crookedly and mumbled softly: “If anything, it makes you even more worthy of their love.”

This time, the tremble that went through Rhys' limbs was stronger. His breath hitting my skin quivered just a little, then he dropped his head forward to gently press back. His nose brushed against mine, and suddenly, my whole body tightened in a soft, sharp inhale.

My breath hitched and stilled, and Rhys tilted his head a little to repeat the soft nudge. I could feel his fingers brushing over my knuckles as the side of his thigh pressed against mine, radiating warmth through the soft material of his pants while his hair tickled my forehead and his breath danced over my skin as he slowly, gently traced his nose over mine.

Swallowing, I pulled my head back a little, feeling my heart race in my chest and something tightening and pulsing under my ribs. Then I opened my eyes, and my breath stumbled.

Rhys' iris twinkled like galaxies, hues of silver and lavender swirling in deep violet, warm and bright as his gaze pierced into mine. The breeze brushed through his tousled dark hair, blowing wisps of hair that had fallen from my braid into my face, and Rhys raised his hand, carefully brushing them away. His thumb followed the line of my cheekbone, sending tingling shivers through my body, and Rhys' throat worked like he was trying not to swallow as his eyes dragged over my face.

The rise and swell in my chest grew unbearable, and I held my breath and blinked, pulling back and smiling softly and crookedly, even though my heart was pounding against my ribs.

I prayed Rhys didn't feel it, couldn't hear the strange flutter in my breath when I turned my eyes back ahead, over the palace dipped in golden light as the sun slowly crept higher up in the sky.

I could feel Rhys' gaze on my face for another second, steady, piercing and calm. Then he turned his head back ahead. His warm shoulder pressed into mine, and I felt him exhale slowly, his skin glowing in the sun as he closed his eyes again, brows scrunching a little.

Without being able to stop myself, I let my gaze flicker towards him and over his profile; his straight nose, high cheekbones, the strand of ink black hair curved over his forehead, the rest messy and tousled -

One corner of Rhys' lips turned upwards until the ghost of a crease formed in his cheek.

“Seeing something you like?”

My heart tipped over at the sound of his deep, rich voice, and trying to ignore the small hitch in my breath, I huffed and glared at him. Rhys' smile just widened.

“You know, I'm sure none of the others would complain if you didn't, but are you going to put on pants before we go down into the city?” His eyes were still closed, lips curved upwards, but his voice sounded a little hoarse when he mumbled softly: “Or are you planning on torturing me a little more?”

My breath hitched as my gaze darted towards him, my lips parting, and Rhys opened his eyes, his iris twinkling brightly as he squinted a little against the sun, looking down at me. The breeze ruffled his hair, and his muscles moved under his sunkissed skin as he shifted a little on the spot, his bare shoulder pressing into mine. He looked dark and warm and – beautiful.

Heartwrenchingly, achingly, breathtakingly beautiful. All of him, his eyes and his smile and the curve of his jaw, the way his muscles worked his under lean sides and powerful shoulders - and everything beneath. His heart, his doubts, his dreams. And even though I had seen him since that first day, had seen all of it and more -

My heart shuddered as I felt the rise and fall under my ribs, the tingles running over my spine and how my breath hitched with every soft inhale. Felt the harsh thrum of my heart, and suddenly, something tipped over in my chest as my heart shuddered again, and my lips parted.

Rhys' brows scrunched lightly. “Starshine?”

“Hm?” My voice sounded soft, breathy as I stared at him, something fluttering wildly against my ribs.

“Are you alright?” One corner of Rhys' lips quirked, his gaze flickering over my face looking torn between amusement and concern, and I blinked and nodded quickly, turning my gaze back ahead as my heart thumped in my chest.

Something rushed through my body as I swallowed gently and felt the flutter under my ribs become more violent.

☆

Making my way through the halls of The House of Wind, I tied the sleeves of my billowing tunic that I had tucked into my leather pants which fit snugly around my legs.

I had figured they were a lot more practical for another flight than a dress.

My heart was pounding steadily against my ribs as I checked if my braid was tied off properly and frowned softly when I realized that there were little wildflowers stuck within. How had they ended up in th-

The doors opened towards a terrace, and when I raised my head, my breath hitched.

Rhys was standing in front of the carved stone balustrade, wings folded comfortably against his back, so big they almost touched the ground. He was squinting into the sunlight, looking completely relaxed, the breeze brushing through his hair.

Like he'd sensed me, he turned his head, and my breath hitched a little when his eyes met mine, deep and vibrant and slowly beginning to twinkle.

Something skipped and tumbled in my chest, and not yet ready to confront the strange sensation of a realisation that had bloomed just a little earlier, I pushed it away and jumped down the few steps, crunching my nose as I smiled sheepishly.

“This alright?”

Rhys' lips curved. “Is what alright?”

I shrugged, turning in a circle and waving a hand over my body exaggeratedly, cracking a grin. “The clothes. You know, for – whatever you have planned. Meeting your friends.” My heart skipped a little nervously as I squinted up at him, coming to a halt in front of him.

Slowly, a crease formed in Rhys' cheek, becoming deeper and deeper the more his smile grew. His eyes were sparkling when he stared down at me, his deep voice vibrating over my skin when he mumbled: “You could turn up in a duvet cover and be beautiful.”

I somehow kept myself from holding my breath even as my heart suddenly toppled, and instead managed to deadpan.

“Alright, so what I'm getting from that statement is that this isn't the right thing to wear –“

Rhys laughed, his eyes crinkling with his wide smile when he stepped forward and grinned down at me.

“You know that is not what I meant.” His iris was bright as his gaze flickered over my face. Then he blinked, his voice softer and steady when he said quietly: “Don't worry. You look beautiful. You always do.”

Barely suppressing the urge to swallow as my throat suddenly tightened, I stared up at him.

"And they'll love you." Rhys' violet eyes pierced mine, something rough in his voice when he mumbled: "They'd be idiots not to."

My heart dipped and swerved, and I inhaled softly and sharply before nodding lightly, feeling my lips quirk in a small, cheeky smile.

“Are you sure we can't just winnow or –“

Rolling his eyes with a grin, Rhys leaned down, and my breath got stuck in my throat with a soft sound when his arm slid around my back.

“Hold on,”, he mumbled, his breath brushing over the side of my neck, and I quickly wrapped my arm over his shoulder.

His hand slipped under my knees, then Rhys lifted me into his arms as he straightened again.

My heart skipped high into my throat when he hoisted me up a little, adjusting his grip until my body was curled into his chest. His scent filled my lungs as he squeezed me gently and looked at me, his eyes sparkling.

“Ready?”

I felt a brush of air when his wings opened, stretching wide, and quickly, I slid my arms around his shoulders, burying my face in the crook of his neck. Squeezing my eyes shut tightly, I nodded, and with one mighty beat, Rhys launched into the sky.

I shrieked softly, feeling Rhys' body vibrate with his low chuckle, then we dropped into a steep dive, and I clung to his shoulders, squealing loudly.

~

I didn't know how long we were in the air. Rhys'´ wings were stretched wide and steady, carrying us lower and lower, their thin membranes in parts almost see through against the sunlight. Sometimes, he dropped a little just to hear me squeak, laughter vibrating through his chest every time he rightened us smoothly and turned into an elegant curve. I peaked over his shoulder once, only to feel my stomach turn over at the sight of the city so far below, I quickly squeezed my eyes shut again and buried my face back in the crook his neck.

Finally, Rhys caught himself out of a gentle descent, his wings beating a few times until he landed on his feet smoothly.

Slowly loosening my tight grip, I cracked open an eye, feeling a relieved breath leave me when I saw the cobblestone only a few feet beneath me.

Lifting my head, I felt my heart rise softly as I looked up the façade of the townhouse made from sandstone we'd landed in front. The sun just caught the stained glass window over the door, the smell of the rose bushes planted in the small front yard soft and sweet. The roof with a huge round window in the attic glittered in the sunlight, and the windows on the second and third floor were opened wide to let in the gentle breeze.

Rhys leaned down, letting me slide out of his arms as he placed me back on my feet. I raised my head when he straightened, and my heart lurched and tipped over when I realised we were standing chest to chest.

Rhys stilled a bit, his head dipped to look down at me, dark hair dishevelled from the flight and still looking perfectly tousled. Something closed around my throat when his eyes flickered over my face, warm and twinkling a little, and I couldn't keep myself from swallowing.

Behind me, the front door was opened, followed by a deep rumbunctious laugh, and when I quickly looked over my shoulder, my heart skipped high into my throat as the source of the sound stepped into the sunlight, squinting and grinning boisterously.

The Lord of Bloodshed looked exactly like I had imagined based on the stories Rhys had told me about him. Tall; so tall he almost had to dip his head to the side to walk through the high door, wide shoulders and chest, body all corded muscle. Half of his dark hair was gathered in a bun at the back of his head, a few strands falling into his face as he walked down the steps, huge Illyrian wings tucked against his back as his grin made his eyes crinkle and caused the scar on the side of his face to shift.

He made it a few feet before noticing Rhys and me. He slowed before stilling on the spot, his grin disappearing a little as warm hazel eyes met mine.

Carefully, I smiled, soft and crooked. Behind me, I felt Rhys shift, straightening.

Another figure appeared from the hall that was dipped in shadow, though the darkness seemed to thicken a little as it shifted away from the tall male stepping into the sunshine. It didn't leave him fully, ghosting around his shoulders and the wings folded smoothly against his back, like soft whisps of darkness that followed the shadowsinger as he moved down the steps, amber eyes piercing mine.

Where the General's face was rough and more rugged, the face of the Spymaster was all sharp lines and beauty dark like death, but still, there was something gentle buried underneath as his gaze flickered over me.

“Cauldron's sake, can't you two wait?!”

The bright, warm voice drew my eyes away from the shadowsinger's, and a female appeared in the door, her scowl melting into softly widening eyes.

“Oh,”, she breathed, and I felt my lips rise into a smile without being able to help it.

The Morrigan, as Rhys sometimes called her like it was a title more than just a name, looked like sunshine. Her flowing hair really was the color of honey, her eyes a gentle warm brown, soft freckles on her nose and something like awe in her gaze.

Her lips, painted deep red, parted, but before she could say something, the Lord of Bloodshed moved. There was something strange in his eyes, something in his drawn brows as he walked towards me with big strides, and I could feel Rhys tense behind me. But before he could even open his mouth, the huge Illyrian warrior reached me.

Strong arms wrapped around my waist, and the Lord of Bloodshed lifted me off my feet in a warm, crushing hug.

My breath hitched, and my lips parted softly when a wave of emotions crashed over me. Thankfulness and relief and pain soothed, mixed with warm vibrating affection, so strong and jumbled, a little tightness built in my throat.

He felt different than Rhys; rougher, louder and warm and full of unbridled life, and –

Something surged in my chest, and I blinked hastily against the way my eyes welled. Because the infamous Lord of Bloodshed felt kind. Kind and gentle, and good.

“Hi?”, I whispered a little hesitantly, and a soft chuckle rumbled through the huge Illyrian.

“Hi.” I heard the grin in his deep voice, warm and rumbling as he squeezed me tightly before shaking me a little and causing a soft giggle to break from my throat. Then he slowly placed me back on the ground, holding me tightly for another second before straightening up, and when I raised my head, he was beginning to smile down at me, wide and unrestrained.

Movement at the corner of my eye made me tip down my head, and something shifted softly in my chest when Morrigan sent me a smile. It was bright and beaming, but her eyes were a little watery, and she moved without hesitation, wrapping me up in a hug so tight, I held my breath.

“Hello,”, she mumbled, her warm voice a little wobbly, and my heart tightened gently as I carefully wrapped my arms around her and squeezed back. She too felt gentle and good, but vibrant, like an orchestra rising into a striking finale.

Mor kept me in a ribcrushing hug for another second before pulling back, sniffling a little as she beamed at me, and I slowly grinned back.

“So that's her.”

The voice, so deep and low, sent a light tingle down my spine, and when my gaze moved, it met the shadowsinger's, his golden eyes piercing mine.

The Lord of Bloodshed crossed his arms in front of his chest, his eyes sparkling as he sent his High Lord a shit-eating grin. “Now I get why you kept her from us.”

Rhys scowled as the tall Illyrian sent me a wink, but a few feet away, the lips of the shadowsinger curved at the corners.

“Honestly.” Mor rolled her eyes, but she looked like she was suppressing a smile. I threw Rhys a look.

You know, he's right, I get it too. I sent him a wide, cheeky grin and raised my brows. Why you thought they'd steal me away? I mean; I'd let them -

Something shifted in Rhys' eyes; a growl rumbled from his chest as he moved forward, his chest pressing into my back, and my heart skipped and my breath hitched.

Mor furrowed her brows, but her lips twitched. “Are you alright?”

Rhys huffed as he stared down at me, but it almost looked like he was pouting, so much so, something tipped over in my chest, and I started to beam up at him, wide and cheeky.

Something in Rhys' glare shifted, became soft and bright. Then he blinked, and my heart tumbled gently against my ribs when he tore his eyes away from mine and grumbled under his breath: “I just remembered why I have been putting this off for so long.”

Both Illyrians rolled their eyes in unison, the General flipping him off easily while the Spymaster's lips twitched, and Rhys returned the foul gesture before looking down at me, his eyes twinkling even though he gave a dramatic, long-suffering sigh as he raised his brows.

“Starshine, meet my irritating and nosy family. These are Mor, Cassian and Azriel.”

Mor beamed at me, Azriel dipped his chin lightly, and Cassian bowed his head with a cheeky wink. I slowly grinned back, feeling something hop against my ribs. Then I blinked and blurted: “It's really good to finally meet you, but I'm starving -”

Cassian snorted and started to laugh, his head tipping back as his shoulders shook, and Azriel pushed past him, his lips curving when he blinked into the sun, mumbling: “Looks to me like she's going to fit in just fine.”

☆

Blinking into the sun, I dropped my head when something cool brushed over my shoulder, and Azriel sat down next to me and handed me something.

My heart skipped and my lips parted in surprise at the sight of the waffle wrapped in a paper napkin, sprinkled with powered sugar. There was a café in the alley to our right that sold them, and even though earlier at breakfast, Mor had ordered half the menu, the smell whafting from it when we'd passed it a little while ago had made me look at the window wistfully.

“Thank you.” I looked up at the shadowsinger, still a little wide-eyed and surprised, and there was a soft chuckle from next to me that made my heart skip.

“Bribery.”

“Hey, shut up.” I felt my lips curve into a bright smile without being able to help it, quickly kicking Rhys' shin. He was sitting on my other side and squinted against the sun, cheek creasing. He looked completely relaxed, his skin glowing in the warm light as he lounged on the bench, his arm draped over the backrest behind me. “You're just jealous that he didn't bring you one.”

“Yes, as his High Lord, that does make me wonder.” Rhys narrowed his eyes in mock thought, and Azriel huffed, his lips quirking as he blinked into the sun.

Breathing in the sweet smell of flowers, I plucked off a corner of the still warm waffle, the sweet dough melting on my tongue as I blinked into the sunlight. Something warm was pulsing in my chest as I let my gaze wander over the little square surrounded by big, sandstone buildings.

Mor was crouched a bit away on the cobblestone, talking to a female painting the ground with a beautiful sunset sky. Cassian was over at the fountain that wasn't carrying any water; instead, flowers were growing within, spilling over the edges, violets and lavenders and pinks mixing together with small white blossoms. He was playing with some children, who had seen the mighty warrior and had shied away until he had grinned widely at them. Now, they were trying to wrestle him down, his dramatic groans echoing through the square.

Next to me, Azriel leaned back, his wings folded comfortably behind him as his golden eyes moved over the square, watchful but relaxed. The blooming trees whispered in the soft breeze, petals chasing over the cobblestone, and I exhaled softly and felt something rise in my chest, fluttering and violent.

Gentle claws scraped over my mind's walls, and my heart skipped softly.

“You okay?”

Rhys' voice rumbled through my head, warm and relaxed, and my breath hitched as my eyes flickered over his friends, his family that had taken so easily to me, it felt like I had been with them since the beginning.

Blinking, I tipped my head back a little, looking up into the clear blue sky where even in daylight, the pale shape of the moon was visible, and that swelling feeling under my ribs grew.

It's beautiful, I whispered in my mind, turning my head, and my eyes met violet ones, bright and twinkling as they flickered over my face.

A whaft of warm, flowery perfume filled my nose, then Mor squeezed into between me and Azriel, sighing happily as she squinted into the sun. “Should we save him?”

I looked over towards where Cassian was buried under at least six little Fae children that were yelling and climbing over him.

From the corner of my eye, I saw Azriel's lips quirk as he reclined lazily. “He looks like he's got it handled.”

Cassian dramatically went limp. Then he stirred, sending children tumbling over the cobblestone laughing as he straightened up and grinned at them, and I giggled.

Getting to his feet, Cassian patted the head of one of the children and sent them a wink before beginning to walk back towards us, the children going back to chasing each other over the square.

“Is your back alright, brother?” Rhys watched him get closer, creases in his cheeks deepening. “I could swear I heard it crack when you got up.”

“I heard it.” Azriel squinted into the sun.

Mor sighed dramatically. “Tragic. The mighty hero is getting old.”

“I could take a look at it.” I blinked up at Cassian innocently. From the corner of my eye, I saw the others look towards me as I shrugged, pulling off another piece of waffle. “I deal with injuries of the elderly all the time.”

Rhys started laughing, his head dipping back, and my heart swerved at the deep, rich sound. On my other side, Mor was laughing as well, bright and causing her body to vibrate as the Spymaster grinned, and Cassian scowled, but his eyes were twinkling mischievously when he narrowed them and pointed at me. “Careful, little one.”

"You know she could take you, right?" Rhys was smirking.

I only squinted up at Cassian, feeling my lips curve cheekily.

There was a light pull on my sleeve, and when I looked down in surprise, my heart skipped gently.

A small Fae girl, just a few years old, was standing in front of me, looking up at me with huge eyes.

I could feel my lips rise, and sliding my waffle into Rhys' hand, I slipped off the bench, crouching down until I was on her level before sending her a slow, wide smile.

“Hello.”

The girl shuffled a little, her eyes sheepish as they flickered over me and the flowers still stuck in my hair. Then she held out her hand.

Something rose softly underneath my ribs when I slowly took the small paper blossom from her tiny fingers. Carefully, I placed it in my palm, staring at it. Then I looked up at her through my lashes and sent her a slow, cheeky smile.

“Want to see something?”

The girl nodded quickly, and feeling my smile brighten, I looked down again, closing my eyes for a moment. Then I dipped my head and gently, very gently, blew air over the blossom.

Golden sparks twinkled, making the little girl's eyes grow big, and slowly, before our eyes, the paper flower turned into a real one, its purple petals slowly opening.

The girl's eyes were huge when she looked up at me, beginning to beam, and grinning back widely, I leaned forward, carefully tucking the flower behind her small, pointed ear. Then I straightened up again and sent her a light wink, and with a quiet giggle, the girl quickly turned around, darting back over the square.

Staring after her with a wide smile, I slowly pushed myself up and back onto the bench. Then I raised my head, and my breath hitched a little when I found four pairs of eyes on me.

Mor's lips were parted softly, that strange vibrant awe back in her gaze while Cassian's lips were curving. Azriel's head was dipped to the side a little, a barely there twinkle in his eyes – and Rhys' iris looked brighter than the stars as he stared at me.

“What?”, I mumbled sheepishly, feeling a little heat bloom on my cheeks. Then I caught sight of the huge piece missing out of my waffle and immediately widened my eyes, glaring at Rhys. “Hey!”

☆

“I told you they'd love you.”

My heart skipped softly, and when I looked over my shoulder, Rhys leaned into the open doors, squinting into the low sun as one corner of his lips creased.

Something fluttered softly against my ribs.

“Well, I am very loveable.” I sent him a bright, cheeky grin, and Rhys huffed, the crease in his cheek deepening as he pushed off the doorframe.

Watching him come towards me, I blinked and turned back around, breathing out as I held my face into the warm, sinking sun.

We were back at the house that I still didn't quite believed was supposed to be mine, the window doors open to let in the soft evening breeze as I sat on the stone steps leading from the terrace down into the garden. The light of the sinking sun was dipping everything in a golden shimmer, faeries whizzing through the flowers and tittering happily.

Something brushed against my shoulder, then Rhys took a seat next to me, propping his arms onto his knees and squinting into the light.

“Are you sure you want to sleep here?”

I huffed softly. “I am sure I'm not keen on more flying.”

Rhys' lips curved, his violet eyes piercing the side of my face. “You're insulting my flying?”

“I'm insulting your need for aerial maneuvers.”

Rhys slowly began to grin. “I'm taking that personal.”

“Good. It's awful.” I barely held myself back from breaking into a wide smile.

Rhys' eyes crinkled as he stared at me. Then he blinked and looked over his shoulder. “The main bedroom is on the third floor. Everything's there, so –“

Something closed around my throat, and I quickly whispered: “Thank you.”

Rhys looked at me, and I stared back, trying to swallow against the tightness in my chest as suddenly, the words stumbled from my lips.

“Thank you for trusting me. With this, this city. Your family. And –“, I blinked, “for buying me a house, you - complete – maniac, who just does that?!” I exhaled a little tremblingly as something skipped and fluttered in my chest and I sniffled a bit, my eyes suddenly burning a bit.

Rhys stared at me, the muscles in his cheek working as his lips parted.

“Thank you,”, I whispered a little wobbly, and I could feel Rhys swallow when for a moment, he looked like a dozen answers were running through his head, things he wanted to say stumbling over each other.

But when he opened his lips, nothing came out but one word, quiet, simple and a little hoarse.

“Always.”

A soft shuddering breath left me as my shoulders sunk, and Rhys' violet eyes dragged over my face. Then he blinked, and one corner of his lips curved gently.

“Sleep tight, starshine.”

I swallowed, and Rhys got to his feet, sending me a light wink that made my heart swerve as he started walking down the steps into the garden. I could see the way his shoulders shifted, the way he stretched his neck a little, and suddenly, something dropped into my stomach.

“Wait!”

I darted to my feet, and Rhys stilled. Then he looked over his shoulder, and before I could stop myself, I blurted: “Stay.”

Rhys' lips parted, and hastily, I squeezed my hands into fists.

“I just –“ My eyes darted over his face; my heart skipped once, high, and with a soft breath, I felt my shoulders sag.

“I hate the thought of you up there alone,”, I mumbled.

Rhys blinked. Then the tension bled from his muscles, and his lips curved, just a little.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.” I breathed out, my eyes darting over his face, illuminated by the sinking sun, his dark hair tousled, his iris a soft violet, and somehow, I managed to ignore the rising, swelling feeling in my chest.

The curve to Rhys' lips deepend, and he slowly turned a little, his eyes beginning to twinkle in the light as he raised a brow. “I can take the couch.”

My heart fluttered high, and I tried to not let it show, just grinning crookedly.

“What, this huge house has no guest room?”

“I thought I'd leave the details of which room becomes what to you.” The twinkle in Rhys' eyes seemed to grow as he slowly started to saunter back towards me, slipping his hands into his pockets as he shrugged casually.

“Convenient.” I felt my lips curve as the flutter in my chest grew sky high, my breath catching when I caught sight of the crease in Rhys' cheek.

“I'll take the couch.”

“No, you won't.” My voice was steady, maybe even amused, even though my heart was beating out my chest the closer Rhys got as I suddenly wondered what I was doing.

Rhys' eyes crinkled a little as he moved up the steps towards me. “What if I snore after all?”

“Then I´ll kick you.” I tried to keep my breathing even when he stopped on the step right beneath mine, almost on eye level for once, my heart missing a beat when I swore I could feel his chest brush against mine.

The crease in Rhys' cheek deepend. “So violent.”

I must've managed to deadpan, because he chuckled, a grin slowly spreading over his face. Then he blinked, and it dimmed, becoming soft when he mumbled, his deep voice a gentle caress over my spine: “Are you sure?”

My heart jumped against my ribs, and I probably should have listened to the warning of its irregular rhythm or the way my breath couldn't seem to stay steady.

But I just smiled back, soft and cheeky and crooked. “Yes. I'm sure.”

Rhys' gaze flickered over my face, and something shifted in his iris, the twinkle a little deeper as he nodded gently. "Alright."

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