#Waiting for letters from the battlefield

[karfild]

Ao3, the love of my life, my dearest of companions, my shawtyest of bae, my babiest of baby girls, please, come back to me.. I cannot do this without you

[saintobio]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐃 & 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐑𝐎𝐑. (second part to 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐈𝐍 & 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐑.)

in the battle of hearts, he was the conqueror, and you, the conquered, for his love was a war you could never win. but if in this ruthless battlefield, only one can come out victorious, could you still turn things around and let the victor be you?

♱ pairings. sylus, fem!reader

♱ genre. angst, smut, boss/assistant, 18+

♱ tags. villain!reader, reader previously works for onychinus, reader is not l&ds!mc, sylus is a little ooc, main story spoilers, melodic weave spoilers, lots of timeskip, fast-paced, lore heavy, unrequited love, profanity, petnames (kitten, sweetie), explicit smut, cunnilingus (f!receiving), unprotected sex, creampie, espionage, reader smoking, reckless driving, violence, spitting, choking, jealousy, usage of guns, suicide (or attempts thereof), death, and a twist in the end i can’t reveal.

♱ notes. 10.4k words too lazy to edit T-T also, there’s a scene that will remind you of nwh :))) part 1 is already fine as is, so this one is just an extra.

— 1 YEAR AFTER.

“Got an invitation?”

Only barely did you lift your head up, just enough to meet the bouncer’s eyes as you handed over the invitation. “I’m a regular.”

“Lady, I don’t think so.” The man scrutinized you with itching suspicion, then turned on his flashlight to verify the authenticity of your invitation by looking at every corner of the paper. Was he trying to look for any flaw just to say it was fake? Jesus. For an entire minute, his eyes darted between you and the letter, as though debating whether or not to let you inside.

“Come on,” you said impatiently, tapping your feet on the ground, “I’m not someone you should keep waiting.”

He was ready with a rebuttal, still reluctant to let you in, until a familiar sight of purple hair peeked from behind the entrance. Your savior for the night—it was Rafayel.

“Let her in,” he said, ushering you inside and giving the bouncer a knowing look. “She’s with me.”

Fucking finally. 

The neon red LED signage of The Nest flickered against the grimy walls, serving as the only bright light in the sketchy dark surroundings. The bar was a haven for those seeking refuge from the law and a place to trade secrets, as it was brimming with intel from a network of people. From high ranking officials, businessmen, and criminals—just offer your part of the bargain and you’d find a good trade in no time. 

It wasn’t your first time there, but your negative impression of the place remained unchanged.

You strode through the crowd with Rafayel, and your eyes scanned the room with practiced ease. There were still familiar faces around, though most of the people had gone unrecognized as it had been awhile since you last came here. 

“Wearing a hoodie in a place like this,” Rafayel spoke into your ear, his voice barely audible over the loud music. “You stick out like a sore thumb, you know?”

You merely shrugged, keeping your face hidden under the large black hoodie until Rafayel secured you inside a private balcony he had reserved for the night. Once inside, you quickly pulled the hoodie down and comfortably revealed your face.

“Just give me what I asked you so I can leave,” you commanded, your tone assertive.

Rafayel, however, only smirked as he sat on the couch across from you. “Be patient. We’re still missing one person.”

One person? “Who—” Your attention was caught by the figure of a lean, white-haired man entering the private balcony in a calm and quiet manner. A person so familiar to you that you couldn’t even keep eye contact with him. Xavier. 

Xavier might be civil around you, but you knew that if the circumstances were different, he would have let Lumiere show up to assassinate you in one strike. It didn’t matter if you were colleagues before, he still always had his guard around you. Though, things had become more complicated for everyone. And friends who had become enemies, were now allies again. 

Somehow.  

“Well, isn’t this a delightful gathering? I have two wanted individuals in the N109 Zone here with me,” you quipped, pointing to Rafayel first. “You’ve got a bounty on your head,” then to Xavier, “You’ve got a bounty on your head, too. Damn, I’d be rich if I turned you both in.”

Xavier stayed leaning against the door with his arms crossed. “That makes three of us, then,” he replied in a stolid mien, nodding toward the wall behind you.

Your eyes adjusted from the dark before it finally landed on a large, tattered poster pinned to the wall near the bar. The bold letters at the top read the following:

MOST WANTED! Y/N L/N Alias: Scarlet Viper Reward: 500,000,000 Credits Crimes: Betrayal of Onychinus Espionage Intelligence Leaks Treason Status: Traitor Last Known Location: N109 Zone, Linkon City Beware: Y/N L/N is considered extremely dangerous and cunning. She is highly skilled in espionage and intelligence gathering, and is now a traitor to Onychinus. Approach with extreme caution. All bounty hunters and loyal Onychinus followers are authorized to apprehend her by any means necessary. Payment will be made upon successful capture or confirmation of her whereabouts. Contact: Report all sightings and information to the Onychinus base. Payment is guaranteed for verified leads.

The grainy image was unmistakable—it was your own face in that poster staring back at you. But instead of acting hurt or even alarmed, a laugh bubbled up from deep within you, growing louder and more unhinged as you took in the sight. Heads turned from outside the private room, curious and wary, as your laughter echoed through the balcony.

“Crazy bastard,” you muttered to yourself between fits of laughter. “Sylus really went all out this time, huh?”

Preferably Alive? You mused at the highlighted words on the poster. Did he want me alive so he’d be the one to kill me? 

The absurdity of it all washed over you. Here you were, once Sylus’s most trusted confidante, now branded a traitor with a bounty on your head. Even Luke and Kieran wouldn’t spare you. In fact, they might even be the first ones to capture you had they received the slightest intel on your whereabouts. Ha ha ha! Your maniacal laughter was a cocktail of bitterness, amusement, and the thrill of the rebellion that had driven you to this point. The very people you treated like family, were now your enemies. 

You composed yourself, wiping a tear from the corner of your eye as you glanced around. The patrons were still watching—Xavier with concern for your sanity, and Rafayel with amusement to your charade. 

“Not what you expected from your ‘lover’?” mocked Rafayel, shifting into a more comfortable position.

But you were ready with a confident reply. “Oh, I expected just as much. It’s flattering, really, that he hasn’t found me despite all his connections.”

Xavier adopted a more serious tone when he added, “He hasn’t been seen anywhere himself. It’s been months since the raid happened, and the Onychinus faction is still leaderless.”

“Sylus isn’t that pathetic,” you replied, pulling a pack of cigarettes from your pocket. You lit one up with a flick of your lighter, and the flame briefly illuminated your face. “He’s just laying low. He’s got plenty of properties to hide in, but the H.A. will need to pay me extra if they want intel on his locations.”

Rafayel smirked. “Oh, come on now, we know you won’t give up his hideouts that easily. You still care about his safety after all. Right, Miss Scarlet?”

You displayed a defensive stance as referred to you by your alias. “I care about whether or not that hunter girl you’re all obsessed with stopped chasing after him,” you said, irritation now lacing your once-sarcastic tone. “A deal’s a deal. Keep her out of the N109 Zone and away from Sylus, and I’ll keep my hands off her. Otherwise, I’ll be happy to send a bullet or two to her head.”

“You—” “Don’t even try—”

Both boys sprang from their seats and yelled simultaneously, as if your vague threat against the apple of their eyes activated their mode of defensiveness. In all honesty, you admired how much they cared to protect that girl. That despite their rivalry, they were willing to do anything to keep her safe. You were the biggest threat to her life right now, but eliminating you wasn’t exactly an easy feat now that the H.A. had your back. 

So, this was their compromise. A mutually beneficial arrangement. In simpler terms, they need to keep the girl away from Sylus. Giving intel about Onychinus and its boss was already your part of the bargain. Theirs was to ensure that the hunter girl had no means to contact Sylus or even enter N109 Zone whenever she wanted. 

“Hand out her brooch,” you demanded, gesturing for Rafayel to hand out the very piece you were here for. “It’s about time I come home.” 

Rafayel’s eyes widened in curiosity. “You’re really returning to the N109 Zone?” 

Xavier’s face mirrored his concern, likely because you carried the largest bounty of all the wanted fugitives in the most dangerous No-Hunt Zone. But honestly, their unease puzzled you. If they wanted to keep the girl safe, having you out of Linkon City would be to their advantage. Besides, the brooch would give you unrestricted access to the N109 Zone—something you wanted to take from the hunter girl who generously received it from Sylus.

“Stop stalling and give it to me,” you insisted, your frustration growing by the second. “I’m sick of this place.”

Rafayel sighed and tossed the brooch to you. “You must be crazy.”

~~

— 1 YEAR AGO.

“You’ve already taken everything from me, Sylus. Finish what you started.”

Sylus had the power to end you right then and there. If he truly intended to kill you to protect that woman, all he needed was to intensify the pressure of his evol around you. Yet, as he observed the shifting expressions on your face, Sylus chose to ease the bone-crushing pressure of the black-red mist that encircled your body.

You collapsed to the ground, gasping for breath like fish out of the sea. But Sylus looked down at you with a cold, unyielding gaze. “I’m just showing you mercy now,” he said, his voice devoid of its usual warmth. “If you dare touch her, I’ll break every bone in your body for real next time. You’re just gonna be another dead body to me.”

With that final threat, Sylus kicked your gun away and vanished into the dead of night, leaving you alone and vulnerable in the dark alleyway. Even Mephisto, who often guarded your safety, was completely out of sight. Sylus must be happy knowing that his last words pierced through your soul—its pain gnawing at your heart and ripping every artery apart. How easily was it for him to tear you asunder despite giving you his mercy? The turmoil inside you was almost unbearable, and you didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Ultimately, you chose both.

Sitting on the gravel, you clenched your fists, tears mingling with the dirt on the concrete. Anger, spite, and hatred consumed you. All you wanted was revenge.

And so, a few weeks after that, you decided to pack your bags and run away from the N109 Zone. Away from the place where Sylus was the boss of everyone. Away from a place where his omnipresence would not reach or track you.

Your destination of choice was Linkon, not because you wanted to live in that city, but because it was once your home. Returning to the bustling metropolis after four years was driven by a single purpose, and it was to see a few key people who could help you achieve your revenge.

The bright and busy streets of Linkon City were still a stark contrast to the dark and gritty atmosphere of the N109 Zone. But because you had lived most of your years here than its more dangerous counterpart, it was easy for you to maneuver through the fast-moving crowd while navigating through the complicated subway stations that even Luke and Kieran would struggle with. That day, your mind was set on your first destination: Akso Hospital.

Dr. Zayne’s clinic was tucked away in a quiet corner of the hospital. While it took some finesse to secure an appointment under a false name, you managed it without raising suspicion. After all, four years in the N109 Zone had taught you how to camouflage into roles you never expected to play.

Obviously, he was surprised to see you entering his clinic as if he had seen a ghost. His usual stoic countenance was momentarily replaced by a state of discombobulation when you finally sat across from him in his sterile, white office. “Zayne,” you cut straight to the chase. “I need to know about the girl with the Aether Core.”

Four years ago, Zayne was the last person you talked to about the Aether Core before plunging into the dangers of the N109 Zone. He knew more about it than anyone else in Linkon. Therefore, he would also be the first person you sought out upon your return.

Dr. Zayne’s expression remained impassive, however. “I’m afraid patient confidentiality prevents me from discussing any details.”

You leaned forward, your voice low and urgent, as you pressed a hand against his desk. “I’m not here for pleasantries, Zayne. I need answers. How and where does she have it?”

You had to know. You really, badly ought to know. Because knowing where she had the Aether Core would acquaint you where exactly to target her when the opportunity arises.

But in spite of the desperation in your voice, Dr. Zayne regarded you with a cool, clinical detachment. “Whatever you’re planning, I would prefer that you don’t involve an innocent person in it. If you want answers, seek it somewhere else.”

Dammit! His actions and strange avoidance of the subject were all the hints you needed. Zayne liked that girl. And he would never be the person to put her in a dangerous position. 

In that case, there was only one place left to turn, a place you had avoided for far too long. It even took you three days to gather the confidence you needed to even step foot into the familiar halls of The Hunter's Association’s most secretive department, the Hunter Intelligence Services or the HIS—the very place where undercover agents and intelligence officers resided. It was hidden beneath the city and only the high ranking hunters knew and had access to it, because being a spy certainly wasn’t for the weak heart. 

It was time to confront your true past.

The entryway to the headquarters didn’t change. And to your surprise, pulling out your access card still granted you entrance to the quarters. Were they anticipating your return or did they simply miss the task of revoking your access card?

Descending further into the underground facility, however, you were met with a familiar sense of unease. The sterile, metal hallways seemed to close in around you as you approached Lauryn’s office. She was the head of the department, your true boss, and the person who tasked you into infiltrating the N109 Zone four years ago.

Lauryn was there as you entered, her sharp eyes narrowing as she crossed her arms at you. You were right. She did anticipate your arrival, because the advanced CCTV monitors around the city were displayed all over the room. “What brings you back to the fold?” she asked, stern and unwelcoming, “Are you going to beg on my knees for turning your back against the Hunter’s Association?”

Feisty as ever. Her austerity was harsher than you remembered, but then again, there was no room for shame after all the crimes you committed while supposedly being a spy in the N109 Zone. 

“I need your help,” you admitted, shamelessly. “I have intel on Sylus and the Onychinus. Extremely valuable information that you need. In exchange, there’s something I want you to do.” 

Lauryn’s expression was unreadable as she leaned back against the wall. “So, you’ve decided to turn on your beloved Sylus? What happened to your loyalty? Is it always this unstable?”

You took a deep breath, not allowing her words to get to you. “I just… need to protect my interests.”

“Interests?” The woman guffawed at your chosen words. “And do your interests also include betraying the H.A. because you fell in love with the enemy? Or did the enemy also betray you that’s why you’re crawling back here now?” 

She hit the sore spot, but you masked your voice with defensive indifference. “If that’s how you define it, then so be it. I’m not asking to be recruited by the H.A. again, I know that. I broke the Hunter’s Code and I’m marked as a Tenebra now, but…” Letting out a heavy exhale, you looked into her eyes, “Lauryn, you know I have the most intel you’ll get about Sylus and Onychinus out of everyone. Not even Xavier as Lumiere would have this much intel as I do.” 

How could she deny such an offer? You knew the temptation was heavy since you were speaking the truth; you worked for Sylus for four years. You have all the necessary intel they need to even get to him.

For a millisecond, you caught the corner of Lauryn’s lips twitching upwards with a glint of approval hiding in her eyes, but she was pretty good at concealing her emotions. “Very well. Share your intel, and I’ll see what I can do.”

~~

The past year had been a blur of longing and subterfuge. 

You supplied Lauryn with detailed intelligence on Onychinus’s illicit activities, including their smuggling routes, black market transactions, and the clandestine trade of armory and protocores with corrupt officials. You also exposed Sylus’s personal connections to the high ranking officials who were secretly doing business with him. This information immediately set off a series of events aimed at destabilizing Onychinus, providing sufficient evidence to provoke a significant response from the Hunter’s Association and law enforcement.

In return, you requested two things: 1) for the Hunter’s Association to offer you protection and support against Onychinus’s threats; and 2) for them to enforce restrictions and surveillance on the hunter girl, ensuring she remained completely isolated from Sylus and the N109 Zone.

It would have been better if they had chastised her. You had convinced Lauryn that a public whipping would be the perfect punishment, but the H.A. upheld principles far better than yours. After all, you had been stripped of your morality after living in a lawless environment under the influence of the mastermind himself. Being in the N109 Zone for too long dehumanized you. But for your peers in Linkon… they could never harm that hunter girl for some reason, and had been treating her like a valuable asset under everyone's protection—even Sylus’s.

You hated it. You hated her. And each time you caught a glimpse of her around Linkon, your hands were often itching to take out a gun and end her life. 

But that was easier said than done. Besides, you decided to harness all of your anger towards Sylus himself because he was the one who had tossed you aside after she came to his life. He was the one responsible for the wounds in your heart that would never heal. 

It had been a year. You wondered if he ever even thought about you, or did his anger completely consume him to the point where all he wanted to do was kill you? 

“Of course,” you mumbled under your breath, scoffing as you remembered the bounty he had placed on you. He was definitely apoplectic at the fact that you ruined his plans, and that you took his precious hunter girl away from him. The thought of you betraying him and Onychinus probably made him ballistic. 

But to think about it, who betrayed who first?

Everyone knew the difficulty of getting into the N109 Zone. Keeping yourself safe while inside the lawless city was also another struggle. Yet, for someone like you who belonged here better than in Linkon, you were already used to the ins and outs of its dangerous scene. And having the hunter girl’s brooch was your gateway to return to the city unsuspiciously. 

Pushing through the throng of people, you made your way to a nondescript door at the back of the bar. Two burly guards stood in front, their expressions deadpan as they eyed the beaked mask you were wearing. You wore the Onychinus uniform, one that was similar to Luke and Kieran’s, in order to hide your identity. For now. 

“Is it a man?” 

“No, a woman! Look at her body behind the uniform.” 

“You think we should let her in?”

“Idiot, she’s from Onychinus! You can’t deny her entrance.”

With a nod, you handed over a small token—your entry pass to the underground fight club that operated in the depths of an abandoned warehouse. “Fellas, I have a pass if you need it.” 

The guards stepped aside, finally allowing you entry after you showed a token that was marked by the Onychinus insignia. And as you descended the dimly lit staircase, the roar of the crowd and the unmistakable sound of fists meeting flesh grew louder. The anticipation began to thrum in your veins.

You weren’t entirely sure why you were here, but you knew you needed information on Sylus. Anywhere. And what better way to hear about him than to visit a place where his presence often loomed large? Maybe you could even take out your frustrations in the ring tonight. With every punch and kick, you would remind yourself of the path you had chosen—a path leading to Sylus’s downfall, no matter the cost.

As you stepped into the arena, an irregular thumping in your heart began to destabilize you. You forced yourself to focus, squeezing between people loudly cheering for the current match, screaming their biases, and trash-talking the opponents. Clusters of people gathered around the ring and placed their bets on their favorite fighters. How nostalgic, you mused. You used to come here with Sylus on Friday nights. And turned the rest of those active nights into passionate ones.

Now’s not the time to reminisce. Your chest was starting to feel tighter, unsure if it was because of the crowd or the uncomfortable thought of being back in the N109 Zone. But the more time you spent inside the fight club, the more your heart felt like it was being squeezed. You had to make a move now before it was too late. 

The fight club continued to throb with a visceral energy, and you stood in the shadows, the hood of your cloak still pulled low to hide the overwhelming pressure you were feeling inside your body. You managed to weave through the people, while your ears were attuned to the murmur of conversations in hopes of catching intel on Sylus. 

That was, until a group of grizzled men to your left caught your attention, and their voices were rising above the din.

“I’ve got five hundred credits on the big guy,” one of them boasted, slapping a hefty stack of bills into the hand of a bookie.

“You’re gonna lose,” another jeered. “That scrawny kid’s faster. I bet he’ll surprise everyone.”

You lingered nearby, pretending to adjust your hoodie while listening intently to their conversation.

“Hey, did you hear about Sylus?” one man whispered, his tone dropping to a conspiratorial murmur.

Your pulse quickened at the mention of his name, and you took a step closer, careful not to draw attention.

“Yeah. He hasn’t been seen in weeks, ain’t he? Word is, he’s gone underground. Something big must’ve gone down.”

“Big? That’s an understatement. They say someone ratted him out to the Hunter’s Association that’s why his base got raided. He’s also got a bounty on his head now, and not just any bounty—a serious one. Every hunter and merc in the zone's looking for him.”

“What about the hot chick he’s been seen with? You think she’s involved?”

“Dunno,” the first man whispered. “But if she’s smart, she’ll lay low. Sylus doesn’t take kindly to betrayal, and neither do his people.”

You bit your lip as the urge to ask questions was getting heavy. But you knew better. Drawing attention to yourself now could be disastrous. So, you had to think of how to navigate this situation first. The fight in the ring reached a fever pitch, and the crowd’s roar swelled. Perhaps joining today’s fight might not be a good idea after all, and instead, you should harness your remaining energy into preparing for the time you would have to face Onychinus again. 

Sylus was in hiding, the hunter girl had been isolated, and you had made yourself a target.

It was for the best that you stormed out of the fight club, helmet on, speeding away on a motorcycle you had rented. Riding in the N109 zone was always a thrilling escape, and it now became your dangerous distraction from the turbulent thoughts that plagued your mind. Sylus. Sylus. Sylus. Where did he hide? 

In your trail of thoughts, you revved the engine, and its roar echoed along the stretch of dark roads as you maneuvered your bike towards the highway. 

There was no other vehicle around you.

Until a truck appeared. 

Not just any truck—it was a supertruck, with its headlights blazing and tailing you like a predator. 

The lights tried to blind you, but you took off, and the world around you instantly became a blur of speed and sound. You leaned into the bike, feeling the wind whip against your face as you cornered into the nearest exit. But no matter how fast you went, you couldn’t outrun such a large, fast-moving vehicle. You knew that if you didn’t accelerate into sixth gear or until you hit the rev limiter, you would be dead. 

He’s fucking out for me! 

Lost in thought, your eyes focused too much on looking back and forth between the road and the stealth mirrors before you got rear-ended by the truck. The impact was jarring, and it sent you flying off your bike and crashing onto the hard, cold ground. Upon impact alone, pain immediately exploded in your body. And the burning, stinging sensation was brought upon by the road rash you obtained after you skidded along the rough concrete road. It was intense pain—like a thousand searing needles piercing every inch of your skin. Your flesh felt as if it were being flayed by red-hot knives, each scrape and cut screaming with a fire that seemed unquenchable. The raw, exposed nerves throbbed violently, sending electric shocks of pain through your entire body, and making every heartbeat feel like a hammer blow. 

Aghh! It was a relentless, burning torment, and the slightest movement amplified the suffering, every breath dragging razors through your shredded skin. But you refused to cry out, refusing to give the culprit the satisfaction. Was it Sylus? 

As much as you wanted to lift your helmet and find the culprit, the shock from the crash was an all-consuming inferno of agony, the kind that made the world blur and darken at the edges, and eventually pulled you into a black abyss of unconsciousness.

The last thing you remembered was being carried in the arms of a man. 

~~

“Think she’s in a coma?”

Voices filtered through your ears, distant yet distinct. Familiar, mischievous voices that sent a shiver down your spine. You could barely open your eyes, your fingers twitching as you slowly regained consciousness.

“Maybe.” That was Luke’s voice. “Or maybe she’s just pretending. Wouldn’t put it past her after she spied on us for years.”

“Yeah, she’s good at that,” Kieran egged on. “Always scheming, always one step ahead. And she’s tougher than she looks! Surviving that crash?”

“But not invincible.”

Their exchange suddenly took a halt, replaced by a discomfiting silence that made you wish you could force your eyes open in a mere count to ten. You tried to move, to make a sound, to let them know you were not in a coma, that you could hear every word. But your body remained stubbornly still, as if pressed down by an unseen weight. 

“You think boss-man will forgive her?” It was Kieran who asked, a hint of genuine curiosity in his voice.

Luke snorted. “Forgive? She’s a traitor. If she wakes up, she’s a dead woman walking.”

No! Upon realizing that this wasn’t a dream or a figment of your imagination, the beat of your heart began to accelerate, vibrating loud and aggressive against your chest. The sound of the twins’ footsteps eventually faded, leaving you alone in the oppressive silence of your half-conscious state. Fear and regret coiled within you, but there was also a flicker of determination. 

That if you wake up—when you wake up—you would have to face Sylus. And you would have to find a way to survive.

Time lost its meaning as you floated between wakefulness and sleep. A minute, an hour, days must have gone by. Eventually, you could hear classical music being played in the background and became aware of a new presence in the room, then a weight on the edge of your bed. That familiar cardamom and leather scent. A hand soon brushed your forehead, cool and gentle. Sylus? You wanted to open your eyes, to see him, to speak, but your body refused to obey.

“You can’t hide from me forever,” his voice murmured. His breath was warm when you felt it on your ear. “Wake up, kitten. We have unfinished business.” 

Darkness tugged at you again, pulling you under, but not before the fear took root. The weight on your chest suddenly lifted, as if an invisible force released its hold on you. Your eyes then snapped open and your lungs burned as you dragged in deep, desperate gulps of air. 

“Where—” You struggled to sit up with your weak body trembling from days of enforced stillness. Every movement felt foreign, muscles protesting as you pushed yourself upright. The room spinned for a moment before your vision cleared, and you saw him.

“Awake?” Sylus stood at your side, his crimson eyes burning with fire as he looked down on you like a master to his subject. 

“What… what did you do to me?” you manage to ask even though your voice was hoarse. “It was y-you in that truck!” 

“Oh, honey. I don’t ride in cheap trucks. Besides, I saved you from that crash,” Sylus replied, almost nonchalantly. “A ‘thank you’ would be nice. And also a ‘long time no see’, don’t you think?”

If it wasn’t him on that truck, then… “It’s still a hitman you hired because of that bounty!”

Sylus didn’t change. His silky gray hair, his vivid carmine eyes, his pinkish thin lips. Whenever he smirked, it was still the handsome old him. “I won’t deny that, sweetie. But I had to kill the guy for doing a poor job. My instructions were to not get you badly injured, and only to scare you.” 

“Liar,” you spat, “I bet you’d be happier if I was incapacitated.”

“Please. You’d serve no good to me if you’re dead or permanently disabled.” Sylus reached down to pull the duvet away from your body, and your supposed road rash and injuries were seemingly gone, replaced by newly-healed scars. “Your body needed time to recover, and I couldn’t afford to lose you. Not yet. So I had to put you in an induced state.” 

His words sent a chill down your spine. How he did it, you had no idea, but with Sylus, anything was possible. Anything! After all, he had all the connections and the rarest protocores. 

“Three days,” he continued, stepping closer, his gaze never leaving your face as he lifted your chin with his finger. “I kept you under for three days. Enough time for your wounds to heal. You recognize where you are?”

When he trailed off, you looked around the room and realized you weren’t in the Onychinus base nor his presidential suite. It was one of his many residences—the underground shelter. 

“Why are we here?” you asked, your voice trembling despite your efforts to sound strong.

Sylus extended a hand once more, his fingers brushing a strand of hair away from your face. His touch was surprisingly gentle, but his eyes remained hard, unreadable. “Ask that to yourself, kitten,” he says quietly. “We’re here because an ungrateful stray cat decided to leak the location of my other residences.”

You swallowed hard when you felt him grab you by the neck, his tight grip restraining any air from entering your windpipe. “S-Sylus!” 

His eyes had unruly flames beneath them. “You were a spy?” 

As his grip loosened a little to let you speak, you still ended up choking from asphyxiation. “S-So what if I was?” You tried to push him off. “It only means I caught you lacking. You allowed me to infiltrate Onychinus without knowing my background.” 

Sylus’s hand trailed gently over your cheek, his touch lingering longer than necessary.  “I’d blame it on your cunning face,” he said, almost seductively. He then shifted to lower himself onto the bed, both knees on either side of you, pinning you down. His eyes locked onto yours with a dark, predatory gleam. “Any man is a willing fool to a pretty face and a sexy body.”

You swatted his hand in response, your back hitting the headboard as you scrambled for distance. “How many times have you recycled that line between me and that hunter girl with the Aether Core?” 

At the mention of her, Sylus’s deep chuckle erupted and reverberated through the dark room. It was a chilling sound that was full of twisted amusement. “Ah, I almost forgot about the root of your betrayal,” he remarked with a mocking grin. “Jealousy.”

“You wouldn’t be laughing if I had killed her,” you spat, struggling to break free as Sylus slammed you back onto the bed. “Let me go—!” It was a fierce contest of strength, with you pinned beneath him, and him on top of you in an undeniable display of dominance. But you fought back. You resisted. And in an effort to offend, you ejected spit onto his cheek. “Let go!” 

Sylus was caught off guard, but he stayed unfazed, wiping your spit from his cheek before gripping your neck again. “You really want to play this game, honey? I love how sick in the head you are.”

“You m-made me like this.” You choked in between words. “In the end, I still achieved my goal. Now you have no way to see or contact that girl.”

“Says who?” Sylus’s sarcastic tone made your heart sink. Is he still in touch with her?!

“What do you—”

“Don’t be dense, kitten.” Sylus soon grabbed you by the collar, handling you like a ragdoll as he threw you onto the floor with a resounding thud. Pain shot through your hip, but Sylus’s expression held no remorse. You knew he could do worse. “I have my own ways of ensuring she’s safe and protected. I can still see her whenever I want.”

That was when the tears started to fall uncontrollably. You couldn’t stop them—nor could you hold back the words that poured out. “Y-You! I ran away from the N109 Zone for a whole year. I disappeared from your life for a whole goddamn year, Sylus. Yet not once did you look for me, not once did you worry about me, not once did you make sure I was safe. But for her, you—”

“It’s only natural to protect someone important to you.” He crouched down to meet your eyes as if pouring salt to the wound. “I’d let the world burn for her, honey. You and her aren’t the same. She’s not someone who would betray me.” 

“I betrayed you because of her!” 

His laughter died down, but the amusement in his eyes only deepened. The cruel curve of his lips was the kind of smile that enjoyed seeing your agony. “It’s always been about her, hasn’t it? You see me with her, and you can’t stand it. It eats at you, makes you act out.”

You tried to move away, but he kept his foot firmly on your wrist, stepping on your hand was his constant reminder of your powerlessness. The distance between you was a stark symbol of how he saw you—a mere object of disdain.

“I’ve seen your struggle,” he continued, his voice soft but laced with wicked satisfaction. “The way you watched me with her, the way it gnaws at you. It’s almost poetic, really.”

In a moment of desperation, you snatched the nearest weapon from his nightstand while tears blurred your vision. It hurt. His words, his treatment, and the stark difference in how he treated her compared to you were too much. You should have ended this long ago before he had the chance to wreck you all over again.

And so, with a gun in your hand, you cocked and raised it. 

But instead of pointing it towards Sylus, you surprised him by pointing it to yourself. 

The gun’s nozzle was pressed against your temple, your finger inching toward the trigger. 

“...All I wanted was your love,” you choked out with tears cascading down your face, flowing out like an endless waterfall, “I j-just wanted you to love me. I turned my back on the H.A. for you. I left all my friends and family for you.” Your breathing was still for a moment. “Now I don’t have anyone left.” Pausing, you locked eyes with his crimson ones. You didn’t want him to be the one to kill you, because the thought alone was fatal. “All I had was you. I loved you. I devoted all my body and soul into loving you, Sylus. Why c-can’t I have even a little bit in return?”

Even as his gaze softened, as a flicker of regret crossed his features, you already drove your finger to pull the trigger. The recoil immediately jolted through your wrist, but before the bullet could find its mark and penetrate your skull, Sylus’s hand shot out and expertly deflected your aim. So instead of blowing your brains out, the bullet ricocheted off the now-shattered window.

“Are you out of your mind?!” Sylus roared, his orotund voice an amalgam of anger and disbelief.

Tears blurred your vision, but you were still able to look at his bright red eyes as he cupped your cheeks. Your entire body shook hysterically for someone who had just almost ended her own life. This is what he wanted, right? You asked yourself over and over, but couldn’t find the energy to respond to his calls for your name. 

“Y/N,” Sylus agitatedly tried to shake you, “Y/N! Enough. Let’s end this game.” 

You stared at his face blankly as reality flickered and faded, like an old film reel skipping frames. “I was never playing one with you.”

Sylus was suddenly a different person in front of you. “I warned you many times before to never fall in love with me. It’s for the best, and it’s what will keep you safe,” he spoke in a low yet softened tone, “Why don’t you listen?”

The tension in the room was suffocating, and each second dragged into eternity. Sylus’s question remained unanswered until the loud burst of the door shattered the silence. You flinched, heart pounding, as you saw the very subject of your heartbreak.

The hunter girl stormed in, eyes wild in fear. “Sylus! Are you okay? I heard a gunshot—” she cried out, scanning the room frantically until her gaze landed on the two of you. She then froze, taking in the sight of you and Sylus on the floor, the gun lying ominously near your hand. Putting two-and-two together probably made her think that you tried to kill the man in front of you. “Sylus, step back!”

“Wait!”

Without hesitation, she aimed her gun squarely at you. But right before you could react, the gun was fired. And the shattering sound of another gunshot echoed in the room.

Time seemed to slow as you fell, the world spinning around you when you felt a sudden, searing pain on your head. Sylus’s eyes widened in shock, his hand reaching out just in time to catch you before your head hit the floor. 

“No!” Sylus’s voice was raw, hysterical, filled with a pain you’d never heard from him before as he cradled your head gently—his face a mask of both horror and disbelief when your blood pooled on his arms. “Y/N, no! Fuck, what did you do?!”

You struggled to focus, your vision blurring as darkness encroached. Sylus’s eyes were strangely wet with tears, desperation etched into every line of his sharp features. The Sylus you knew wouldn’t cry over someone unimportant to him. So, why…? 

You tried to speak, but the effort was monumental.

Who knew that your life would end at the hands of another woman?

Yet, it was the karma you deserved for your wrongdoings.

“I... love... you,” you whispered to Sylus, nonetheless. Each word was a struggle, and your breath hitched as you forced them out, but you had to let him know. For the last time. 

You saw the pain in his eyes deepen, and for a moment, you felt a flicker of something close to peace. That was when Sylus’s grip tightened, his tears falling onto your face as he held you close. “Y/N, please,” he begged, his voice breaking. “Don’t leave. I can’t let this happen!”

He must have noticed how your eyes were glassy and unfocused, staring off into the distance without really seeing anything. Pure numbness was you would best describe it. And as your life slipped away, you felt a strange sense of relief. 

In the battle of hearts, he was the conqueror, and you, the conquered. His love was a war you couldn’t win, and your loss, a defeat you couldn’t bear. For in his eyes, you saw both your greatest triumph and your deepest fall, where the lines between the victor and the vanquished blurred into the shadows of a bittersweet end.

But at least, you had said what mattered most, and that in your final moments, you were held by the one person you loved. The rightful owner of your heart. The conqueror of your soul. It was him, Sylus Qin, and no one else.

~~

— 1 YEAR AFTER.

“Two black coffees, three espressos, and a caramel macchiato, extra caramel!” A peculiar guy placed orders one after another, followed by his twin’s mischievous laughter. 

You turned to face them, offering a polite smile even though you were worried deep inside if they were just pulling a prank. They were regulars, always coming in with their complicated orders and playful banter. Yet, something about them seemed oddly familiar, and they always gave you a nagging sensation you couldn’t quite place.

The aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the small café you were working at in the Bloomshore District. You were standing behind the counter while the rush of customers was relentless. You barely even had a moment to catch your breath today, and here came the twins creating yet another one of their complicated orders. 

“Coming right up,” was your monotonous reply, your hands deftly moving to prepare their drinks. But as you worked, the twins exchanged amused glances, their eyes flicking over you with a mix of curiosity and disappointment.

“Actually, can I make a small change to that?” the other twin interjected with a grin.

You sighed inwardly but kept your smile. “Sure, what would you like?”

“Okay, so for the black coffee, can you add a splash of almond milk, two pumps of hazelnut syrup, and a sprinkle of cinnamon on top?” one of the twins began. “For the espressos, I need one with a shot of vanilla, one with a shot of caramel, and the last one with a double shot of mint. And for the caramel macchiato, make sure it's extra caramel, but can you also add a dash of sea salt and a drizzle of dark chocolate on top?”

Gosh. They were menaces. 

“Do you think you can remember our orders?” the other twin remarked, leaning on the counter. “Because you don’t seem to remember our names.”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “We have lots of customers everyday. I’m not really good with names.”

When the bell above the door chimed, your attention was immediately drawn to the towering man with ash gray hair and bright crimson eyes. His presence was commanding even in the relaxed atmosphere of the café; he carried such a dominant aura that even the twins backed off from pestering you the moment he entered the coffee shop.

“Good evening, Mr. Skye,” you greeted, your tone warming at the sight of him. The man had become a regular fixture in your life. Every day, like clockwork, he came in for his coffee, and every day, he lingered just a bit longer, watching you with eyes that seemed to see more than you could comprehend.

He nodded, his eyes staying on you while he was pointing towards the twins. “Are they bothering you?” 

You were under the impression that the twins worked for Mr. Skye, but the type of relationship they had with their boss was none of your business. That was why although the twins could get really annoying as customers, especially when they tend to change their orders a lot, you still didn’t want them to get in trouble over something as little as that.

“No, they’re fine,” you answered with a smile. “Are you going to get the usual today, Mr. Skye?”

“Yes, please.” The tall man studied your face with a focused gaze—it was as though he was trying to read your mind, trying to interpret the emotions on your face, as he looked at you intently. He always did this. Every single day he came in, even from afar, you had grown accustomed to his watchful gaze. Yet even with the awkwardness it brought, he also knew how to keep his distance. He always treated you with respect and was always the first person to come to your aid when things did get unruly in the cafe. Broken coffee machine, spilled coffee, entitled customers. Name it, and he was always present to help around.

It was strange. Really, really strange. And what’s even stranger was that, every time he looked at you, the tenderness in his eyes that often opposed the fiery red color of his irises. Perhaps, you really couldn’t judge a book by its cover. 

As you wrote his name on the plastic cup, you heard him suddenly clear his throat. “Miss Y/N, forgive me. I couldn’t help but notice that scar,” he said with a poignant stare, gesturing towards your temple. “Quite a story behind that, I imagine?”

Your hand instinctively touched the faint scar, a puzzled look crossing your face. You had always been insecure about the scar on your temple, because not only was it unattractive, it was also extremely visible. Not even a laser treatment could help clear it out. 

“Oh, uh… I’m not really sure how I got it,” you admitted, searching through your mind’s archive to no avail. “I was told it was while I was fighting off wanderers. I don’t remember much from that time because I’ve since retired from the Hunter’s Association.”

His eyes darkened for a moment, as if his heart dropped from a memory he had recalled, but he quickly masked his expression. “So, you’re a hunter?”

You shrugged. “Well, yeah. But it’s all in the past now.”

Mr. Skye stood there waiting for his order with an unreadable expression on his face. And you wondered why he looked heartbroken while lost in deep thought. Was he having a bad day? Going through a break-up? You weren’t nosey enough to ask. Eventually, his order was done and he took the cup, his fingers brushing against yours briefly. 

“Sometimes the past has a way of catching up to us.” His deep voice was smooth and soft when he spoke again. “But perhaps it’s best to focus on the present.”

You smiled, feeling a strange comfort in his words. “That’s what I’m trying to do.”

He hesitated for a moment, then asked, “Would you like to… have dinner with me sometime? I’d love to get to know you better.”

You blinked, surprised by the sudden invitation. A date?! You couldn’t remember the last time you were even in love. All you could recall was having a silly childhood crush on your neighbor, but then again, that was more than a decade ago. You knew nothing about dating at your age and it was ridiculous. But there was something about Mr. Skye, a familiarity you couldn’t ignore, and that rejecting his offer seemed wrong in your head. 

Besides, you couldn’t deny how extremely handsome he was. 

“Um, sure… Mr. Skye.”

“Perfect,” he said with a small smile, his gaze softening into one of genuine joy. “Tomorrow evening, then?”

Before you could agree on a schedule, the sudden flash of lightning illuminated the interior for a brief moment. Then, the subsequent crash of thunder made you jump, following the sound of rain pounding against the windows that filled the small space. Oh, boy. 

“Ugh. How am I going to get home in this weather?” you muttered to yourself.

Mr. Skye, who had been quietly watching you from his spot, gave you an offer. “Need a ride?” he asked, his voice gentle but carrying a note of urgency. “It’s too dangerous to walk or wait for a cab in this storm.”

You hesitated for a moment. “I’d really appreciate that, Mr. Skye. But what about your,” you pointed towards the oblivious twins who were sitting on the corner, “minions?” 

Your chosen term elicited a deep chuckle from the man. “Don’t mind them. They know their way back home.” 

“But boss!”

“Boss, you said you’ll let me drive the sportscar tonight!” 

“I’ll wait for you until your shift ends,” Mr. Skye ignored the duo and responded to you with an endearing smile. “No rush.” 

It didn’t take long until you locked up the shop, but you did feel bad that Mr. Skye had to stay with you until ten in the evening when he could have already gone home. In fact, he had been acting strange. Acting too familiar with you. Did he already know you prior to your small interactions in the cafe for the past few weeks? 

He held the door open for you as soon as you secured the shop, and together you ran through the torrential rain to his black sportscar. You were already aware that he was a wealthy man, and yet, you always wondered why he preferred a small, laid-back cafe in the Bloomshore Distrct rather than the lavish ones in Azure Square or even Universum. Was it to see you all along?

Jeez, you had so many unanswered questions in your head. Yet, you were also afraid to address the elephant in the room because you believed in the saying that ignorance is bliss. So in the end, the drive was quiet, the only sounds being the rhythm of the rain and the occasional rumble of thunder. Mr. Skye didn’t speak a word and nor did you.

Once you reached your apartment, he quickly rushed out of the car and headed to open your door. He even used his jacket as a makeshift umbrella, covering you from the heavy rainfall. It was almost funny, really, how his face screamed of danger but he was actually quite a gentleman. 

In return, you had to invite him in out of courtesy. “Would you like to come in for a while? It’s still pouring out there.”

He accepted your offer with a nod, and followed you like a tail inside. “Do you usually invite other people, too?” 

“Sometimes,” you casually answered while the both of you walked through the empty corridors. “Why?” 

“You aren’t talking about male colleagues, right?” he asked, seemingly taking a deep breath. 

That wasn’t any of his concern, obviously. But the drive to test his emotions was strong. “Sometimes,” you said, finally reaching your door and unlocking it with your fingerprint. “Welcome to my home.”

The warmth of your apartment was a stark contrast to the cold storm outside, and you felt a little conscious of your small living space knowing that he probably lived in a luxurious presidential suite. It didn’t help that he started looking around your place, as if studying the smallest details of every corner for a reason you couldn’t quite tell. You weren’t sure if he was simply silently judging the aesthetics of your home, but you were beginning to feel uncomfortable as you placed his coat on the rack, watching the way he stopped to look at your photo on the wall. 

It was like he felt a pang of sorrow. 

“You’ve really erased me completely, kitten,” he quietly whispered.

You turned to him, puzzled. “What do you mean?”

“Maybe that’s for the better,” he replied, but his expression betrayed him. It was clear that he was holding back a flood of emotions. 

Your heart started to race, pounding at a rhythm that you had never experienced before. And just then, you could see how tears welled up in his eyes. Tears that he concealed by leaning in to capture your lips in a desperate kiss. His hands cupped your face, and you could feel the intensity of his suppressed feelings that seemed to transcend the confines of your apartment. The yearning. The longingness. Perhaps, it was even sprinkled with feelings of regret. 

“Mr. Skye, wait—!” You pulled away with wide, bewildered eyes, shocked by the fervor of his kiss. No matter how attractive he was, he was still a stranger to you. But then, your breath came in shallow gasps as a sudden, sharp pain began to explode in your head. A throbbing pulse spread from your temples and radiated outwards. It was a stabbing sensation that seemed to slice through your skull, as if a thousand needles were jabbing into your brain. What’s happening? 

Mr. Skye’s face appeared above you. “Does it hurt?” he asked softly, his voice laced with a mix of worry and something deeper. He was whispering something about a protocore in your head, but you could barely understand a word, not when the ache in your temple was overcoming you entirely. 

You were unable to form words, clutching your head with both hands in hopes of stopping the ache for even a little. But the pain was overwhelming. Too overwhelming for you to handle, and it came to a point where tears of pain began streaming down your face.

“I… I don’t know what’s happening,” you managed to whisper, your voice trembling. 

He gently guided you on the couch, his touch careful and soothing. “Just breathe,” he murmured, offering a comforting presence like buoy in an open sea. “It’s my fault, kitten. I shouldn’t have kissed you so suddenly.” The intensity of the moment had shifted because of how tender his touch was. “You’re safe here,” he gently whispered into your ear. “Let the pain pass. I’ll be here with you.”

As the pain began to subside, you could feel the storm in your head gradually receding. And in his presence, you felt a strange mix of comfort and unease.

Studies say that a kiss can help calm someone’s nerves. You weren’t sure where that research was based on, but it was your body who allowed itself to seek it from the man in front of you. While your mind was telling you no, your heart was urging you to grab his shirt and pull him, once again, to a passionate kiss. 

The kiss deepened naturally, and you found yourself responding to his need as the pull between you became irresistible. You were like a magnet to him—the force of attraction getting stronger and stronger the closer you were. Where was it coming from? How come you were drawn to him like a moth to a flame? 

And while you were engaged in a tight lip-locking moment, you both ended up walking towards your bedroom; stumbling towards the bed, hands exploring, hearts racing. Soon, you were lost in each other, and the world outside was forgotten. 

With both your clothes discarded on the floor, and with your steamy exchange continuing throughout the night, you found yourself eventually straddling him, moving your body to meet him with a gentle thrust. Every sway of your hips made his member hit you at your sweet spot, instantly sending a wave of pleasure within your body. 

“S-Sir—”

“Sylus,” he breathed into your ear, hands tracing your curve, “Call me Sylus, kitten.” 

Sylus. Sylus. The name sounded familiar yet foreign at the same time, but you were too sensually intoxicated to think about the history behind his name. All you could selfishly focus on at the moment was reaching your high. You were losing your mind over the euphoric sensation of having an intercourse with such a man who, not only was attractive on the face, but also on the body. 

Sylus was packed. His muscles were toned from a seemingly consistent active lifestyle and intense workout routines. It felt great when you ran your hands along his broad shoulders, down to his toned chest, and further down to his perfectly sculpted abs. 

“Mmh—!” A moan escaped your lips when you felt his shaft going deeper inside. “That’s…”

‘Good?” he whispered to your lips, encasing yours with his before he trailed his soft kisses around your neck. Each kiss definitely left a purple mark on your skin with the way he was suckling and nibbling on the flesh. 

God, he was huge, too. His member completely filled you, stretched you even, as his cocktip kissed your cervix in a single thrust. He was crazy good at knowing all your sensitive places, holding your hips down so he could start pounding you upwards. Your tits began to bounce wildly and you even had to hold onto the headboard for support, because he was starting to go deeper and faster inside you. 

“Ngh!” 

“You don’t know how much I’ve missed this,” he said in between shaky breaths before latching his mouth into your right tit. He devoured your breast like a meal, playing with the nipple with the precise movements of his tongue. It was so good. Crazy good. It made you wonder how he seemed hyper-aware of the things you liked in bed. But how would that be possible when this was your first time having sex with him? 

Sylus decided to shift the control by flipping you over, and hoisting your hips so he could lower his head down to your lady part. Your eyes almost rolled back when he spread your labia apart so he could lick your inner folds and taste every corner of your slick-coated cavern. 

“S-Sylus,” you whined as his tongue rapidly moved in and out of your entrance until drool oozed down on your cunt. His eyes fluttered as he pulled his face away, soon palming your wet vulva with slow strokes. “Mmh…” 

He eyed you with a tender gaze. “You’re so beautiful to me.” 

It was certainly odd that his compliment seemed to touch your heart deeper than intended—that if you weren’t doing sexual activities right now, your heart would have been fluttering from his sweetness, especially when he met your lips again with a soft, loving kiss. 

This time, he didn’t pull away. He didn’t detach his lips from yours, even as he was penetrating you with his cock again. With a single thrust, you were mewling into his mouth. His girthy member gave you a heavenly stretch that seemed to awaken the lustful demon inside of you. 

Even Sylus was cussing under his breath as he continued to slam his entire length in, soon increasing the speed of his penetration to a pace that made him reach his peak. At this point, the coil in your lower abdomen was beginning to intensify, and you were clamping around his cock as if your walls weren’t tight enough to make him release a series of guttural moans. 

“Are you near?” With a quick suction on your left breast, his own moans left his lips along with the loud squelching noises that filled the room. “‘Cause I am.” 

Coincidentally, you were just arching your back because of how near you were, too. With screams getting louder, gasps causing your mouths to part open, and two people connected into a single body—you disintegrated under him as your lower abdomen signaled your orgasm and your toes started curling. “Ngh—Haah! Aah!”

“Hold on for me, kitten.” Sylus pounded into you through your overstimulation, picking up the pace until spurts of seed were sent straight to your womb. His movements became sloppy and uneven, pulling out of you only to see his semen seeping out of your pussy. 

You couldn’t believe it. You couldn’t fucking believe you just hooked up with a stranger. 

But was he really one? Because your heart was telling you one thing, but your mind was telling you another. You didn’t know who to trust and listen to.  

After your passionate session, the room was filled with the sound of your breaths mingling. Sylus, still holding you close, leaned in to plant a soft kiss on your cheek, whispering, “How’s it?”

Curiosity got the better of you, and you asked the very question that had been plaguing your mind, “Sylus, please be honest with me,” you paused, “Did you know me before?” 

He was silent. 

But you continued, “What was our relationship?”

Sylus looked like he was contemplating his answer, his gaze distant. His eyes seemed to have found your ceiling interesting as he thought deeply, drawing in a deep breath, and gently caressing your arm. If you didn’t know better, you swore you could see the sorrow and resignation in his eyes—the somberness he tried to hide with a smile. 

“Let’s just say I’m a fool who was in love with you for years, but you never reciprocated my love.”

“How so?” you asked, turning to face him. You absorbed his words while the pain of his unrequited love intersected with your own confusion. His answer didn’t quite feel right, but if he was truly your lover, then you knew there was a level of trust you should be placing on him. “Why do I get the feeling that I was the one who experienced a one-sided love before?” 

“No, you were loved. You were very loved. There was no one else,” he continued, lachrymose eyes staring back at you as he stroked your hair, “I was the one who wasn’t worthy of you… But I’d like to try and win your heart again this time. If you allow it.” 

Sylus’s eyes locked onto yours, and for a moment, the facade of the composed, enigmatic man you had come to know seemed to crack. 

The vulnerability in his voice resonated with you, and you reached up to touch his face gently. “Sylus… I don’t know what to say. I’m sorry for not recognizing you before. I just… I lost a chunk of my memories, and I don’t know if it’s been altered or what, but…” Realizing that you were rambling, you took a deep breath. “I’ll try to remember, okay?”

“Please don’t.” He shook his head, a rueful smile playing on his lips while thinking of the past that was rightfully erased. “And there’s no need for apologies, sweetie. There wasn’t anything you did wrong.” 

As the rain continued its gentle patter against the window, you both settled into the quiet of the room until he pressed his lips onto yours once more. 

Sylus’s touch was tender as he brushed a stray strand of hair from your face. “You should know,” he said quietly and earnestly, “that this time, I’ll only have eyes for you.”

FINAL PART

[lokisgoodgirl]

Metal & Leather [Loki Odinson x Reader]

A link to my Masterlist is HERE Summary: Prince Loki can't get to you soon enough after an arduous battle. (Yes, another one of those!😇) w/c 1.2k Warnings: Minors DNI. Smut/Fluff. Mild angst. Mild descriptions of injury. Loki x female reader.

The Einherjar’s roar swells higher, heating the cool night air. You run to your balcony overlooking the balustrade as Loki strides towards his mother and father standing poised at the furthest reach, waiting to welcome him: to congratulate him.

The crowds go crazy as Odin hands him something. One abrupt bow, Loki wrote in his letter from the victorious battlefield. One abrupt bow, and I make for my true reward without delay. Do not come to the ceremony. The underline had ripped the paper.

“Is that an order?” you’d asked the empty room while you imagined the wolfish glint of his smile as he wrote it. And now, he was finally here. He was finally home. The nights were long on the realm’s furthest battlefields, and although his victory had been by all accounts swift it still took weeks. Thirteen, to be exact.

Now, you can see the flutter of his cape as he makes a show of turning and striding from the dais where Odin and Frigga stand. He’s coming.

You turn, perching on the stone. You didn’t bother getting dressed properly, just a chiffon open-fronted robe tied loose at the waist. Warm air sighs over your skin as you wait, and wait. The main event is right here: and it starts in five…four…three— There’s an abrupt knock at the door. “Come,” you call sweetly. Loki pushes it open. His chin is lowered to the glint of his metal breastplate, his shadowed eyes swimming with promise in the flickering gloom. The hand curled around the ceremonial spear he just received from Odin tightens when he sees you, and his lips curl in a smile. Dark hair spills over his exaggerated, armour-clad shoulders and with a low whisper, the spear vanishes.

“The demon-brothels of Musselheim left much to be desired,” Loki sniffs with a sarcasm that can’t mask the affection in his eyes. “Heated in the most inconvenient of ways.” You search his face, noting the glint of his eyes and the twitch of his thin lips. “You’re terrible.”

He strides across the room, cape blooming like ink through water, and gathers you in his arms. “And I’m yours,” he replies as he dips and lifts your legs around his waist. "Aren't you glad, darling? In all my terrible, terrible glory."

The heat still hangs on his leathers from the Bifrost.

His lips slam into yours at force, the thud of his boots and the crisp rustle of his cloak making your thighs tighten. He nudges you higher, and eager fingers slip past his temples, fisting his hair, noting the ghost of bruises that shadow his face. Loki’s fingers pull at the ribbons holding your robe together, their slither between his calloused fingers and the nip of Asgard’s night air against your nipples flooding your brain. He’s home, he’s here, he’s safe. Thank you; thank you.

Your pussy slips against the metal buckle flush to his abdomen, and Loki’s kiss wanes. He pulls back as you’re rested on the wide flat of the balcony wall, towering over you like the victorious god he is. You reach to brush his tabard aside, but a hand flies out to stop it.

“No,” he says hoarsely, and for the first time you see the raw abrasions on his knuckles, the purple cloud edging from his wrist armour. He trails a finger down the valley of your throat, between the swell of your breasts. “My love..” The softness of his voice so at odds with the battle-weary figure he cuts. He never thinks you want him like this. Not at first: coated in the evidence of his destruction. You reach tentatively for his leathers, and this time he lets you brush the flap aside. Loki of Asgard stiffens as you unlace him, pulling him closer, kissing him deep. “My love,” you whisper against his heated, gritty skin. A shiver wrenches through him. When Loki returns from war, all the lust he’s re-directed bubbles over. This time is no different. You feel his fingers run over your hair, grabbing a clutch, tilting your head back. Loki’s mouth descends on your exposed neck: biting, sucking, groaning his need for you against the delicate, willing flesh. There’s a smack of metal against leather, a grunt as he positions himself between your spread legs. The balcony stone scrapes against the back of your thighs as he places a palm on your lower spine, protecting you from the drop. And then, he’s inside you. His cock claims the deepest part of you, and Loki swears as he bottoms out with a decisive thrust.

With one hand hanging against his neck, and the other gripping the belt slung over his shoulder, you ride the devastating thrusts he delivers with each jangling snap of his hips. Loki’s cock, and his love, are the missing pieces of you—the parts he takes whenever he leaves to fulfil his duty. But this is his duty, and you both know it. Ragged gasps scrape from Loki’s throat, his fingertips clawing against your back so desperately you know the truth of his desire will be marked on you by the night’s end. Purple, blue; just like the evidence of violence painted on his skin.

He curls close, and you wrap both arms around his neck, pulling the god’s face closer into the curve of your shoulder.

Loki’s illusion has wavered. His hair is matted, crisped with sweat and battle and bifrost and you inhale deeply, willing your love for him to wash it all away. His thrusts are sloppy now, out of time with the fiery grunts blasting against the shell of your ear. He smells like metal, and leather – and gods, you never want anything else.

“I’ll always come home to you,” he says, and you know he’s picturing the enemies he had to slay to get here. He never tells you everything of what he’s seen—but it changes him. It makes his love fiercer. The crowd packing the balustrade cheers at the conclusion of some speech: Thor’s, probably. But Loki’s body draws like a bow and you feel the tighten of his jaw against your neck. “I can’t stop it,” he pants, and you buck harder against him. There will be time for your pleasure later—Loki will make sure of it. In the baths, in the bed you share, in the blankets and pillows strewn through slats of amber sunlight on the endless days with him by your side. For now, in the torch-lit gloom where he wears the stains of hard-won victory, he needs this: he needs you. And right now, your pleasure is bringing his home.

The tunic, warm from your friction, scrapes your inner thighs as he seals his cock inside you once, twice, three times. On the fourth, he holds the throbbing tip at the entrance to your slit, his wild eyes meeting yours. “All for you,” he gasps, and his eyebrows peak.

Everything: he means everything. The sacrifice, the vulnerability he shares— the fact you’d only need to ask and he would tear the sky down in your name. Your lips touch, and he groans happily as he sinks inside a final, lingering time.

The force of his cum hits the back of your cunt and his whole body tightens. A tremble works through him while the grip on your back falters, and his knees wobble. He pulls you close, groaning his climax into your mouth; the heat of his breath and the fury of his love rippling across every nerve in your body. Below, drums begin: lyres, chanting, prayer. “You’re home,” you whisper, slotting your nose at the side of his. “You’re safe.” “Home,” he murmurs as the cool metal at his abdomen chills your flushed skin. He thrusts a final, gentle time, and you cross your ankles at his lower back, sealing him close. Loki smiles, “That’s all I ever wanted.”

❤️Tags in comments! x Next story will be Wednesday 18 Sept as I'm on holiday next week🌄

[flowerandblood]

The Price of Pride (1/?)

[ canon • Aemond x Royce • female ]

[ warnings: the angst, kidnapping and imprisonment, abuse of power, violence, panic attack ]

[ description: Prince Aemond finds a solution to the disproportion in the number of dragons between Dragonstone and King's Landing: he decides to find dragon blood and, like his half-sister, train dragon riders. He takes as his target the daughter of Daemon Targaryen and Rhea Royce, whom he abducts and imprisons in the Red Keep. Slow burn, darkish, insolent, arrogant Aemond. I have combined several requests here: (dragon blood female & prisoner female). ]

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

It took him a long time to bring her to the Red Keep. Too long, to his frustration – while Aegon on his throne preferred to loudly announce to his subjects things he could not provide for them, he acted in silence, trying to ensure that he was always one step ahead of their sister-whore.

When Larys Strong's spies reported to them that Rhaenyra was seeking dragon seed among the bastards in King's Landing his brother laughed, but he, their mother and all the lords were horrified.

This meant that the slight advantage Vhagar had given them was going to be in vain, as she stood no chance in a confrontation with so many dragons.

Helaena was riding Dreamfyre, but at his words to move into battle with him she covered her ears and turned her head away, saying she would never burn anyone. Daeron's dragon was still too small, so that left him and Aegon, who was the King and could not die, on the battlefield.

That was not enough.

And then it dawned on him.

Rhea Royce must have been devastated after learning that her hated husband's seed had taken root in her womb. The whole kingdom knew that she and his uncle loathed each other sincerely, and while he stayed in King's Landing, she remained in Runestone.

He thought she certainly felt satisfaction when she gave him a daughter, although the Rough Prince wanted a son.

According to rumour, she was born accompanied by her mother's loud groans a few months apart after his own birth, and was supposed to be the reason Daemon waited with murdering her mother: he did not want the burden of caring for a newborn child to fall on him.

Though he would never admit it out loud, of the many lords or bastards born of dragon seed, his choice was guided not only by her close kinship to their family, but also by the fact that having her by his side could be a humiliation to his uncle, a show of his strength, prudence and sheer malice.

Of how dangerous he was not only because of Vhagar.

He had prepared an ambush for her with reverence, through Strong's spy network weaving servants close to her into his plan.

He had no idea what kind of woman she was, whether or not she resisted, whether or not she could wield a sword like her mother, but he received a letter weeks later that they had succeeded, and Daemon's daughter was heading for King's Landing against her will.

He felt a pleasant tingling in his fingertips at the thought of what he would be able to do with her: if he found her pretty and humble enough, if indeed she succeeded in taming a dragon, he could try to invalidate his betrothal to the Baratheon whore and allow her to receive the honour of bearing his heirs instead.

His own dragon inheritance.

When she finally arrived, she was, much to his mother's displeasure, placed in a dungeon – he wanted her to understand that her situation was serious and that any answer from her that did not satisfy him would end in one way.

Her death.

He went down to the underground with the guards and dismissed them when he stopped under her cell with the torch in his hand, its light exposed her face to him.

She was sitting on the ground with her knees tucked under her chin, her head raised towards him, the look of her eyes frustrated and grim, her dark brows arched in displeasure.

She was not afraid.

For now.

He looked at her figure from top to bottom, finding that he had imagined her differently: he had hoped to see any Targaryen features in her. However, her long hair was dark, her eyelashes long and black, like a fan surrounding her brown eyes, which were as big as those of a doe.

Clearly it was her mother's blood that prevailed, he thought with disappointment, however his face remained stony.

"Do you know who I am, woman?" He asked coldly, the corner of her mouth twitching, her gaze softening as if his words amused her, making him feel uneasy.

"It's hard not to guess." She replied without any pleasantries.

He licked his lower lip in a gesture of frustration, recognising that he would not allow himself to be verbally dominated by her.

He had to knock her off her guard.

"Do you understand why you're here?"

She sighed heavily, looking down at her fingers, suddenly tired and small, like a child who wanted to go to sleep already.

"Because of my father, I guess. You are wasting your time. I don't represent any value to him. He will not pact with you for my sake." She said, and he snorted, grinning broadly – she looked at him in surprise, as if she hadn't expected such a reaction from him.

"You are mistaken. We need your blood."

She shook her head, shocked by his words, raising her shoulders in a gesture as if trying to defend herself against what she just heard.

He liked the look of terror on her face, no doubt at the thought that they were about to cut her wrists open and drain her of blood like an animal.

"We will find one of the wild dragons hidden in the mountain caves and you will try to claim it. You will die, or you will succeed and join the war on our side." He said coldly, and she burst out laughing, as if she hadn't heard a greater foolishness in a long time, causing his jaw to clench in fury.

Stupid cunt.

"I know nothing about dragons or their riders and have no desire to learn about them. This, I think, is something that is destined for those endowed by the gods with white hair. I have no intention of sacrificing myself for your family. Behead me or burn me, but spare me this farce." She sneered, looking away, as if she thought she could get away with such impudent words.

She picked herself up and took a few steps back as he unlocked her cell and a moment later he was beside her, dropping the torch to the stone floor, grabbing her by the neck, her body and head hitting the wall hard.

He stared at her for a moment, listening to her heavy breath as if she was choking, panic in her big, brown eyes.

Fear suited her.

"Do you think I'm asking you for your opinion? You will serve me, and you will serve me well, or I will burn not you, but all of the fucking Vale. Only dust and ashes will be left of the people you knew. Is that what you want, my Lady?" He scoffed, and she shook her head quickly, her lower lip quivering all over, her small, soft hands clenched on his wrist.

He leaned over her, digging his fingers deeper into her delicate skin as if he wanted to break her neck.

"So we have an agreement, as I understand it?" He whispered, as if asking her a secret, something only he should hear.

Her eyebrows arched in pain, her plump lips parted in a deep, shuddering breath as she nodded, her warm gaze filled with pain and regret at the same time.

Was she now begging in her mind for her father to save her?

For him to come to her rescue?

The thought made him want to laugh.

"Mmm." He hummed, looking at her red eyes and full lips, feeling a strange kind of intimacy now that he could feel her veins, her blood, dragon's blood, pulsing under her bare skin.

Their shared heritage.

His seed was stronger than Daemon's, he thought with a confidence bordering on vanity.

Their children would have his white hair.

He felt arousal at that thought, his length pulsed softly in his breeches.

He let go of her, and she took a deep breath, sliding to the ground, clutching at her neck where he'd driven his fingers.

"You will be moved to one of the chambers. You will not lack anything. Serve me well and no more harm will befall you." He said in an offhand manner and simply left, satisfied with how childishly simple it was.

The women and their soft hearts, their despair at the thought that someone else might lose their life because of them, their eternal pondering and tenderness that made them so weak.

"I have heard of your success, brother. I was told we had a visitor in the Keep." Said Aegon, glancing at him, seated at the other end of the table, while his hand played with the marble green orb lying before him.

"Yes. She will obey us. I will personally prepare her." He said, resting his elbows on the table top.

The King laughed.

"You, brother? What does your beloved betrothed in Storm's End would say about it?" He sneered, glancing at the lords around them as if asking if his joke was in fact funny.

He grinned, trying to contain his anger and that familiar, unpleasant feeling of humiliation rippling through his chest.

"Who else would do this? You, with your superior knowledge of the language of Old Valyria will teach her commands and behaviour towards a wild dragon?" He asked, looking him straight in the eye.

His brother grew pale and swallowed hard, tense, feeling that he had lost this battle.

"Bring her in." He ordered.

Soon the door to the room opened, and she walked in, accompanied by the guards: she was wearing one of his mother's old brown gowns, its red sleeves reaching to the ground. Her hair was loose but not in disarray, falling gently down her back, as if she had not let any servant touch it and combed it herself.

"Come closer, cousin." Said Aegon with a smile, raising his hand and nodding, clearly wanting to encourage her.

She reluctantly took a few steps closer, looking around the assembled people anxiously, finally meeting his gaze – she stopped for a moment at his face, as if she was thinking hard about something, and then turned her head away, suddenly tired and resigned.

Good, he thought.

There was no need for her to stand up to him.

"We are overjoyed by your presence, even though you were brought here under not very pleasant circumstances. I hope you will quickly forget about these… discomforts and support us in our cause. My brother is extremely eager to prepare you for this." Aegon said, her lips twitching in a grimace that he didn't like when he mentioned him, but no words left her mouth.

"Are you not glad to face your father? Did he not forget you and abandon you for so many years?" Continued Aegon, their mother looked at him and shook her head, wanting him to stop.

She lifted her gaze to his brother-king and looked at him for a moment, her expression gentle and calm.

"I have nothing to say to you, cousin. Do with me what you wish."

A heavy, uncomfortable silence fell around them – he feared what Aegon would do with this insult – the fact that she had humiliated him by simply calling him her cousin, speaking to him without proper etiquette or manners.

Aegon pressed his lips together and leaned forward, as if thinking hard about something.

"Our family has forgotten you. Left you the fuck knows where, motherless and fatherless. And I am deeply sorry for it."

He looked at him shocked, not believing that he had said such a thing, apologised to her even though it was she who had offended him, and then looked at her face – her eyes turned red, her lips parted slightly, as if he had stuck a needle straight into her heart.

What was he doing?

Aegon spread himself comfortably in his chair with a loud creak of wood, smiling with satisfaction.

"You may leave."

He did not know why he had been furious all evening, why, bent over the maps of Westeros, planning his fucking war, he had been unable to focus or calm himself.

He knew why his brother had done it: he wanted to bond with her, to show him that he was the one she would obey, that he was in control of the situation, that he was the King.

"Bring our prisoner." He ordered loudly so that the servant who was just taking the tray from his table heard it.

"As you wish, Your Highness."

When she walked into his chamber she stopped immediately behind the door, which closed behind her with a loud clatter. He glanced up at her dispassionately and looked again at the books he had taken from his shelves, which he had often browsed through as a child.

This was his legacy, not hers.

But he had to do it.

"Come here. Sit down." He said dryly and after a moment he heard the rustling of her gown.

As she sat in the chair beside him he smelled her, some kind of oil that scented of field flowers, chamomile or daisies, and he thought that she had taken a bath.

Something in that thought, in the idea of her bare, soft body sunk in the warm water, made his manhood throb pleasantly, tingling heat spreading through his lower abdomen.

He moved one of the books towards her, open to the page on which was written what he wanted to discuss with her.

"Can you read?" He asked coldly, and she threw him a look from which he felt like grabbing her cheeks and shaking that little head of hers.

She didn't answer, which frustrated him even more, clutching the volume in her hands and leaning over it, following the text with her eyes.

So she could read, he thought mockingly.

"The dragons understand the language of Old Valyria, and this is how the dragon riders communicate with them. You have to learn to speak the commands properly." He sighed, running his hand over his face, feeling tired and discouraged.

"Dohaerās means serve. Rȳbās means listen. These are the most important words, right next to Lykirī, which commands a dragon to remain calm." He said, tilting his head back, closing his eyes. "Repeat."

Silence.

He pressed his lips together, opening his eyes, thinking he was about to kill her with his own hands.

He looked at her, wanting to hiss to her that he was going to slam her head against the table until she dutifully recited each of the words he was ordering her to repeat but his voice stuck in his throat when he saw the look on her face.

He had the impression that although she froze in stillness, her whole body was quivering, as if she was cold.

Her eyes were open wide in fear, and even though her lips were pressed into a thin line she was breathing heavily, as if she were suffocating, her fingers clenched on the back of the book.

Was it possible that she had heard these words before, had read a book similar to this?

Did Daemon try to teach her the language of Old Valyria when she was a child?

He didn't know what he should do, feeling that if he touched her she would just fall apart, so he merely looked at her, wondering how such a person was supposed to tame a dragon.

He rose from his seat as if burned, snapped out of his reverie when her eyes rolled back and she simply fainted, her body, numb and heavy slid to the floor beneath their feet.

He circled the table and knelt beside her, slapping his palm against her cheek in an attempt to revive her, but she did not wake up.

"Bring the Maester, quickly!" He called out and cursed loudly, restraining himself from screaming with rage.

"What have you done to her?" His mother hissed quietly, so that only he could hear it while the Maester examined her.

He turned his face away and shook his head, wondering if everyone in this damned fortress was against him.

After all, he was doing this for them.

For their family.

"Nothing. She was only supposed to read a few words. I didn't even touch her." He growled, his hands intertwined behind his back clenched into a fist.

Why didn't she trust him?

Why was she looking at him like this, as if she didn't recognise him?

Hadn't he always been faithful to her?

"What words? What did you say to her?"

"Words in Old Valyrian, nothing more. She must learn it if she is not to burn in the dragon fire, and our efforts are not to be in vain." He scoffed impatiently.

"We do not know what Daemon did to her. Whether she saw her mother die."

"I don't care what he did to her or what she saw." He said, throwing her a look from which she froze. "We have an agreement and she knows what will happen if she doesn't fulfill it."

"What will happen? You'll burn the Vale?" Alicent asked with a sneer, and he pressed his lips together, feeling a terrible, piercing shame.

"She will stay in my care tonight. Don't go near her until she recovers." She told him and stepped around him.

He felt as if she had slapped him in the face so he left, not wanting anyone to see the burning tears of disappointment that had gathered under his eyelids.

He didn't let them flow.

He was not weak.

He was not like her.

He was not like Aegon.

He was not like his father.

[sansaorgana]

— A SMALL PRICE TO PAY

PAIRING — King Aegon II Targaryen x fem!Reader

SUMMARY — You visit Aegon with your children in his chambers after he nearly lost his life due to his reckless decision to join the battle.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — This is just a very self-indulgent fic where both twins are alive (I haven't described their looks because Reader is their mother – I have only mentioned their hair colour) and Aegon's injuries aren't even half as bad as in canon. 🙈

WORD COUNT — 3,600

ENGLISH IS MY SECOND LANGUAGE.

A SMALL PRICE TO PAY

When your servants informed you about Aegon planning to depart on Sunfyre and that he was getting fully armoured, your heart stopped beating for a good while before you gathered your skirts in your hands and rushed all the way to the Dragonpit. Your sworn guard could barely keep up with your pace.

“My Queen!” He tried to stop you but you remained deaf to his pleas. All that was important to you was to stop Aegon from making a mistake.

You knew what he was planning to do because all those nights when he had been drunk on wine and whining about his council ignoring him, he had been threatening to just hop on his dragon and join the real fight eventually. Something had to happen on that day, which had finally pushed all his buttons and caused him to take the drastic step.

But when you ran into the Dragonpit, he was already gone. You rushed outside and looked up. The beautiful Sunfyre was up in the sky and flying away. You put your hand over your forehead to cast a shadow upon your face.

“The King has already departed, My Queen,” your sworn guard informed you and took a few deep breaths in after the rapid chase.

“May the Gods protect our King,” you swallowed a lump in your throat and whispered a short prayer. There was nothing you could do now, really. You didn’t have your own dragon, on which you would hop on to join him in the battlefield to help him.

That feeling of being helpless was the greatest burden. Therefore, you understood your husband’s frustration. He was the King, after all, and he wanted to feel like one.

But you were the Queen. And all you could do was to wait and pray.

The news from Rook’s Rest came with a raven and you were in the room with the Dowager Queen Alicent when you read that King Aegon had managed to kill Meleys and her rider, Princess Rhaenys. However, the King himself and his own dragon Sunfyre were injured. The letter brought to you did not dwell on the state of either of them.

You finished reading the words out loud and glanced at your mother-in-law. She covered her face with her hand to muffle the sound of a sob coming out of her mouth. Your lips were trembling, too.

“He’s alive,” you tried to comfort both her and your own self. “And a hero, too.”

“My boy…” Queen Alicent stood up to approach the window.

“With all due respect, My Queen,” you stood up and dropped the letter onto the surface of the desk before approaching her. “We both know why Aegon went to the battle. The servants informed me about his drunken state and… An argument… Between you two,” you told her, carefully. You did not want to damage the relationship you had with Queen Alicent.

She was a good mother-in-law and she loved her children, however, sometimes, she struggled with emotions. Which was no fault of hers, especially now, on the verge of a civil war – everyone struggled. But you were also aware of how important she was to your husband.

Sometimes, it felt as if his mother was the only important person in his life. He did not care for anyone else as much as for her – excluding your children, of course. But his mother was often the main subject of his conversations when you two were alone, discussing your problems. And no matter how much love and support you were showing to him, he was still unsatisfied because what he craved and needed truly was her approval. 

“I deeply regret the words I have said to him,” Queen Alicent turned around to look at your face. “But they cannot be undone now.”

“No, they cannot,” you nodded and she sobbed once more. You felt bad for her, so you put your hand gently on her shoulder. “Do not put all the blame on yourself, My Queen,” you whispered to her. “My husband is known for being impulsive and it is not a secret he likes wine more than he should.”

“And who raised him this way?” Queen Alicent asked you with her big brown eyes filled with pain and guilt.

“My husband had a father, too,” you reminded her. “Also, some… Some things… Us, parents, we cannot help them. Our children are not our property but humans of their own and we cannot shape them the way we like. There are often forces stronger than us that mislead and misguide them from our paths,” you comforted her.

When the knights came back from Rook’s Rest, they had Meleys’ head that they were showing off to the peasants as they praised your husband’s victory. You had to admit, the sight of that red beast’s head was gruesome and the smell was awful as well, however it brought some pride to you that it was your husband who had slain her.

Still, he was what you cared about the most. You rushed to his chambers where he would be brought by the knights and where the Maesters waited for his arrival.

You were scared to see what state he was in. You were scared to see the injuries and blood but you were his wife and you couldn’t imagine hiding somewhere else. You just had to endure it and remain by his side. Queen Alicent stood by you as well and you both waited. When you heard the approaching footsteps, she reached her hand out to grab your wrist and you held her hand to squeeze it in a comforting manner. You both needed that.

The nauseous smell reached your nostrils first – metallic scent of blood and the eye-watering stench of burnt flesh. Groaning Aegon was laid down on his bed as Maesters rushed to his side before you could take a better look at his face.

Queen Alicent gasped and turned around to cry but you let go of her hand and tried to stand between all the men gathered around your husband’s bed.

“My Queen, please,” one of the Maesters looked at you pleadingly. “Do not interrupt, for the King’s sake.”

“That is not a sight for the Queen,” another one told you.

“He is my husband!” You pushed him away to get closer to Aegon and the sight of him made your heart clench.

You sobbed just like his mother at the sight of his skin covered in bruises and blood, while the left part of his body was burnt in many places to the point that his armour had melted into his skin – Maesters worked on removing it as quickly as possible. Even Aegon’s face was burnt on his left cheek and his leg was broken, too.

“Aegon…” You whispered and walked the bed around to find yourself on the better side of him, the one less injured. You grabbed his hand to squeeze and he hissed out of pain before laying his teary eyes on you. “Oh, Aegon…” You sobbed some more and fell to your knees to place a kiss upon his hand before pressing it to your forehead. “I have been praying for you, my King. Thank the Gods for bringing you back to me and now might they grant you strength…”

“My Queens, please,” Grand Maester Orwyle looked at Queen Alicent. “We will call for you after we are done with the King. Let us work now.”

You tried to stand up but you stumbled and it was your sworn guard who had to intervene and raise you up from the floor before walking you out with his hands placed respectfully on your shoulders.

You were pacing around your chambers nervously for the second hour now. All the food brought to you by the servants was lying cold on the table because you couldn’t touch it. Every time someone walked past your doors, your heart was skipping a beat, thinking it was some news about your husband.

Finally, a light knock had your head spinning as you rushed to open the doors before your guard even managed to reach out to push them.

“What is it?!” You asked the Maester standing in front of the chambers.

“The King can receive visitors now, My Queen,” he bowed his head in front of you.

“Thank the Gods,” you mumbled to yourself. “How is he? Will he be alright?”

“His convalescence will be a long one but he will be alright, eventually,” the man answered and then he looked away nervously.

“But…? What is it?!” You furrowed your brows.

“The King might never walk again, My Queen,” he informed you, quietly.

You pursed your lips. The news was heartbreaking for you but you knew it had to be even more devastating for Aegon. On the other hand, you’d rather have him laying in bed all day long than have him dead.

“It is a small price to pay the Gods for sparing his life,” you only nodded. “Thank you, Maester,” you added and walked away.

Before going to your husband’s chambers, you went to the nursery first where your silver-haired twins were playing together, unaware of anything that had taken place on that day.

“Jaehaerys,” you crouched down next to the boy playing with a wooden dragon.

“I don’t want to go to sleep yet,” he whined.

“No, darling, not to sleep,” you caressed his hair and offered him your hand before extending the other one towards Jaehaera. “We are going to see daddy,” you told them. “He is unwell,” you added and the eyes of your children looked up at you, worryingly. “He was fighting in a battle on Sunfyre and he got hurt,” you explained in a way they could understand. “He would love to see you now, I bet.”

Jaehaerys and Jaehaera both stood up and squeezed your hands. You walked them out of the nursery and guided them to your husband’s chambers.

Those had been his own father’s chambers before and Aegon did not like them for that very reason. Most of the time he was spending time and sleeping in your chambers but now you believed he would have to stay in his father’s ones for quite a long time. However, you would visit him every day anyway.

You had been young teenagers when you had met for the first time and you had hated him at first. You still remembered that night when you had been crying from dusk till dawn about the fact you would have to marry him one day. But when you had actually arrived at King's Landing to marry him a few years later, you had been surprised by how much you had grown to like him despite his undeniable flaws.

Also, everyone was saying that your marriage was doing him good and you were changing him for the better. It had always been making you feel proud to hear such words and all of Aegon’s attempts to make you like him more had been only causing you to fall for him harder and harder. Even though some of his attempts had failed, they had still been proving to you that he cared about you.

At the sight of you coming, his guards bowed down and opened the doors leading to your husband’s chambers as they announced you.

“Queen (Y/N) with Prince Jaehaerys and Princess Jaehaera.”

You walked inside the chambers carefully and felt your children squeezing your hands at the sight of their father. Aegon was sitting on the bed now with many pillows behind his back but the bruises had not magically disappeared from his skin after all. Nor had the burns or a broken leg that was now propped up to heal properly.

Aegon cracked a smile at you and his children. You let go of their hands and they looked up at you, questioningly.

“Go to daddy,” you nodded your head at them and they ran up to their father’s bed.

“Daddy!” Jaehaera squealed as Jaehaerys climbed up to sit by Aegon’s better side. Jaehaera tried to do that as well but she struggled. You chuckled at that and helped her.

“Be careful with daddy, he’s still in pain,” you told your children and watched them carefully as they sat by your husband.

Aegon raised his less injured hand to brush their arms with his fingers before laying his hand down again and you took it gently and placed it upon your lap after sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Are you alright, daddy?” Jaehaerys asked with widened eyes. “Mummy said you were in the battle on Sunfyre!”

“Yes…” Aegon answered in a raspy voice before clearing his throat. “Yes, I was. And I won,” he added, weakly.

“When will you be better, daddy?” Jaehaera asked as she crawled closer to her father. She cupped his cheeks gently and you knew it had to bring your husband some pain but he didn’t let it show. His eyes filled with tears again. “You have an ouchie here!” She pointed at his left cheek that was burnt.

“Jaehaera, don’t touch!” You gently took her hand away.

“I don’t know when I will be better, my love,” Aegon smiled sadly at her. “But I will be, I promise.”

“And will that heal?” Jaehaerys pointed his hand at his father’s leg.

“Yes,” Aegon nodded.

“And the ouchie?” Jaehaera’s small lips trembled as her eyes filled with tears.

“The ouchie will stop hurting but it won’t go away. Daddy will forever have those marks from being burnt,” you caressed her hair gently and she sniffled. “Ah, don’t cry, little one, that is an honour for a man to carry such scars. Your father is a hero who has survived dragonfire.”

“Really?!” Jaehaerys asked.

“I have slain Meleys, The Red Queen,” Aegon answered him and Jaehaerys gasped. You could see a shadow of pride on your husband’s face.

“Do spare them the details, dear husband,” you interrupted them, “for they are too small.”

“And how is Sunfyre, daddy?” Jaehaera asked him.

“Right, how is he?” You asked with a furrowed brow. You were curious, too.

“He might never fly again…” Aegon looked away sadly and your heart felt heavy at his words. You were aware of the bond he shared with his beloved dragon but it was also a bad omen, you thought. 

If Sunfyre would never fly again, it could mean that your husband would never walk again either. You swallowed a lump in your throat and gave his hand a light squeeze to let him know you would stay by his side no matter what.

“If Sunfyre can’t fly again, I will let you fly on my dragon sometime, daddy,” Jaehaerys tried to cheer his father up with a sweet smile and Aegon chuckled at that. His hand left your lap to ruffle his son’s hair.

Jaehaerys’ dragon was so young that it was still smaller than him.

“I will let you fly on mine, too!” Jaehaera promised. “But not to battle!” She added and Aegon bopped her on the nose.

Her dragon was even smaller than her brother’s.

“Thank you, my sweetlings,” your husband nodded at them and you spotted exhaustion in his eyes, which you were not surprised to see after such a long and painful day.

“It’s bedtime for you, my darlings,” you reminded your children and they whined. “We will visit daddy again, on the morrow, yes?”

“Can I bring my toys here on the morrow and play with them with you, daddy?” Jaehaerys asked.

“Can I, too?” His sister’s eyes widened.

“Yes… Yes… If I am not too tired, that is,” Aegon promised them.

“If not on the morrow, then some other day,” you stood up and helped your children to jump off of Aegon’s bed. “Your father won’t leave these chambers for a long time,” you gave him a scolding look since, after all, it had been his fault that he was lying there. And now, seeing that he would be quite alright eventually, you allowed yourself to have such thoughts instead of drowning in worry.

“Good night, daddy,” Jaehaerys and Jaehaera said in unison before the doors opened in front of you.

“Take them to their nanny and tell her it’s their bedtime already,” you informed your sworn guard who was waiting for you outside, following you like a shadow as usual.

He nodded at you and extended his hands for the Prince and Princess to take them. They held onto him and you watched them walk away before you took a deep breath in and turned around to go back to your husband.

Once again you sat on the edge of his bed and you sighed at the sight of him. His eyes were full of tears now as he avoided your gaze.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled out.

“You reckless fool!” You exclaimed and then you covered your mouth with your hand and you looked away, too. “I could have lost you…”

“Well, that would have been for the better. Now you have a cripple for a husband,” Aegon remarked.

“It is not known yet,” you pointed out and leaned in to be closer to him. This action made him finally turn his head around to look into your eyes. You spotted a few tears streaming down his cheeks.

“Even if I walk again, I will forever have those scars. And for the upcoming months you will be like my mother when she was taking care of my father…” Aegon’s voice was full of remorse.

“I do not care about those scars,” you assured him and gently wiped his tears away with your thumb. “And I shall nurture you willingly and without complaints. However, I shall never let you forget that all of this is a result of your foolish, impulsive decision!” You clenched your jaw. “Thank the wine and your hot head for the state you are currently in.”

Aegon looked down, not being able to stand your gaze anymore. He was full of shame and you took a deep breath in to calm down before leaning in and placing a soft, tender kiss upon his forehead. You loved him, after all.

“You were here… When they brought me,” he whispered. “It’s all blurry, the memory. But you were here, holding my hand…” He looked up.

“We both were, your mother and I,” you told him. “Of course, how could I… How could we not?” You smiled at him.

“Poor Sunfyre…” Aegon’s eyes filled with tears again. “He lost a wing because of me.”

Your eyes widened at his revelation. You had no idea how serious Sunfyre’s injuries were.

“I’m sure Meleys suffered worse,” you pointed out. “It is a war, Aegon, and the dragons are involved now. However, over my dead body you will go to battle again! You have already proven yourself and the Kingdom needs you alive and inside the Red Keep,” you lowered your voice. “You do not wish to be a puppet, my love? Then you have to live and be strong enough to rule.”

Aegon sighed and you caressed his hair gently. You knew that the crown upon his head was nothing but a burden to him. 

“Will you help me?” He asked, looking deep into your eyes.

His question surprised you greatly because so far, he had often asked you to stay away from the schemes of his council members and the council itself. So far, he had been relying on his mother in such matters.

Then you realised – seeing the pleading and trustful look in his eyes – that you somehow replaced her for him. It was a bittersweet feeling.

“I will, darling,” you nodded. “Of course, I will. I love you,” you assured him and kissed his forehead once more. “Now rest, My King,” you kissed his nose and then lips, very carefully.

You squeezed his hand for the last time and waved at him before walking out of his chambers. You spotted the Dowager Queen Alicent pacing down the corridor and waiting for her turn to see her son.

“(Y/N),” she approached you and held your hands. “I did not want to interrupt you. Is he quite alright?” She asked.

“He is… Well, better than I expected after seeing him right after the battle,” you told her and she sighed out of relief. “You can see him now, but please, not for long, My Queen. I would rather him rest and sleep,” you explained and Queen Alicent nodded at that.

“Thank you…” She whispered and you furrowed your brows because you had a feeling she was thanking you for more than just informing her about her son’s health. “Thank you for loving him… For loving him the way I could not,” her voice broke.

And so did your heart at her words.

“My Queen, I can only pray to the Gods to be a mother as devoted as you are,” you smiled at her gently.

She wasn’t perfect and she had made mistakes she was very well aware of. However, it was not your role to torment her or judge her. Especially that you were playing on the same team and you both had the same amount of love in your heart for the man who had nearly lost his life earlier today – her son and your husband.

Queen Alicent smiled back at you but her smile was one of the sad kind.

“I shall pray to the Gods for them to bless you more than me in that matter.”

MASTERLIST

[jiyanluvr]

favourite places to kiss you. (jiyan, m!rover, calcharo)

his favourite place to kiss you is practically everywhere, but your lips are what holds a special place in his heart.

Jiyan was going back from the battlefield after the long days you've been waiting. He's sent you letters, pressed flowers always in the envelope. He's sent you voice memos, which you've saved to hold on to.

The creak on the door indicates one thing ; your boyfriend's back! You immediately stood up at the sound of the knob turning, smiling as the moment he walked in, he was greeted with a hug from you. He stumbled back with a quiet chuckle, looking at you with softened eyes.

With no words exchanged, you knew what he was craving; your lips on his. You grabbed Jiyan's face, putting your hands on his cheeks as you kissed his lips as he relished every moment of it, wrapping his arms around your waist as he chased after your lips.

" I've missed this.. so much. "

while not obvious, his favourite spot to kiss you are your hands.

Calcharo was resting on your lap as you played with his surprisingly smooth hair. His eyes were closed as you slowly eased him to relax, since he's been on edge this whole week. You kissed his tacet mark, making him open his eyes to look at you.

".. Do that again.. "

You chuckled at his request, this time your hand on his cheek. You kissed his tacet mark again, with Calcharo kissing the palm of your hand. He pressed kisses on your hand, showering it with kisses.

" Are my hands that pretty? "

though as much as he tries to hide it, his favourite spot to kiss you is your cheek.

You and Rover were relaxing in your shared home, Rover was sat beside you, his head on your chest as he hummed, letting you play with his hair. He leaned in your touch, sighing contently.

He looked up at you, humming before sitting up to kiss your cheek... and another one, and another one.. another kiss. Gosh, does he really love your cheeks that much? You chuckled, returning one of his kisses on his cheek, then his lips.

" I'll never get enough of your kisses.. "

Rover muttered out, loud enough for you to hear him before he peppered your cheeks with his soft kisses again.

[thesamoanqueen]

Christmas cookies

Raiting: 18+

Warnings: smut, fluff.

A/N: I wanted to try writing a one-shot for christmas since I did it last year and @mindofasagittaruis request came at the right time. Enjoy and happy holidays yall~

One boxe at a time he had managed to arrange everything, filling the huge tree base that him and Y/N had decorated together a week before. He knew she would complain, scolding him because it was too much, but Roman liked to spoil her and for that occasion he had really wanted everything.

It was their first Christmas together as a couple and he wanted it to be special. Y/N liked Christmas, was her favorite holiday, she got more excited than a little girl every time and he had promised himself and her, to do everything possible to make sure nothing was missing. They had decorated the house inside and out, planned dinners with family, started watching christmas movies, booked a weekend out fitting it between both of their schedules and Roman had tried not to plan something more to finally give voice to that impulse that was now becoming an urgency.

Admiring his work one last time, he went to the kitchen, where Y/N had decided to spend her afternoon with the most classic Christmas songs, wearing yet another hoodie stolen not too discreetly from his closet. When he crossed the door, there was no corner where she hadn't scattered a little bit of sugar, flour and sprinkles. It was a battlefield strewn with bowls, trays, and baking ingredients that smelled of vanilla, cinnamon and chocolate, the kind of chaos that warms heart and tastes like home.

- What's going on here? – he inquired with a smile and she turned to look at him, hands dirty with who knows what raised in the air, while Roman twisted his arms around her hips to swing her playfully.

- I should ask to you, what was all that chaos back there? – she asked suspiciously, giving him one of knowing looks, but he pretended not to notice, giving her a quick kiss on her cheek and peeking what she was backing.

- Don't know, Santa probably.

- I don't remember I have written a letter to him.

- So these ones are for me? – he asked, pointing the Christmas cookies placed on the marble counter.

It wasn't the kind of food she usually prepared if she decided to get into the kitchen, she was more into salty and spicy recipes, and yet there they were, lots of gingerbread men, trees and cinnamon houses waiting to be decorated.

- It's just an experiment, I wanted to make something special but then I remembered you already have me in your life so I tried with simple things… guess they're not so simple – she reflected pouting, moving a couple of those who she had already tried to decorate.

The shapes were flawless, but icings had mixed together, dripping around and ruining the designs she'd tried to make. Not the kind of result expected from her being a perfectionist and Roman found himself smiling as he watched her look them one by one with her still dirty fingers, until he reached out to take a snowman. It was supposed to be white with a carrot-nose and a scarf he knew it, but the little one didn't have a very happy expression, a bit like her, at least until he swallowed it.

-They taste good – he approved, feeling the aftertaste of spices warming his mouth and he reached out to take another one.

Amazed, Y/N watched him chew the second too, face lighting up, smile emerging again on her soft lips, as she cleaned him from a crumb ended on his beard.

- Really? I should bake them for Santa so. To thanks him for all those gifts no one asked for I guess, what do you say? – she joked, tilting her head.

-I say he can have them, if I can have the chef – he left a kiss on her lips this time, mixing the flavor of Christmas cookies with her own.

He felt her soften without a single thought into his arms, flattening herself almost completely against his chest, clinging to his neck as best she could while avoiding dirtying him with icing and chocolate.

-You taste like cookies – he heard her soft laughing, between one kiss and another, making him groan.

- Yes?

- … uh-huh

He couldn't resist those whispers, even if they were playing, to see her hopelessly happy if they were together. Stealing kiss after kiss, he pulled her onto his body, forcing her legs to wrap around his hips as he placed her on the only empty corner of the kitchen counter. With her warm laughter in his ears, he slid his hands up her soft thighs, climbing higher, until he felt the full texture of that glorious ass, as he stopped kissing her to taste then her neck. By heart, he sucked that point just beyond her collarbone that caused her to shiver, immediately feeling her cling better, squeeze with her laughter which slowly became moans, forgetting about her hands dirty to hug him.

- I hadn’t finished though – she complained, her body seeming to melt like icing from his attentions and Roman slid his hands past her sweatshirt, touching that soft good smelling skin.

- I want my dessert – he demanded seriously and felt her scratching the back of his neck with red nails, drawing a dangerous growl from him that vibrated through the whole kitchen.

Without taking his lips away from her, savoring the inside of her mouth and the soft skin above her breasts, he stripped her of those extra clothes, her hands doing the same to his pants, leaving traces everywhere and making both of them as dirty as the rest. Slowly, Roman took his time to mark her, enjoy everything of that moment, ignoring his already awake boner demanding attention, to dedicate himself to something better, hidden between those infinite legs that refused to leave him. When his long fingers found her, Roman couldn't resist the temptation, dipping a finger into the heat of her perfectly wet pussy to explore the soft, welcoming walls where he wanted to sink until he completely lost himself. Y/N in front of him tightened his grip on his neck, gasping into his arms, gaze fascinated and full of lust as she watched him bring the hand up to lick clean his fingers.

- This one is just for me – he reminded her, feeling her cling to his wrist to place a kiss on the bottom lip, tasting herself too before sliding down with the back to give him all the room he demanded.

Satisfied, Roman helped her lift her thighs, making his way between them, to finally dip himself in that perfect sweet meal, nose sliding between her folds tracing the path before his fat tongue. He took a taste, slow, just with the tip, feeling Y/N's body tremble for attentions and stopped to suck high on that adorable button that made her tremble. Breaths soon became brazen moans and more volume increased, more insistent, hungry Roman became. It was so sweet down there, a bit like that icing with which she had covered cookies but not cloying, it was a flavor that he could no longer live without and that he always tried to milk away, until it dripped down onto his beard, making his mouth salivating. First her button, then that hot entrance and soft walls, puffy, full skin of the lips he loved to kiss as much as the ones up there, running his tongue flat between her, fucking that cave without mercy. Insistently he kept her pressed against his face, choking himself, maneuvering her for more, slow but commanding until Y/N began to delight him with her adorable cries, her back arched and hands trying to grab him for support.

Something next to them fell due to her jerky movements, one of the trays and Roman saw her turn her with a blank look, ending up stretching out his arm, putting the tray and bowl of icing into their place. Y/N smiled, thanking him with a glance and he placed a kiss with devotion on her pussy, his pussy, Roman’s eyes getting darker as he saw Y/N biting her lip as eager as he was at the sight of him now dirty with icing.

- Did you find something for your dessert? – he heard her ask with lust, legs pulling him closer and he grinned.

- I like it with cream on top – he reflected thoughtfully, letting some of the icing on his hand drip between her folds.

He saw her entrance tighten around nothing at the feeling, bewitching and nasty as only Y/N could be with him, only when they were together. Her, who always tried to leave nothing to chance, who controlled every little detail, perfect, impeccable, became something else with him in those moments, stooping to try anything without complaints. She was a dangerous gift, a challenge he had never found in anyone else and that would have brought him to his knees if only she had asked, a power game in which they both had the same hand but used it with complicity.

He ran his fingers between her folds, listening to her mewl, seeing Y/N hold her breath when one of his long fingers slipped some icing inside, mixing it with her juices and the saliva he had already left.

- Ahn… feels so cold mmh – she begged with those eyes that had bewitched him, pushing him to turn his hand, sink a little more to find that welcoming spot that made her cry in absolute bliss.

-Im gonna fill you up – he announced and Y/N squirmed on the counter, between spilled icing and broken cookies, without stopping being finger fucked, because she knew it wasn't with any of those ingredients that Roman wanted to do keep his promise.

Pumping into her opening, he reached down to taste her again, this time licking away the frosting he had spilled, tongue running slowly and hungrily over every inch of her soft, sensitive caramel skin. He sucked on her swollen button, the taste of her body mixing with vanilla, the sweetness of her honey hitting Roman’s mouth along with icing. A beautiful, soggy mess echoing inside his ears, a primal call that made him hungrier and hungrier as his wide mouth tried to devour her alive, kissing and licking her clean.

He loved the choking noise that came from her throat every time his lips sucked one or both of hers down there, the pop wet flesh, nose that ran through her pussy like a credit card ready to be emptied. It was the kind of pussy that had any man tied around a finger, one he would do anything for and it led to devotion, Roman was obsessed with her and looking back he really didn't know how to managed to live without, but it wasn't just that. It was all of her, it was Y/N. She had dangerously become his world even before sharing a house or Christmas together, and it was in unexpected moments like this one that reminded him of it, waking up in the depths of his stomach, inside his head, an impulse that didn't exist even in a ring, with adrenaline running into his veins, cheered by thousands of people. The need with which he had chased her for an entire year, in hotels, arenas and offices, around the country and even beyond the borders, day and night, that grip on lungs of a drowning man.

He kissed her legs, feeling her hands pulling a few locks, knees trembling as she felt him bury himself between those folds, widening that glistening opening with fingers, inserting his tongue to clean her like a mad man until he elicited a scream. Her walls tried to close, to squeeze him, as they would have done with his hard cock and Roman found himself moving his hips aimlessly, seeking relief and refusing to abandon his meal before having reduced her to tears.

He fucked her with his fat tongue, flat and strong, pounding deep into her softness, feeding on that true addicting sweetness, widening his mouth to take in as much as possible, dirtying his beard.

- Plea-aase! R-Ro, Ro! Ah! - he felt her tremble, body struggling on the marble counter, held in his arms in that unnatural pose which Y/N did not refuse to submit to anyway, just to keep her legs on his shoulders to give him everything he wanted.

He knew she was at her limit, but he refused to slow down, craving more, that impulse in his chest that was growing until he felt like was going to explode and pushed him to be savage. He ran his fingers over her button, squeezing it between his fingers to help her and as he licked her again, his tongue flat against the hot opening, Y/N exploded with a silent cry, eyes closed, breath broken. The taste of her was intoxicating, addictive and Roman stood there, as close as possible, accompanying her as she reached her peak, cleansing with dedication. With his eyes fixed on her face, he held her back until her muscles regained some strength, trailing kisses down her flat belly, up her legs, massaging Y/N with his fingers where she still throbbed and only when her shaking hands found him, along with those beautiful eyes, he stood up again.

- I could spend all my life between your legs, babygirl – he admitted menacingly, getting rid of his track that she had already undone and with her breathing still rapid, Y/N invited him, tightening her legs around his hips at the sight of his erection slapping her already swollen center.

- Do what you want, ain't complainin'ahn!-

Sinking until he lost himself, he pulled her to the edge of the counter, fitting into her and giving a long, deep stroke, savoring her warmth and that feeling of constriction, in which she stuck him every time, without giving her time to think again. Oh, he meant to. He really meant it and the thought of her indulging him went to his head enough to push him to speed up without restraint, the slimy sound of their bodies colliding now audible even among the Christmas songs. Head down, holding her open thighs, he watched her honey stain him a little more each time he thrust in, her caramel-colored mountain swelling as his flesh went deeper.

-Mmh… you're so hard – Y/N cried in a soft moan, one hand clinging to his forearm and the other to the counter edge now sticky from the icing and her pleasure.

- I can feel you squeeze around me babe, grab that dick, thats right, let daddy enjoy his pussy, y-yes – he spoke dirty, feeling and seeing her walls sucking him in, abs tense.

- Ooh shit Ro-

More her moans became louder more his hips accelerated, in Roman mind the full intention of wreck her just for himself, drilling in that spot that made her mouth open wide, taking the breath out of her lungs, making eyes close, her belly full. There was just her begging, that gorgeous luscious body of her tense and sweaty, his breath heavy, that fire running up to his mind clouded by the vision of Y/N suffering with pleasure his assault, the hammering of his hard cock. It was an asphyxiating pleasure, a hot and inexorable vice that pulsated around Roman meat, squeezing his flesh and inviting him to go deeper, until he slammed as far as possible to reach complete collapse.

- F-fu-ah! Ah! – he felt her tremble, writhe in spasms and pinned her down, fingers digging into her hips, anchoring her to that place.

- That's it, ah, beg sweetheart, yes, gimme your mess

- pl-leeah! Please!

Groaning, hyping her and himself, Roman pulled one of her legs up higher, slapping a hand into her thigh and Y/N screamed, her head sprawling from side to side, eyes closed and back arching for that new inclination. From there, he could see her moist pearl, the whitish excitement leaking out, dripping onto the marble and down, that wonderful ring that ignited the worst thoughts in him. He felt her walls tighten with more and more insistence, nails digging into his flesh and his belly on fire, while without any warning, already tormented by his attacks, Y/N once again fell apart with a strangled moan.

And so, Roman began to fuck her without mercy, growling, giving vent to every ounce of need in his body and mind, cock sliding deeper and deeper, his hot head pounding inside that sweet cave, taking advantage of her climax and streached walls. Losing all composure, losing himself in a sensation that only Y/N could give him, Roman felt shivers run down his sweaty neck and pumped until muscles burned from the physical effort, once again exceeding the limit, hitting the kitchen counter with his knees.

- Feels so good babygirl, mmmh, so good… - he moaned, while she was still panting and throbbing under him, holding on where she could, letting him go – I'm 'bout to come, lemme fill you up, I need it, I… need… it-ah!

Everything around him seemed to go silent for long minutes, only Y/N and her whispers were still there, her soft eyes that never lost sight of him, full of what he wished was love, that tired smile that widened into a perfect "o", while Roman pressed her against him, letting the fire that had burned him slide into her canal, making his nuts dry and cock throbbing. In an animalistic growl he froze inside her, emptying himself with mind suddenly white, feeling her hands pull him down, making his head rest against her breast. Silently, he gave two final, drunken thrusts to make sure there was nothing left with Y/N trying to push his hair back and leaving heated kisses on his temples. Clinging to her, he waited in that position to catch breath, music slowly starting to make sense again.

- I guess I'll have to start from the beginning... - Y/N complained with an amused breath after a while and Roman looked up, observing the mess they had created and then her, who was distractedly tasting some of the icing that had fallen on the counter.

- Need help? – he asked seriously, very seriously and Y/N stopped with a finger still on her lips, a smile growing like something else in him, once again.

A year earlier he had done everything possible to convince her to stay during holidays. Now that she was finally here, now that they were together and with no one and nothing chasing them, he was going to make the most of every second. Santa had his North Pole and later he would have his cookies, but on the Island of Relevancy was him who dictated times.

Tag squad: @sunnyfleur23 @racerchix21 @alyyaanna @reignsangel444 @romanreignsdefencesquad @romanstheory @claymorexpunisher @keybladeofsteel @msbigredmachine @nayys-world @gobbersworld @utika151209 @cumxxslutt @civildawn @romanmydaddy @triscillal @papireigns-05 @helensanders92 @love-islike-abomb @darqchilddaydreamz @meggylynnloves @unfriendly--blvck--hottie @nicolewoo @reignsx @reigns-central-blog @kianaleani @daguenoire @extra-11 @thedonsfactory @snowpanda18 @brattyfics @mzv11 @romanreignseater @tribalchiefdaily @2baddies2furious @vebner37 @gomussy @depressedneedingrevenge @cyberdejos2 @usosthetics @jxtina-86 @harmshake @southerngirl41 @spritelucozade

[blueberrypancakesworld]

The fathers of Rome

Marcus/Geta/Caracalla x wife!reader

warning : fluff, comfort, crying, kissing a bit emotional, birth, family issues, written before the movie came out characters may be different

Summary : Two Emperors and the general of the army all had important duties and responsibilities but by the grace of the gods and with devotion of love the three most influential men find themselves with the news of a pregnant wife. Each of them has a slightly different approach to taking care of his pregnant wife and the birth, because a birth could always go wrong and the gods were rarely merciful.

info : I wanted to write something sweet for the three of them and I know that they could be good fathers (if you romanticize a little bit) now have fun reading and have a nice day.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Marcus

It was thought that the battlefield was his home and the sword was his wife but few knew that in a vast field of olive trees and wheat fields stood a large villa in which a woman lived with a small household and prayed between her altars to the gods that her beloved husband would return home safely.

A story of a leader of the army of Rome and his wife a former oracle who met him, foretold him his future yet his eyes, his voice and his being would not depart from her own prophecies.

An initial love of safety in times of peace, she appreciated his protective nature in a world that belonged almost entirely to Rome, danger still lurked everywhere. He, in turn, was captured by her grace and care, this devotion to those in need or to himself when she waited on him to heal his wounds and the two felt safe and complete together.

A husband who rushed home on horseback so fast he rode to her from the support posts when the emperors called him back the sleep was won she saw the shadow on the horizon from the balcony and even mounted her horse to meet him, ,,My heart" he embraced her each time still seeing the dirt and emaciation on him after being away for months sometimes years.

His hands closed around her, an embrace, a heartfelt kiss, tears in her eyes when she finally saw him again before they rode back to the villa together, she helped him bathe and wash her before he pulled her into the water himself, not wanting to leave her side and unable to do so for too long, he had missed her, not only her lovely eyes, her voice that he loved to listen to, her hair that he ran through and her hands that he clasped every time he wanted to be close to her but couldn't in public.

But with such intimacy comes love and with love comes desire, desire for each other, desire for each other's bodies and this desire was pursued many nights and on some bright days they were also close until he had to leave again, for the next raid not knowing that only two months after he was gone he received a letter with scrawled writing full of excitement.

A letter that moved him to tears when he read it for the first time, ,,I'm going…to be a father" he mumbled to himself in his tent above and above he realized that love for each other would grow into a life, a little baby that would look like both of them and a big smile stayed on his lips as he hurriedly wrote back to her expressing his joy and his heart, how excited he was himself, how proud he was of her and how much he loved her and praying to the gods that the battle would be won quickly.

The letters changed from weekly to daily as her pregnancy progressed and he received drawings of what she looked like, along with dried flowers she was growing that were made into tea and tinctures to help her body.

The couple were happy with words, kisses seemed to spread across the infinity and she was sent a piece of clothing by Marcus and remembered that he would return to her and their child.

Everything went well until he received the letter that she would go into labor in the next few days, the war took longer than expected, but it was the first and only time he gave his sergeant the lead and started the journey back on his own responsibility, which would take several days, but he had to go to her the fear and worry that something could go wrong that he would lose her or that the child was not healthy.

Fear and worry clutched at his heart as he drove his horse faster and faster as fast as he could back home where he burst through the front door and heard the screams of pain that scared him to death calling her name, he hurried up the stairs to the shared bedroom where he found her crouching by the bed, apparently lying down would lead to complications.

,,Love I'm-I'm here everything will be fine" he murmured hastily pressing kisses on her hand which she immediately grasped painfully and screamed again as she tried to get their child out of her, he could still see the love for him in her tear-stained eyes on her sweat-smeared body they were both covered in blood from the death of the battlefield and the birth of new life as she continued to push and the midwife helped her too.

She screamed out his name her pain and Marcus became more and more afraid of losing her with every pain she had as she continued to hold her giving her courage and hope when his own hands trembled as he heard the ,,I can see the head my lady keep pushing" from the midwife who did everything she could to make the birth as easy as possible.

,,You can do it my heart I'm here push again" he whispered to her as she looked at him in pain he saw the fear and yet the deniability that he was with her before she let out one last scream and he heard a bright scream next to blood splattering on the floor, a bright scream that echoed and seemed never to stop.

,,Congratulations, a healthy baby boy!" the older woman announced, dabbing the newborn baby lightly before wrapping him in linen so he could be held better, while Marcus helped his wife back onto the bed, covering her lightly and giving her a long kiss, ,,I am so very proud my darling," he whispered placing a kiss on her head, before taking his son in his arms, those light, dark hairs on the delicate head belonging to him but the pretty eyes were hers.

His eyes filled with tears of pride and reassurance as he stroked his son and gave her the little bundle she clutched, ,,A piece of love from both of us," she uttered, crying with happiness as she looked into her son's curious face and he chuckled at her as the two parents spent the next few hours together on the bed with pure happiness as the little baby went from laughing with gurgling laughter, to crying and finally falling asleep exhausted in the equally exhausted arms of his parents.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Geta

The younger but stronger emperor of Rome, the warrior and leader who did not subordinate himself and enjoyed the Coloseum. A young man whose golden lure was not the only thing that seemed to be gold, he bought and made whatever he wanted, be it new armor, a sword, an army or even slaves that he could kill or do anything else with.

But in his life, his only blood besides his older brother Caracalla, there was only one marriage predestined by his father that he should marry her.

Pretty, coming from wealth and power but not a woman he had chosen, it was like fate, his father had decided like a god on the life of his son but it had been like that for some time now and as much as the couple was celebrated in public, the false smiles and hand-holding of the inner circle was seen through, they were both torn.

As much as they tried to understand each other and she appreciated his gift of attention to Rome, as much as he thought she was pretty and appreciated her patience as a true virtue, they never seemed to be in the same mood. There never seemed to have been a thread of fate.

,,Can love ever arise from a loveless duty?" she had once asked him when he wanted to retire in the evenings, avoiding her to occupy himself with his important things that his older brother wasn't interested in and always finding an excuse to avoid her.

She saw the guilt disappear from his eyes in the blink of an eye, saw him straighten the rings on his fingers before he replied with a ,,Love comes from the heart… a duty from the words of others" before he left her room and avoided her for another night, a night that followed one after the other until one day they attended his brother's wedding, Caracalla also married a highborn woman and gave the Roman Empire its first heir, as it should be - it was all just a matter of time.

A fact that Geta also knew, even if with a smile his bright eyes wished nothing but death for his sister-in-law, a plague that she and his brother would have to endure,

,,I want to see you in my chamber after the feast and that is not a question" he murmured to his wife who looked at him with an uneasy look, she had seen the looks, knew what was going on in her husband and yet in a horrible fate she felt the duty in her heart she had to bear him an heir.

The festivities dragged on for a long time, but with wine that overwhelmed her senses she distracted herself from what was going to happen, what he was going to do just because his place in the order of precedence would be changed, she followed his words, made a simple excuse and retired to her husband's room.

She had also heard the wine on his lips as that night began with a kiss, senses dazed by wine and yet there was still a kind of tenderness in his touch despite his hatred, she still held him close to her heart, something she clung to as hope.

A hope and love a lust she would not have expected from him overcame the nights of nights she saw for the first time his jealousy coupled with love,.

,,I know you are trying my love" he told her again and again his hand placed on her tree day after day she seemed to realize if she was pregnant until the day one of the midwives and his healer confirmed she was pregnant and a few tests brought the uncertainty to an end.

She still couldn't believe it was true, she felt his arms around her body and words of praise but double-edged words coming at her as Geta looked at her with a look that told her he had never felt more love for her than now, ,,My Empress pregnant with my heir" he murmured and immediately let the news spread everywhere rubbing it straight into the face of his brother and especially his sister-in-law who was not yet pregnant.

The time after that was filled with happiness and yet paranoia, he was only more attached to her, paying attention to everything and having the room for the child decorated with her taste, choosing the furniture and the colors, ,,The room of the future emperor," he announced to her as she leaned on him and saw the room with pictures of heroic deeds and old legends showing victories.

,,A truly impressive room," she admitted and felt her hands relax on her now round belly as time passed, the moons and suns came quickly and her pregnancy increased, the closer she got to the birth the more excited Geta seemed to become, insisting on being present the whole time…an insistence she kept, only a few moons later her contractions came and the palace was filled with screams and weeping.

Geta shouted at the midwives and healers to kill them all or he would kill them personally while he supported his wife with words and did not flinch when her bloodied hand reached for him, ,,You are doing very well I am with you dear, with our son you will make it" he told her again and again kissing her forehead and giving her hopeful kisses until he shouted more death threats until the news came that it was almost done.

The last screams were full of pain and she clung to him even more, the pain increasing with the thought that had plagued her for months and her heart stopped when she heard the voice of the midwife saying ,,My emperor it's a…girl" and the room slowly fell silent, only the shrill cry of the baby could be heard, a baby without the right sex, a girl no heir.

Her heavy breathing and the tears rolling down her cheeks as he pulled away from her with a jerk, she was supported by her midwives who helped her onto the bed and took care of her as best they could while she watched Geta take her daughter in his arms and turn his back on her, not seeing how he looked with this "disappointing" birth.

,,Everyone out now!" he shouted making the little baby cry again and yet everyone complied, ,,Geta I'm-I'm sorry" she started trying to get to him when she heard a sniffle and paused, at first she thought it was the baby but it giggled and a clearing of the throat was heard before he turned to her.

Her worry vanished when she saw his expression it was pride, it was appreciation it was happiness, ,,The future of the empire an empress from the love of her parents…she will become a goddess" he murmured and came to his wife in bed put the baby in her arms and gave the little girl a kiss on the head while he held his wife's hand and gently stroked it.

He was not disappointed he had gotten something so much better, he had gotten love and a wife who was everything to him a family of his own the only imperial family of ancient Rome.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Caracalla

The elder son, the first emperor to rule with his younger but much more suitable brother, a pair of brothers who ruled together and brought Rome to the top of the world with its army and its strength, but above all a young man with a woman at his side.

A woman, the Empress of Rome, beautiful, handsome and caring, popular with the people and not underestimated in politics because of her own country of origin and family…but a young woman without children.

A woman without children from an age when she would not be empress she would take other jobs nor have a choice but an empress was not a politician, a warrior or even a farmer an empress was and should always be a mother first so it has always been but not with her.

The wedding was moons ago and even if it was a little difficult at first their hearts were close she loved her playful husband who was always loving to her and had a penchant for entertainment of any kind.

As long as Carcalla wasn't bored, he knew that his brother was concerned with everything else, including politics, for which he had little taste when it wasn't a matter of attack or execution, she could only entertain him by acting, playing or playing in the arena, and as much as they both enjoyed it, she became more unhappy.

,,Your smile is fading, don't you like it? I can hire a new actor or buy new slaves right away," the blonde immediately offered and waved the troupe out so he could talk to his wife who had been laughing all evening, her hand detached from her belly and handed him the parchment he had skimmed over in the morning.

A parchment with the emperor's seal, a message from his brother that Geta had taken a wife of his own on a state visit, ,,The betrothal and wedding, what's with that, starlet?" he asked, tossing the paper carelessly aside before rising and going to the table of fruit and helping himself to the grapes.

He didn't understand the seriousness, the worry or even what it meant for the future, not that they hadn't slept together often, the wedding night had been consummated and they had often shared the bed but it had never led to anything, she rose from her chair and went to him, taking his hand and seeking his gaze.

,,Cara. ..you're still the older one, a duty is on me and I don't know if I can ever give you…an heir" she said the lump in her throat almost cutting off her voice hoping he would understand.

She saw the humor fade from his face and he considered before he gave an almost stunned expression and grabbed both her hands hastily, squeezing them and locking them in a hasty kiss over and over until she broke away to catch her breath, ,,Please I-it may well be me…all this he may be the politician but I am the elder, the first and you do your duty every day you are with me.

,,I leave no room for doubt, do you understand?" he demanded and she found his hopefulness, confidence and euphoria truly inspiring that a small smile crept onto her lips before he took her in his arms the imperial couple found themselves together again that night, taking help from potions, tinctures and many other forbidden practices that they hardly left the bedchamber together for the next few days.

It was clear to everyone what was happening behind the closed doors but after trying and trying this hope was to pay off with her first discomfort and the first change, ,,Congratulations my Emperor you are finally pregnant" the healer announced as he listened to the results of the test and her report, her tears wetting the tunic of her husband who hugged her and twirled around and was all the more pleased.

The news also pleased the people and even when she saw the looks on Geta's face and his wife she knew she had done her duty she would give Rome an heir, she had not disappointed Caracalla, ,,You can never let me down everything will go well the gods are with us" he told her reading she put up stowage in the child's room and her own for the next moons so that she was protected and the child inside her.

The protection seemed to help Geta until a point, and everything seemed to go well until the day of the birth, when blood and tears covered the floor, ,,What's wrong with my wife?" Caracalla who was holding her hand on the bed but the dagger at his side seemed to slaughter anyone who did anything wrong.

He kissed her hands and fingers, tried to cool her forehead with cool cloths and tell her again that she was doing well, ,,It seems that the Empress is pregnant with twins," said one of the midwives who had already brought out the size of the belly and the prolonged birth.

It was news she needed to cry out and Caracalla was filled with joy which he only showed when she continued to scream and push with the help of Caracalla who got into a kneeling position and the moments of pain merged until the first child was pushed out, ,,A boy!" the midwife shouted and took care of the little creature while the younger one continued to hold on to her husband.

The blonde gave her a proud kiss on the head, ,,Do you hear that? Our son love you can do it I am here" he murmured over and over until another cry from her side and a second bright cry told them that it was done that night a boy and his sister were born, Caracalla proudly and happily held the little babies and immediately spoke to them while praising them over and over.

The little family was not only complete but was now a little conversation of their own for each other, they had brought themselves together through love and received two sweet little gifts because they believed that their love was stronger than anything else.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@morallyinept

@parvanovel -> I konw pregnancy is one thing but it's fluff so have fun :)

@sweetpascal

[the-kingshound]

Continuing the 'missing-my-siblings-hours', but, it's Osia, and before anything, I'd like to declare that in here, MC's dead.

This day couldn't get any worse. Osia thought, as she slices off the letter sent from the other noble Houses. Not when there's no one else to annoy her.

Her morning, as usual, started off perfectly. The water were neither too cold or too hot, the latest proposal to the Emporer had been approved, Saraah was not here at all... Hphm! There's no way she'd be thinking of him!

The face of her useless bother popped up in her mind only agitated Osia even further. She gritted her lips, in a force that's so harsh in no doubt she could've bite off whoever dared to cross her way.

Osia halted when she realized something was wrong. Years passed since she last interacted with the rest of the family but her sister, Adrei, and their recent letters bought news of MC's been on the battlefields to fight off another land's rebels.

Dog. Osia chuckled as she pushed down her nerves. Good for her though, being useful to both Crowns.

For a second, she was afraid. However, Osia's always been a warrior as well, only that her swords does not sway across the battlefields, but among the peeping eyes that gathered on her. And it always bought chill to Osia, to be under the spotlight.

She proceeded to cut off the string attached with her dagger, ignoring the slight sting and blood drops that flowed from her thumb.

And she couldn't believe what she'd just read.

No. This can't be... She'd powerful. Strong. Her magic are wild and controlled. If not, Father and Mother, at alone Adrei, wouldn't sent her to the battlefields——

What's the King doing!? Where were the knights!? It, it should've been them!? Anyone but her!?

Osia couldn't breathe through for a moment. Her mind went beyond the year Mother was pregnant, and she'd been there with the rest of her siblings, when MC, was born. She remembered holding her, and there's Saraah annoying her, telling the newly born infant bad jokes.

She'd told her. Osia closed her eyes, and the anxiety in it were gone next. That they're nothing but weakness.

Osia walked up to her wardrobe. Now, they'd needed a gown. Precisely all black. Adrei could wait a bit longer, surely her sister won't mind.

Osia let the blood bleed even longer than she noticed.

(So, this is my take on Osia. I honestly went with my own flow. And I hope I've captured her well.)

Osia lays in bed.

She hasn't been able to sleep for four days. Beside her, her husband's usual place is empty. If he followed her commands, he should be negotiating with Lord Argal now. She had gripped hos wrist and hissed, "do not come back home without the answer we want."

But even the thought of that task being fullfilled doesn't spark any kind of satisfaction in her. The only thing she is able to feel is the gnawing, horrible black void expand and expand ever since-

Abruptly, anger fills her entire body. She gets up without her usual calculated composure and she grips the wooden sword at the bedside table.

It was her stupid sibling's firs training weapon. Osia rembers the vile words she called them, watching over coldly as they had to get up from the ground again after another idiotic, careless error.

She hurls the wooden sword against the wall with an animalistic growl.

Again, she feels bile in her mouth, the same she would feel when, the next day, a Lady had said, coldly, "now that his guard dog is gone, I wonder who will King Arthur take in marriage to replace them."

Osia would sneer, and hiss at her face in a slightly cracking voice, after having grabbed her by the throat, "shut the fuck up or I'll make you."

[xuchiya]

c.san {my sweet frosting}

cafe love m.list || k.hongjoong || p.seonghwa || j.yunho || k.yeosang || c.san || s.mingi || j.wooyoung || c.jongho

The aroma of freshly baked cupcakes wafted through the air, a siren song that led you straight to Cafe Love, you were new to the whole city of Seoul— a foreigner— so with this smell as you first took your walk in the morning. And now with the love of the smell and the love for food decorating, you caught yourself a job, not so far from your apartment.

 Inside, the staff bustled about, each with a designated role – the barista with a practised flick of the wrist pouring latte art, the cashier rattling off witty greetings, and a girl, hair a mess of sunshine curls, haphazardly placing cupcakes in the glass display case.

That girl, is you, was the embodiment of "charmingly clumsy." You earned that nickname when you accidentally ran your hand on your hair whilst it was dirty with flour, creating highlights of white on your black hair. The baker shakes his head, patting your head as to help you clean your hair and to also congratulate you for getting yourself a job as the food decor.  

As you fumbled with a particularly frosted blueberry muffin, a voice, smooth as caramel, startled me, "Excuse me, miss?" 

“Yes sir?” Turning, you bumped into the cupcake stand but your eyes immediately settled on the man, tall and handsome with kind eyes hence looking like a cat glaring eyes, pointed to his own cheek, a question in his gaze. Mortified, you mirrored his action yet no clue why you were copying him.

Your fingers, however, seemed determined to paint stripes across your nose instead. Another swipe, another miss. By the third attempt, your cheeks resembled a battlefield of frosting and flour.

Before you could self-destruct entirely by embarrassing yourself by copying the man without knowing you were making a huge mess on your face. A whole canvas of frosting and flour on your cheeks, nose and forehead. The man stepped forward, a gentle smile playing on his lips. With a practised ease that hinted at similar clumsiness in his past, he brushed the frosting and flours off your face with his napkin.

And that moment there, time seemed to slow down, everything seemed to blur except for the man in front of you; he is the definition of a ‘chivalry is not dead’. It was just the two of you, the gentle brush of his fingers, the sweet scent of the cafe, and a warmth spreading through me, not just from the embarrassment.

Suddenly, a booming voice jolted us back to reality. "San, my man! People are waiting for their macchiatos!" Your eyes and his attention diverted to Wooyoung, who had a frown look on his face; both you and San’s face turned red.

The man, "San" apparently, chuckled. "Okay okay Woo, I’m just grabbing my muffin." He winked at you, a silent promise of a proper conversation later. "It was, uh, nice meeting you… Miss Frost." Your cheeks burned hotter than a fresh cup of coffee, but a smile stretched across your face. "It was also nice meeting you, San."

He waves goodbye to you, turning to Wooyoung, “See you tomorrow Woo!” You watch him turn a corner, disappearing completely out of your sight. You sigh in content, your hand gripping a soft cloth on your fist. You look down to see a handkerchief with an initial of ‘C.S’ on the edge of the cloth, you immediately think of the S to be the same man, San.

You panic for a bit until you notice a note inside, you pull it out to see a small piece of paper, revealing the letter inside; you read silently.

‘If it wasn’t for the frosting on your cheek, I wouldn’t be able to talk to you. Though whether you have frosting or not, I would still dare myself to talk to you.

' I’ll come back here again so you could return this handkerchief and maybe, your name too and also can I also ask for a date to where I can take you?’ 

The rest of the day passed in a blur of smiles and leap of heart as you continued working whilst thinking of the feline eye gentleman. Your cheeks aching at the thought of the next day and the cloth gleaming silently inside your apron as you finish up your frosting on the cupcakes and muffin displays. 

San looked at the paper bag at the corner of his office table with a small lettering on it.

‘Enjoy Mr. Frost.’ 

He chuckles at your attempt but his heart soars at the thought of leaving you a note and his attempt of asking you out. He looks forward to seeing you again and maybe this time, he will be smudged with your colorful life.

[christinebloodwrittings]

Engraved on the knowledge tree.

Request by: @white-00-7

Pairing: Lucifer x Fem!Angel-Reader Summary: It is said that time turns people you know into people you don't anymore. When your prayers weren't answered, you decided to visit your dearest friend, in Hell. Warnings: Slight angst, Adam and Eve mention, fluff, NSFW.

“Dearest Sami:

I have heard of your new position in the heavens, congratulations! You must be very happy, as I am for you. The flowers of the garden are exquisite, I’ll bring you a few when I go up to visit. How are you now, are you still picking fights with Michael?

Yours truly, Y/n, principality of the south wall.”

“Dear Y/n:

Principality, oh my! I guess I’m not the only one with a big promotion. I am well, swarmed with papers of matters that yet don’t exist, if that was possible. I have a proposition for a new animal, I will show it to the council and let you know what they tell me.

And Michael is still a pain in everybody’s shoes, certainly someone’s been putting something in his oatmeal every morning, not that I have anything to do about it…or maybe I have.

How are things in the garden? I heard the big man was about to make something new.

Yours truly, Samael Morningstar”

“Dearest Sami:

My word! A new animal? I hope it is fluffy or cute, but that is perfectly capable given your gifted mind. And yes, the big boss is creating something he called “People”, we have yet to wait on his final design, he has tried many methods to create one, but they crumble down.

Don’t bother your sibling, Sami, you know you’ll get in trouble again. I hope you succeed in your presentation.

Yours truly, Y/n, principality of the south wall.”

“Dear Y/n:

I indeed succeeded! Soon you’ll see what will be called a duck floating in the lake of the garden, it has both yellow and white feathers, with a beak on their faces! Most adorable.

What is he making them with? I heard he’s going to try mud next; I do hope that works now.

 Which leads me to the next question: at what full moon will you bless me with your company here? I have no one to annoy Michael with, I miss you!

Waiting for your letter, loved the little gardenia inside.

Yours truly, Samael Morningstar”

“Dearest Sami:

I am so glad you liked it! He has succeeded as well! He calls it a “Man”, he’s oddly like us, without our immortal glow and wings of course, he looks simple and fragile, but strong. Adam, the first man! Very smart as well.

I am afraid I have to stand guard, big boss’s orders, so the day I had planned going up had been postponed. I’m so sorry.

Here’s a loose feather of your latest creation! Cute as they can be, the human was the first to caress them. The feathers are the softest thing I have ever felt, even more so than petals. You are brilliant Sami!

Yours truly, Y/n, principality of the south wall.”

“Dearest Y/n:

Oh my! It’s better than I had ever imagine! Though it fills me with grief knowing that I won’t see my dearest friend in a while, but no one can fight against the big man.

I have heard that the man feels alone, so he will be making him a companion, what he calls a woman. To be his equal and support.

The first one to jump on the idea was cupid, as you can imagine, she loved it, so much that she and the big man are discussing her appearance.

Thank you for the feather, still, I would like to see you.

Yours truly, Samael Morningstar”

After Lilith was created, there was almost no letters from Samael. You, dearest reader, couldn't imagine why.

There was an exact number of twelve letters sent to Samael, but the only one that came back, when the skies were tainted red, was to join the fight against a rebellious angel and his legion of insurgents.

Armed and sadly ready to make a move as the front line, you saw Samael, your friend at the other side of the battlefield, your heart crumbled as you were hit by your comrades running off to battle.

An arrow sent you against the ground, then the fire burnt most of your wings and skin as you retreated, last thing you saw was a blinding light, then all of the rebellious team sank down on the ground, including your beloved friend, who had in his arms the first woman.

After the light, fire stars showered down from the skies, one last deed before the angels fell from the heavens, pass the grounds of earth to the new kingdom, Hell.

Your once pearly skin was tainted with burn marks, golden patches colliding with the pale hue. The pain spread across your arm, portions of your torso and multiple specks on your face, similar to freckles but in reality, those were tiny fire marks from when they collapsed on the ground.

Ever since that day, Samael turned into Lucifer.

“This is absurd! How in the- HOW was she able to redeem a sinner?” you heard Sera yell on the other side of her conference room. “Who cares?! The princess did it, there’s hope for hell after all!” Emily cheered and with reason, redemption down there seemed impossible, now it’s a reality Heaven must seize.

“Y/n! can I ask you a favor?” Emily peeked her head out from the door, “Sure miss” you replied, after there was no garden to guard, you were put as a regular soldier, just making sure everything is as perfect as it always seems to be.

“I need you to take this letter to Charlie Morningstar, okay?” why she didn’t go herself? Because as a seraphim she would have to go through Michael and the rest to be allowed to do so, and that could take another hundred years.

“Sure thing, your eminence” you walked away from the building, eyeing through the door the snake winner, internally speechless.

The portal was opened in direction to the Heaven Embassy. As you walked around the streets, sinners looked at you both in fear and repulsion, you couldn’t blame them really, “Fear not, I do not with to harm you” it work in matters that they started to ignore you, resuming they lives. Though you couldn’t stop hearing the screams and nasty comments made.

“You bitch, is your fucking angels fault!” a demon yelled before throwing a stone your way, hitting your shoulder, so a lot of other demons cue in throwing stones at your body. You dismissed the act and kept walking, knowing that if you retaliate things could escalate and become worse.

Besides, after the fire burnt your skin, you almost didn’t feel anything on your back.

The shiny building named ‘Hazbin Hotel’ had a different aura surrounding it, no wonder they were able to redeem someone.

You knocked on the door a few times, a cat like demon opened, his eyes wide as he eyed you up, “What do you want?” he bitterly asked, defensively, “Exterminators gave us a bad rep, huh?” you tried to ease the tension, “I’m here to speak with Miss Morningstar” he looked at the sword attached to your hip, “Loose the sword” he spit, his ears pinned down behind his head, “If it makes you feel safer, here, just don’t let it go into the wrong hands” when he had the weapon on his hand he stepped aside.

“Husk, is everything okay?” your previous dead like feeling melted away, she was the living image of your friend, exactly the same lovely feeling he used to irradiate, “Oh hi! Welcome to the Hazbin hotel!” she took your hand, pulling you further inside, “Oh wow, those are the greenest eyes I’ve ever seen!” she took your face in her hands, rising a golden blush on your face, seeing pass her glow to see just his image, and adoring the same reaction upon meeting you.

“Lovely to meet you, princess, my name is Y/n. I have come with a letter from the Seraphim Emily” you tried to fix your emotions by detach yourself from them, almost impossible when she looked so much like Lucifer, it hurt your insides, even more than your scars.

“Since when soldiers like yourself deliver correspondence?” you heard the red smiling demon jest from the other side of the parlor, “Since the garden of Eden faded” did he meant soldier as an insult? Or he made reference to your wounds? You fidgeted with a strand of your long silver mane.

“I didn't know angels could have freckles” an ex-exterminator made an observation, “Those are burns Maggie, I recognize my own work when I see it” the voice of the former archangel sent a shiver up your spine, thousands of years without hearing his voice made you almost forget it.

Your stomach twisted inside your body, much like Lucifer’s when you turned around and saw you. You were given the image of a lion for your strength and brave heart, he always made a mess of your hair when he wanted to pet your fluffy ears, saying that in between all the angels with your same physique, you were one of a kind, given your white fur instead of the caramel looking one.

He had always made you feel special, and just like that he turned his back on you.

“Y/n, principality of the south wall” he seemed a stranger to that name, centuries without saying it out loud, “Lucifer Morningstar, king of Hell” you curtsied, and oh how it hurt his pride. “No need for that, Y/n, I’m so glad to see you well” he extended his hand, repressing jumping to hug you, given that the last thing he saw as he fell was you under a bunch of his flames.

“Likewise” you felt his hand, rough and calloused, “Will you stay for dinner, or you have to fly back?” you couldn’t fly anymore, just to show him you expanded your backbones, allowing him to see the naked bones lacking flesh and feathers, “Even if I wanted to, I can’t, but the embassy isn’t far away”.

He remembered your wing ceremony, those were hours and hours of soaring creation by his side, enjoying your freedom, and because of him, you were stranded in the ground like a defeated bird.

The room was in a mix of awe and pity, seeing the damage created by a war made for love, then the princess interrupted with the news of her redeemed friend, it was all laughter and joy. But for some reason Lucifer couldn’t stop looking at you, all that damage, all the pain and recovery that you must’ve endured.

“Y/n, you’ll have to stay” he worded that sentence so weird, he had to make another go with it pointing the sky, clouded and dripping. “It’s just rain, I can walk just fine” the radio demon cleared his throat, calling your attention, “It’s acid rain, my dear, I’m afraid you won’t make it pass the door” upon the demon’s hand on your shoulder Lucifer’s eyes turned red for a fraction of a second.

“In that case, princess, would you mind sparing a room? I’ll leave first thing in the morning” she dismissed you calling her princess, “Call me Charlie, and yes, but the rain lasts at least a couple of weeks” you found weird that she stuttered her sentence, so much you thought she was lying.

“Charlie, if you want me to stay for some reason you can just say so” she fiddled with her suit, “I mean is true that the rain lasts a few days, but I want you to see what we can do to redeem sinners, and you could pass the message?” her way to ask for her hotel sake and her father’s was cute, you were unknowing of the latter though.

“Very well” you felt her snaping your back in the tightest hug ever, “Oh thank you, thank you!” she yelled into your chest, “Ah, Charlie I love you, but let her go please, you have yet to control your strength” Vaggie ran to your side, to take her girlfriend away from you, only then both your soul and the air came back to you.

“Like father like daughter” you muttered breathlessly, Alastor holding your arm to support you, “Really?” she lighted up even more, as if that was possible. “Exact quality hug, but he broke two ribs in the process” you let out a laugh, this time the one with the golden blush was lucifer.

“Miss Y/n, you must be tired, how about I escort you to a room?” Alastor took the opportunity to kiss the back of your hand as he pulled you towards the stairs, only to be blocked by Lucifer, “I think is best for me to do it, she’s my friend” he made an emphasis on ‘my’ when he spoke, trying to take your hand from his, but Alastor took his feet away with his tendrils coming from the floor.

“I am the host of the hotel; it is my duty” his smile grew on his face, focusing only in getting into Lucifer’s skin, he didn’t noticed you walking away, “I’m the king of hell!” Lucifer roared annoyed. “Charlie dearest, how about you take me? You are the owner of the hotel” she giggled awkwardly seeing the scene, “This way, ignore them, they do this every day” her comment made you let out a laugh, “I can imagine”.

Lucifer watched you go away with Charlie, the sway of your hips along with your hair falling down to your middle back, made him feel a tingle going up and down his body. “She is a majestic sight to behold” the drop that made Lucifer snap from his stare, “Touch her again, and I’ll forget you are friends with my daughter, bellboy” poor Alastor saw dots of light, when the king hit exactly where his wound was.

Later that night, after Charlie had gifted you a robe and a toothbrush set to use, you stared at the city, seated in a sofa chair next to the window, a cup of tea that Husk had made for you, as a way to apologize for his bitter attitude earlier, which you smiled and told him that it was rather admirable of him, to be so invested in protecting his friends.

You heard a knock, “Y/n? Are you awake?” you thought for a minute, before getting on your feet and adjust your robe. Lucifer was outside your door, his tail wrapped around his leg for moral support, his heart on his throat as he had told himself over a hundred times to just go and talk with you, before actually running down the stairs to your room.

Your mind was plagued with thoughts as well, what might he want? Is he going to apologize for what happened? Is he just going to catch up with you? But of course your body was faster than your mind, because you had opened the door.

Your divine light illuminated his eyes, rising the blush once again when he saw you mere in a long robe, “Yes?” you softly asked, “Do you- ehem, would you like to talk? I mean with me? Not that you couldn’t with anyone else, just- I mean this situation, can we?” you laughed at his ramble, “Come in” his tail lightened around his leg as he entered your room.

“So, uhm, it has been a while” he sat in the chair opposite to yours, “It has” you took another sip of your tea, “Azrael took your place to annoy Michael, the other day he found a roach in his coffee” the ice breaker worked just fine, Lucifer discarded his hat on a side, and laughed his heart out imagining the scene, “And here I thought the angel of death had no sense of humor” he said in between laughs, “You would be surprised” you took another sip.

He swallowed a tight ball of saliva as you crossed one leg over the other, allowing your shiny skin flash him for a second, “I wrote to you nonetheless” his eyes traveled up to your piercing green eyes, “You did?” he heard a low ‘mmh’ before your answer, “I received a letter from the queen, saying that you didn’t wanted to associate with someone like me” you materialized the letter, reading it out loud.

“Estimated Y/n.

I would like you to stop sending your letters, my husband is beyond your pity and sympathy. He doesn’t with to associate with someone like you. We are pretty much done with heaven after what happened.

I suggest you start acting with more dignity and stop trying to romance a married man.

Regards, Lilith Morningstar, queen of Hell.”

You dropped it to the ground, “I kept writing though, eventually, I just tossed my quill and paper, hopeless” he went on his knees, taking the letter into his hands, before looking up from your legs to your face, “Even after…that?” another hum, “Well, it was almost for nothing, she left me seven years ago” you didn’t know whether to give up the façade and offer him some kindness or continue, “That’s unfortunate” you said out of nothing.

“I think apologizing isn’t the best way to go here” his hand was suddenly on your calf, just feeling your softness, “So, can I tempt you? So maybe the next time I see you will be sooner than ten thousand years?” his yellow hue eyes shone in the dead of night right against your leg, in which he rubbed his cheek.

“I- I can’t, what will they say?” he smiled, pushing himself up, his chest slowly rising against your knee, until his face was inches from yours, “If they throw you out of heaven, I promise to catch you” he whispered, “Don’t play with me, devil” you warned, the light white fur on your neck spiked up as a response of the amount of chills his sudden touch on your hips was given you.

“I’m not, I promise I’m not, but as a matter of facts, I had a dream about you” your leg fell from your opposite knee, giving him accidentally, the opportunity to push himself between them. He took your face in his hands, caressing strands of hair away as he settled his sight on your eyes.

“Your eyes remind me of the grasslands of Eden, of the first emeralds, they are so full of life and beauty, just like the bearer. I won't say that the dream haunted me, because I was really waiting for the light of hell to come down just to dream of you, seven consecutive years since my wife left me”

Tears burned their way down your face, “I…missed you too” his breath was so suddenly close, you shut your eyes without knowing what to expect. He smiled, you were still you, “Y/n” he called you, “Tell me you enjoy being a soldier, and I’ll walk away” subtle, lovely, a kiss to your upper cheek, right below your eyes, catching a tear that slipped.

“I don’t, but you just left, and when she comes back, you’ll leave again” “Not this time” “You promise?” “I promise” he waited a couple of seconds for you to say something else, your face was so conflicted, he didn’t knew if you didn't wanted him, or you hated him, but he had no response.

Your lack of words guided his hand to cup your face with one hand, gently at first, then he slipped pass your hair to the back of your head and pulled roughly until he could devour your mouth like he had dreamed, biting, without regard, the soft flesh of your lips.

"Kitten, you taste better than I could ever dream" he lowered his head to your collarbone and from there to your chin he licked like a snake getting a taste of his prey. The sensation of his rough forked tongue sent a shiver down your spine.

You wanted to resist, but his kisses, were so skillful, his hands suddenly grabbed your hips, lifting you up with ease, automatically you hooked your legs behind his back, then your hands flew to hang on his shoulders.

Your back hit the soft bed, in one swift motion, still having at least one hand on your hips to keep you grounded.

He wanted to have you, fast, but also take his time, the bulge in his pants wasn’t making his situation any better for him. You were damned and lost in his caresses, your hands were all over his back and hair, his own matching your movements, while his pelvis teased yours, rub after rub, both undergarments were soaking wet.

As time went by, your doubts dissipated in between his hungry kisses. He sat up, with his hands he threw his coat aside and opened his shirt for you to see, waiting to see if you wanted to escalate or maybe tone things down a notch, he was fine as long as he could still make your lips all swollen as they were.

He watched your hands travel down to the straps of the robe, undoing the knot and allowing him to see the light pink lace lingerie you were wearing. Your pale skin, the lingerie, plus the golden burn marks made such a nice color palette on you, he felt he turned harder just seeing all he could have If he had made the right choice in the garden.

“Do I look that good, seducer?” he noticed your lips moving but it was as if he was in a trance, you were just so “Divine” he let out while going down against your belly, leaving kisses on every rough burnt spot, “I’m so sorry” your hand was petting his head, making him drop moans of his own as you did every time he touched you.

“Do you always wear this under your armor? Or you were hoping to see me?” your blush and the way your eyes moved away from him proved you guilty, “My, my, if I didn’t knew better my dear, that puts you in line to be damned for the sin of lust” his tail caressed the inside of your thigh a few times as he purr those words, making you shake in anticipation.

“Will that turn me into a sexy demon?” he laughed, his tail flicking against your clothed bundle of nerves skillfully, “I’ll see to it if you allow me to” his teeth bit into your neck, not drawing blood but enough to add to your collection, “Lucifer, please” you moaned breathlessly, “May I taste you?” his horns popped out of his head as he looked on your eyes for consent, “Fuck it, yes” his disheveled look was a such a tripping hazard.   

Your robe hanged on your elbows as you looked up to see what he was up to, he was kissing the inside of your thigh while he discarded your panties, having the sight of your wetness all to himself. Looking directly to you he wet his lips before licking you clit, making you shiver, then your legs were secured on his shoulders before he went in.

Lapping your folds like a starved man, drinking in your essence like it was the finest wine, he delighted himself in your beauty, “At this rate, I’ll end up corrupting you, my sweet kitten” he took your soft tail in his hand, twisting it around his arm. “Will you make yourself responsible?” he purred in response, taking in his teeth, gently, your clit, teasing a moan out of your throat, “Why of course darling, if you think I’m letting you go easy now, you’re dreamin’ baby” he winked, making his way up, with a flick of his fingers his clothes were gone, as well as your robe.

“I’m truly sorry about what happened” you pulled him up for a heated kiss, tasting yourself in his lips as you did. He then asked for permission for the main thing, in which you said yes in between kisses. His hips collided with yours with each thrust, the sound of skin slapping and the wet sounds filled the room, as did your moans and his.

Ecstasy was a word you wouldn't use for that moment it was too simple. Suddenly there was a knock on your door, “Y/n? Are you okay, we heard a noise” you looked down and your cup was smashed against the floor, you must’ve knocked it at some point.

Panic filled Lucifer’s mind at the voice of his daughter on the other side, “I’m fine Charlie, I merely knocked a cup accidentally, go back to sleep” you heard her say an ‘Okay’ accompanied with a yawn.

He then took himself out of you for a few seconds, then pulled your body towards him, rotating your hips until you were on all fours. He grabbed your hair and he continued fucking you, the thrusts getting stronger and more accurate.

"Stay here, with me, please" he breathed against your ear, to which you couldn't respond, the heat clouded your senses, a warm feeling crawled up your core to your chest, a feeling you knew the meaning of.

"You’re squeezing me so tight" he said in between panted laughs, "Stay, please" you shook your head, “Please love” he bit your shoulder, seeing the golden blood turn red as it went down your back, “There’s no turning back now, anyways, you’re stuck with me” he started thrusting with his life when he saw your eyes turn black, your iris still as green as it was.

“Mine, MINE” he growled, hands on yours as he felt you squeeze him as you came. “Yes, yours” you spoke out of breath, mind blown entirely.

His six long wings had spread out when he finished, so he took the opportunity to take your body in his arms and wrap you in the pile of soft, warm feathers, filling your face with kisses as he positioned both under the covers, “We’ll clean up tomorrow, I don’t want to let you go” you laughed as he whispered those words with kisses under your chin, “Please don’t ever” you hugged his back with one arm, the other hand scratching his head, pulling out a purring sound from him.

You were far too corrupted to go back now.

[summerclementine27]

Sign of The Times 🌹

Summary: Harry Styles is a Roman General who led his legions to many victories. He was favoured by the Emperor and known as an honourable General. Everyone also knows that he loves his wife, Y/N, more than anything, more than victory even, and dreams of seeing her again.

Time and place: Roman Empire sometime between 180 - 192 AD

warnings: bit of smut, breeding, and also old timey vibes due to roman era (so the smut is written in a funky old timey way but i decided to post it anyway).

notes: this is part three of my series of Harry Styles one shots that are inspired by his first album, I’m not doing the stories in order of the tracklist, and I also know that I am changing the meanings of the songs to fit the stories so for instance, sign of the times is about a mother who is dying while giving birth, but I changed it to be about a wife who is urging her husband to come back.

- pics of Harry or AI from Pinterest and the inspiration for this fic is gladiator lol.

The dust of Germania still clung to my skin, mixing with the iron scent of blood that had dried on my tunic. The battlefield had been ours, a victory to be sung by bards and etched into the annals of Rome. But as my men celebrated, raising goblets of wine to their lips, my thoughts wandered far from the camps and the spoils of war.

I could feel the ache in my side where the enemy's blade had found its mark—a shallow wound, they said. Easily mended with time and rest. Yet I craved neither the salves of the medics nor the comforts of the Roman city.

My thoughts were with Y/N, the woman who had waited for me through the years of war, who had kept my heart safe even as my body waded through the carnage of battle. The memory of her letters, the soft parchment that had borne her words across the miles, was a balm to my weary soul.

I cared for nothing as much as I cared for her, for all I prayed for during these years of battle was her safety. “Blessed father, watch over my wife with a ready sword. Whisper to her that I live only to hold her again, for all else is dust and air.” I recited every night, yearning to be in my ethereal wife's embrace once more, where the weight of the world would melt away in the serenity of her seraphic presence.

One of her last letters had arrived not long before the battle. I could still hear her voice in the words she had penned, a voice that had carried me through the darkest nights. I drew the letter from my belt, the parchment worn from too many readings, and let my eyes trace the familiar lines:

“My dearest Harry,” the letter began, “as I write this, I can feel the sun warming my skin, and I think of you, far away in the cold lands of the north. I miss you with every breath I take, and I pray for your safe return each night before I sleep. The fields here are flourishing, the olive trees heavy with fruit, but without you, this bounty feels hollow. The land awaits your return, as do I. I long for the day when you will return to me, when I can hold you in my arms once more, and we can live in peace, away from the horrors of war.”

Her words were sweet, like honeyed nectar upon the lips of a lover, gentle and soothing at first. Yet, as I read on, they grew earnest and urging, the ink heavy with her profound concern. My eyes were drawn irresistibly to the portion of her letter that held the deepest weight for my heart:

“Yet I know, as you read these words, your soul is entrenched in the depths of war, I understand that your mind is consumed with thoughts of victory, that your heart beats with the pulse of battle. But remember, my love, that while you fight for the glory of Rome, Rome shall endure, as she always has. It is you who may not, and it is you I fear to lose.”

Her words were like a gentle whisper, coaxing me back to the world beyond the battlefield. "I beg you, take care of yourself and do not tempt death, for you cannot bribe the door on your way to the sky, you cannot offer coin to the gatekeeper of the heavens, nor sway him with silver as you ascend. You look good down here on this mortal realm anyway. Do not die for Rome, live for her.”

“What shall become of us if we never learn? We have been here before, me tending to the fields of Hispania and you running from the arrows and swords, yet the two of us with the same fate; always caught stuck and running from the bullets. I know what the emperor demands of you, and I know you have led many battles to victory. You hesitate to leave, but you must, my love; you must find your way back to me. Just stop your crying, for this is but a sign of the times.

Stop your weeping, and have the time of your life. Break through the atmosphere of war and bloodshed, things are pretty good from here, Remember, everything will be alright.

Come home to me, my love, come back.”

I closed my eyes, letting the words wash over me, a balm for my weary soul. Come home to me, my love. The phrase echoed in my mind, a mantra that had sustained me through the darkest moments of the campaign. It was these words that had driven me to push forward, to fight for Rome but also to fight for my retirement. To earn the rest of my life back and spend it with my divine wife.

As I rode back to the camp, the letter tucked safely away once more, I repeated the words to myself. “Come home to me, my love.” It became a rhythm, a beat that matched the thudding of my heart, the pounding of my horse’s hooves against the ground. Each step brought me closer to her, to the life we had built together, and to the future that awaited us.

The camp was abuzz with the clamour of soldiers and the scent of roasting meat as I entered, my body still bearing the marks of battle and the weight of victory. The Emperor, draped in his imperial regalia, stood amidst his entourage, his presence commanding the respect of every man within sight. I approached with the measured steps of one who has fought hard and earned his rest.

He turned his gaze upon me, his eyes as sharp as the glint of his ornate armor. “General Styles,” he intoned, his voice carrying the authority of the throne, “when was the last time you were home?”

I stood tall, the weight of his question a heavy mantle upon my shoulders. “Two years, two hundred and sixty-four days, and this very morning,” I answered, my tone steady and resolute. The Emperor’s eyes narrowed slightly, perhaps in surprise or contemplation, as he considered my words.

His gaze lingered on me with a mixture of respect and expectation. “You have led our legions with great skill and valor, General. Rome still has need of such a commander. I urge you to remain in your esteemed position, to continue guiding our armies with the same honor and prowess you have so richly displayed.”

A solemn silence fell over the tent, the air thick with the weight of his request. I took a deep breath, my thoughts drifting back to the letter from my beloved wife, and to the quiet promise of peace that awaited me.

“Your Excellency,” I began, my voice steady but imbued with the gravity of my decision, “I have fought and bled for Rome, and I have served with every ounce of my strength. But my heart and soul yearn for a different path now. I have earned this respite, this time to lay down my sword and return to the life I once knew.”

The Emperor regarded me with a measure of frustration, his fingers drumming upon the armrest of his gilded throne. “You have been a pillar of our military might, General. To leave now, at the zenith of your glory, seems a disservice to the empire that has benefited so greatly from your leadership.”

I met his gaze with unwavering resolve, feeling the echoes of my wife’s words in my heart. “It is not disservice, but rather a fulfillment of a promise I made to myself and to her. I seek not glory nor honor from further battles, but the simple joy of returning to my wife and the life we dream of. My time as a general has been an honor, but it is time for me to embrace a different chapter, one of peace and companionship.”

The Emperor’s expression softened, a flicker of understanding—or perhaps resignation—crossing his features. “Very well, General Styles,” he conceded, his voice carrying a note of reluctant admiration. “If it is your wish to retire and seek solace in the embrace of your beloved, then it shall be granted. Rome’s gratitude will follow you, and your legacy will endure.”

I bowed deeply, the weight of my decision finally lifting from my shoulders. As I walked away, I felt a sense of anticipation and relief wash over me, knowing that soon I would return to the fields of Hispania, to the life and love that awaited me.

"My lord," one of the younger centurions approached me as I prepared to leave camp, a bandage in hand. "We must bind your wound."

I waved him off, though I knew the pain would only worsen on the long ride home. "I'll let my wife take care of me," I said, the words tasting sweet on my tongue, like the promise of harvest in a fertile field.

The journey back to Hispania was slow, each day stretching out like the endless plains we crossed. My thoughts were full of her—Y/N, my beloved, my anchor amidst the storms of war. The land of our villa in Hispania, a sprawling expanse of olive trees and vineyards, awaited me. But it was her presence, her tender touch, that I yearned for with each passing mile.

As my horse’s hooves drummed against the sun-baked earth, I imagined her in the fields, the wind tugging at her hair as she worked, her hands—those skilled, delicate hands—tending to the earth as she did to me. I could see her smile, that secret curve of her lips that had the power to unravel me more than any barbarian’s sword.

Finally, the fields of our home came into view, the golden light of evening casting a warm glow over the land. My heart quickened as I urged my horse forward, a boyish impatience overtaking me.

As I dismounted my horse and set foot on the familiar ground of our estate, I saw her standing there—my beloved, just as I had envisioned, her figure framed by the setting sun, a basket of olives in her arms.

The moment our eyes met, a wave of joy surged through me, overpowering the aches and weariness of battle. Her face, illuminated by the soft glow of the setting sun, radiated a warmth and love that I had sorely missed.

Without hesitation, she ran to me, her movements swift and graceful. The air seemed to hum with the electricity of our reunion. As she enveloped me in her embrace, I was struck by the intoxicating scent of her—lavender mingled with the faint, sweet aroma of the earth, a perfume that spoke of home and tranquility. It was as if every hardship and wound I bore dissolved in the presence of her love.

Her arms, tender and gentle, clung to me with a fierce affection. I could feel the softness of her skin against my own, a stark contrast to the roughened textures of my armor and the hardened scars of war. Her touch was both soothing and electric, a balm for my bruised soul.

As our lips met, her kiss was a sweet, fervent promise, a bridge between the years of separation. Yet, as I pressed closer, a sharp twinge from the wound on my side made me wince. She noticed instantly, her eyes filled with concern.

“Harry,” she breathed, her voice soft and filled with an anguish that mirrored my own. Her fingers, delicate and gentle, brushed against the tender spot on my side. “You’re hurt…”

“It’s nothing,” I murmured, my voice barely more than a whisper as I drew her even closer. I buried my face in the curve of her neck, inhaling deeply. The scent of her, the very essence of comfort and love, was a haven amidst the chaos of my return. “Nothing that your touch cannot heal.”

She led me inside, her movements tender and deliberate as if each step was meant to convey her deep affection and concern. The grand hall, though warmly lit by the flickering glow of the hearth, could not compare to the solace I found in her presence. As I sank into a plush chair beside the roaring fire, the heat from the flames did little to ease the persistent ache in my chest that only her touch could truly soothe.

I watched her with a heart full of gratitude as she worked with quiet diligence, her hands gentle yet skilled as she unwrapped the makeshift bandage and began to clean the wound. Her brow furrowed in concentration, each touch and movement imbued with a mixture of love and worry that spoke volumes of her care.

“You should have let the medics tend to you,” she chided softly, her voice a tender reprimand laced with concern rather than anger. The chiding was a balm, soothing and familiar, reminding me of the times we had shared before the endless battles.

“And miss the chance to be in your care?” I replied, my voice hushed but earnest. I reached up, my hand cradling her cheek, my thumb gently caressing the delicate curve. “I’d rather bleed out.”

Her lips curled into a small, affectionate smile despite her worry. She shook her head, her eyes reflecting a mixture of exasperation and adoration. “You’re too stubborn for your own good, General.”

“For Rome, perhaps,” I said, my thumb brushing tenderly against her skin, “but not for you.”

Once she was satisfied with the bandage, carefully wrapping it with a practiced hand, I drew her into my lap. The firelight danced in her eyes, casting a warm glow that made her seem even more ethereal. Her body fit perfectly against mine, the familiar curves and warmth a reminder of all that I had missed. As our eyes met, the hunger in mine was mirrored by the tender longing in hers.

“I’ve been gone too long,” I whispered, my lips finding their way to her neck. I trailed kisses along her soft skin, savoring the sweetness of her closeness. “I have missed you more than words can convey.”

Her hands wove into my hair, fingers trembling slightly as she tilted her head back, offering me more of herself. “And I you,” she whispered, her voice a soft melody that seemed to float between us, a song of longing and love that had played in my dreams during our separation.

I lifted her effortlessly, cradling her in my arms as I carried her towards our bed—the same one we had shared since our wedding night, a sanctuary of our love and devotion. The silks beneath us felt cool and luxurious as I laid her down, the gentle moonlight streaming through the windows, casting a silvery glow that highlighted the exquisite beauty of her form.

As I undressed her with a reverence that bordered on worship, I whispered against her lips, my voice a soft murmur filled with longing and affection. “I have won many battles,” I said, my fingers tracing the curves of her body with a tender touch, as if trying to memorize every line and contour. “But none so sweet as the victory of coming home to you.”

Her hands, delicate yet determined, moved to the laces of my tunic, undoing them with a familiar urgency that made my heart race. “Then claim your victory,” she breathed, her voice trembling with a mix of desire and anticipation.

I lifted her into my arms, cradling her with a gentleness that belied the strength I had honed on the battlefield. As I carried her to our bed, my heart pounded not from the exertion, but from the overwhelming love I felt for her. The silk sheets, cool beneath us, seemed to whisper promises of solace and intimacy as I laid her down.

The moonlight streaming through the windows cast a soft, silvery glow upon her, making her skin shimmer like alabaster. I gazed at her with a deep, aching adoration, my eyes tracing the graceful lines of her form. Her beauty was both a balm and a flame, soothing the wounds of my soul and igniting a fierce, tender hunger within me.

I began by brushing my lips against hers, savoring the sweetness of her kiss as if it were the nectar of the gods. The taste of her was intoxicating, a blend of warmth and familiarity that made my heart swell. I lingered there, lost in the softness of her lips, my hands gently caressing her face, committing every detail of her to memory.

Slowly, I trailed kisses down her neck, my lips lingering on her pulse point. The sensation of her warm skin beneath my mouth was a caress to my senses, and I felt the urgency of our reunion deepen with every touch. Her breath quickened, mingling with mine, as I moved lower, pressing my lips to the delicate curve of her collarbone.

With trembling fingers, I worked at the laces of her dress, the fabric white and pure, reminiscent of the gown she had worn on our wedding day. As I loosened it, the dress fell away, revealing the soft, flawless skin beneath. My gaze was ravenous yet reverent, taking in every inch of her with a fervor that spoke of my adoration and longing.

I kissed her shoulders with a devotion that made each touch a silent vow. My lips traveled down her arms, leaving a trail of tender kisses that made her shiver with delight. Each kiss was an offering, a testament to the depth of my love for her. As I reached her breasts, I pressed my lips to the soft curves, my tongue exploring with a reverence that bordered on worship.

My kisses continued their journey down her stomach, lingering at the gentle rise and fall of her ribs, tracing the lines of her hips. I marveled at the warmth and softness of her skin, my hands following the path my lips had taken, reverently mapping every contour. The sensation of her skin beneath my touch was a heady mix of comfort and desire.

When I finally reached her most intimate place, I paused, my breath coming in ragged whispers. My heart raced with a powerful mix of longing and adoration. The moment was charged with an intensity I had yearned for during the long years apart, and I could feel the heat of her skin beneath my lips.

With a deep, reverent kiss, I pressed my lips against her, my tongue gently exploring the softness and warmth of her. Her taste was intoxicating, and the sensation made my entire body shiver with pleasure. I heard her gasp, a soft, breathless sound that urged me on.

Her hands gripped the sheets, and I could feel her hips moving subtly, seeking more of the contact she craved. "Harry," she moaned softly, her voice a desperate whisper of desire.

I looked up at her, my eyes filled with devotion and love. "You feel so incredible," I murmured, my voice thick with emotion. "I want you to know just how much I adore every part of you."

She responded with a breathless sigh, her body arching instinctively towards me. "Please, don't stop," she pleaded, her voice trembling with anticipation.

My kisses became more fervent, turning into reckless licks, my movements ever so insistent as I reveled in the sweet, warm taste of her. The sounds of our pleasure filled the room, a symphony of soft moans and urgent whispers that only deepened my desire.

I was consumed with a profound longing for her, a desire that had only grown more fervent over the long years apart. Every moment of our separation had amplified my need to show her the depth of my affection, to make her experience the boundless pleasure that only I could bestow. I was keenly aware of the passage of time and wondered if she had discovered any means to reach such ecstatic heights as I would now bring her. The thought of her satisfaction, the notion of her feeling pleasure as intensely as I had imagined, drove me to the brink of my restraint.

With my touch, I sought to awaken her senses, my fingers caressing her with an ever-gentle firmness, the warmth of my hands mingling with her soft skin. My other hand began a tender exploration, slipping slowly, reverently, into her most cherished sanctuary. Each movement was deliberate, intended to elicit the utmost response from her.

“You like that, my dearest?” I whispered, my voice thick with emotion and desire, my breath hot against her ear.

“Yes, I do,” she replied, her voice a melody of pleasure and anticipation, her breath catching in soft gasps.

“I am determined to make you feel nothing but bliss,” I continued, my heart pounding with the intensity of my commitment. “I wish to taste and honor this sacred chamber of Venus, to give you pleasure that will leave you breathless and yearning.”

I leaned closer, my lips finding their way to her most intimate folds. With tender, loving care, I began to explore her, each kiss a testament to my devotion, each touch a silent vow of my love. My goal was to bring her to the pinnacle of delight, to ensure that every sensation was as exquisite and overwhelming as possible, so that she might feel the depth of my longing and the fullness of my return.

In the quiet sanctuary of our shared chamber, a question lingered on my lips, charged with both tenderness and longing. “Did you pleasure yourself while I was gone” I inquired, my voice a gentle murmur.

Her reply came softly, laden with devotion and a hint of wistfulness. “No, my love. I awaited your return.”

Her words stirred something profound within me, an awakening of emotions that had lain dormant through the years of separation. I felt a deep, aching desire to make amends for all the time lost, to bestow upon her the pleasure that had been denied to both of us.

“I yearn for you to find your release, my dearest Y/N,” I said, my voice trembling with fervent intensity. “Release it all, love.”

As her body trembled with the aftershocks of her climax, I could feel the shudder of her release against my tongue. The sweetness of her pleasure was intoxicating, a testament to the depth of our connection. In that moment, I knew that we both craved something more profound, a union that would fulfill the yearning that had grown between us over the years.

With a fervent determination, I slowly withdrew, my breath ragged and my heart pounding with a mix of longing and anticipation. I positioned myself above her, our eyes meeting in a gaze filled with mutual desire and unspoken promises. The need to be fully united with her, to deepen our connection, surged within me.

Her gaze was filled with trust and desire, and I moved with a tenderness that spoke of my deep affection and longing. Slowly, deliberately, I entered her, feeling the warmth and softness envelop me and savoring the way she wrapped around me, the way she sighed my name as if it were a prayer.

“Harry,” she moaned, and I grew concerned, fearing that the unfamiliarity of my touch after so long might be causing her discomfort.

“Are you alright, my love?” I murmured, my voice low and tender, brushing a lock of hair from her face. Her eyes met mine, filled with a mix of pain and yearning.

“Just... a bit,” she replied, her voice trembling with the effort to contain her emotions.

I continued to move with gentle persistence, my hands exploring her body, seeking to soothe her discomfort. As I found a rhythm, she began to relax, her moans growing more fervent, more eager. The shift from discomfort to pleasure was evident in the way her body responded, and I felt a deep satisfaction in knowing that I was bringing her the release she had longed for.

“Tell me, my love,” I whispered, pressing my forehead to hers as we moved together, “how does it feel?”

“It feels... so much better,” she gasped, her nails digging into my shoulders as her body arched beneath me. “Harry, yes…”

“I want to give you more,” I said, my voice rough with emotion. “A family, a future... I want to watch you swell with our child, to retire from the battlefield and spend my days here, with you.”

Her breath hitched at my words, and her eyes shone with a mix of desire and longing. “Yes, Harry… I want that too,” she whispered, her voice a melody of affection and need.

As we continued, I found a rhythm that was both passionate and tender, the connection between us deepening with every movement. I kissed her lips, my hands roaming over her body, savoring the softness and warmth of her skin. Her eyes fluttered closed as she lost herself in the sensation, and I couldn’t help but marvel at the sheer intimacy of our union.

“I will plant my seed in you,” I vowed, my voice filled with raw emotion. “And you will carry our legacy. Our child will grow strong in your womb, just as our love has grown in this land.”

Her climax hit with a shuddering intensity, her body tightening around me as she cried out my name. The sound was both a release and an invitation, and I followed her over the edge, spilling into her with a groan that echoed my deepest feelings. In that moment, I imagined the life we would create together, the child that would be born of our union.

As we lay entwined in the soft embrace of our bed, the flickering candlelight cast a warm glow over our bodies. The silks beneath us were cool and comforting, a stark contrast to the heat of our passionate union. The scent of her, a delicate blend of lavender and the earthiness of our garden, filled the air and enveloped me, mingling with the aroma of our shared pleasure.

Her skin felt like silk against my fingertips as I traced lazy patterns across her shoulders and down her sides. Her breathing was slow and deep, a soft rhythm that matched the steady beat of my heart. Every sigh and murmur from her lips was a melody I’d missed more than I realized during our years apart.

“You look radiant,” I murmured, my voice thick with emotion as I gazed at her. Her hair was a tangled cascade of dark curls, spread across the pillow like a halo. Her eyes, still clouded with the remnants of our passion, sparkled with a light that seemed to illuminate the room. “I’ve dreamt of this moment for so long.”

She turned her head slightly to meet my gaze, her lips curved into a smile that was both teasing and tender. “And I’ve waited for it just as long,” she replied, her voice a soft caress. “You’re as wonderful as I remembered, Harry. I’m so proud of you, all you’ve accomplished. And this house—” she gestured vaguely around us, “—it’s been my joy to care for it, to make it a place where you could return and feel at home.”

Her fingers traced a gentle path along my chest, sending shivers of pleasure through me. I cupped her cheek, my thumb brushing across her soft skin, and leaned in to press a tender kiss to her forehead. “I’m proud of you too, for everything. For holding our home together while I was away, for your strength and your love. It means the world to me.”

Her eyes softened, and she nestled closer, her body pressed against mine in a way that made me acutely aware of the new life we had created together. “And now,” she whispered, her voice filled with awe and wonder, “we have something even greater to look forward to. I’m honored to carry our child, Harry.”

I let out a deep, contented sigh, my hands resting on her still-flat belly. “You’re going to be breathtakingly beautiful with our child growing inside you,” I said, my voice husky with anticipation. “I can already imagine the way you’ll glow, the way your body will flourish as you carry our little one. You’ll be radiant, like a goddess.”

Her laughter was soft and musical, a sound that filled me with an overwhelming sense of happiness. “I can’t wait to see you as a father,” she said, her eyes shining with love. “Our child will be so lucky to have you.”

I kissed her again, this time more deeply, my hands roaming over her curves with reverence. “And I can’t wait to watch our family grow,” I said. “I imagine them running through our garden, playing in the sun, filling our home with laughter and joy. We’ll watch them grow, teach them, love them. It will be a new adventure, one that I’m eager to begin.”

Her smile widened, and she traced a finger along my jawline, her touch light and playful. “And I’ll be right here with you, every step of the way. Together, we’ll build a life full of love and happiness.”

As we lay there, our bodies intertwined, the weight of the past seemed to lift from our shoulders. The wars, the battles, the bloodshed—they were behind us. What lay ahead was a new journey, one of love and life, and I knew that with her by my side, it was a victory I would cherish for all my days.

[chiyuuchu]

Heartfelt Letters <3 (30th July 2024)

Izuku Midoriya x Reader

Prompt! Izuku receives a series of love letters. The dekusquad offer their encouragement but little did he know, they were all in on it.

Izuku Midoriya was no stranger to nerves. As the inheritor of One For All and the aspiring Number One Hero, he faced countless challenges that tested his courage and resolve. Yet, despite all his bravery on the battlefield, there was one thing that made him more nervous than anything else: his crush on Y/N.

Y/N was everything Izuku felt he wasn't. She was confident, graceful, and had an effortless charm that drew people to her. She was the sunshine in the class, lighting up every room she entered with her warm smile and infectious laughter. Izuku admired her from afar, convinced that someone as amazing as Y/N would never be interested in someone as clumsy and nervous as him.

One day, after a particularly grueling training session, Izuku found a love letter in his locker. His heart raced as he read the sweet, heartfelt words written inside:

Love Letter #1:

"Dear Izuku,

I’ve been watching you from afar, admiring your determination and courage. You inspire me every day with your kindness and bravery. Thank you for being the wonderful person you are.

Yours truly,

Your Secret Admirer"

Izuku's heart pounded as he read the letter, a mix of excitement and confusion filling him. Who could this be? Why would anyone admire him like this? He felt a strange mix of hope and doubt, unsure of what to think.

The next day, Izuku found another letter waiting for him in his locker. His hands trembled as he opened it, his heart racing with anticipation.

Love Letter #2:

"Dear Izuku,

Your smile brightens my day, even on the darkest of days. I love how you never give up, no matter how tough things get. Please keep being you.

With admiration,

Your Secret Admirer"

Izuku’s blush deepened every time he read these letters. The Deku Squad—consisting of Y/n, Uraraka, Iida, Todoroki, and Tsuyu—quickly noticed his distraction and curiosity. They were gathered in their classroom, discussing the latest assignment when they spotted Izuku clutching yet another letter.

"Hey, Deku, what’s that you’ve got there?" Uraraka asked, her eyes sparkling with curiosity.

Izuku hesitated before showing them the letter. "I keep finding these in my locker. I don’t know who they’re from, but... they make me really happy."

Iida adjusted his glasses, his expression serious. "Midoriya, you are an exemplary student and a kind-hearted individual. It is no surprise that someone would admire you."

Todoroki nodded in agreement. "I think you should consider the possibility that it's someone close to you."

Izuku blushed, glancing around at his friends. Just then, Y/N, who had been sitting quietly at her desk, stood up and excused herself. "Excuse me, I need to get something from my locker," she said before leaving the classroom.

As she left, Izuku continued in a hushed voice to his best friend Todoroki, "I don’t know… I just can’t imagine someone like Y/N ever being interested in me."

The next day, Y/n who was seated beside the green haired boy noticed a slip of paper underneath his desk. “Oh Izuku! There’s something beside your foot.” she gently said pointing towards the letter. As she was about to say something else, she gets a phone call. “Oh, I have to take this. I’ll be back guys!” the girl chirps as she stepped out of class. As she left, Izuku had clutched yet another letter in his hand as he was reading it in class.

Love Letter #3:

"Dear Izuku,

I’ve seen you grow so much since the first day we met. Your dedication and heart make you special in ways that words can hardly express. I hope this letter finds you well and that it brings a smile to your face.

Forever admiring,

Your Secret Admirer"

Just then, Kaminari who was walking by the green haired boy’s desk, he accidentally blurted out, "So, are you and Y/N together yet? She’s been sending you letters for a while now."

Izuku’s eyes widened in shock. "Wait, what? Y/N has been sending me these letters?"

The Deku Squad suspiciously exchanged glances.

"Honestly, I thought it would take you a lot longer to figure it out," Mina Ashido said with a smirk, leaning back in her chair.

"Yeah," Uraraka added, "We were pretty sure you'd catch on sooner. I mean, the signs were pretty clear."

"Everyone had their bets on how long it would take for you to realize, ribbit." Tsuyu said with a gentle smile.

Iida nodded thoughtfully. "We had our suspicions that you’d catch on, but we didn’t want to ruin the surprise."

Izuku's face grew even redder. "You guys knew about this? Why didn’t you say anything?"

The class burst into laughter, with some students even teasing Izuku about his obliviousness. He turned to Y/N, who had just re-entered the classroom, his heart racing.

Y/N looked at him with a mix of curiosity and amusement. "Is something going on?"

Izuku’s face turned beet red. "I didn’t know… I had no idea it was you."

Y/N smiled softly. "Yes, it was me. I wanted to let you know how much I admire you."

The entire classroom erupted in cheers and laughter. Izuku’s face was bright red, but he couldn’t stop the smile spreading across his face.

Izuku held the letter close, his heart full. The letters had been a source of joy and hope for him, and now, knowing who was behind them made everything even more meaningful. As he looked at Y/N, he knew that this was just the beginning of something wonderful.

[andiboyo]

HEADCANONS FOR COD MEN

The following includes (John Price, John MacTavish, Simon Riley, Philip Graves, and Alejandro Vargas)

"Price" John Price

-Very professional at first when dating, he’s a very respectable guy but later he’s just mush in your hands

-This man loves you with all his heart, poor man’s an old sap, but he’s your old sap <3

-Prepare for a lot of teasing from teammates

-If you’re in the military, he’s 100% for it, but will treat you the same as his soldiers on the battleground, little cracks include when missions start or end

-He’s very worried for you, he’s scared to see you getting hurt

-If you’re a normal civilian waiting for him at home you bet your ass he’s a domestic goofball

-He loves you, and any chance he gets he’s putting a ring on that finger

-Loves taking you to dinner either way, a gentleman

-You’re pretty much best buds with 141

-Quality time is his best strong suit, he’s an old man so he’s got more time on his hands

“Soap” Johnny McTavish

-Scotsman, 100% teases you 24/7

-Loves the look of his flustered S/O

-Don’t even get him started on if his S/O’s in the military, always one eye open for them

-But otherwise, he believes in your strength, he’s just never had such deep love for a person as he has with you

-After every mission good or bad, kiss on the forehead, he’s affectionate

-If you’re a normal civilian he’s spilling the beans on military life, nothing gruesome though, you're the light of his life and he doesn’t want you hearing too much of his military brutality and sacrifices

-Overall he’s an attentive lover that gives gifts, he’s all for dates but since he’s on the younger side he’s always getting called in

-He loves you though and send you letters every week <3

“Ghost” Simon Riley

-Serious on the battlefield before and after, but in private?

-This man is a cuddle bug

-Love him <33

-He's just so clingy

-If you're in the military he’s alright with that, doesn’t doubt your abilities and has good expectations for having his S/O with him

-If you’re a normal civilian chances are how you met is you are friends with one of the 141 members and they introduced you to him

-One thing led to the next

-And you got together

-It takes time but he’ll take off his mask

-He lets you do the honors, but it takes a bit for him to warm up to that idea

-So expect to sleep with a man still wearing his skull mask

-Overall a sweetheart and a fine gentleman, he likes spending quality time with you whenever he can, little souvenirs too from the battlefield

-Very shy to ask for anything, hugging, kissing, handholding? This man has had a few women in his life maybe, yeah, but you’re his first true love, he’s putty in your hands

(Lord have mercy)

“Graves” Philip Graves

-He prefers a S/O that’s a normal civilian

-If you’re in the military and he takes a liking to you, then he’s gonna be wrapped around your finger

-He’s just so worried of the future that if he knows you face danger every day it’s gonna be a weigh on his shoulders

-He doesn’t mind it, he doesn’t doubt your abilities he’s just very worried

-Now, if you’re a civilian and he falls in love with you, he’s such a protective Boyfriend/Husband

-Loves you to bits

-Will never stop talking to you about missions and just wants you safe

-Hand holding 24/7

-He’s very shy when asking for things like hugs, just not used to it as much

-Gift giving and Quality time

-Best of both worlds with this man

(screaming)

“Alejandro” Alejandro Vargas

-OH

-MI VIDA <3333

-Do not think he will judge whether you're in the military or a civilian

-He loves you no matter what

-Race? Ethnicity? Doesn't matter?

-Having a hispanic S/O? Great! You bond some more!

-American S/O who doesn’t know spanish? He’s using unknown compliments in spanish to his advantage

-Im sorry

-He's just so fine

-Now, he's a man of quality time, compliment giving

-But in his line of work, he’ll tease a lot, though serious, he needs a few laidback moments

-If you’re in the military, he’ll be one step behind you

-If you’re a normal civilian, he's always coming back to you with open arms a̶n̶d̶ ̶o̶p̶e̶n̶ ̶l̶e̶g̶s̶

-He’s only nervous about one thing, kissing, mans always asks you even if you’ve reassured him one-hundred times

-------

A/N

hey all! It's been a bit. Im alive. Been a good minute hasn't it? Not really going to be running a schedule again but if you'd like to request any characters from these fandoms go ahead! It might motivate me to write more! Thank you <3

-COD MW2

-Marvel

-Resident Evil

-Arthur Morgan

-Overwatch

Love you all!

- Andi

[nrdmssgs]

Pieces of him

Masterlist Part 2

Pairing: Nikto x f reader Angst Reader goes KIA

Thank you @amongthe141 for encouraging me for writing more for this guy. I am sorry if angst is not what you expected.

If it wasn't for König - the squad would never decide, who should deliver the news. They tried to avoid Nikto outside their missions even on good days - so obviously nobody wanted to risk now. While others argued in the main meeting room - their Colonel raised from his chair and quietly left.

He skipped training rooms, a few common areas and a cafeteria, heading straight to her room. After all, what a Colonel would König be, if didn't know his men.

A corridor was almost empty if not for one man, leaning against the wall next to her door. When König up to him - he was greeted by an ice cold stare right through him.

"She's not coming back, isn't she?" Niktos voice was unusually hollow and detached.

Colonel held back an urge to just silently nod – his soldier deserved to know the truth. The full version of it. Three letters hung up in the air and the corridor drowned in a death silence.

Everybody awaited some kind of explosion: Niktos raged shouts, punches being thrown, maybe something being torn apart. But as the minutes stretched into hours – the base remained at peace and silence.

The squad decided to take turns watching him, but Nikto seemed calm, even relaxed. On the next morning he was sitting in the cafeteria at his usual place, rolling his meds between ungloved fingers, and even whistling something to himself. He looked uncannily peaceful, ignoring attempts of others to be soft and friendly to him.

“Hey buddy, how are you? Want to talk?”

At first, he didn’t respond, didn’t even look up. Only his knee, that started rhythmically bouncing, gave away the fact, that he heard the questions.

“About what? Her being offed on a battlefield? Well, shit happens, I guess. Don’t see anything to discuss here.” Nikto was never a sentimental one, but such a reaction was too ignorant even for him. Yet nobody dared to push him.

As days passed, the situation didn’t seem to change: despite fears of others, Nikto remained visibly unbothered. He worked and trained as usual, only rarely losing concentration in favor of some never-ending inner monologue, he conducted almost inaudibly.

There were no cracks in this man’s demeanor, and that scared his colleagues, who knew, that Nikto didn’t just lose a squadmate – he lost the only person, he has let closer than others. Usually, it was her who approached him when others didn’t want to risk it. She could calm him down, make him laugh, reason him, and keep him in line. In return he followed her everywhere, his shadow always somewhere around her feet. Nobody knew what exactly was going on between her and Nikto, but everyone felt that the real storm is yet to come.

Still, when it finally happened – it felt unexpected. The company made sure to keep others in a relative safety and König revised Niktos weapon stashes after every mission and training. They all waited, till Nikto snapped at them, when he started a fight with someone completely other.

One evening he disappeared from the base. There were no traces, as if the man just vanished. They searched his room for any evidence and found nothing. The Colonel watched leaning against the wall, as others looked for any clue in every corner of the room for a fifth time in a row.

“It’s useless. If Andre doesn’t want to be found – it would take much more than just a room check,” muttered someone and König turned his head to the voice.

After a few minutes the Colonel dismissed others and left Niktos room. He didn’t go back to his office – instead König turned in the opposite direction, to her room, that was still locked after her death.

Hesitating on the threshold, König turned the key and the door opened. Her room looked as if she could come back any moment now, if not for one disturbing detail: the floor behind the door was covered with a pile of pieces of paper. They came in every size: from almost a full A4, to tiniest pieces, not larger than a candy wrapper. There were so many of them, that some got stuck under the door even.

König leaned down and started collecting paper. It took him some time because he was trying to be as careful as possible. He already noticed that every single piece was covered with writing: frantic uneven handwriting alternated with legible, just as if different people were writing all the notes, that were pushed under her door.

When every last piece was in his hands – König sat at her desk and started reading. The messages didn’t vary so much, so by the seventh piece of paper the Colonel already had more or less a whole mental image of what really was going on behind Niktos mask these days.

“You’re a failure, you know? You had one job – to stay alive. You failed.”

“Been on a firing range – still shoot better than you, loser. You owe me a beer.”

“They served you favorite apples today. Those yellow ones, that have like no taste whatsoever. I took the last one, so that you don’t get it.”

“I hate you. Fucking failure. Loser.”

“How about you grow a pair and answer me one fucking time?”

“Stop hiding behind that silent treatment. It’s not ‘friendly’ – its useless and you will never make a point like that.”

“Get mad already! Shout at me!”

“Or fine – stay silent, but at least have some decency and slap my face for this shitshow!”

“I’m still better than you at everything. Get fucking mad!”

“One job one job one job one job one job one job one job one job one job one job one job one job one job one job one job one job one job one job one job and you failed it.”

“Get mad at me. At us.”

“We didn’t take the meds. Not today, not yesterday, not a week ago. Go out and show us. Me. Us.”

“Please. We can’t do it without you. Please. Shout at us, break our faces.”

“Go out of that damned room. Please. Please.”

“Come back to us.”

[eruherdiriel]

After ruin

Jonsa ficlet Rating: T Universe: Canon Other: Angst, Sansa POV

Also on AO3.

She watches him slide the knife from its sheath and test the sharpness of the blade against a callus on his left hand.

“Must you go?” Sansa asks. Jon is always going to war it seems, and this time he would march right into the dragon’s maw. “Daenerys has already killed kin to clear her path to the Iron Throne.”

Aegon Targaryen is dead, so proclaimed the letter that arrived not five days ago with news from the south. Dragon fire killed him, as it kills many in the Crownlands and the Reach these days. But his death occurred after a challenge, a mockery of a test Daenerys must have known her nephew would not pass. She offered him one of her dragons to ride and then commanded it to breathe fire on him, the letter said. When he burned, she said it proved he was a pretender and that her true nephew died nearly two decades ago in King’s Landing.

Sansa knows better. Targaryens are not immune to fire; she has felt the proof as she traced the ruined skin of Jon’s sword hand. And yet, she has also heard the stories of when they tried to burn his body after the mutiny at Castle Black. She still remembers how Satin would not meet her eyes when he spoke of it, out of both shame for allowing it to happen and for fear of how Jon rose amidst the flames.

“I am a soldier. The battlefield is where I belong,” Jon says. The blade sings as he slides it back into its covering. “This is how I serve the North.”

“And how you run from love,” she says softly. She had not meant to say the words aloud, and hearing them nearly stops her own heart. It is much too soon for such a sentiment, but once it is out, Sansa knows it is true. She loves him. 

Whatever he feels in return, it is enough for Jon to run from her, just as he runs from his parentage. If he is fighting, he doesn’t have to face either thing. He doesn’t have to think about his mother dying after she birthed him and living her final months hidden away in a tower in Dorne. He doesn’t have to explain why he lets Rickon fall asleep against one side of his body and Sansa fall asleep against the other when they tell her baby brother a bedtime story. He doesn’t have to explain why he stopped letting Sansa come to his bed when she has nightmares, but she knows it happened after the morning she woke to feel him pressed against her, his hand wound in her hair and his breath warm on her neck.

He doesn’t have to explain why, when she tended his wound after fighting the Others and began to cry at the damage to his body that showed how close she came to losing him again, Jon lifted her chin with one hand and told her not to weep. Told her that he survived. That he could survive anything if it meant coming home to her. And then he kissed her tears away, his lips pressed against one cheek and then another before finding the curve of her mouth.

Her words to him now make Jon still, his back toward her, and he stays silent for some time. Sansa holds her breath and waits. Jon is always making her wait.

Jon, and the gods. And because of that, she has learned to be patient, learned through waiting to escape King’s Landing, and then waiting to escape the Vale of Arryn, and still she waits for Bran and Arya to come home.

“I do,” he says, head cocked slightly in her direction but still not facing Sansa. “Love you. But my love would only ruin you.”

This time, her heart does stop; she would swear to it.

If only Jon had stopped speaking after saying, I do love you.

“Ruin? You know nothing of love if you think it would ruin me.”

Now Jon turns. “Sansa, I’m—”

“A bastard?” she snaps. “A Targaryen? A deserter from the Night’s Watch? How many times must I tell you I do not care about any of those things? I care about how you treat your friends. How you respect me and make me feel safe. I care about how you’re the only person left that I can talk to about Robb, even though it hurts. I care about how you do your duty as a soldier despite how I know you want nothing more than to find out if Bran and Arya are alive and to search for them.”

He sighs and scrubs a hand over his face.

But Sansa has more to say, so she continues before he can protest yet again. “When we find love in this world, we should cling to it. How much love does anyone know in their life? I once had a mother and father and siblings who loved me. And they are gone except for Rickon, swept off by war and violence, and that is ruin, Jon.”

His eyes soften, and finally he leaves his half-packed saddle bag and walks over to her. Then Jon takes her face in his hands, and for the heartbeat that he studies her, Sansa thinks he is going to give her what she wants—he will kiss her and say he is going to stay. But instead, Jon tilts her head down and presses his lips to her forehead, and the vision is dashed.

“This is all I can give you at present,” he whispers into her hairline. “My sword.”

Why, she wants to scream. Why can’t you stay with me?

But she knows why. The qualities that would keep Jon from her and drive her ire are the same ones that helped make her love him.

“And after?” she whispers.

Her head is tucked into his neck, but she can hear the frown Jon must wear when he speaks. “Let me deal with our enemies. Then we can talk about after.”

It is only half a promise, but she will take it, will hold it tight to her chest while she waits for the wars to finally be over.