#and pink sword even has a waist piece

[nikkiissleepy]

gs5 quick breakdowns

[meiluu]

Everything and You

Cloud Strife/ Reader (AFAB)cw: SMUT 18+ MDNI, unprotected, creampie, fingering (reader receiving). *NOT EDITED*

Shucking off his buster sword, leaning it against the wall adjacent to your shared bed. Cloud goes through the mindless motions of taking off his pieces of armor and gear. Then once he is free of his gear he is headed to the bathroom ready to wash the day away, and the reminder that you are in the kitchen fueling his desire to finish up quickly. Not wanting to spend even a moment apart from you, when he's spent the whole day fighting and being away from you.

Hair a little damp, Cloud heads into the kitchen dawned in a fresh pair of sweats and a simple oversized tee. There he sees you. Quietly humming to yourself as you finish up washing the dishes from your shared dinner.

Everyday Cloud is so grateful to have you by his side, after every horrific thing he has been through, seeing you, being with you, makes all of that worth it. Coming up behind you Cloud wraps his arms around your waist, burying his head into your neck. Your familiar fragrance has his shoulders slumping as his body relaxes in your presence.

Putting the last dish onto the drying rack, turning your head towards Cloud. "Mm you smell good." a soft laugh leaves Cloud, "Did I not smell good before my shower?" a smirk crawls upon his pink lips. "No, you always smell good, even after a long day. It's kind of weird- like even after fighting monsters and stuff..."

Your words trail off as your eyes lock with his. Those vivid pools of mako have you locked in place, they always had you lost for words. And to add on Cloud always looked at you like... like you were everything. No matter how often you see him your heart will always race for him. Those eyes that seem to worship you, like nothing in this world could ever come close in comparison to you.

"Cloud..?"

A strong and calloused hand comes up to cup the side of your face, thumb gently caressing the apple of your cheek. Cloud's face is a mask of concentration, as if he was memorizing every little detail that was etched into your gorgeous face. eyes watching his every twitch in his face, after a couple of years of being with Cloud you've grown experienced at reading his expressions and body language. But in moments like these his true emotions escape you, though you never have to sit and wonder for long. With Cloud's habit of always being honest with you extends not only from his words but to his body.

Plush lips capture yours in a sweet kiss, hands lifting to wrap around his neck. A strong arms snakes its way around your waist while the hand on your face delves downward to the base of your head, cradling your with the utmost care. Breaths shorten as the need to keep your lips and mouths together heighten. Teeth nip at your bottom lip, mouth opening to let his tongue in. A familiar dance, one where neither one of you never want to part from.

Your hands grip tightly upon his shirt trying to keep your self from floating away at this heavenly feeling. You feel his hand leave the back of your head, sliding down the side of you squeezing, caressing each dip and curve he comes across. Both hands now rest on each side of your hips, then they go lower.

"Jump." Voice husky and a little breathy, its nothing short of a command, and your body naturally obeys.

Without so much as an ounce of struggle, Cloud lifts you and heads towards the bedroom. Stopping just a little short at the end of the bed, mouths to occupied to separate. Barely able to catch a full breath of air before his mouth is right back upon yours. You feel the world shift as you are laid down onto the plush comforter. Cloud's body over yours, muscled body weighing you down.

Those plush lips leave yours with a string of spit still keeping you connected, then he's heading south. Mouth leaving a blazing trail in its wake. But all too soon does he stop, rising up face pinched in annoyance. "What is it?" your voice, still a bit breathy.

"Your shirt is in my way." mako eyes blazing in anger, as if your shirt has committed a grave crime. Biting your lip to keep your laugh in, you get rid of the offending fabric and now only a small piece of fabric shields you from being completely bare. Cloud follows in your movements, throwing his shirt into some dark corner of your room.

And just as quickly as both shirts are off and discarded is Cloud mouth back upon you. Lips and tongue worshipping every inch within reach. Hands aiding in his motions, whimpers spill from your kiss swollen lips, no care to try and muffle them. Tongue swirling around a nipple then his mouth is sucking it further into his mouth, gentle nipping at your skin. Love bites being left in his wake, not forgetting the other he repeats his motions. Your eyes are watching, not wanting to leave and miss this, seeing this version of Cloud. Only for you not for anyone else. Here he can be true to what he wants leaving behind everything when he is with you, loosing himself within your love and body. You can feel your face heating up as you feel your cunt clenches around nothing, every moment that passes has you getting wetter.

Warm and calloused fingers delve underneath that band of fabric, feeling, hearing, just how turned on you are. Lust lidded eyes meet yours, "Can I?"

"Please."

And just like that your cunt bare for him, fingers swirling around your clit before sinking into you. Breathy moans falling from your lips as Cloud massages your insides, stretching you open to be able to take him. Your arousal slicks up his fingers and leaks downwards, creating a lovely mess upon your sheets.

Cloud cant decide on wanting to watch your face scrunch up pleasure or watch his fingers stretch your cunt open. It's the hardest decision he ever has to make when he is with you in these moments. Completely enraptured by your body's reaction to his fingers, loving as your mouth drops into an 'O' as a moan crawls up from deep within your chest in response to his fingers rubbing up against your sweet spot. And during all of this Cloud pay little mind to his leaking cock within his pants, twitching and begging for attention. But Cloud can't give in just yet, because if he does all he'll want to do is bury himself within you and would never want to leave.

Cloud can feel your cunt squeezing and quivering, your moans rising in pitch, you were gonna cum. His eyes lock onto your face, watching as your head twists into the pillow beside you, hand reaching up to grab ahold of the pillow while your other hand finds his. Lacing your hands together as you cum around his fingers, continuing to fuck his fingers into you, riding out your orgasm until your thighs begin to shake in overstimulation.

Pulling his fingers from you, and you watch in lust-filled awe as he brings he slick drenched fingers to his mouth. Tasting and relishing in your taste, maintain eye contact as he swirls his tongue around his fingers. Cock twitching, begging, to be inside of you as it strains against his sweats. "Cloud, please I need you inside. Don't make me wait any longer." Pupils dilated, Cloud takes his fingers from his mouth quickly reaching down to tug off his pants. Pulling the waistband down you watch as his cock slaps against his skin, tip a flushed pink as precum weeps from his slit. Finally free from any barriers Cloud crawls his way back over you. Breast grazing his sculpted chest, heart fluttering at the familiar scent and heat that you've become addicted to ever since becoming intimate with Cloud.

With a steadying hand Cloud begins to sink into your cunt, eyes fluttering at the heavenly feeling. Pelvis flush with yours as Cloud takes a moment to gaze at you, mako irises burning your face to memory. Here below him, cheeks flushed, eyes filled with a heady combination of lust and adoration.

Sinking his body further down on top of yours, head lowering down towards your ear. Cloud slowly pulls himself almost completely free from you, leaving the tip inside, before sinking all back inside. Deep and steady thrusts have your keening in utter euphoria, as you feel how ever vein rubs perfectly against your walls, his tip hitting oh so deep. Hands clinging to his back, legs wrapping around his waist pulling him in closer. Your mind is trapped in a mind-numbing cycle, feeling the perfect fullness of Cloud cock thrusting inside of you. Hearing his whimpers and moans of pleasure, along with the added friction of his pelvis hitting your clit as he fucks into you. Body warm and strong against yours, your mind was filled with Cloud. His voice, His body, His love, everything him.

In your haze of pleasure your ears faintly pick up on the sound coming from your drenched cunt. But that sound becomes louder as Cloud picks up his pace, arms braced on each side of your head as he raises his head.

In and out, in and out, in and out. You can feel that familiar knot in your core, twisting and writhing, oh so close to unraveling. Mouth calling out to Cloud, repeating his name like it was a prayer. In a sense it was, he was the only one who could get you like, the only one who you'd ever let see you like this. Then with another deep thrust, hitting deep within does that knot unravel, a cry leaves your lips as you orgasm. Squeezing around his still pistoning cock, and not too far behind you hear that sweet uptick in Cloud voice a tall tale sign that he was close. Overstimulation burns you in the most pleasurable way as your blurry vision focuses on Clouds face above yours. His face scrunching up as your cunt clenches down upon him, cock swelling and hips stuttering as he cums. Warmth fills you as his cock fills you, hips slowing to a stop. Gently wrapping you into his embrace he bring the both of you onto your sides, cuddled in each others arms. Cock perfectly nestled inside as you both come down from your shared high. Sweet kisses are littered across your face, your lips pulling into a lazy smile. A whispered 'I love you' is passed between the both of you. There you both lay utterly content to spend the rest of your lives just like this.

[zosan-secondchances]

The Pirate King of the North: Part 3

Main Themes: Villain Sanji, Alternate Universe, Zosan Ship

Warning: Long post ahead with One Piece spoilers. Contains strong language, drug use and explicit content.

Part 1 | 2 | 3

Law

Zoro-ya…

Zoro

DON'T.

Law

We've passed by the same block thrice.

Zoro growls. His fists clench as he continues to stubbornly walk ahead of the other man.

Law

Are you seriously this hopeless at directions?

Zoro

Shut up!! We're here.

Law cautiously looks around. His assumption was correct–the green-head is an idiot.

Law

We're in a damp back alley that smells like piss, in the middle of the night, behind some–

Just as Law is about to take another step, a couple of drunken men get roughly thrown out from a tavern and onto the stone footpath in front of him. The bouncer yells unruly curses their way and slams the door behind him. Law sighs, exasperated, and proceeds to follow Zoro, stepping over the writhing drunkards without a care.

Law

Lovely. Look, just tell me where you want to go and I'll take us there. We've wasted enough time already. Are you even sure that we’re on the right island?

Zoro

Shut up. This is the right place. I’m sure of it…this time.

Oh good, they haven't cleared it out yet.

Zoro confidently walks towards a large metal rubbish bin behind yet another shoddy tavern. He readjusts the swords around his waist, and jumps up onto the container. The top half of his body hangs over the opening and the bottom half flails his legs to offset his balance to make sure he doesn't fall all the way in.

Disgusted, Law covers his face with his arm, glaring at Zoro's behind.

Law

You said you can get us in touch with the Pirate King.

Zoro ignores the man and proceeds to dig through the trash, arms deep. Some of the contents spill over the edge, and some he chucks in random directions by hand.

Law

Ugh… Is digging through the trash really how we get to him? It took us two whole days to travel just to get here for this?

Zoro

FOUND YOU!

With a couple of kicks in the air, Zoro's feet fall on the ground. He has his hands cupped together close to his chest. He quickly shuffles past Law, avoiding eye contact, and begins to whisper into his hands as he finds a quiet dark corner while his back is turned towards the other man.

Zoro

I need you working for me now. Come on.

…

I'm sorry I threw you away. I was afraid that you were tapped. Or that you'll explode.

…

C'mon. Just…I'll feed you extra or something. What do you guys like again?

Law's patience is wearing very thin. He approaches Zoro, tapping him on the shoulder with the handle of his own sword.

Law

Zoro-ya, what's going on?

Zoro jolts. He turns his head to look at Law over his shoulder. His ears have turned red. In the palm of his hand, two tiny curious orbs peek over at the doctor.

Law blinks in surprise, looking at the transponder snail with two curly brows above its eyes.

—

At the other end of the line, a den-den mushi with one eye awakens from its peaceful nap.

Den-den Mushi

Purupurupurupuru

A delicate hand answers the call. He lifts the snail’s handset close to his face.

Sanji

Hello?

My beloved! What can I do for you?

Mhmm… Uh-huh. Huh.

That sounds like fun. Sure, I'll help you.

I'll see you soon, my love.

Den-den Mushi

Click

The call put Sanji in a pleasant mood. He is on his bed, reading a book on his stomach while smoking a joint. The one-eyed transponder snail readjusts its shell happily before hiding inside itself comfortably for another long snooze. Sanji thinks that's a great idea, and snuggles himself further in the overly large pink feather coat that draped over him like a blanket, bumping the wavy red sunglasses that sat on his forehead.

Doflamingo shifts in reaction. He is splayed naked next to him with his hands behind his head, resting comfortably against an especially large pillow that looks proportional to his massive figure.

Doflamingo

“My beloved,” hmm? Who was it?

Sanji

None of your god damn business, you ugly fuck.

Doflamingo lets out a deep sinister chuckle.

Doflamingo

This your new toy?

Sanji

He used to be.

Doflamingo

The swordsman, eh? I'm glad to hear that you're making progress.

Sanji

Thanks, cunt.

Doflamingo turns his head slightly, nodding at Sanji's hand with the stick.

Doflamingo

Pass it here.

Sanji stretches his hand and gently places the joint between Doflamingo's lips, giving him a chance to take a long deep drag.

As thanks, Doflamingo holds the air in his lungs, leans over and captures Sanji's lips onto his to breathe the smoke directly into his mouth, making the other man moan deliciously. He takes the hint and pushes further in, shoving his long pointed tongue further down his throat.

Sanji lets him flip him onto his back, welcoming his full weight by spreading his legs wide so the large man can fit between his figure. He opens his mouth, giving him further access.

After a few moments of exchanging deep penetrating kisses, Sanji exhales the smoke out through his nose. He pulls back slightly to look Doflamingo in the eyes.

Sanji

Don't touch him, okay?

Doflamingo

You're no fun.

Sanji

I'm serious.

At this point, Doflamingo knows when he can push his luck and when he can't, especially with that tone in his voice. He raises a hand, telling the other man that he won't bother him further about it. Shifting back onto his pillow, he returns his gaze to the blue and the green-haired commanders standing guard by the doorway. They'd been assigned to make sure that he behaves himself which is the usual routine, but nevertheless he finds it entertaining that they always refuse to watch the show directly in front of them or make any eye contact at all.

Doflamingo 

Think the blue one will actually let me have a go at him this time?

Sanji

Only if you want your dick bitten off, darling.

----------

A little drink to quench the thirst. Doffy is a big boy.

[sashi-ya]

𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝟐𝟑 DAY 9: BANKAI Kuchiki Byakuya 𝘹 𝘍! 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

Requested by: anon ➡ sashi my love! can we please have day nine with Byakuya with an afab reader, she/her pron? you are an amazing writer, we love u! 💗💗 tw: mdni. a first part of an old idea I had. If you all wish me to keep going with the story I totally will! I based this fic in an old poem I wrote called 𝑨 𝑺𝒐𝒖𝒍 𝑭𝒆𝒍𝒍 𝒊𝒏 𝑳𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝑾𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒂 𝑯𝒖𝒎𝒂𝒏. shower sex. sex with a "stranger". maybe confusing and romantic too. 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

It has been the same since you can remember; running away from those things. Monsters with white masks and a ravenous desire of swallowing you in just one bite.

You can also see ghosts. And sometimes, even some strange beings dressed in black uniforms with swords here and there.

However, your childhood hasn’t been easy. Being scolded for lying, and sometimes taken to the doctors because of your “wild imagination”

So much you’ve been scolded and bullied that you simply stopped alerting others about that “invisible” menace and kept it secret for yourself… you got used to, after all, to those monsters and how to avoid them… Soon, however, you learnt you can’t always win by yourself…

You feel it. You know it must be closer to you. At least one or two. Maybe a bigger one? Maybe a lot of them?

You grab your bag and start walking faster. With all your senses alerted, you think of the better way to get to a certain place in Karakura town; the Tsubakidai park. Somehow, when you get to a little old shrine, hidden behind tall grass you feel safe. It is always the same, you feel like you are lacking air and then pass out. By the time you wake up, there isn’t any monster following you no more and you are safe to go back home where somehow you sleep soundly feeling a warm mantle of protection falling upon you.

You can feel their stomps getting louder; you can’t act calm now; you should run to the park, as fast as you can. There are no taxis available, it’s cold, it’s dark, the night has already engulfed the lives of the citizens of Karakura.

Crossing the river, just a little bit more (Name)… you will be safe is you run through the bridge. But there is no time to do so, so your legs should get wet. The river isn’t deep, it only gets up to your ankles.

You keep running, taking a brief look behind you. Is not one. Is not two. There are at least, ten of those monsters. As if someone had put a bait to call them all to this damned town.

The slippery river bottom and your shoes aren’t compatible, and your knees hit the ground the moment you slip. You pray it should be enough, you are just a few meters away from the little shrine. Whatever keeps you safe will help you… right?

The claw of the biggest of them, with a scary white mask covering mostly of his “face”, seems to be moving in slow motion as you finally close your eyes waiting for your death.

“Scatter, Senbonzakura”

You open your eyes to discover the most beautiful pink rain of shining petals. However, those alluring sakura flowers cut the monster in pieces, with a violence so unproper of a blooming sapling. How could something so pretty be so deadly?

In between the blushing glow, facing the creatures, stands a man of long hair and white haori covering his black uniform. His hands hold what seems to be the hilt of a sword with no edge, and his impassible attitude before those scary monsters is at least admirable.

You realize that soon, your lungs are begging for more oxygen as that crushing feeling you always experience reaches you again. It’s both torturing, but also calming. This means, you will be safe...

But you were far from it, just yet.

The man turns around with a velocity your eyes can barely follow. His arm suddenly passes around your waist, pulling you so closer to him it even feels disrespectful.

When you finally catch up with the events happening, your eyes ease the blurriness to focus on the finest features you ever came across with. His sharp mandible, his deep blue eyes, the delicacy of his traits equals the fearless sight during battle.

“I am not sure how you are able to see me, but you must stay exactly this way. Or you will die” he tells you, pulling you even closer to his body to the point of almost nuzzling on his chest. With a big jump back, he gets out from the river and now both lay on the shoreline right under the bridge.

You blink repeatedly, you are probably dreaming. This can’t be happening, there is no way such a prince has come to rescue you.

His free hand have no rest, as uncountable numbers of monsters keep appearing. That’s why, you can see in his eyes he has determined something.

“BANKAI… SENBONZAKURA KAGEYOSHI”

The sword in his hand is now sliding down, as if he had let it fall. But instead of hitting the ground, the edge pierces the floor with no effort. Around you, enormous blades stand still, forming some kind of structure built of thousands of them.

Explosively, they turn to million of pieces. And now you understand that what looked like uncountable cherry blossoms were the pieces of those swords.

“I have a safe zone around me, and only me. Should you move away, and the blades will cut you with absolutely no mercy” he informs you, calm but dominantly. Perhaps there is too much of arrogance in his voice, but he is definitely saving your life now, so you must obey.

“I am not moving away from you a single inch, sir” “Very well. This hollows keep coming and I’m not exactly sure why. It won’t take much, though”

You hug him. You need to be sure you won’t move -or maybe it is because he is too irresistible not to do so-. And when you do, he gasps. It is as if both of your skins reacted in different ways than none of you were expecting to.

His gloved, refined hand, moves up and down in swift delicate motions guiding the petals and cutting the “hollows” that violently try to trespass the protective curtain of flowers around you two.

One of them seem to be strong enough to take the cuts, coming as close as possible to you two. Your protector, quickly covers you completely, as his eyes seem to have telekinetic control of the petals. He creates a wave so strong that a blinding pink light explodes, destroying everything once and for all.

When everything is over, the roaring sounds disappear. There is only the music of the river bubbling next to you and the panting of both of you.

You feel your shoulder wet, thinking it must have been due to your fall in the river. But a sweet look confirms it’s blood.

“Sir! You are hurt! Let me help you!” you desperately chime, when you realize his arm has an opened bleeding wound.

“How are you? Are you hurt?” he asks, calmly, brushing your question off. He is strong, surely. But you can’t leave him this way.

You realize none of you have stopped hugging the other. It feels comfortable, as if you have always belonged to his arms.

“I am… ok, sir… Thank you for saving me” you murmur, wondering if he is going to tell you his name some time.

He closes his eyes, and nods. He sighs in relief. “I’m glad you are fine. Where do you live?” he asks, letting you go for the first time since he arrived.

“I can walk by my own, sir. I don’t mean to bother you… however, being hurt… uhm there is a pharmacy nearby I could buy some stuff to cu-“

“I am not a human, miss. Don’t worry about me” he cuts you short, stating something that’s pretty obvious by now.

You nod and start walking back home, you are cold, trembling. You are completely wet, and the night breeze detrimentally makes it worse.

The finest white fabric covers your shoulders. Golden details hanging on each side and your eyes meeting his.

“Sir I… this is…” you try to give him his haori back, but he is not taking it.

“It’s just a cheap garment. Cover yourself”

You silently walk towards your home, with the scent of his clothing engulfing you in a delightful experience. It is soft and manly, and for sure expensive. You wonder what kind of being he might be, even if for you he could be considered an angel, a knight.

“Mh, you live by yourself right?” he asks, all of a sudden a few meters away from your home. How does he know? Was it him who protected you all the time when you ran to the tori?

“Yes… how- never mind. My name is (Name). What’s your name, Sir?” you ask, you at least wish to know who saved you.

“Kuchiki Byakuya. Captain of the sixth squa…” he stops himself from further talking. He realised you are just a human and shouldn’t know about it.

You smile. Of course, he is some kind of captain or important person. You, however, don’t mind. He is coming from another dimension, that’s for sure. No man looks as perfect as him in this world.

“Thank you so much for saving my life, Kuchiki Byakuya. Would you like to come in? If it’s not too much to ask, I would like to cure your wound”

Byakuya seems reluctant to say yes. Yet, he nods and follows you inside your little house in complete silence.

You immediately show him where to sit on your living room as you quickly go grab some gauze and some antiseptic.

Soon enough you find him looking at your television. He seems to be inspecting the appliance with great interest.

“Do you like me to turn it on for you, Mr. Kuchiki?” “Honestly, I have no idea what this does so I’d much rather prefer not to”

You giggle sweetly. Of course televisions aren’t a thing in his dimension or wherever he comes from. He is dressed as if he lived during Edo period, you highly doubt there is such thing as satellite television…

“So, let me see your wound please” you murmur, a little shy, with the curing supplies on your hands.

Byakuya nods and uncovers his shoulder, letting his black shihakusho fall down. Half his chest and lean arm flash beautiful pale skin with a scratch on it.

It’s no time to lust, but to act. He needs attention now.

With utmost care, you pour some drops of antiseptic solution over his shoulder. The liquid runs in form of big drops down his arm and chest, and he flinches before the subtle burning sensation.

“I’m sorry, Byakuya. I know it’s a little bit uncomfortable, but I’ll be quick I promise” you inform him, as diligently clean the scratch and the dried blood all around.

“This doesn’t hurt. I don’t need you curing me, I can do it. I am staying because I am still wondering why so many hollows were following you… and why you are able to see me… you are loaded with heavy spiritual pressure” he spits. He is for sure not a very friendly pal.

He keeps insisting with the fact you are able to see him, and soon you realize why.

“Sir, are you a ghost?! I’ve seen ghosts all of my life, but you- I can touch you and talk to you and… the scent of your sk-“ you stop. That’s embarrassing, but also true. You were never able to touch one of the ghosts you saw before.

Byakuya grabs your hand. You widen your eyes.

“I know you do. But I don’t know what changed for you to see me now and not before” he confesses, pulling you even closer to him. He is somehow inspecting something in you, you can’t quite see.

So, he is indeed the man saving you from the monsters then… what’s his motivation? Why he protects you?

“I am honestly glad to be able to see you at least Mr. Kuchiki. I owe you my life, not once but uncountable times. How should I repay you?” you ask, coming even more close to him.

Byakuya keeps pulling softly from your arm, his soft fingers tracing paths on the inside of it. Your legs hit his knees, it’s difficult to maintain yourself standing.

“I’ve been watching you for a long time, (Name). You don’t need to repay me. Please be safe until we found out what’s the deal with your high spiritual pressure… but I need you not to tell anyone else about this. Even if other people dressed as me come to talk to you, simply ignore them. Promise me you will”

You swallow. How many invisible threats have you been put under throughout your life?

“So, are you staying the night… Byakuya?” you ask, sincerely and shamefully. You don’t want him to go, and now you begin to think that every time he saved you in silence he probably stayed by your side all night…  

Byakuya nods. He knows you are not stupid; he knows you know. He understands that tonight, more than any night, he must stay right by your side.

No words were said. He followed you to your bedroom. Because both knew that this haven’t been the first time…

“I bet you sat there all night, Byakuya…” you laugh, pointing at a chair you found warmth every now and then without nobody sitting there. “Or maybe in my closet…?” you joke.

“No, the closet is not my style. My sister’s, however…” he mumbles, with a soft smile showing in the commissure of his mouth.

A smile; this man knows how to smile?! Oh, how beautiful was that.

You giggle sweetly, as you scrutinize some comfortable clothes to offer him. He is still wet, he shouldn’t be.

“Here, this should fit. It was going to be a gift for my brother. But… anyway. You can take a shower, I will give you towels… you- can use my hairbrush too” you tell him, while lending him a pair of grey jogging pants and a white shirt.

His hands graze yours, and a simple touch makes you shiver; weak.

You indicate him to follow you to your bathroom. “Here. I’m sure you know how this works” you point towards the shower tab.

“You should take a bath first. You are absolutely wet. I just have my feet a little cold” Byakuya insists, almost whispering behind you. There isn’t much space in your tiny bathroom.

“Then we should bathe together” you joke, taking your hand to your mouth and laughing happily while opening the tab for him.

However, Byakuya has some trouble catching which sayings are simply jokes and which ones are serious propositions…

His delicate hands land on your waist. A jolt of electricity runs through your body, ending in a gasp coming out of your mouth.

He slowly turns you around to face him, committing a sin that nobody should learn about.

“I’d like to do that” he murmurs, as your back hits the acrylic shower screen and Byakuya approaches your lips with his.

You look up at him. He might have been watching you for a long time… but this is the first time your eyes see his face. Even if you tried to deny his presence every time you felt it around you.

Almost instinctively your hand reaches for his cheek, and somehow all of your doubts suddenly fade away. Whether this is real or not, safe or not you simply don’t know.

His lips crash with yours in a soft but needy peck. Byakuya’s body sticks to yours. Soon you two begin kissing desperately, lustfully, sexually.

It seems to you that the kiss turned liberating for him. Who knows how many nights he spent wanting to join his mouth with yours…

It doesn’t take much for his hands to finally undress you. Your dampened clothes falling to the floor, tangling a little around your ankles. His clothes, also falling to the floor. Those baggy clothes can’t hide the perfect anatomy before your eyes.

“You are beautiful” Byakuya mumbles, as your body presents in full display once and for all.

“I’m sure you already knew how I looked…” you murmur, thinking he could be capable of peaking through your shower during those nights where he cared for you in secret.

“I would never, ever, disrespect you. I never once tried to peak through” he confesses, perhaps even feeling “stupid” for not doing it.

On tippy toes, you plant a sweet kiss on his cheek. “I know. For some reason, I feel like I’ve known you since the very moment I was born”

Byakuya’s eyes get instantly coated with a glossy mantle of tears. Even if he tries to hide it, he is not really able to do so. And instead, he lifts you up from your thighs.

Kissing you more and more deeply, with the steam of the shower already replacing the oxygen in your lungs, he gets inside the shower with you.

The hot water rains on both of you. His raven hair, falls gracefully on his shoulders and wide back. It tangles in between your fingers that rest on the nape of his neck.

“I wish to make love to you” he moans, with lingering lips.

You sigh in response; you can’t even talk. He is a stranger and still feels like your soul is bounded to his… why?

You hug his waist with your legs, feeling his sex graze yours from how hard he is getting. He is holding back, just not to penetrate you right away… even if that’s exactly what you two are desperate to do.

“Please… do it now” you beg, kissing the scratch he got on his arm earlier.

Byakuya moves your hair out of your face a places a soft kiss on your forehead with his eyes closed.

“Yes… after so long…” he grunts, allowing his hips to finally impale you. While you didn’t have to wait, he did. But when he begins to move in and out, it feels as if you were pleading for this for an eternity.

The back of your head hits against the wet tiles of your shower. Byakuya’s sharp teeth bite your neck, your skins slap against the other while there is no space in between your bellies.

The more he rams into you, the more you carve your heels on the small of his back and pull from his beautiful black hair.

Byakuya grunts. You moan, loudly. As if it might be the last time your bodies will join, you keep connected until the hot water runs out. Orgasming, one, two, three times. And who knows how many more times.

Dripping, full of his release, he carries you in arms to your bed. “I can’t get enough of you…” he whispers, as he deposits you over the mattress.

“Then don’t go. Stay and love me more. Protect me, with those sharp petals…”

“This is gonna be the death of me, (Name)…”

(to be continued)

taglist: @miabiaria @carmenthedreamer @stygianoir @electronicwitchcollection @aizenwifey @deputy-videogamer @efrodd17 @mizugami @uzxotic @cyberdazetragedy @bookandyarndragon 💖

[ohmyamor]

Zoro!Mingi

inspired by the live action one piece netflix recently did...

I've never watched the anime and I know absolutely nothing about the lore, I'm literally just going based off my obsession with mackenyu and mingi so please bear with me

thinking about Mingi as Zoro...

hear me out

pink haired, buzzcut Ming??

just green instead

iconic if I do say so

anyway

you live a simple life on a little, fairly unknown island in the East Blue

of course, you're well aware of pirates, it's impossible to live here and NOT have any exposure to them

or their drama

but nonetheless, you stay out of it

you wake up in the morning in your humble little home and go to and from work at the bar

which isn't even really a bar

more like a hang out spot for people who happen to pass by

at most, the bar has like, 10 customers, but even then, they never get too rowdy

it's a simple life, but you're grateful for the peace and quiet

and the stability

so when you wake up one fine morning, you really don't expect anything to be different today

after all, you've lived here for years, and as mundane as it sounds, every day has been the same, day in and day out

you do your morning routine, splashing some water on your face and making yourself a simple breakfast, some lightly toasted bread with butter

and a small glass of milk

you were craving some coffee, but your stash was running a little low and you were not in the mood to go to the market anytime soon to stock up

so, after getting ready and eating your breakfast, you grab your small satchel and leave the house, heading to work

you wave hello to your boss and your other coworker as you walk in, being greeted back enthusiastically by the latter

after putting on your frayed apron and tying your hair up, you walk back out and began helping your coworker wipe down some of the tables

it was a quiet day, only two lone patrons in the entire building

eventually, your boss had disappeared to some unknown area

(probably to flirt with the owner from the store next door, but that's none of your business)

you had sent your coworker on her break, despite her insistence on staying to help you out

"Unless a band of pirates or the marines show up requesting an absurd amount of liquor, I think I'll be just fine managing the two people here" you said

taking a glance at the older man who was passed out on the table with multiple bottles of beer surrounding him, you continued

"and I don't think he'll be much of a problem anyways"

sighing, your coworker relented and thanked you, taking off her apron and disappearing into the back

the sound of the wooden beads that acted as a curtain clinking together brought you out of your thoughts

"welcome in!" you called out, bending down to grab the rag you had dropped before standing back up

the first thing you noticed about the man was just how big he was

he was tall and incredibly well-proportioned

his shoulders were wide and you could easily see the muscles in his arms thanks to the almost-too-small shirt he wore

wrapped around his tiny waist was a black cloth, and hanging from there were sheaths that carried not one, but three swords

quirking a brow, you allowed your gaze to creep up the man's body and towards his face

his hair was cut short, but it was also incredibly green

he had three earrings hanging from his left ear that swayed with every shift of the man's head

the man's face was beautiful, in a somewhat terrifying way

he had plump lips and a strong, straight nose

he had high cheekbones that could probably cut through glass and his eyes were perhaps the most beautiful, yet most intimidating things you had ever seen in your life

you watched as his eyes carefully scanned the room before spotting your figure

slowly, the man made his way to the corner of the bar and pulled out the seat before sitting down

he let out a loud sigh through his nose and looked over at you

"Three beers please"

his voice was so deep, deeper than the ocean surrounding your little island

"Coming right up" you turned around, grateful for an excuse to do something so you wouldn't get caught ogling

quickly grabbing three bottles from the cooler, you popped them open before placing them in front of the man

you sent him a small smile "Let me know if I can get you anything else"

he nodded in thanks before grabbing the first bottle and tossing it back

turning back around, you busied yourself with wiping down the back of the counter, sending occasional glances towards the green-haired man

a few minutes passed of you sneaking glances towards the man before you were startled by the loud sounds of yelling

looking up, you noticed a group of men, pirates, who had entered the bar

they were loud and rowdy, everything a pirate typically was, and you internally sighed

here we go

the pirates walked up to the counter and obnoxiously sat themselves down, ignoring the loud scraping of the chairs from how aggressively they had pulled them out

one of the men eyed you standing there and beckoned you over with a wave of his hand

grimacing, you placed a fake smile on your face and walked over

"what can I help y'all with?"

you could feel the eyes of the pirates moving up and down your body and resisted the urge to shiver

"get us the hardest liquor you have, in bulk, sweet thing"

you internally rolled your eyes, sending the man a curt nod

"coming right up"

-

an hour had passed since the green-haired man and the group of pirates had walked in

your coworker had since come back from her break, and, feeling bad for the poor girl's terrified looks toward the pirates, offered to take care of them while she attended to any of the other patrons

that unfortunately included the man with the swords who had first caught your eye, but you shrugged it off

he seemed to keep to himself, so you figured you could still admire him from afar

meanwhile, the group of pirates you had offered to take care of were slowly testing your patience

ignoring the copious amounts of alcohol they were consuming (you're pretty sure they were about to drink your work dry), they had become increasingly disruptive

the majority of the group were all incredibly drunk, shouting and yelling at anyone who supposedly looked at them wrong and breaking glasses and chairs, practically anything they touched

they had even begun to shout at you whenever they wanted more alcohol

while, to a certain extent, you were used to this, it doesn't mean it didn't get on your nerves

"GIRL!" a loud shout sounded out throughout the room

you sighed, turning around

"get us more alcohol now!" one of the men slurred

he could barely sit up straight and was leaning most of his body weight onto the passed out man next to him

"I'm sorry sir, but I'm afraid I can't give you anymore," you sent him a strained smile

the man's face dropped and a scowl appeared on his face

"what do you mean? You bitch, you're probably keeping it from us!"

his face turned red in anger and he slammed his hand onto the counter

you barely flinched, staring the man down

"Sorry sir, but you and your crew are being too disruptive so I'm not allowed to give you any more drinks today"

turning around, you were about to begin washing some of the other cups when the feeling of something flying past your ear stopped you

something shattered on the wall right next to your head

the gasp of your coworker seemed to echo throughout the otherwise quiet bar

freezing, you glanced down at the floor only to see the remains of a glass cup

"If you don't want that cup to be aimed at your head, you'll bring us more drinks," the man shouted

you turned around angrily

"get out of my bar," you looked at the man in his eyes

he let out a sarcastic laugh

"I'm not listening to some stupid little girl," he snarled

"I'm not going to tell you again, get out of my bar or I have no problem making sure you and your crew will never be allowed to dock at this island ever again"

Can I actually do that? No. But he doesn't need to know that, you thought, secretly praying he wouldn't realize you were bluffing

the man snarled and within a split second, he was lunging across the counter with his arms outreached, attempting to grab you by the throat

you flinched, throwing your arms up in an attempt to protect yourself as much as physically possible from the angry pirate

but hands never came

opening your eyes, you blinked down at the floor before carefully looking up past your forearms

you saw the pirate who had lunged at you frozen with one leg on top of the counter and two hands outstretched

his eyes were wide and they looked downwards

following his eyesight, you couldn't help but gape at the long blade that was being held mere centimeters away from the man's throat

you followed the blade up its hilt and up the arm that was holding it only to find at the end, the green-haired man

he wasn't even looking at the pirate, sitting almost casually at the counter with his other arm preoccupied holding his beer

throwing the last remaining liquid down his throat, the man wiped his mouth before throwing a sideways glance at the pirate whom he still held his blade against his throat

"I think the lady asked you to get out of her bar."

the man's voice was even deeper, if possible

almost as if his voice broke whatever trance the entire bar seemed to be in, all hell broke loose the second those words left the green-haired man's mouth

the other pirates all but growled, immediately yanking out their own swords and charging towards the man

who still sat completely unfazed

"hey!-"

before you could even say anything, the green-haired man was up and had one of his swords drawn

almost as if he was fighting against children, the man was able to completely knock out every single pirate who had charged at him within seconds

you stood behind the counter, staring at him in awe

he didn't even look like he was sweating

the man stood with his sword drawn and pointed at the pirate who had initially lunged at you, head faced downwards

slowly, he looked up and cocked a brow at the pirate

"your move"

the pirate scowled and, grabbing his hat from where it lay on the bar, walked out of the room yelling profanities

and leaving his passed out crew behind

gaping, you watched as the man gracefully sheathed his sword and slowly sat back down in his original seat

you stared at him for a few seconds before grabbing something from beside you and walking over to where the man sat

you placed another beer on the counter and slowly slid it toward him

he glanced at the beer and then up at you

"A thank you," you started, "for stopping that man from trying to kill me."

the man nodded and wordlessly grabbed the bottle, taking a long sip

" I hate pirates like that," he spoke lowly

you nodded

"part of the job unfortunately," you shrugged

the man hummed

it was silent for a few seconds

"what's your name?" you asked curiously

the man glanced up at you through his eyelashes

bringing the beer to his mouth, he spoke over the rim of the bottle

"Mingi."

you nodded

"Mingi.." you tested the name on your tongue

"Well, Mingi, thank you again for helping me. If you ever need anything, I owe you one," you swore, holding out your pinky

the man, Mingi, looked down at your finger before looking back at you with a questioning look

"pinky promises can't be broken," you explained

it was silent for a moment as Mingi stared at your hand

you were about to pull your hand back, feeling embarrassed that you were using a childish action to make a promise

even if you wholeheartedly believed in it

but then

another pinky linked with yours

looking up, you saw Mingi already staring at you, a small smirk resting on his face

"I'll hold you to that, doll."

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

the writing gods have blessed me with inspiration and motivation to write

[sunriseverse]

colour and character design in sunrise verse: an overview

i've done some sunriseverse art and character design, so i thought it would be a good time to explain my thoughts and methodology behind my choices so far. (by which i mean, if i can make the curtains blue, by the heavens i will. and you will hear about it!)

so far, i've done a lineup of the iron triangle and heihua, and an art piece including li cu, so that's what i'll focus on, with some thoughts at the end about how i'll do designs for the other characters.

first of all, the iron triangle. for them, the colour palettes at 195 AZ are as follows:

wu xie: greens pangzi: pink, blues/greens, muted gold, white xiaoge: grey, black, gold

of these three colour palettes, wu xie's is the most monochrome—he doesn't have any colours that fall outside the realm of green tones/shades. green is also the "standard" colour of jade—in the original lineup, wu xie is depicted with jade on the string that fastens around his waist:

while sumptuary laws regarding colour didn't necessarily exist in the ming dynasty (the main historical inspiration for the "present" canon period of sunrise), in the song dynasty, green was a colour only worn by officials of rank—which could be achieved through the imperial exams, which wu xie, as the heir of the wu family, with a decent social standing, would have participated in. additionally, the colour green is associated with vitality, which ties into wu xie's role as the heir of his family and the expectations placed upon him.

wu xie's outfit is largely inspired by the image of a scholar, hence the more minimalistic styling, modelled after the dapao, such as the ones below:

it also draws inspiration in decoration/embroidery from mamianqun, which are a large component of the modern hanfu revival movement—originally feminine attire, but in the modern revival movement, is often worn by both men and women:

pangzi, on the other hand, has multiple disparate colours in his colour palette:

as you can see, though, pangzi's outfit is made up of multiple, differently-patterned items of clothing—even though they're harmonious in combination, they're also very eye-catching. pangzi, as a person, is loud and colourful, and this is reflected in his clothing. additionally, the patterns of his clothing are more simplistic in comparison to wu xie's and xiaoge’s, bringing more to mind homemade or locally-produced clothes, rather than produced by a specialised tailor.

he also has a trademark patch on his overtunic—while hello kitty doesn't exist in the same way that it does in our universe, this patch is meant to visually call back to it. it's also hand-sewn—clearly indicating that this was added later, by pangzi himself, rather than created with it.

finally, out of the colours, three of the colours in his colour palette are a shade related to the other two members of the iron triangle—gold, for xiaoge, and blue and green for wu xie (historically, blue and green were both referred to using the same word, qing). within canon, wu xie mentions that he has thought that, without pangzi, he and xiaoge would likely grow distant—pangzi is the lifeblood of the iron triangle, and this is reflected on his clothing. he also has bound sleeves, rather than broad sleeves—more convenient, and a departure from the classical broad sleeves. this is somewhat inspired by the costuming in shows like cql, where the more "scholarly" characters are depicted with broad, loose sleeves, while the "renegade" or "common" characters' sleeves are often bound.

finally, xiaoge:

as you can see, xiaoge's outfit essentially only has two colours: grey/black, and gold. the dark colouration is reflective of the canon tendency for xiaoge to be costumed in black or dark colours, while the gold is reflective of the ornamentation on his sword, his trademark weapon.

additionally, the front panel of his outfit depicts a qilin and bamboo in gold. the qilin is self-explanatory—it's the emblem of the zhang sect, and xiaoge carries a tattoo of it. yellow, and by extension, gold, is also a historically important colour—aside from its modern associations with wealth, it's also associated with the mythical huangdi/yellow emperor. as for bamboo, historically it's listed as one of the "four gentlemen"—and, additionally, bamboo is all-pervasive, used in construction, writing, and many other functions, which reflects xiaoge's deep entanglement with the functions of the world and systems in sunrise through his place as a ranger and the patriarch of the zhang sect, but also reflects his removal from the world at large—more connected, initially, to the natural world than society at large, which begins to change after the iron triangle is formed, becoming part of a forest of bamboo rather than simply a single shoot.

also, as you can see in the design image, his outer layer is modified from the traditional cut—it has an added hood, designed to mimic the hoodie he often wears in canon, showcasing the blending of historical and modern inspiration of outfit design.

next, heihua:

xiao hua: green, gold, pink hei xiazi: black, grey, white

starting with xiao hua: his outfits are styled in light, spring colours, with floral designs—a clear reference to his nickname, but also to the concept of flowers blossoming in spring after a harsh winter. like the flowers, xiao hua experiences harsh trials at a young age—but, through his own efforts, is able to thrive and grow.

as you can see, his outfits contain the most ornamentation out of all of the designs so far, but the ornamentation isn't ostentatious—xiao hua is someone who enjoys fine things, but is someone who keeps his thoughts and reactions under careful check. additionally, in the first image, you can see the addition of modern-style trousers, associated with business, while the second image is more traditionally-inspired. regardless of the outfit, though, xiao hua's costuming includes long hair and broad sleeves, often associated with the upper class.

now, hei xiazi:

similarly to xiaoge, hei xiazi has a very restricted colour palatte—but, while xiaoge's design has warmer golden tones, hei xiazi's outfit has cool blue tones. additionally, his outfit's embroidery and painted pannels are more generic—designs reminiscent of flowing rivers or thin clouds. like the clouds and rivers, despite being a part of the world, he's set apart from the people—reflected further by the cool colour palette.

he also wears a leather jacket as in canon—a clearly anachronistic item in comparison to the rest of his outfit, reflecting the way he straddles the line between past and present—and, of course, continue the visual coding of him being a wildcard, a mercurial player within the narrative.

i've gone over the main designs, but so far, i have yet to touch on the changes that occur—for the majority, between periods of canon, costuming remains more or less in line with what's been shown so far, with a major exception: that being, of course, wu xie during the sha hai era. in the following section, i'll talk about wu xie's costume change, and li cu's costuming.

for starters, wu xie's palette changes radically. this is the palette i've used in sha hai-era art:

as you can see, there's a dramatic shift—specifically, the colours are adjusted to the opposite side on the colour wheel, purple, and the gold accent is added. this is a visual demonstration of the psychological changes wu xie experiences, changing him from his previous state of youth and vitality to a richer, sedate, and, keyly, more artificial colour palette (historically, purple was a hard colour to produce using natural dyes).

this is reflected in the design of his outfit as well:

as you can see, his outfit is no longer the simplistic scholar's robes of earlier. there's significantly more ornamentation, as well as complexity. there's also the addition of the trailing skirt, and the artificially exaggerated shoulders—making him seem both bigger than life, and, alongside the purple, making him seem more regal and aloof.

for li cu, the colour palette is mostly red with gold:

the choice of red and gold is purposeful—both are colours of vitality, and, together, signify luck, good fortune, and prosperity—a cold irony, when li cu's life and experiences are considered. additionally, red is a component colour of purple—harkening back to the constant parallels that are drawn in dmbj between li cu, and wu xie when he was younger. however, wu xie's original colour palette is green—while the traditional word for green and blue is the same, the colours are not identical. li cu may appear on the surface to be like a younger wu xie, but wu xie's younger self and li cu do not line up on a one to one—their pathos and actions differ wildly.

secondly, li cu's outfit has elements heavily reminiscent of a soldier's garb:

his outfit has a broad-shouldered upper portion, bound sleeves, and a split short skirt with trousers beneath. li cu's initial purpose is, essentially, that of a child soldier. his outfit is one that would be common to find on thousands of others—he's not seen as an independent actor, but one of a number of disposable pawns within wu xie's plans.

okay that's the end of it i think. if you made it this far, thank you for your time.

[minato-division03]

Miku Shirazuki

“Speak your mind, even if your voice shakes."

Etymology

Miku means "beautiful" (美) (mi) and "sky" (空) (ku)

Shirazuki means "white" (白) (shira) and "moon" (月) (tsuki)

Character Information

Kanji: 白月 美空

Romaji: Shirazuki Miku

MC Name: Hex 13

Gender: female

Pronouns: she/her

Age: 19

Birthday: January 13

Star sign: Capricorn

Blood type: A

Occupation: ex-idol

Division: Minato

Team: R.I.P Märchen

Height: 162 cm (5’3 1/2) / 167 cm with high tops (5’5 1/2)

Weight: 45 kg (99 lb.)

Hair color: metallic ice blue

Eye color: ice blue

V/A: Miyu Tomita

Rap voice: Yena Choi

Stage actor: Yena Choi

Appearance

Miku is an average-height girl with rosy skin and small piercing ice-blue eyes. She has straight, metallic ice-blue hair that reaches down the middle of her back and is shaped into a wolf cut, her fringe parting in a messy left side-part.

Her street attire consists of a cropped black lace-up tank, black high waisted skinny jeans, a translucent jacket that gradients to a midnight-blue color and litters with star-shaped sequins, white high tops, and a black baseball hat. She has four piercings on each ear: two lobes and her lower and upper helixes. She tends to wear different jewelry everyday, depending on her mood, but one piece of jewelry she doesn’t leave the house without is her silver sword necklace.

When she’s at home, she sports a loose cream-colored button-up with a deep neckline, exposing the top of her lacy blush-pink bralette, finished with white satin shorts.

Personality

Miku is generally a mature, serious person with somewhat of a short temper and does not like being pestered. As a result of multiple incidents in the entertainment business, she developed a cold and distrusting attitude toward most people. She has lost all patience for overeager and aggressive fans who continue to accost her in public and inconvenience others.

However, she does have a softer side to her and still remains humble, despite her popularity as an idol. Queen Card notes that one of Miku’s best traits is that she is incredibly loyal to the people she cares about, be it her fans, family, or friends.

Ability

Her rap ability, Curse, allows the impact of her blows to linger in her opponent’s mind, even when it's no longer her turn.

Trivia

Miku is left-handed.

She likes grapes, dancing, crystals, astrology, and scented candles while she dislikes naivety, deception, and judgmental people.

Her favorite food is miso-grilled corn while her least favorite food is cucumbers.

She can play the piano, guitar, flute, karimba, and the harp.

Her parents are Reiaki’s neighbor, and they live on the same floor. When she was an idol, she was living in the same apartment as her manager.

She was homeschooled all throughout her idol career.

[shelbeetaylor]

Chapter Fourteen | One Dagger, Two Endings

-> story masterpost

-> previous chapter

Waking was once again a blessing for Cassandra. All she could see that night was the same dream repeating itself over and over as her body was under the influence of Galen’s sleeping draught. That horrid invention kept her trapped in that nightmare, and she would be grateful for the day it would stop. For now, however, she was haunted by the images flashing in her mind as she prepared for the ceremony at midday. 

Cassandra found herself staring absentmindedly out one of her windows, her gaze falling upon the palace courtyard below. It was flooded with people– knights in armor, locals making their delivery rounds, and workers carrying baskets upon baskets of pink flowers. She had nearly forgotten amidst the chaos… the welcoming feast for Evie was to happen that night.

As she watched the workers move about all the decorations, Cassandra wondered if the feast was even going to happen. Of course, it would… if all went well. If it didn’t, well, everyone in the courtyard would have worked towards nothing. The castle would revert to being devoid of color, as had become its constant state in the recent weeks. In fact, there were only two ways that Cassandra's awful nightmares would end. The first would be after Theo and them successfully thwarted the assassins’ plans, and the entire situation would be avoided. The second… Unfortunately, the second would end with a knife in her mother’s heart.

 “Good morning, my lady,” Gena greeted as she entered, pulling Cassandra out of her thoughts. “I trust you slept well?”

“Yes,” Cassandra replied, still staring out of the window. “Unfortunately, I did.”

Gena made a face at the princess as she began making the bed. “Come on, don’t be like that. It’s good that Galen is fixing your sleeping schedule. You were making yourself sick.”

“Genevieve, you will never know what it is like to have my nightmares,” Cassandra said gravely, turning away from the window and towards the maid. “If you did, you would not so quickly side with Galen and his horrid inventions.”

The maid came to almost a full stop, silence plaguing her lips for a moment. “Are they really that horrible?”

Cassandra gave the floor a small smile. “I have seen things no one ever should, and most times I am utterly helpless to stop them.”

“This time will be different,” the maid said. “It has to be.”

“Perhaps it’s not. Perhaps the reign of my mother is truly destined to end today.” Cassandra then looked at Gena with a sick, twisted half-grin. “Perhaps I am to be queen today.”

Gena seemed a bit frightened, yet she stood firm. “I believe in us. I think we can do it.” Cassandra nodded quietly in response, and Gena finished making the bed. “Do you have a black dress in mind for today, or shall I rummage through them myself?”

Cassandra's lips parted at the thought. “Actually, I believe a new color is in order.”

Evie sat at the table in silence as Teddy finished dressing behind his changing screen. She just listened to the rustling coming from behind the screen, tracing the designs in the piece of wood with her fingers.

“Have you had any fighting experience?” Teddy asked.

“No.”

Teddy popped his head around the screen. “None? Ever?”

Evie shook her head.

“Have you ever confronted assassins before?”

“Nope.”

Teddy stepped fully out from the screen and grabbed his scabbard belt to wrap around his waist. “H… have you ever sabotaged a plan… or anything of the like?”

“Not at all.”

Teddy sighed and ran a hand down his face. “I can’t–” Another sigh. “I’m not giving you a weapon if you’ve no fighting experience.”

“I’d rather not have one anyways,” Evie shrugged.

“You know this is dangerous, yes?”

Evie raised her eyebrows. “I figured that out on my own. And besides, you don’t need a weapon to help.”

“It’s quite nice when you do, though.”

“I am perfectly fine doing what I can without a weapon, even if it does end up being just moral support.”

Teddy sheathed his sword and began pocketing a couple extra weapons, like several daggers hidden in several different places. “What are you even doing here anyways?”

“If I’m being honest, I thought this was going to be like my books,” she replied. “A thrilling adventure to tell tales of. Don’t get me wrong, there’s still a part of me that’s excited to be included, but it’s different now. There’s stakes– real ones– and I can’t lose anymore family.”

Teddy opened his mouth as if he were going to speak, but he was interrupted by his chamber door opening. Gena popped around the door, dressed in a new outfit Evie had never seen before. It seemed more battle appropriate, what with the pants and the vest. She even had a scabbard belt, though Evie assumed she was borrowing Cassie’s.

“Civarn and I are ready when you are,” she announced.

Teddy nodded and said, “We’ll meet you in the council room in a few moments.”

Gena bowed her head quickly and retreated behind the door. Evie looked back to the knight, who was doing a quick sweep of his weapons before getting ready to set off. When Teddy was satisfied with the results, he leaned down to Evie's level.

“Are you ready?”

Evie nodded in response.

“Don’t worry,” Teddy told her, placing a hand on her shoulder. “You won’t be losing any more family today.”

Evie gave a small smile, then joined Teddy in standing and waltzed towards the door. Just as she crossed the threshold, however, she felt a force push her to the side. She stumbled for a moment, but quickly recovered and looked to see what the cause was. Awkwardly standing over her was a boy who looked like he was attempting to catch her. Her eyes met his, fire and hazel swirling in his irises, and he backed away after realizing she was okay.

“My apologies!” he exclaimed, running a hand through his spiky cinnamon brown hair. “Won’t happen again!”

Evie was so close to saying something, but the boy ran off before she could get a word in.

The knock on Cassandra's door echoed through her chambers. Gena had left not too long ago, dressed in her usual battle attire and carrying Cassandra's sword, so no one was there to answer. Cassandra simply kept adjusting her waves in the mirror and called, “Enter!”

Cassandra continued fidgeting with her hair and moved onto picking out jewelry for the ceremony, but she realized halfway through putting in her necklace that it was still silent. She had heard the door open, a couple footsteps, and the door close, but nothing else. Cassandra turned towards the door to find Enoch Starvale standing awkwardly, waiting for her to acknowledge his presence. Cassandra looked him up and down quickly

“What the fuck do you want?” The question came out as more of a statement.

Enoch quietly gulped, yet kept up his usual charismatic poker face reasonably well, “I was assigned to be your personal guard for the ceremony.”

Cassandra gave a slow nod as her lips pursed. “How convenient.”

The knight continued playing with his charade, this time the strength of it renewed. “Extremely convenient, indeed. I get to spend the whole day alongside a beautiful woman, protecting her.” 

“I don’t need you padding after me like a lost puppy dog,” she replied, returning to her vanity. The remark was too sharp, too hostile to be their usual playful banter.

Enoch carried on, though. He smiled his ridiculous little smile and kept going. “I know. The great Cassandra, never needing a man to make sure she’s okay–”

“I am FINE!” Cassandra snapped, her shouting echoing through the empty room and the bracelet she accidentally threw clattering against the stone floor. “Why does everyone think I’m NOT?”

Enoch’s countenance fell immediately. The silence began to ring, only broken by Cassandra's breathing. Her teeth clenched in rage, she was prepared to show him a horrifying stare of death, but instead her jaw went slack and dropped at the sight of his brandy eyes and the melancholy in them.

Her mouth struggled to form words, and she looked away from him. “I…I apologize. That was out of line.”

“Cass–” Enoch immediately backtracked– “My lady…” Cassandra held out a hand to stop him from advancing, and he obeyed. “You don’t have to keep this up. You can be vulnerable. I’m your friend, just let me be there for you–”

“And what?” Cassandra smiled an awful smile, trying to hide the tears welling in her eyes. “I’m supposed to cry on your shoulder while you stroke my hair, then you give me a kiss after I’ve shown you how broken I really am? Is that what you want?” Enoch’s heart breaking in front of Cassandra wasn’t about to stop the words spilling out of her mouth. “I’m just supposed to show you every part of me so you can get the girl? Is that it? Well, it won’t happen. It’s not going to happen.”

Cassandra regained control of her face, setting it into the stare she intended for him earlier. The knight could only stutter incoherently.

“Leave me, and I’ll call you when I’m ready to leave,” she ordered.

He obeyed, bowing quickly before practically running out the door. Once it shut firmly behind him, Cassandra collapsed onto the vanity bench, her breathing a bit labored. Something rolled down her cheek, and in the mirror she saw a tear escape her eye. She wiped it away immediately, making sure there wasn’t another to follow it, and resumed her final preparations for the ceremony.

Evie and Teddy were the last to arrive in the council room. It was strange to see such a usually busy place completely empty. There wasn’t even a guard in sight. Perfect for them, however. It was nice and secluded and quiet. Fantastic for conspiring, or so Evie had been led to believe by her books.

“The ceremony should be starting soon,”Gena declared.

“Everyone clear on the plan?” Teddy asked. He received nods and verbal responses from everyone. “Great, let’s get into position. Civarn?”

Teddy’s manservant nodded and gave his luck to Gena and Terran before leading Teddy and Evie into the hallways. Teddy had warned her on the way to the council room that she needed to be silent the entire time during this mission. She intended on following all of his orders. This plan was not going to fail because of her, so she didn’t speak a word as they traveled through the maze of hallways. There was only the quiet sounds of Teddy and Civarn’s chainmail rustling and the muffled footsteps of the trio to keep her mind busy.

By the time her sense of direction was completely lost, Civarn slowed to a stop and whispered, “Just up ahead is the staircase that leads to the balcony.” He pointed to the adjacent hallway. “That hall is a straight shot to the main staircase, should you need us in an emergency.”

Teddy clapped him on the back and in the same hushed voice said, “Look at that. Not completely useless after all.”

Civarn gave his master a little smile and replied, “I’ll see you in a little while.”

“See you then.” 

The walk to the great hall was a silent one, but Cassandra just focused on the clicking of her heels rather than the lack of conversation. Enoch hid his feelings well, keeping a solemn, straight face and his eyes focused on the path ahead. She did the same, except hers manifested in one of her usual terrifying stares that warded off interaction with other people. Cassandra was so focused on appearing unbothered that she didn’t prepare for what would happen when they turned the corner. 

Waiting outside the doors to the great hall was Cassandra's mother, looking a tad irritated. Cassandra sighed through her nose before continuing on to meet her mother. She kept listening to her heels against the stone floor until she saw her mother’s eyes widen a bit.

“Hello, mothe–” 

“What,” her mother seethed, “are you wearing.”

Cassandra couldn’t help but look down at her dress. She was suddenly aware of every part of the white fabric touching her body. Even the gold detailing began to feel like needles piercing her skin. Cassandra pursed her lips as her dress began to suffocate her.

“Would you rather I have come in trousers?”

“I would rather you follow our traditions and remain in mourning.”

“Well, I’m not mourning anymore,” Cassandra replied.

Her mother opened her mouth to say something, but was interrupted by the sudden appearance of the Valoran king. “My apologies for taking so long Ginevra.”

Her mother’s face shifted in a split second from horrifyingly angry to completely calm. “No worries, Guillame.”

The king nodded, then turned to Cassandra. “You look wonderful today, princess.”

Cassandra smiled a half-genuine smile– the other half was taking pride in the fact that Guillame’s comment made her mother’s eye twitch slightly– and replied, “Thank you, Your Majesty.”

“Shall we begin?” her mother asked rather quickly. She didn’t bother waiting for an answer from either of them as she nodded to the guards. The muffled sound of horns came from behind the grand doors, and Cassandra felt the knight’s arm reluctantly loop through hers before the door swung open.

Time seemed to slow down as Cassandra caught a glimpse inside the hall. Like a sea parted in a far off legend, the council and local nobles stood awaiting the arrival of the princess and the rulers. Familiar faces stood, staring at her and Enoch with dispassionate expressions. Cassandra struggled to level her breath as she saw rays of sunlight falling onto the floor, displaying the patterns of the window panes on the wood floor. Before the knight and the princess was what felt like the longest walk of her life which led up to the fated podium where the Nevernian-Valoran Treaty lay. 

As per the traditions of having an escort, Enoch was the one who initiated the walk. Cassandra followed his lead, concentrating more on keeping her face serene and stoic. It was so quiet in that giant room it took years for the sound of her heels to echo back to her. With every step, Cassandra's throat closed up more and more, her dress growing tighter and tighter, and her legs growing shakier and shakier. She caught Enoch glancing over at her, and he lightly squeezed her arm. Maybe he sensed her feelings, or maybe she wasn’t hiding it well. By the time Cassandra and Enoch reached the podium, Cassandra was forcing herself not to throw up as her heartbeat rose to her throat.

They turned at the base of the podium and moved to the left. Not too far behind them was the queen and the king. The crowd of people bowed their heads to the two rulers who gracefully floated across the floor. Cassandra took in a deep, audible breath watching her mother, and she felt another light pressure on her arm. Cassandra didn’t acknowledge the knight a second time, instead glancing up to the balcony at the back of the room. There was no ominous black mass, nor a mysterious figure looming over the crowd. It was empty. 

Cassandra's mother and King Guillame stopped before the podium and turned to face the crowd of people. The queen began addressing the crowd, “We welcome you all to this momentous occasion. It is truly an honor to share this day with those we trust. As most of you are well aware, the plans for my daughter and King Guillame’s son to marry were shattered by the untimely death of Prince Henri.” Cassandra clenched her jaw a bit. “While we mourn his death and keep his memory in our hearts, we have faith that this treaty will honor the merge we wished to forge with our heirs’ union.” 

Gena tried to quiet her breathing as much as possible. Her heart was pounding so loudly in her head she thought her eardrums would burst soon. What Cassandra had said that morning unsettled her, but she was not about to let that interfere with the mission.

Terran was next to her in this hiding spot of theirs. Unlike Civarn, the physician’s apprentice wore his usual shirt, scarf, and jacket rather than any sort of battle attire. Granted, he was being trained to heal rather than to fight, but after all the adventures they’d been on even Gena had acquired some pieces more fit for defending the kingdom than her normal dresses. He was barely even armed, just carrying a small dagger. She’d barely seen him wield the thing in all her years of knowing him. Again, she could attribute it to his studying to be a physician, but still… She just wasn’t quite sure how much help he’d be in a fight. Gena would much rather be the backup. Gods above, she wished Cassandra could’ve fought with them.

Terran was unnaturally silent. It shouldn’t have been right, but being undetectable was a certain skill of his. Gena tried copying everything he did in hopes that she could even semi-emulate his hiding abilities. She was not about to be spotted and end up the reason the plan failed. 

Two sets of footsteps echoed down the barren hall. 

Gena and Terran glanced at each other, and that was all the communication they needed. Both of them shifted ever so slightly so the incomers were within view. Gena initially made eye contact with Civarn, who hid across the hall for a more hidden escape. They held stares for a few seconds longer as the footsteps grew nearer. Gena's breath hitched, and two figures passed by and blocked her view of Civarn. They moved and looked like shadowy ghosts in the night, sans the audible footsteps– though their canter sounded almost exactly like the guards’. 

Gena felt two taps on her arm, and she turned to see Terran still following the movements of the figures. That must’ve been his sign to warn Civarn. Gena popped her head back around to find Civarn wasn’t there. She let out a quiet exhale and returned to her hiding spot, hoping that Civarn would get there in time to warn Theo.

Evie heard the faintest footsteps a split second before Civarn appeared.

“They’re here,” he said, barely getting the words out before Teddy turned to the stairs and unsheathed his sword.

Cassandra's mother had been droning on about the little specific details in the treaty. Each territory change. Each law amendment. Each promise. It was getting exhausting to listen to, but it seemed that she was the only one struggling to focus.

“...and finally, the Forest of Raya shall be given over completely to Valoran,” the queen declared.

A small applause came from the crowd, and Cassandra feigned her best smile and clap. She could feel Enoch’s eyes glance her over at the lack of sound from her hands. She didn’t have the energy to muster up a wordless answer. She just wanted this to be over with.

King Guillame stepped forward as the short applause began dying down. He cleared his throat and began to announce, “There is one final, vital part of the treaty. One that with the signing of this document shall permanently bond the kingdoms of Nevernia and Valoran forever.”

It took so much energy to prevent each of her muscles from twisting her face into one of confusion. This was a bit grand for some territory and law agreements, wasn’t it?

“With my kingdom out of heirs and no way to produce more, Queen Ginevra and I decided it best to honor the union that never was. As of now, Crown Princess Cassandra Ravenwell of Nevernia is hereby the sole heir to the Valoran throne and Nevernia shall acquire all Valoran land upon my passing.”

Cassandra's jaw dropped. A thunderous applause echoed in the great hall. Her body went numb. The court was full of smiles. She was to inherit two kingdoms. She never wanted to throw up more in her life than she did in that moment.

Enoch gently put a hand on her shoulder to bring her back to reality. He must’ve seen her face, and him reading her face meant that the entire court could see her thoughts. Cassandra forced herself to take a breath, and steadied her features. She had to retain some semblance of dignity. 

Gods, the rest of them better take care of the assassins.

Evie chased Teddy up the small, dark staircase, Civarn following closely behind. Teddy moved so fast in his heavy chainmail, faster than Evie thought possible, but she did her best to keep up with him, skipping as many steps as she could without tripping herself. When the staircase suddenly got bright again, Teddy ducked out of sight above her, and immediately the sound of clanging echoed down the staircase. Evie sprinted as fast as she could up the last few sets of stairs.

When the wall opened up to a bright light, Evie squinted for a moment, the view of Teddy blocking low and high strikes from a black-clothed figure coming into focus as her eyes adjusted to the light. The figure– one of the assassins, it must’ve been– struck again in the middle, but Teddy held his blow for a moment with his sword before pushing back against the man. 

Below the fight was the entire Nevernian court, unaware of the battle going on above them as they proceeded with the treaty signing. Even Cassie was focused solely on the speeches being given by Auntie Ginny and the King of Valoran, her face full of confusion and a hint of something else that Evie couldn’t quite figure out.

The male assassin feigned a high attack, instead opting for a strike at the torso– but Teddy was not fooled. He easily blocked the assassin's swing, holding him there in an attempt to off-balance him the way he tried with Cassie a couple days ago. The assassin, however, pushed off Teddy before he had the chance to attempt any unbalancing tricks and began delivering blow after blow for Teddy to block.

Teddy attempted to strike back, lunging forward aggressively, but it was easily sidestepped and parried by the assassin. Teddy’s sword slid so far his crossguard almost collided with the assassin’s blade, and he began to fall into the assassin. The man shoved Teddy off with his bare hands, throwing the knight into the wall before ordering the other figure behind him in another language.

Evie didn’t even realize there was someone else on the balcony, she was so focused on staying out of the way of Teddy and the man. Civarn nor her had the chance to help out as the balcony was too small to sneak past the battle without being impaled.

Teddy blocked a low strike, then dealt a succession of his own– low, high, high, low– as fast as he could.

Evie watched the other figure raise her arm, a blade glinting in her hand.

Teddy shouted as he pushed the man backwards again, letting out a resounding, “No!”

Cassandra heard Theo’s shout echo across the great hall from the balcony. Everyone stopped and looked to the source– even her mother paused in the middle of her sentence to figure out what was going on.

On the balcony there were just shadows, figures backlit by another massive window of the great hall. Three figures were up there– no misshapen blob of darkness to be found. One shadow must’ve been Theo because two of them were fighting while the other– 

The final shadow raised an arm, a sparkle shining in the sunlight.

It was happening.

It all was coming true.

The dagger soared through the air, spinning gracefully as a leaf would on an autumn day or a petal in the midst of spring.

Cassandra outstretched her arm, shrieking just as Theo did moments ago, not really knowing if her reaching would have an effect on the flying weapon.

Cassandra's chest and arm grew warm with energy for a split second.

The dagger continued on, striking the floor and skittering across the wooden boards as it missed its mark. Her mother’s eyes widen at the sight, King Guillame and several knights and guards drawing their swords in preparation to fend off another attempt on the queen’s life.

Then there was a loud cracking echoing around the hall. Cassandra's gaze shifted slowly from the still dagger on the floor to the window before her. Splintering cracks spread quickly throughout the great window, the glass’s reflection on the floor distorting on the floor as the damage infected the whole window.

And the glass masterpiece shattered, caving inwards with a horrible screech.

-> next chapter

[ltadoriyuujl]

you already know the drill annotation time baby!

Did you stop guarding Katsuki because you’re the spy Enji thinks or because not even the red wing captain could follow you undetected?

this is so funny WHO does that lunatic think we're spying for? the kingdom whose prince has spent like a quarter of his life in Takoba? nothing in that head but air and anger

All week, you growl through the effort of fastening garters to a stocking. Another. All week he has followed you and all week you kept his attention off your prince. If Bakugou had just stayed away, if he’d just hated you properly. You lean back to inspect neatly laced boots– Alderan dancing knots– boots so delicate they couldn’t be made for actual dancing. What will he wear tonight? You force a hand through wild braids.

give it up for girls with weird ass attachment styles they make the world go round

A prized hunting dog. You will be beautiful for one night and you can no longer avoid your job; assassins love to hide at parties.

god there are few things i love more than a good dog metaphor. don't mind the blood on my teeth its not mine but its there for you. many such cases

Prince Natsuo doesn’t have the energy to be surprised by you. He is not fazed by your drawn weapon and doesn’t flinch in the dark, but he remembers your name, “Captain Y/n?”

extremely nonchalant for someone who almost caught a blade between the eyes natsuo you will always be famous

Your Alderan senses are dulling in this kingdom. Your ghost never sounded so nervous.

I’m sorry, Bakugou’s heartbroken voice parrots. Don’t cry. He pleads with his hands on your cheeks. You can’t change what you’ve done. Bakugou Katsuki can haunt you til death, but you don’t get to hide from him.

this story's ghost/wraith motif may be secondary to the ocean theme and the hot vs. cold Aldera/Takoba dichotomy but it is no less dear to me

You smooth your hands up your hips and rest both palms at your waist where Bakugou held you, bleeding, poisoned, his forehead slipping off your shoulders with sweat and the lurches of the horse. A ten minute ride from the edge of the forest to the city gates, it was only the sky watching such desperation.

such an intimate moment and they were still in the enemies phase. bkg and eyes really did write the textbook on hate that loves you and love that drives you to the pits of despair

You would have attended and served quietly, you would have dreamed of home if the flame in that last pretty candle wasn’t flickering in a clear and lonely shade of blue.

you cannot imagine the speed with which my heart dropped to my stomach. chills.

Your prince will fight to the death, you cannot let him. Your prince will die for his friends, you can’t bear to lose a single one. Send me instead, you beg. Me, wait for me.

i really dont even need to say anything its right there man

“Highness!” You shout into the blue before realizing the silence of the ballroom doesn’t come from death. One thousand pearls startle immediately at the beast and her raised sword. Gowns of lace, suits of glass, feathers, freckles, masks and tiny shoes, bells, fans, crystal flutes of pink champagne, and not a single person speaking over a hush. Two hundred eyes watch the Alderan dog prepare to fire again into a party.

No one speaks. There is no laughter, there is a single violin playing from a fifteen piece band– did you scare the trumpets too?– weeping a waltz for the dancers who crane away from their partners to watch what you might do.

this is such uniquely freaky imagery i can't describe it. like me and eyes were on the same page the whole time what kind of party makes zero noise. we have GOT to get out of this kingdom man

The prince of Aldera climbs trees in the summer to reach the best apples. He likes to bathe at night. He is slightly shorter than his mother in her favorite boots and it bothers him, but never enough to say anything. His fingertips sparked when he kissed you.

MY MAN MY MAN MY MAN

“Won’t,” he rumbles, “won’t let you look crazy alone.” Prince Bakugou Katsuki steadies his palm just behind your waist and draws you onto the dancefloor, hand in hand. He is more than beautiful. Polished boots, white suit and golden embroidery– each button in his vest is flanked by a small Alderan sun. Dragons prowl along the hem. His red cape you thought lost, rocks you with homesick.

MY MAN PT 2 he's just so gorgeous it makes me ill

You, his war criminal.

They also invented matching each other's freak.

“The candles are blue at the queen’s request,” he rumbles, sacrificing posture to watch you properly, to correct you. “That must…I, I didn’t know. I wouldn’t have let them.”

crazy place. intolerable place. rei my darling i love you dearly but my god.

“Mind your ears, dragonne.”

with every new epithet and moniker he adds one diamond to the wedding ring. the royal coffers are almost empty Aldera is going to go into a recession

Kirishima towers over your prince and barks with laughter trying to get the man to spin under his arm.

Your red pleats swell in the air and settle with your hips on his broad shoulder. The hidden sheath under your bodice taps his ear. “Are you armed?!” He hollers and spins once to make you squeal and grip tight to his hair.

I know this is bkg's story i know i knowww but the soft spot i have for kirishima can't be ignored he is so big and so full of love and one day im going to marry him

Peruro is a game and so when Sero Hanta and his cheeks tattooed with lipstick kisses, plucks you from your partner, Mina can hardly complain.

i imagined a cartoon style lip stick mark right in the middle of his forehead and i laughed for like 5 minutes

“Red suits you, dragonne!” Bakugou roars and you land square in his arms to the coo of a shepherd's pipe. You blink and his, him, he– he stares.

mhm mhm he's planning wedding colors

“Y/n, ’m sorry.” You fight yourself not to fight the closeness. It’s rotten work. Your gown matches his suit perfectly and pressed together you spin in the chaos and climax of a beautiful song.

its right there pt 2

A tall man shifts between rushing servants on the catwalks.

heart in my stomach pt 2

The impact of the spear shattered a chunk of floor beside your prince’s heart where it landed. Missed, you grin feebly. He’s okay. He is perfect and wide-eyed and beautiful, and the blade of your cherrywood halberd shines with blood from its home through your chest.

GROUP SUICIDE IN 20 MINUTES

head in hands pomme...pomme you've done it again...once this series is done im petitioning for it to be put in the library of congress

𝟏𝟕 | 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐚𝐥𝐥 (𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐞 & 𝐭𝐰𝐨.)

ー✧ prince!bakugou x royal guard!reader

"He does not grab you by the collar or threaten you with his teeth and when you grasp his hand to steady yourself from an awkward step, he is the boy who makes magic for you in the dark."

slight cw panic sequence. (I) reader agonizes after yesterday's kiss and of course the ball is today. blue mages haunt you, red wing captains stalk you, the wrong prince finds your hiding place (II) bkg will not let you embarrass yourself alone. ballgowns, blue fire, champagne, pearls, a song from home, relief and peruro. dance my love, or die. 7.7k

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Captain Hawks has one job and you’ve made it so much more difficult than necessary. He’s had one job for fifteen years. Red feathers brick out southern wind from the hiding place he’s made above your window and he glares through gusts and goggles to watch you finally return to Prince Touya’s room. You crumple in a pile at the foot of the bed when the door clicks closed. You’re rotting. Sulking. The Alderan dragon everyone’s so worried about, you who his king assigned him to watch– you, the girl with wet eyes and hair full of hay.

You kissed your prince last night. He knows the feeling.

Hawks takes a sip of coffee and grips the barrel of his mug to keep ocean wind from throwing it off the roof. The king is right to worry about you. You have spent one week wandering palace grounds, greenhouses, pantries, walkways and stables and never once guarding your prince. Weird bird, are you the chicken or the egg? Did you stop guarding Katsuki because you’re the spy Enji thinks or because not even the red wing captain could follow you undetected? Because you know better than to keep close to your charge when something is stalking? Hawks winces in a particularly strong breeze. It’s the latter.

Two eyes burn suddenly from your gloom to the parapet fifty meters outside your window where the captain spills his coffee in a rush to stay out of sight. What he wouldn’t give to be warming a bed back in town but instead Hawks rolls his eyes, flat on his wings behind a gable wall. You rise and jerk your curtains closed, glare like black fire.

Princess Fuyumi runs clear through a ten foot portrait propped up in the hallway to be dusted. She’s cold, she’s sick of sending maids to find you and the ball is today. Master Aizawa is securing perimeters somewhere too far away to be helpful, Uraraka’s finalizing guest lists, and Bakugou is getting stitches because he’s good for nothing else. The princess shakes paint flecks from her hair. She rips canvas from her belt and throws the standing frame to the ground.

Kirishima has never dressed for a ball like this before because parties in Aldera usually require armor. What do you do at a Ball if not wrestle? Do Takobans dance Peruro? Sero and Kaminari assure him he doesn’t look silly in white. Todoroki sits outside beside the sea. Deku holds his hand tight to keep him from jumping in.

In the king’s rear guard, Shinsou nurses a broken finger. Enji derives gross entertainment from screaming at soldiers all dressed in blue and it smells like the king came home for this party. The queen cannot be found. Few people think to look for you. No one minds blue fire.

An already tedious afternoon dissolved when a boy crossed your path on turret stairs, your hiding place from prying eyes. You didn’t have the heart to bark when he stumbled through Excuse mes and My Ladys. The quiet wasn’t helping. You could trust Bakugou with his champion for a day but your prince’s hands still danced on your skin the longer you let thoughts linger.

The little footman continued, melting, as you raised your head from between your knees. He carried a box under his arm and waited for your permission to move in the tight stairwell, “From Princess Fuyumi.”

Inside the box under the arm of the boy on the spire stairs was a dress.

You spent last night between pickle barrels in the distillery and hid in the morning where you knew your prince wouldn’t think to find you, curled in the deepest sconce of the north wing watching staff fly past. Today is the ball. It’s why the princess ordered you a dress and it’s why you’re pulling gold lace through your fingers by candlelight. Aizawa’s training pit echos pretty like the sea when it’s empty and the uniform room has a mirror. It’s a dark little annex off the main ring without those Takoban windows Captain Hawks loves so much.

All week, you growl through the effort of fastening garters to a stocking. Another. All week he has followed you and all week you kept his attention off your prince. If Bakugou had just stayed away, if he’d just hated you properly. You lean back to inspect neatly laced boots– Alderan dancing knots– boots so delicate they couldn’t be made for actual dancing. What will he wear tonight? You force a hand through wild braids.

Soldiers can fight armed or barefisted, fire cannons and crossbows, deliver first aid, hunt, guard, salute. You would be the head of your kingdom’s army and so you must know one thousand more important things, like how to string a corset and when to use forks in a line on pretty tables. Silk the color of blood gathers all the heat of your chest and keeps it close. Does the heir of Aldera waltz Takoban? You take the buttons at the ends of your sleeves in your teeth to fasten them closed. What will he look like in their blue costumes dancing with their pretty ladies? Can you remember how to count rhythm in threes? Can you even look at him?

More important than a soldier, court mages, even more important than a champion, you are trained as Head of Royal Guards. You are poison tester, navigator, weaponmaster and seaman, you judge the safety of the room by the shoes of its hosts and you wear fine clothes at fine parties to accompany your masters like a trophy. A prized hunting dog. You will be beautiful for one night and you can no longer avoid your job; assassins love to hide at parties.

“Steady,” you whisper to the gods.

It’s been a few years but you know how to wear these clothes and you know how best to move, and you wince when the sheath of a dagger chills the skin under your ribcage where it hides. You sparkle unsettlingly in the gown and grunt through the effort of untucking stubborn skirts from hilts and scabbards. Wielding a candle to examine yourself more closely in the mirror, you judge the shapes impractical clothes make when they’re meant to fit only you. Pleats of red fall over themselves from your waist to your ankles and in your reflection a bit of fire stirs, because in a cold kingdom this gift was made of love.

You are blood red tonight from neck to heel. Gold tassels align themselves like military badges across your shoulders and the sleeves of the gown bleed to lace at your wrist where two green buttons wink. You can’t help staring. Jeanist’s dragontooth gleams on your breast.

This is an overstuffed week. Hedonistic, anxious like a blood clot heart attack. You are stalked, you are tested and attacked, you’ve pretended not to feel, you did half your best, you snacked instead of training and sat in pleasant company you love, why wouldn’t a ball punctuate this disaster? Something about preparing for war in the dark makes this bearable. Something about fastening a knife to your thigh keeps you from thinking about Bakugou Katsuki and the formalities waiting for you upstairs. Someone is watching you.

A man clears his throat outside the doorway, careful not to stand where you might see him but you are too focused to be caught by surprise. “What do you want?”

“Apologies, Captain.”

At that, air falls loose from your nostrils. Your lips don’t dare part to make a sound. Your self-important posture doesn’t have time to settle before red pleats freeze and the candle cracks like a knuckle in your palm because the horror of this hadn’t occurred to you. That voice will never leave.

“Y/n?” the flame mage murmurs again.

Why would Aldera want you back? Playing princess instead of posting sentinel. Knowing you’re spied upon and letting Bakugou find you, day after day, letting him help you house spiders, letting him spar, letting him smile, letting him sit beside you– you knew what was watching you– something worse than flying captains. It’s why this horrible place remains horrible and the cold like frost can never be shaken off the back of your neck. It’s why the queen hides in stables and why your blood runs black in the instant you understand yourself through your reflection.

Your two shoulders fly through the doorway first so that when the blue mage attacks your legs will be spared enough to carry you upstairs. You can outrun him, you can outrun anyone. You should have paid more attention to ball preparations this month instead of languishing in your prince’s backwards attention. You should have killed yourself to kill him before his body hit the water. Why wouldn’t an assassin slip through the cracks of your distraction? And why wouldn’t it be him? Unkillable.

The candles inside the changing room are doused and shattered so that you are the only possible flammable thing in this dusty arena and you pull the knife from your hip as you soar over the threshold.

It would have flown hard when you released it– might have even killed a ghost– if you hadn’t seized up as the figure came into view. White hair, tall with sunken eyes, only slightly shorter than his father. You right yourself to land on your new dancing boots, and their heels wail two lines through the sand at the edge of the arena.

Prince Natsuo doesn’t have the energy to be surprised by you. He is not fazed by your drawn weapon and doesn’t flinch in the dark, but he remembers your name, “Captain Y/n?”

Like a cat your eyes go wide and your knife clatters to the floor. Half-fresh braids fall over your shoulders in a deep and rigid bow. Your fists bunch the soft material at your hips and you consider dropping to your knees in the silence and dust of the sparring pit so far away from any party he should be attending. Your heart beats to a new fear, “Highness,” you stammer to the ground, “I–”

“Do you dance, Captain?”

You do, and you quirk an eyebrow at the floor. It’s becoming increasingly clear, for how threatening this country is, that its eldest princess actually took all the reason at birth. Swallowed it from the room with her first cry and left kings and countrymen to stumble on their words, for even when you are not threatening him at knifepoint there’s a dread just behind the prince’s every word. Your Alderan senses are dulling in this kingdom. Your ghost never sounded so nervous. “I’m sorry, sir,” you lift only your head from the stiff bow, “I don’t understand.”  

Prince Natsuo’s suit is blue trimmed silver. He is white trousers and shining bells, military honors, rope tassels, broad like his father, beautiful like his mother and dressed like a blue glass bottle. He’s never spoken to you and seems to have trouble even looking at you now, like a rabbit the dog runs past in a hunt.

You soften, “May I escort you to the party, sir? You’ve made a wrong turn,” rising fully as the prince gathers his thoughts and keeps well away from you– no. Less away from you and more just to himself. Like pouring a cup just full enough to tease the tension at the rim, Prince Natsuo is bursting with nothing to say.

All week you hid from spies and all week Alderans made it their job to find you, to be near you. Today you hide from just one man and suddenly every person in the cold kingdom knows exactly where you are. Winged captains weather the winds to watch you and squire boys can retrieve you from tall towers. Maids predict which hidden paths you’ll take from the kitchens to ask if you’ll need a bath– intercepting you without issue or sweat. Are you that predictable? Unsubtle? Obvious and lacking, or does horrible Takoba deserve a little more credit? Her skittish prince can track you down to the darkest corner of his castle like it's only natural to hide from festivities instead of attending them.

“Please excuse my being started.”

“It’s your job,” he musters just as you scoop up your blade and tip it back into its sheath amongst skirt folds. “Thank you– for your job.” He’s fidgeting, not murderous, and his voice no longer sounds like a monster. The prince scratches gently at a bauble on his chest as you peer through the dark, “I’m sorry.”

I’m sorry, Bakugou’s heartbroken voice parrots. Don’t cry. He pleads with his hands on your cheeks. You can’t change what you’ve done. Bakugou Katsuki can haunt you til death, but you don’t get to hide from him.

“Your Royal Highness, it would be my pleasure to escort you upstairs.” You square yourself to the blue bottle prince, “Humble Y/n, apprentice to the Captain of Her Alderan Majesty’s Royal Guard. My apologies. You had to come all this way just for a proper introduction.” And extend your hand to him, a polite smile on your lips. To death then. You’ve survived worse than a party.

Natsuo does not take your hand. He pops something off of his chest, drops the something in your hand and straightens his suit jacket, content with or oblivious to the fact that his sister inherited all his good social reason. You eye him first and then study the metal on your palm that glints in dim moonlight– candlelight– and tense as the room’s circle of sconces suddenly blink to life one by one.

Of the fifty candles in the training room ring, the first five from the entrance miraculously catch bright warm fire. Six, then the seventh, one by one around the edge of the room. Natsuo rushes to pat out your panic, “Magic candles.”

“Magic candles,” you repeat, which makes much more sense than a drowned magician. You exist at the edge of complete catastrophe, always prepared to fight that man who was too bored to kill you, but magic candles make sense. When have you ever seen a servant in this cold place spend their time lighting candles?

“And a medal,” Natsuo continues. You follow his line of sight to the object in your hand. It’s silver. It fits right in the cleft of your palm. The inscription around the edge is in a language you don’t know but what is clearly the moon sits in the center. A comet streaks across it and together they make the emblem of the House of Todoroki. “The medal of honor.”

“It’s beautiful.”

“It’s yours.”

“It certainly is not,” you say, the air sort of floating from you instead of being pushed out by your voice. Eleven, twelve candles, a quarter of the room is lit. The badge warms in your fingers but you no longer look at it and extend your hand back to the prince in a gown that already makes you too ridiculous to breathe. He shakes his head and you push your open palm a little farther like a plea.

“I’ve seen you. I heard about…my father’s arrival in your training exercise and I, I didn’t, I don’t think my sister’s champions would have been fast enough to stop him if you hadn’t. You kept my mother from the mad magician and I doubt anyone has thanked you and I, I just– my father wouldn’t allow honors on your gown and mine is more than I deserve.” He straightens his jacket again and continues to struggle with eye contact. Twenty-two, twenty-four, twenty-seven candles come alive in the cold arena and the ring of light reaches the pair of you at the far end. “It’s much less than you’re owed.”

Prince Natsuo bows to you deeply and turns so quickly that arena-sand clouds his feet. He does not accept your escort and he doesn’t turn around. He only strides across the room, thirty-three candles, and out the dark but open doors. It’s easy to imagine him judging his own performance just where you can’t see him; he exudes the nervous energy of someone who cringes when they turn your back to you. You’re smiling before you realize. Fourty.

It’s slightly warmer than you’ve felt all month, in clinging red skirts and candlelight. Aldera is always bustling so Takoba is loney in comparison, but maybe there is comfort where you have never looked before. Comfort in red gowns. Comfort in sweaters beside the sea, comfort in silver soldiers and a training room where you are not their commander. That thought is a shock and you clutch the comet in your hand at the edge of the room. Forty-five.

Aizawa’s training pit warms by candlelight under its glass ceiling. Oppressively tall and so much like drowning, the stars blink down at you from their thrones like dappled moonlight on waves. You fasten the comet pin to your bodice with eyes tilted to the sky. Your first night here the sky was the only one who knew you. You smooth your hands up your hips and rest both palms at your waist where Bakugou held you, bleeding, poisoned, his forehead slipping off your shoulders with sweat and the lurches of the horse. A ten minute ride from the edge of the forest to the city gates, it was only the sky watching such desperation. There was comfort in that, under the threat of death. Comfort in your loss of rank here, in anonymity.

Rescued from a crowd, rescued from punishment, rescued from the sea, from cliffs, from sickness, from solitude. Saved by magic, saved by strength, by yourself and by your prince, over and over again in this wet kingdom.

There is comfort in teaching strangers to fear you and you blink through the memory of your cherrywood halberd soaring through a dinner party. The loss of its weight at your back makes you ache and your ears start to itch as the rest of the night replays itself. Forty-seven. Bakugou pressed close between your legs at the lip of a table. His thumbs smoothing your cheeks over like parchment and his cheeks flashing red at a realization– at everything you now realize he was trying to say, to show you. You’re grateful for the privacy of the stars again so that no one can ask why you smile in an empty room.

Forty-eight. Dying for a person is so much worse than dying for a cause. You thought it might be the end when the blue flammed mage forced his hand around your mouth or when a garden screamed in ashes under his boot. When he– he took you by the shoulder and branded the shape of his palm to your flesh, when your arm was relieved of its socket– everything, all of it came so much easier than the moment your prince stepped forward to face him. Easier than Bakugou collapsing in a burning clearing, easier than counting the decline of his heartbeat through the clothes on your back, easier, so much easier than retching up seawater together on the sand.

Prince Bakugou is agonizing. Forty-nine, he’s upstairs, gilded, waiting for you.

You shake your head like unnecessary thoughts might come loose with the movement. For one night your worry can be in not staring after your charge– not tasting his lips when you wet yours at the edge of the party– and not in hallucinations of murderous mages. A comet and a dragontooth remind you of the weight of a heart. The last candle around the glowing arena beats to life beside the first and it is time for a ball.

You would have smoothed your skirts over the daggers hidden among them. You would have checked your hair again in the mirror and tested the fit of your boots with a few secret skips. You’d have imagined the warmth of Bakugou’s hands and his magic, to ease the ache of watching pretty blue ladies waiting to dance with the barbarous and beautiful prince. You would have attended and served quietly, you would have dreamed of home if the flame in that last pretty candle wasn’t flickering in a clear and lonely shade of blue.

Fifty.

“Find cover!” you hiss at the squire who collapses to the floor rather than get knocked down the stairs in your charge, “Douse the rugs!”

You call over your shoulder and hurdle the staircase railing rather than waste time sprinting to the bottom. If all of your training boiled down to a single skill, if there was only one chance, one thing you could be trusted to do in the blink of an eye it was arming yourself.

A shortsword shines in your fist as you sprint, its wall hooks worse for your wear after being ripped from the armory on your warpath. The scabbard is fastened sloppily to your left hip. Cruel images of half-scorched bodies, croaking victims that need both your hands to carry them to safety, your prince– they necessitate the holster which whips your thigh as you tear through a quiet castle. Quiet, so quiet, too quiet for a ball, idiot, you should have known. Every single light in the castle blinks to life in the very last lilacs of sunset, and every single one of them quivers with blue fire.

Seed-sized wall carvings flow through their forms, animated by your speed. Stone does not creak when you step over it, hardly any servants linger in empty hallways and the thought that one squire boy will be the firefighting force for the whole castle is horror compounded by horror. “Captain Hawks!” You bellow with the last bit of air between strides.

He’s watching you, he didn’t abandon his assignment for a party. You burst from servants’ paths onto the exact blue rugs you knew the stairs would lead to; your Alderan senses might be dulling but this castle is no longer a maze. Takoban cluelessness can take over all it wants. All it needs to do is get you to the ballroom in this stupid fucking dress. One by one, sconces yawn in innocent blues and burn so hot and so quickly that wax weeps to the floor.

A window in the line takes your pommel to its pane as you retch the sword’s hilt through the glass and shout, “Hawks!” louder, between flying shards, into the night, “Fire!”

Candles instead of your dress, a candle instead of your flesh. He could be anywhere, nearby, outside, straddling corpses, you don’t know the rules his magic follows and every step you take without bursting into flames is a second you can’t waste. Your prince will fight to the death, you cannot let him. Your prince will die for his friends, you can’t bear to lose a single one. Send me instead, you beg. Me, wait for me.

You soar down two flights of twisted stairs and lurch at a tight corner before colliding with a laundryman and his blue candlestick. “Run,” you seeth without stopping, vaulting over both the man and portrait strewn across the floor beside him, ripped at the center and trailing flecks of paint. The last turn is towards the right leg of the grand staircase, entryway and ballroom dead in your sights. Red wings don’t appear and so you hook your hips, and your gown with it, over the lip of the banister.

Hardly a breath escapes the closed ballroom doors. Why are there always too few guards here? What ball makes no noise? What kind of monster could kill a room of people without making a sound? There are clicks, you panic as the banister ends and dismount the slide into a sprint. There is the bone chilling image of the blue mage clicking over corpses with the heels of his tall black boots– the body of your prince lying charred and bloodless before he could even let loose a spark.

Your dancing boots make the loudest sound in the entire palace as you run your legs harder, to carry you farther, until finally your hands are flat on the ballroom doors and your biceps scream under orders. The elven silver budges only slightly. There should be footmen outside to let guests in and the anxiety of their absence gives you an unnatural strength, enough to force one gilded door open a crack and slip into the destruction with your weapon raised.

Find him, find him, find Bakugou first, soft sunny hair and pomegranate eyes, the boy who barks laughter, he who wields the magic of old gods, your heart, find your prince, get him home.

Silver foot bolts shriek over marble as you force your way inside. You are a cacophony always. You are blood splattered across the edge of the dancefloor when you burst into the party.

“Highness!” You shout into the blue before realizing the silence of the ballroom doesn’t come from death. One thousand pearls startle immediately at the beast and her raised sword. Gowns of lace, suits of glass, feathers, freckles, masks and tiny shoes, bells, fans, crystal flutes of pink champagne, and not a single person speaking over a hush. Two hundred eyes watch the Alderan dog prepare to fire again into a party.

Balls in Aldera breathe life to the city. Any comfort you felt for Takoba dies with your entrance. Waiters roll between guests with trays of cake and wine, and the winter floral decorations must have cost a fortune for petals to be sewed and draped and weeping from the walls because this certainly was meant to be a ball. Your fingers ache for the weight of your halberd for the first time since you lost it in the sea.

There is no mage when your heckles fall. No mage when your shoulders droop and your sword with it, not when you search the ballroom for your Alderan sun, not a single shock of white hair taunting from the windows. Every candle in every abra, every chandelier, sconce, cup, spike, or lamp, is a melancholy flickering blue above the sea of silent guests.

Your weapon falls slack. You exhale as the swordpoint chips the floor.

The queen sits on her throne beyond leagues of distracted dancers and servers and bards, with her hands folded and her husband beside her tense, hunched, and licked by fire where you startled him out of his seat. The great ballroom window blinks with its audience of stars. Just outside and over the cliffs, the maws of the sea applaud.

You jolt, as do the guests closest to you, at the sound of metal crush but it is only Uraraka in her uniform, catching the tray of a server who panicked at the sight of you. Shinsou’s hair isn’t hard to pick out from his post beside a waitstaff door and he thins his lips instead of speaking. No one speaks. There is no laughter, there is a single violin playing from a fifteen piece band– did you scare the trumpets too?– weeping a waltz for the dancers who crane away from their partners to watch what you might do. Their every gown is white, blue, green– silver like sea foam. Their hair obeys them and folds into smooth shapes at the tops of their heads so that their noble throats can be struck sick by the air of a room above the sea. You are the only foul red thing here.

The flame of worry collapses in your chest along with your heart. Quietly, blue fire watches back without laying a finger on anyone.

Oh.

“Y/n?”

There you are.

The ring of dancers at the center of the room curl around in their timid waltz, revealing new faces from the back of the crowd. Kirishima in a fit white suit, too focused on not crushing his Takoban partner to even realize you’ve arrived and then Mina, full of worry with her hands in Fuyumi’s and both perfectly placed in the seaside painting with their layered dresses of white. She makes to break away from the current, to rescue you, but her prince beats her to it.

The prince of Aldera climbs trees in the summer to reach the best apples. He likes to bathe at night. He is slightly shorter than his mother in her favorite boots and it bothers him, but never enough to say anything. His fingertips sparked when he kissed you.

He is cloaked in red. An abandoned partner jingles angrily as he drifts through the tides and calling your name is the easiest thing in the world, “Y/n.” He glows. You have hidden from this all day, and tonight his war cape arcs sanguine circles around him. 

The Sun approaches, he glides to you like picking up a stray is part of this dance. He takes up your swordhand in his, weapon clattering to the polished floor and with a magic-heavy hand at your waist the scabbard belt falls away. Hair pushed straight back and two red earrings dangling, Bakugou rolls his eyes, “It’s a dogshit party,” and a few pieces of hair fall over a stitched gash on his cheek, “but I doubt a swordfight will fix it.”

You don’t understand and you don’t try to speak through volley after volley of embarrassment. 

“Won’t,” he rumbles, “won’t let you look crazy alone.” Prince Bakugou Katsuki steadies his palm just behind your waist and draws you onto the dancefloor, hand in hand. He is more than beautiful. Polished boots, white suit and golden embroidery– each button in his vest is flanked by a small Alderan sun. Dragons prowl along the hem. His red cape you thought lost, rocks you with homesick.

“Highness,” he steps to a rhythm in fours, heel toe, toe, toe heel forward into the fold of your dress to guide you back into the stream of dancers. “I didn’t– I–” Your feet barely make the proper shapes to keep up for your Alderan heart is a grease fire not a hearth. Bakugou holds his head high to the side with the posture of a king. His pupils occupy their lowest corners so he never need take his eyes off of you.

You, his war criminal.

“Sir,” you manage and wince when you dare a peek past his shoulders towards onlookers.

He is embers, “I have a surprise.” He does not grab you by the collar or threaten you with his teeth and when you grasp his hand to steady yourself from an awkward step, he is the boy who makes magic for you in the dark. Bakugou Katsuki’s ears are scarlet even as he stares ahead, sweat pearls between your fingers and he sweeps you close, albeit awfully tight, through the steps of a Takoban dance. His face catches light from the candles above and the shadow of his pale lashes sweeps over both cheeks. 

A corded thigh slips between yours and back again to the tune of one sad string. The rhythm doubles for four steps and calms again. You could dance the continent around for all the etiquette training you’ve endured but something about the lack of ghosts here, something about your heart beating out of time with the song, about red eyes and a clenched jaw, the hand fingering notches on the small of your back like it might a cello– you are suddenly on the catwalks again with your lips smiling into his, you are holding back tears, you are clicking teeth and stumbled steps and hands cupping cheeks, and your heart bleeds all over the dancefloor. Your voice cracks, “I’m so sorry,” and it is the loudest thing in the room.

“The candles are blue at the queen’s request,” he rumbles, sacrificing posture to watch you properly, to correct you. “That must…I, I didn’t know. I wouldn’t have let them.” Bakugou raises his right shoulder in invitation for your hand to rest there but your fingers lift from his arm as he turns you both, and settle on that small new wound at his cheek. You breathe deeply as your chests slot together, no fight in sight. Your relief almost comes in tears.

Party guests do not stop staring, especially now that the foreign royal has spirited his beast to the dancefloor. At a distance, familiar faces train gazes your way. Little doctor Shuzenji and Aizawa beside her nursing a pink champagne flute, both ribboned in their bests. Uraraka offers you a tight lip at the edge of the dancefloor. Fuyumi boxsteps in line nearby, the lonely violin picks up pace, hand in hand with her youngest brother and attempts to lean in to whisper to you before Bakugou cages them both out with his shoulders.

He clears his throat, “Captain,” the second-loudest thing in the room, “will you dance with me?”

It’s not your best, admittedly, but the thought your four-step is poor enough your partner needs to clarify does lighten the mood, and you nod. Half your focus is sacrificed to keeping calm in such a full room and the other half is completely at his mercy.

“Peruro?” Bakugou raises those flaxen eyebrows, his lips led by yours. The dance peruro. Destructive and certain to give the Takoban King an aneurysm. Something like comfort slips in. Your eyes widen suddenly and your prince with you. What does he see? you wonder. You nod again.

The waltz will reach its climax soon and Bakugou leads you through a perfect Takoban rhythm until the second he dips forward to whisper, through your hair and over the silence of this cursed party, “Mind your ears, dragonne.”

You shudder immediately at the name, hand in hand, chest to his. Something in your perfect center bursts in white flame and you throw your eyes down to your skirts.

“Dance!” Bakugou’s voice cracks like a whip of thunder above the soggy party and he lifts his chin over your head. The vibration of every syllable rumbles from his ribs to yours and his growl is smoke on water, “or die.”

The next second a horn howls one crescendoed note and every hair not squeezed into your silk dress, prickles. You jerk your gaze back up to Bakugou, unsure what expression you might be making, “How?”

But your prince is still grinning wide so you must be too. “Bribed em,” he leans close and as one confused violin trails off, another trumpet joins the fray. Dancers look around distractedly and onlookers whisper, louder, slightly louder, to be heard over the addition of percussion to the building swell of tuning instruments. A pair of cymbals crash like earthquake, a waitress topples over.

Shinsou shakes his head in the corner of the room and rubs his face, fondly entertained. The king is out of his seat again. Suddenly a fifteen piece band is making the sound of home. The band vibrates under an arc of camellias and the small woman seated at the front pulls a flute from her suit jacket. The herding call of her shepherd’s pipe gathers the cacophony and just as quickly as the group disrupted the peace, they hush behind seventeen beautiful whispers of the pipe, clear and bright as stars. It is the quiet start of Mitsuki’s favorite drinking song. Fear of crowds melts from you like bedtime stories.

faire of the fields

the girl who plays for me

dance and i will watch you

dance and i will join,

you who

teaches beasts to love

send us all to war

She draws the final note long and low, violins become fiddles, trumpets repeat the tune, a drummer growls, two pipes build, and the flute cheers back atop a flirty melody of three before the brilliant song erupts. Bakugou clasps your hand tight and throws you from his grip so that you might twirl and glow under his arm but the rules of peruro dictate a little more focus than that.

The closest dancers to you shriek when Mina barrels through them and pulls you out of his hold. She squeals with two gloved hands on your waist, “Miss firelight!” Her dress envelopes yours and the spinning doesn’t stop until you’ve tripped a man at the edge of the dancefloor and very nearly toppled over yourselves.

Over the curve of her shoulder you snort, shocked by your own glee, as Takobans try to adjust their waltz to the Alderan rhythm and inevitably four-step themselves into a fervor. Kirishima towers over your prince and barks with laughter trying to get the man to spin under his arm. Shinsou is no longer brooding at his post. He is hand in hand with Kanminari, flecked all over with petitfour cream, who has led him into the fray.

“Lady Mina!” you bellow and take up her hand in yours. You fasten your waists together and both of you fly into the tide. When was the last time you put the blue mage’s voice away? How long has it been since you last danced Peruro? Singing while stepping, laughing, diving for bystanders and squealing when drunk guests toppled over themselves to be the one to lift you into the air. You steal your partners in peruro, and fight to keep them. It keeps the room from feeling small, from crushing you. When you are thrown whoever catches you gets the next dance and the songs never end.

Euphoria threatens to spill over the fire Katsuki started in your heart. Flame mages are far from your mind under blue candlelight.

The queen does not move, but she might be smiling. Fuyumi yelps when her champion scoops her up from behind and places her on her shoulder. Even the youngest Todoroki and his freckled champion tut about together to the rhythm. You hope no one tries to steal the blue prince; he might not survive it; and make eye contact with Natsuo while you completely butcher Mina’s three step dips. He stands at the base of his parents’ thrones, unmoving, but pink with excitement.

Takobans, even servants, lingering at the edge of the crowd cannot outswim the rip current. They belong to a quietly stubborn nation who will attempt their delicate hop skips even to the bleat of an Alderan horn. Only cowards leave a dancefloor and it is the first respectable tradition you’ve seen here.

In a flash of red across the room, your prince takes up two stiff women in each arm and you almost spit in laughter as they go purple under the instruction of the barbarian prince. The polished floor vibrates. It’s too loud to think, a mix of happiness and screams of indignation as pretty lords and ladies are pulled into the fray by those countrymen only slightly drunker than they.

Peruro is a game and so when Sero Hanta and his cheeks tattooed with lipstick kisses, plucks you from your partner, Mina can hardly complain. The flutist roars her approval and her fiddlers breathe life into the happy song behind her. Trumpets pluck, bleat, and howl complex harmonies that prove you’re Alderan from the sheer intoxication of the sound.

Sero’s long arms wrap behind you and you’re off your feet before you can speak. “Return of the Red Captain!” His grip on your sides is more ticklish than hell and you giggle and squirm as you fall into a dip. His palms hit something hard, the dagger concealed in your gown, “Are you armed?” He chuckles and tugs you up and close, back to chest.

“Me? Never.” You peek over your shoulder, both laughing, and he peels you from him so tight you spin away three times fully and far enough away from him that Kirishima poaches you without difficulty.

His Alderan fire rolls off the warm parts of him in waves of pine smoke and happiness. How many yards of fabric it must have taken for Takoba to stitch his suit– the cost– you can’t imagine. He hoists you onto his shoulder before you can think a moment longer.

Your red pleats swell in the air and settle with your hips on his broad shoulder. The hidden sheath under your bodice taps his ear. “Are you armed?!” He hollers and spins once to make you squeal and grip tight to his hair. Princess Fuyumi covers her mouth to hide laughter and you beam at each other from your shoulder seats, over the sea of Takoban heads. The champion shrugs you into his arms and back onto your feet. The new heels of your dancing boots click like bells every step you take.

Eijirou is a wonderful dancer, and difficult to burgle. He throws his hands above his head and the pair of you clap, kick one leg out and turn, eyes always locked and teeth shining. With your next kick, your hip checks a short man attempting to dance Takoban and knocks him into another pair. Eijirou’s next clap, behind his back, startles a woman so badly she covers her ears and the whole room reeks of home. Drown in it Takoba, dance or die.

Your friends are safe. There’s nothing to fear from shitty parties and you spare a thought for the servants you must have traumatized on your rampage down here. Wers and mers, the window you broke– Kirishima’s hands are at your waist because you are distracted, you are searching, and before you can brace yourself he has thrown you clear into the air.

No matter how much you hate it here, the ballroom is beautiful and Natsuo might be a wonderful king. His decorations shine in the queen’s candlelight. Early winter flowers are strung by the thousands to garnish balustrades and window frames, they erupt from iridescent vases and hang in an arch over the howling band. Bundles of pearls dot every corner and swallow the moonlight. Silver shells and whistles, inlaid cuffs, white wigs, Takoba is most beautiful by moonlight. There’s no sun here. Did you ever think you’d hate him? That you’d miss him? Where is he? Your prince likes plums best because they’re sour and he blows on dandelions when no one’s watching and he works construction with his men when the city needs repair and he hates how dry paper feels on his fingers. The daggers at your hip cool in your descent.

“Red suits you, dragonne!” Bakugou roars and you land square in his arms to the coo of a shepherd's pipe. You blink and his, him, he– he stares. He is terrible at piano and walks with his head down after rain to keep from stepping on worms. He mends his own clothes because his father taught him how to sew. “You,” he attempts to speak, “Captain, you,” but the high of the dance dissolves from him even as the music swells because you stare and bring your fingers to the wound on his cheek.

“You’re beautiful,” you breathe. He does not find his words in the space between your faces. Your prince goes pink. Enough of the room is dancing now that you need to read lips to truly hear anything but he understands your every thought without effort as he lets you down. There’s a hand on your back to keep you close. I’m afraid. It hurts to be so close to you. He presses his forehead to yours.

“Y/n, ’m sorry.” You fight yourself not to fight the closeness. It’s rotten work. Your gown matches his suit perfectly and pressed together you spin in the chaos and climax of a beautiful song.

The prince rolls figure-eights against your forehead with his own. Two much less focused dancers jostle your duet and Bakugou sweeps a foot forward to trip the leader before lifting you over the pile of men and returning to the dance. You glow red in his arms above him, halo of the moon.

A tall man shifts between rushing servants on the catwalks. Your prince beams below you, king of the sun. It's a pretty party. It is perfectly loud. A polearm is readied on a scarred arm in the dark and no one minds blue fire.

The flutist picks up speed, spurred on by the tambourine, and each note from each instrument cuts itself off to make time for the next. Every place you touch one another aches. If it would just stay like this forever, dancing, knowing without speaking, you could kill any enemy. The sky would learn to kneel, if only you could keep the adoration of winespilt eyes.

A series of gasps, a yelp, and Kirishima’s sweet laughter punctuate the thought. Bakugou was meant to wear fine clothes like these. Sparks like fairy lights twinkle where sweat beads on his jaw and you would have given nine lives to kiss him one more time. He will be a good king too. There is a scream.

Your hand on his shoulder bunches the fabric of his cape, and you lurch forward to lock your other hand around his back. Your foot is dead behind his before he can blink and with a surge of momentum from the dance, the last swell of fiddle, a prayer for old gods, luck from the sea and something like love, you knock the prince over your shoulder and onto the ground into the thickest thrall of dancers.

He laughs the whole way down and holds you where he can to keep from knocking your heads together. The sound is molten gold. You would sin to hear it always.

He is still laughing, howling, bursting with joy when he hits the ground and you with him in your perfect dance peruro. He doesn’t notice the whine of dropped instruments or revulsion of the crowd because he cannot look away from you. On his back, on the floor, beneath you, Prince Bakugou lifts his arm to cup your face and freezes in the new and sudden silence.

The impact of the spear shattered a chunk of floor beside your prince’s heart where it landed. Missed, you grin feebly. He’s okay. He is perfect and wide-eyed and beautiful, and the blade of your cherrywood halberd shines with blood from its home through your chest.

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[memoryreign]

👑 One Piece AU 👑

Name: Toothiana; Tooth or Ana for short. Aliases: Tends to refer to herself as the Guardian of Memories. Race: Human Age: Hundreds of years (visually in 20s) Height: 4'6" Occupation: Wandering archaeologist and collector. Devil Fruit: Tori Tori no Mi: Model Kinnari (Mythical Zoan) Status: Wanted

Can hear the Voice of All Things.

Often accompanied by hummingbirds that she speaks to.

Gets a little too excited about finding bones...

Devil Fruit grants her biological immortality and the ability to heal wounds via touch.

Human form: Brown hair with multi-coloured strands, often decorated with feathers. Pink eyes. Often wearing golden jewellery and bags to carry artifacts and her writings within. Usually carries twin swords.

Kinnari form(s): Most often uses hybrid form, covered wrists to ankles in small iridescent contour feathers, with feathers sprouting from her hair. Hummingbird-esque wings. Around her wrists and ankles there seem to be golden lines that appear to look like golden bracelets and anklets, as well as gold feathers on either side of her head for earrings. She also has long, drapery feathers that start at her waist line and end at her knees, giving the appearance of a skirt or dress. Her more beastly form sees her legs change to those of a sharp taloned bird, and increases her strength as well as her height.

Toothiana was born a very long time ago, on a jungled island in the New World. She was born to a woman named Rashmi - a beautiful and fierce warrior - and a man named Haroom - a slave who turned on his master. She was raised on the outskirts of a village at the edge of the jungle, and lived a simple and happy life - until she turned twelve and consumed a Devil Fruit that she had found, causing her to sprout wings and bodily feathers.

Initially, Toothiana was joyous. She made friends with the birds and the wind, and flew up to the trees to pick the ripest mangoes, starfruit, and papayas for the other children of the village. While the children delighted in Toothiana's new ability, the adults of the village were shocked and frightened by this now half-bird girl. Some thought she was an evil spirit that must be killed, while others saw ways to use her - as either a freak to be caged and paraded about, or to force her to fly to the palace of the island's royalty and steal their jewels.

Haroom and Rashmi knew that to keep their daughter safe, they would have to escape. So they packed their things and departed deep into the jungle. The children of the village, who loved Toothiana as a friend and a sisterly figure, begged their parents to leave her alone. But they were driven mad, blinded with fear and greed. Many people attempted to capture her, but none were successful.

One day however, a mysterious hunter commanded that the girl's parents be kidnapped - and killed if she did not show. Rashmi and Haroom had told their daughter never to come after them if they were in danger, but the girl had spared no time in rushing to her parents' rescue. Battle broke out, and though she was able to reach them, she lacked the strength to lift them over the angry mob. Rashmi took out a stringed pouch and handed it to her daughter, saying that its contents would comfort and guide her, before commanding her to go. Toothiana flew away with a terrible scream - half-human and half-bird - up to the highest treetop in the land and sat there to grieve.

For a full day she sat in the tree in a phase of disbelief and sadness. However, then she remembered the pouch Rashmi had given her. Opening it, she found a shimmering ruby box. Within the box were trinkets from her childhood, along with a note from her parents - guiding her to hold them tightly whenever she felt lost, for they would help her to remember better days, and to remember that which she needs.

Toothiana stayed in the jungle - but she hated her wings, these powers she possessed. If it weren't for them, her parents would still be alive. She even refused to enter her winged form for the longest time. The creatures of the jungle did their best to comfort her, bringing her the freshest of food and making her beds as soft as possible. But Toothiana became more and more convinced that she belonged nowhere. Not with the animals of the jungle, and certainly not with the humans of the village. She was all alone.

Years passed, but Toothiana never felt or saw herself aging. The children of the village were growing up, but she retained the same appearance she had in her twenties - a side effect of this mythical zoan fruit, she would later come to understand. Following her parents' guidance, she would hold onto those childhood trinkets whenever she felt sad, focus on them intently - and in so doing over many years, she came to understand that her parents had seen something in her that she had missed.

Speaking to the animals may be a power granted to her by the Devil Fruit, or, perhaps, something greater. The Voice of All Things. She could hear it. Not only animals words, but their thoughts - the messages in their hearts. And not only animals - but objects too. Even bones. She could speak to them, hear their messages, the memories they held. This power was a gift, something she could use to bring comfort to others, to understand the world as nobody else could and discover lost history. However, the adults of the village did not see it this way. They branded her a liar, a deceiver, some kind of witch. A trap was laid for her, and she fell for it - right into a seastone cage set for her by the mysterious hunter from all those years ago.

Toothiana was taken to a representative of the World Government, where her secret was revealed. Naturally, those who ran the world would not allow one who could unearth their misdeeds to live. Toothiana could only demand to know why the mysterious hunter was so set on seeing her punished, but the revelation that he was her father's former master - seeking revenge for being dethroned - and that he had indeed killed her parents was almost too much to bear.

Before either representative or hunter could end her life, she raised the ruby box to her heart and held it tight. She pictured happier days with her parents, she pictured them sacrificing themselves for her... and no attack ever came. The animals of the jungle, large and small, had come to her defence. They broke her free of the cage, and all at once her fury for the hunter began to swell inside her. She unlocked a new form - one more beastly, with the legs and talons of a bird - and lifted the man up by his throat. She could have killed him - but the trinkets within the box began to speak to her, offered her the memories of her parents once more. She let him go - allowing the jungle to decide his fate.

Such events took place many years ago, and Toothiana has since learned to accept her Devil Fruit powers. Over the years, she has healed - and reclaimed her kind and compassionate nature. She has mainly lived in solitude, though has travelled across the world many times in human form in search of lost artifacts and history waiting to be uncovered. She guards the memories these items share with her closely, that she might one day be able to share what she had learned with the world. The government has never stopped searching for her, and neither have money-hungry hunters - but she has thus far been able to elude permanent capture. In recent years, she has begun to reach out to people again - with lifetimes of loneliness making her yearn for the companionship she once held with her family and friends in the village. Whether or not this will eventually lead to her downfall is yet to be seen...

[evelzzzk]

Dragons eat Seahorses series: Battlefield between the sheets - Female OC Velaryon Reader x Aemond Targaryen x Daemon Targaryen Threesome! (Chapter 1)

WARNINGS (!): Pure, heavy smut, 18+ NSFW, slight mentions of violence and killing. Read on your own caution.

ENGLISH IS MY 2ND LANGUAGE.

Word count: approx 6,8-6,9k.

Here are some tracks you can listen to while reading: this one and this one.

SUMMARY: You were the youngest daughter of Rhaenys Targaryen and Corlys Velaryon, lady Elaena Velaryon, except that you had dark hair after your grandmother Jocelyn Baratheon (in the book Rhaenys had her mother’s hair). You were known for being a fearless warrior with fierce temper and unbroken soul, both inherited from your mother, The Queen Who Never Was. Carantes, the dragoness, was your constant companion, small folk nicknamed her „Beauty of the Skies” or „The Killing Beauty” because of her stunning dark blue coloring with slight violet and pink scales and frightening ability for killing despite the young age of the beast. To your satisfaction she also started slowly outgrowing Vhagar, the largest known dragon in the world and her mother. You had accompanied your father for the numerous battles in the Stepstones resulting in severe, if not mortal injury of your gatter. Despite of your deepest want to stay with him in the High Water to make sure he will recover, your mother has summoned you to fly with her to King’s Landing, alongside with your nieces, Baela and Rhaena, to secure the case of inheritance of Driftmark. It also meant the possible marrying your betrothed, Prince Aemond „One Eye” Targaryen. You were promised to one another since you were just kids to strengthen the bound and alliance between your families, much to disapproval of your mother and contentment of father. Aemond was always very much fond of you and you didn’t remain indifferent, your teenage friendship had even grown to something called calf love. But you both have grown distant once since you left King’s Landing at the instigation of Rhaenys, wanting you to stay close to her, far away from courtly intrigues. Now you were back and Aemond have bursted off with reinforced love for you and an endless admiration of how beautiful woman you have grown into and courageous fighter almost as skilled in sword as he is. But he wasn’t the only one to surrender to your charms. The second suitor was... The Rogue Prince, Daemon Targaryen. And much to your surprise, his current wife, Princess Rhaenyra didn’t mind her husband’s flirtations with you, on the contrary she was quite jealous she wasn’t the one to devour delicious curves of your body. One night you’ve decided to kill two birds with one stone and take two dragons for a „ride” of your life, testing uncertain waters of desire both of Aemond and Daemon. Knowing the level of possessiveness of your husband-to-be and unimaginable stubbornness of the latter you were slightly afraid and excited at the same time. But you were also perfectly aware of your flair combined with intellect, all you had to do was to lure both princes and make them obey to every little piece of your infamous plan.

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The wind was howling ominously behind windows of your chamber while you were sitting beside small table, drinking your favourite sweet, red wine from Dorne and playing with small candle flame with your fingertips. The silk, navy material of your sleeveless dress was hugging your statuesque figure nicely, the deep cut cleavage was revealing alluring curves of your breasts slightly. Silver, fabulously expensive and detailed pads adornished each of your shoulders with dragon head of your beloved Carantes underhung on them. The space between your waist and hips was wrapped with thick silver chains, interspersed with small octagonal sapphires, entirety reminded of lower part of your breastplate. Your mother always banter you about how all of your gowns and dresses always have to be somehow similar to some of your armor sets. Now your eyes were set to one of your newest and most favorite of them, hanged on a stand in the most lighted place of the room like it was some kind of sacred relics. Of course it was all covered in silver with a huge incarnation of Carantes on its plastron, inlayed with some kind of dark blue metal. It was a gift from your father, he had ordered it to be made specially for you by one of the best craftsman in Penthos, a token of gratitude for sacrifices you had made during your recent battles at Stepstones. You remained still in a huge velvety-red armchair, slowly emptying second goblet of wine, your thoughts wandered around your plan you were about to bring to life in maybe less than one hour… Hope of getting more barked out thanks to the precious liquor in your glass was somehow consoling. All of the sudden, you heard some noise coming from behind the door, sounds of heated conversation was coming up to your ears. You were perfectly aware of who might disturb your sworn shield, ser Ryon Westerling, son of ser Harrold, at this time of the night.

- It’s alright ser Ryon, let Prince Aemond come inside. I’m expecting him – you said loudly with reassuring tone – Oh and ser Ryon... You may leave, you deserve some break from your service, have some wine in the kitchens. And worry not, I still remember how to use my sword even if I’m wearing a gown at the moment – you added purposely, you certainly didn’t want ser Ryon to hear all the obscenities that were about to emerge from your chambers and you definitely didn’t want your mother to find out about them. Doors were finally opened and you caught a glimpse of your knight nodding with a „Thank you, My Lady” and making his way down the corridor. Within a moment your sight was occupied with a tall, portly figure belonging to no one else than Aemond himself. You internally licked your lips as you gazed down his muscular yet slender posture, now wrapped tightly in his usual leather outfit. Gods be damned, he really grew out handsomely - his silky, long, silver hair, sharp jawline chiseled by gods, masculine nose, lips always curved in slight smirk with light dimples at each side. And of course the scar revealed from under his eyepatch, only adding to his overall charm. His only eye, dark blue as the sapphire he puts in the remaining eyehole (as you heard from some stories) was now totally focused on you and scanning you upside down like you were some prey and he was a hunter desperate to get you before anyone does. Poor wretch didn’t know that tonight roles will reverse and he’s going to be the one to be hunted and begging for your mercy.

- Prince Aemond – you stood off from your armchair with a kittenish smile, nodding your head and bending down knees with a supreme grace. He walked towards you, never leaving his eyes from you, his footsteps reminded of a wild cat and an attentive huntsman at the same time. When he was one stride away, he softly took your hand into his calloused palms from many years of sword training and put a dim kiss on the top of yours.

- No need for such formalities, Elaena – he said with a pretty obviousness in his voice, his lips curved in an enchanting smile when he finally let your hand down. You felt as your cheeks flushed at the sound of Aemond’s purring voice. Indeed, there was nothing left in him from the boy you have once known when you were just a child, not visually at least.

- Would you like some wine? – you asked politely, reaching out for the wine decanter, now full of liquor, as you made sure to refill it before he stepped in, you didn’t want him to discover of how much of alcohol you already had yourself. He stopped you, taking the bottle carefully from you and filling two glasses all the way to the brim. He handed you one, unable to not to touch your hand even in the slightest.

- A lady shouldn’t pour wine herself, it’s not appropriate – you simply nodded at his gentleman-like words. If you only knew how many goblets I have filled myself before you came in… , you thought with amusement, feeling those two emptied earlier glasses running now through your veins.

- So you brought me here because you wanted to discuss our wedding in the nearest future? And this really couldn’t wait until the day comes up? – Prince asked with suspicion, his smirk gave an impression that he has already read you and your true intentions through. You gulped the large sip of wine you took loudly, the last you thing you wanted was him to discover your carefully arranged plan, so you tried now your best to not screw things up.

- I thought that the evening aura and a fine wine might help us to relax and speak our thoughts more openly – you managed to reply quickly, not giving him a chance to doubt your words.

- Openly? Hmm… And as I assume this dress is also supposed to help us feel more… openly? – he emphasized on the last word as his suggestive gaze wandered down from your neckline to boldly exposed skin between your breasts, now covered with goosebumps.

- I wanted to dress something more… cavalier. All those built-up dresses I have to wear around official occasions are so rigid. It’s nice to feel your skin breathe freely from time to time, you know.

- Ah yes… And you decided to wear something like that just when I was about to appear in your chambers? Oh my sweet Dragoness… - he was now so close to you that you have felt his warm breath on your neck as his lips were close now to your ear – You know that I could easily possess you even if you were in nothing but a potato sack, don’t you? – his whisper sent shivers all the way down your spine, his hands gripped your exposed arms and slid down to your hands, leaving nothing but burning traces. Aemond kissed your earlobe as he let down your hands returning to his earlier position as if nothing had just happened, drinking now his wine and leaving you speechless. You did everything in your power to gain back composure, you were half a goddamn Targaryen and Velaryon, a dragon rider, a true daughter of your mother and this little innuendo will not throw you out of balance.

- You wanted to talk about our betrothal… talk then – he continued drinking wine while leaning against the table, his eyes lingered on you like honey.

You swiftly adjusted your dress and cleared your throat before you spoke.

- As you know, my father is in a serious condition and he was always favorable of our future marriage, unlike my mother. If she could she would’ve abduct me and sold me off to some mighty lord, only to avoid my connection with you – you started with annoyance in your voice. Aemond merely huffed at your words.

- Yes, The Queen Who Never Was always was proud and a bit adamant – you saw vivid irritation on his marble-like face – My father, The King of Seven goddamn kingdoms has blessed our union long time ago and he haven’t changed his mind since then. Rhaeneys will have to obey her King’s will and her favorite cousin after all. 

- And what if our Fathers will pass away? What then? – you asked, aware thoroughly of the state in which King was.

- Corlys will not die, not just yet, he’s the Sea Snake, strong and pertinacious. But you are right about my Father, he will definitely pass away, it’s only matter of short time, unfortunately - Prince spoke last words quietly with visible pain in his voice. You tenderly stroked his arm trying to cheer him up a little, and his strong, yet slim hand grabbed your cheek, his thumb smoothed your delicate skin.

- And what if my Lord Father also dies? – you added silently, almost inaudible. You prayed every day and every night to not let that happen, you loved your Father boundlessly, after all it was him who trained you in sword since you were just his little girl, it was him who encouraged you to discover and conquer the world on your dragon. And at last, it was him to trust you enough to take part in the battles alongside with him and even letting you lead some of assaults.

Aemond’s hand forced you to look him in the eye, as deep blue ocean, as the sea you have sailed through so many times.

- Elaena… I will burn all the kingdoms to the ground with Vhagar if this what will I have to take to marry you, you hear me? – he said with fire in his only eye. He meant it, he didn’t lie. He was definitely that kind of man who won’t stop at nothing to gain whatever he desires, even if it meant burning the whole world for his beloved ones – Besides, what better option your mother has than to marry her only daughter, her only child left alive to a Targaryen Prince? – he added with soothing smile, never leaving your gaze. Deep down inside, you knew he was right. You leaned your head on his broad shoulder as he held you close to his firm chest and both of you remained silent for a significant moment, simply enjoying presence of each other.

- Gods, after all those years… I was afraid I lost you when you left King’s Landing last time… And all of sudden you came back, daring to look so astonishingly beautiful, surrounded by all those stories of your valiant deeds… Issa perzys ziry-zaldrīzes (My fiery Dragoness) – his whispered words coated your ears like a warm blanket. You ‘tssked’ hearing your pet nickname in High Valyrian. 

- How am I supposed to resist you, issa jaesa (my goddess)?

- Nohow. Tepagon aōla naejot nyke (Give yourself to me) – your voice whispered just an inch from his lips and you knew full well that he won’t be able to control himself any longer.

Aemond crushed his lips to yours in a harsh at first kiss, which seconds later burned with blazing passion. Your tongues were battling over a dominance to one another, whilst he started to slowly push you towards the bed.  You didn’t remonstrate, as you were feverishly giving back all of his hungry kisses. His hands ran all over your entire back, waist, hips, trying desperately to memorize all of your curves, the soft mold of your body, its delicacy and fragility. He gripped strongly your rear, lifting you upwards, causing a soft moan escaping your lips, your legs automatically wrapped around his narrow waist, his lips leaving wet, open-mouthed kisses on your neck.

Out of nowhere, doors to your chamber opened with an audible crash to adjacent walls. A shocked gasp left your mouth, you knew who caused this interruption and certainly it wasn’t ser Ryon. Aemond was expressly raging at anyone, whoever it was, to dare disrupt his ministrations with you but yet he didn’t let you out of his arms.

- Now, now… I was afraid that you would’ve start without me - it was none other than The Rogue Prince, Daemon Targaryen, who was now standing tall in front of you both, smiling pertly.

- What is he doing here? – the younger Prince asked harshly, his fingers hammered in your butt even more, causing you to groan, his obstinate stare was now focused entirely on his opponent.

- My dear Nephew, Elaena has invited me to give you both some kind of a… hmm… demonstration – his Uncle was clearly trying not to burst off with laughter, knowing that he has outsmarted his own nephew, seducing his future bride behind his back.

Aemond let you down to the ground with a slight punch, concentrating now fully on you, his eyes were now similar to Vhagar’s, when she was about to perform her favorite command, Dracarys.

- You… invited… HIM? – he drawled out every single word through his clasped teeth.

It was now or never kind of moment and you realized that one wrong word from you might end with renouncement your engagement with Aemond. As much as you didn’t want that to happen you also despairingly craved these two men, these two out of this world men to coax your numerous orgasms during this very night.

- Aemond… I… I… wanted this night to be your engagement gift for me… - you started, weighing each word carefully.

- No, you can’t be serious… You wanted me to share you in bedchambers with him, my own damned Uncle as my betrothal gift to you? Is this some kind of sick joke? Have you completely lost your mind? – he held you tightly by your arms, his eyes were wondering now whether you have seriously lost your head.

- Oh, she didn’t tell you, did she? – you heard Daemon’s mocking laugh behind your back.

- Tell me exactly what? – anger in Aemond’s voice spread out through the entire room.

- Oh, my dear boy… My dear, sweet and blind nephew. You have truly lost your eye, since you could not put two and two together that I have been bewitching your honeyed future wife behind your back for the whole time since she has stepped her foot in King’s Landing again. It was her idea, to get us three under the sheets, you know. And I must say, that’s a very generous offer which I will not fail to accept – at this moment you fought the urge of slapping Daemon’s face so hard.

- Go away, dear Uncle, before I’ll cut that blasphemous mouth of yours with my sword. I’m sure you have a wife to please and children to be taken care of – the voice of younger Prince was surprisingly calm, but as cold as only a winter morning could be. 

- I’m not going anywhere, “One Eye”. Only Elaena can dismiss me if she pleases so, but I believe we will have so much fun with or without you, so you can leave us now in peace.

- Which of my previous words you haven’t understand, Rogue Morron? – in a split second Aemond drew his valyrian steel sword, sharp blade dangerously approached exposed neck of the older man who completely ignored the threat, only laughed.

You knew you must act fast if you wanted to avoid any unnecessary bloodshed. You’ve reached out to the hem of your gown and pulled out a dagger, also made of valyrian steel, attached earlier to your suspender. You took Aemond by surprise and pulled his head back, causing him to hiss, a cold steel of inlaid dagger layed now motionless against his throat.

- Gods, you are truly daughter of your mother, hiding blades and weapons behind your clothing like a real assassin – Rogue Prince was now in awe of your doings.

- Shut up or I will throw smaller one from behind my back into your artery – you hissed with impatience. Both of men were now silent as the grave, only Aemond trying in vain to escape from your tight grip.

- Put your sword down, Aemond, or I swear the Gods I will cut through your throat before you will be able to say a single word – you tugged his hair harder in order to enforce him to surrender. Another broken hiss left his mouth, but he didn’t let the sword’s handle.

- You dare to threat me? You are a mad woman, this much I know, but you wouldn’t do it – he managed to gasp, your grasp was slowly taking his breath away.

- Oh believe me, I would. Unlike you, I have fought battles, I have killed people, in considerable numbers and trust me, there is nothing more satisfying than to watch life fleeing from the eyes of another human – your voice balanced on a thin border between pure madness and mockery. You heard another gasp, this time it was fearful. But still, his sword remained in an unmoved position.

- Oh, for fuck’s sake – you snarled and with a simple dance movement you turned yourself around so now you faced Aemond but your hand haven’t released his hair which resulted in him turning his neck backwards painfully. You took advantage of his moment of inattention and kicked sword out of his hand so it landed on the floor with a clang of heavy steel. Finally, you let go of him and young Prince instantly took a deep, greedy breath, his hand massaged his luckily uncut neck.

- Have you both finished your sandbox fight? – Daemon seemed to grew weary of your power showcase, his theatrical yawn confirmed it.

- I hope you liked this little show, Daemon, because I’m about to pleasure myself with this dagger’s handle if you will keep refusing me fulfilling my deepest fantasy including the two of you – you replied with weariness, growing slowly tired of this game. You poured yourself another goblet and gulped it down within the blink of an eye. You took a peek at two men, now they were staring at you with gaping mouths.

You took off the clasps of your silver shoulder pads, causing your dress to fall down to the floor, revealing everything what could be revealed. You stood completely naked in front of their taken-aback faces, they were looking as if a thunderbolt shot them out of the blue. As if nothing had happened, you strolled towards your bed, deigning them with the perfect curve of your ass. You laid down on your back and leaned on your forearms, observing their helplessness in the face of your charms.

- So how ill it be? My dagger or… - you threw it closely over their heads and it broke into the wall with a jingle – … or your dragons? – your gaze stopped at growing now bulges in their trousers. You couldn’t wait until they fill you entirely in an unison. The very thought had made you feel getting more and more wet between your folds and you involuntarily licked your lips with want.

You couldn’t say which one of them undressed faster – Aemond or Daemon. But neither of them have took off their predatory gaze upon you while doing it. Once they were bare naked you admired their figures carved in marble, like some of those statues you have seen several times in Sept. Daemon was slightly more massive due to his age, but for that Aemond was rather taller. Your eyes rested on both of their manhoods and you must have admit that nature didn’t stint them at all. Either of men gradually approached you in a somewhat majestic, primary manner, Aemond stopped in between your half-spreaded legs, his strong forearms grabbed you by knees, pulling you to himself closer. Meanwhile Daemon landed on the side of the bed near you, you could feel his alternately tensing muscles.

Younger man caught your chin, forcing to look upon now his sinister mask of a tamer.

- Listen now, little dove. I will eat the hell out of that dripping cunt of yours until you will be nothing but a mewling mess, begging me to stop – his voice was overflowing with pure craving, he licked his lips ravenously – Meanwhile he can try to keep you in place, lo ziry kostagon (if he can) – Aemond pointed his head to Daemon who huffed in a disapproval.

Before either of you managed to protest, Aemond’s head lurked between your heated thighs and took a first swig of your soaked folds, a protracted moan of yours filled his ears, it was like a sweet melody he wanted to listen in forever.

- Gods, you are so, so drenched for me… - he highlighted the last word, making biting remarks about the older man – And your taste is… purely angelic – young Prince wasted no time and he returned to eating you like a famished man he was at the moment, extorting more and more of your sugar-sweet moans, each of them getting louder and louder. For a brief moment you were pondering about who has teached him to pleasure a woman in such way, you thought that probably his older brother, Aegon, took him one day to the Silk Street to give him a proper education. Whoever it was, it didn’t really matter right now, you were just grateful, because he had to be a very teachable student, devouring you like if you were some kind of an appetizer.

Daemon grasped your neck between his long, slender fingers, choking you lightly, crashing his lips to yours in a greedy kiss, silencing your lustful screams. He tasted of a smoky rum with some metallic aftertaste. His other hand landed on your perfectly round-shaped breast, stimulating your perked nipple in a frantic way. He didn’t allow himself to overlook your other bosom, caressing it with the same intensity. You sighed with contentment through your kiss, which was getting sloppier and sloppier. Aemond leaned out from behind your flushed bottom cheeks, seeing his Uncle gaining control over your body and your reactions. He wasn't going to let it happen, not on his fucking watch.

He decided to push one of his digits through your shaky internal walls, slowly, to watch you come undone beneath him, with this insolent smirk of his. Your reaction lived up to his expectations, you bit Daemon’s lip almost to blood, before pushing him aside on the bed.

- Kessa, issa sȳz hāedar, naejot qilōni ao sytilībagon (Yes, my obedient girl, remember to who you belong to) – his voice purred lowly as he fucked you now not with one but with two fingers, clearly wanting to warm you up before he enters you with something else. His tongue tortured your already overstimulated clit, pushing you bit by bit into your first climax. You were as far back on the border, your mind was getting blurry due to the pleasure spilling all over your body. You desperately wanted to distract yourself from coming, but Aemond’s fingers imposed a killing pace, and his wet tongue never leaving your sensitive bundle of nerves. You persisted to reaching your orgasm before any of them buries their cocks down to the hilt inside you. You grabbed already rock-hard Daemon’s member and started moving your hand up and down his shaft, much to a approval mixed with astonishment of the Rogue Prince. Feeling of getting more wet at the very sight of  his impressive manhood, now totally on your mercy, washed over you like a flood. But you were naïve to think Aemond wouldn't notice that. He suddenly stopped moving his fingers and pushed his hand outside of you, causing you to groan regretfully. His eyes were now sharp as two small daggers pushed into your face with vengeance. Aemond “One-Eye” Targaryen already felt humiliated by letting you even touch other man, not to mention fucking him. The possessiveness of this man knew no boundaries, at least not when it comes to his beloved woman. Increasing moans coming up from Daemon’s lips only added fuel to the flames in which your fiancé was covered now with.

Young and infuriated Prince pushed wildly his rival off down to the floor, jumping on the bed by himself, yanking you on the top him, so now you were straddling his hips. He jerked your head heavily to his and hissed in your face.

- If you think I am going to let this get away with you then you are terribly wrong, issa ziry-zaldrīzes – the sick determination in his voice ensured that he meant it, he really did.

Before a single sigh could escape your agape lips, he slammed his tremendous cock inside your wet core, drawing a shameless scream out of the two of you. His hands hanged on tightly on your hips, dictating commanding pace, not giving you any chance to accommodate to his length. You started dutifully rocking your hips against his pelvis, you leaned your hands on his hard-breathing torso to gain a bit of balance. He teared you apart inside, you were besotted with zest combined with pain, but that kind of pain that you would happily give yourself into. He watched you with fierce satisfaction in his eyes, observing your full breasts bouncing with every slight movement, your waist and hips swinging in a harmonic rhytm, feeling of your tight, warm walls clutching around him was something that he has craved for so many years. And now at last his craving has been fulfilled.

- Ah, you have no smallest idea for how long I have been waiting for this… How many days and nights I have dreamed of this moment, when I will be finally be able to slip into your delicious cunt, to fuck you blind, to mark you and claim you endlessly as mine. Issa dāria (My queen) – his words only made you tighten more around his cock, now pounding into you mercilessly. You wasn’t sure of much longer you will be to hold your composure before your first climax sweep you off completely. And now you desired, oh, how much you desired to come on your dragon lover.

Suddenly you felt a pair of unfamiliar hands on your bust, Daemon’s hands squeezed your bosoms vigorously, his huskily warm breath wrapped around your neck made your skin goose bumps.

- Kipagon zirȳla, sepār raqagon ao kipagon aōha zaldrīzes, azantys (Ride him, just like you ride your dragon, warrior) – his High Valyrian was magnificent, his smooth voice only adding piquancy. Daemon traced the delicate skin on your clavicle with gentle kisses, leaving barely visible markings with his teeth.

Aemond groaned with resentment at this sight, pulling you to himself once more, unleashing from his Uncle embrace. The tender flesh of your breasts has collided with his sculpturesque thorax once more, his hand grabbed the back of your head, his swollen lips claimed yours in a an insatiable kiss, literally eating out your soul while deepening it.

- You… are… MINE – he gasped in between another hungry kisses.

- Aōhon syt infyrar (I am yours for eternity) – you replied as you tasted yourself on his tongue, it was such a sweet and intoxicating flavor, something musky as well as salty came to your mind.

Meanwhile Daemon watched your perfectly protruding butt towards him in an awe, with Aemond’s cock buried deep down inside your hole. It made him feel rudimentary need to feel you inside, to fill up with his masculinity, with his seed, to break you in every possible way.

- Daemon, what the hell…?! – you yelled as you felt the tip of his cock prodding at your entrance.

- Easy, byka mēre (little one). Relax and this won’t hurt, at least this much – he added with a visitant chuckle. After a moment your condemned cry filled entire chamber as he entered you, slowly at first, but all the way down to his navel. This was decisively too much to bare for you, you had a feeling that your womb is going to crack within next seconds. Out of the momentum you sticked your nails in Aemond’s chest, scraping his skin, leaving almost bloody scratches afterwards. One-eyed Prince growled in a displeasure, but he saw tears coming down your cheeks, your clasped lips, the overall visible pain overlayed over your facial features. His Uncle picked up the goodly pace, not intending to stop, not even for a moment. Aemond was not going to let his love suffer, not in this bed, and certainly not because of his damned uncle.

- You’re… hurting her…! – his roar came upon your ears with redoubled strength as he violently grabbed you from bed, securely holding your bottom, his member never leaving your insides. You clang to him like a newborn infant, your legs squeezed his narrow waist. He gently stroked your long, dark hair, as he heard your quiet sobbing coming from your mouth nestled in the crook of his neck.

- Shh, rūs (darling). I’m here, it’s alright. You don’t have to be afraid – his soothing voice was like a balm to your unsteady heart.

He settled himself with you in a big, red, velvety armchair, the very same one where you have started this whole evening. You mounted him, feeling his large, throbbing cock still inside you.

- Ride me, issa dāria (my queen). Take your pleasure, you deserve it. He won’t grant it, he doesn’t belong to you. He will only hurt you by chasing after his own sick satisfaction – he pointed out his head at Daemon, sending him an audacious smile. Then he took your hips with powerful hands and started rocking you against his venter. You caught the rhytm, trying to find out the best position for his cock to hit that sweet spot inside you. Your movements became more hectic as well as your breathy moanings, you tilted your head back, losing yourself to the incoming pleasure.

- Look at me, little dove. I want you to look at me, when you’re gonna cum for me, all over my cock – Aemond grabbed you by your chin, forcing you to look him straight in the eye, this goddamn deep-blue, mesmerizing eye. This only intensified your delight, his hands were still clenched around your waist, his hips began meeting your motions, fucking you breathless. His cock found that fragile point inside you and began to smash it, driving you closer and closer to your orgasm. Your lips were open, your throat started to dry up because of your constant screams. But Aemond took it as a invitation as he pushed his two long fingers inside your mouth. You licked them obediently, as if they were the best snack you've ever eaten. He smiled with satisfaction and took them out with a loud, wet pop from your lips, licked them by himself afterwards.

- Good girl, such a good, little dove – he purred with contentment and started to poke you down on his dick with doubled strength, causing your desperate cry. You felt that you’re going to come at any moment, your walls began to tremble around his manhood, your limbs were going numb.

- Yes, yes, come all over me, issa ziry-zaldrīzes (my Dragoness). Come for your Prince – his words were like an enchantment and you were ready to surrender to it. Only seconds separated you from your own paradise, your mind was wholly focused on getting to its gates. The Young Prince was also very close to his climax, you could tell by how he was growing inside your walls, you could literally feel every pulsating vein on his member. His moans were getting more and more hoarse, his eyes were hazy, looking at you languid. You would give everything to feel his warm seed filling your womb.

A strong jerk of your shoulders broke you out of your dream, as you were verbally pulled down to the ground like you were some potato sack. The originator of this violence was none other than Daemon, you tried to free yourself by all means but you have been a fool to think you could overpower such man like Daemon, even if he was naked at the moment.

- You thought I would let you reach your pleasure without my participation? Not a chance, issa jorrāelagon (my dear). Now it’s time for you to experience being satisfied by a man worthy of you – he said insulting his own nephew, who was now boiling with spite for his uncle yet still he didn’t change his position in the armchair.  

Daemon has put you gently on the bed, positioning himself between your legs.

- You can make him watch me giving you deserved pleasure or you can try to put down his misery. Choose – he said suggestively pointing out his head to Aemond. Before a single word slipped out of your mouth The Rogue Prince thrusted in you like a warrior sticking his spear deep inside you. You tilted your head back on the bed’s edge, so you saw now Aemon upside down, watching you like a hurt child, from whom the toy was taken from. You wanted to feel him somehow, to give him pleasure which was taken from him brutally, to soothe his wounded pride by watching his beloved Dragoness being ridden by someone else.

You waved your finger at him, wanting to get him closer. Reluctantly at first, he slowly approached the bed, his member was still stiff as the pike. Your hands caught his loins, bringing him closer, so now his cock was jiggling above your face. Daemon inexorably increased the pace, nearly tearing apart your bowels, whether you liked that or not, obscene moans were dripping from your mouth like some chant, to Aemond’s despair.

You grabbed Aemond’s throbbing cock and started moving your hand frantically, driving him into pure madness. You grabbed his length closer to your swollen, wet lips – he looked at you questioningly, you nodded slightly and he pushed him deep down your throat, almost gagging you at first. He stopped for a moment seeing flowing tears in your eyes, but you gave a sign with your hand for him to continue. So he started fucking your mouth, initially without any rush and you licked curve of his manhood with pure love.

Now the two dragons had their filthy way you – Daemon was charging at your begging for climax pussy while Aemond was chasing after his own release in your mouth. You felt like a whore, but a luxurious one, as you tried to comfort your sense of shame in thoughts. You saw droplets of sweat running down strained Daemon’s chest, his short platinum blonde hair was a miserable mess right now. He bent over you, his teeth slandered the sensitive flesh of your breast and nipples, extorting another volley of your delicious groans. You looked upward at Aemond. His eyes were now closed in pure bliss, his torso was moving along with his rapid breath. His hand grabbed your head, shoving your lips further down his jittery cock, another was gently caressing your hair, you even heard his silent praises directed at you.

The hopeless need of reaching an orgasm was washing over you like a turbulent wave constantly. You slowly felt your walls clutching around Daemon’s member, his raging reaction, as his digits were now sticking sorely into your tender thighs, his movements were getting more and more chaotic. You could tell that he’s not going to last any longer, his eyes were wandering all over your spasming, feverish body, like he was trying to devour it with his internal flame. Aemond was near his end too, his hips were bucking into your mouth madly, causing your tears flowing down your cheeks, the taste of his pre-cum was getting more perceptible on your tongue. The only sounds audible in your chamber were salacious clapping coming from your went cunt being ravaged by Daemon’s cock and your muffled moans by Aemond’s one.

The climax of the three of you was approaching inexorably. Mixed howling of both men were now synchronized as some mating song of the wolves hidden deep in the forest. Your palms were glued now tightly to Daemon’s shoulders as he lay his face on the crook of your neck, giving wet, open-mouthed kisses everywhere he could.

- I won't last much longer, issa jorrāelagon (my love). Come, now, come all over my cock. I command you, drain that delicious cunt of yours, give me everything that you got – his raspy voice ordered you as if he was on the battlefield again. He didn't have to tell you twice, his words seized your will thoroughly, your cunt began to clutch on his pulsing cock, as a surge of your orgasm has swept you off completely. Your whole body was trembling, your toes and fingers went numb, your mind was bemused as if you had inhaled some kind of opium. You fell limp onto the bed and seconds later Daemon reached his peak with a spectacular groan, but he managed to pull of his member, so he spilled all his warm seed all over your womb and belly. He collapsed without any strength next to you and breathed heavily, absorbed by pure happiness.

Aemond was bewildered by the sight of the two of you, and after few, firm thrust he spilled his liquids into your waiting, salacious mouth, some of the seed was dripping down your chin and neck. He moaned once more, exquisitely, making your spent cunt clutch once more and he slid down motionless to the ground. You swallowed everything he gave you without any hesitation and licked your lips willingly.

For quite a while all of you were lying, felled out of strength, the only audible sound was your hard breathing. After some time you gathered yourself and managed somehow to stand up on your wobbly feet, Aemond grabbed your arms to secure you and helped you walk to your dressing table, where towels and a bowl of water were waiting. The Prince took cloth and he helped you clean up and later did the same with himself. After you finished he took you into his arms and carried to the bed, where Daemon was already sleeping on his stomach, hugging tightly one of his pillows. Aemond placed you down carefully on silk bedding and kissed your forehead softly.

- I think he passed out too early – you giggled as you heard Daemon’s quiet snoring.

- And you were hoping for a second round? Gods be damned you evil woman, you would’ve finish off a dragon, no wonder he collapsed. I'm drained of my strength too – Young Prince wasn’t lying, tiredness was visibly painted all over his fine-looking face. You laughed at his words and he popped into the bed after you, moving you towards older man, Daemon must have felt your touch, because he hugged to your side immediately.

- Sleep, you little rascal. You've already messed up enough today – he gave you last peck in the lips and he pulled you close to his chest. A little smile enlightened your face as you gladly lied down your head, listening to steady beating of his heart. He held you firmly with his strong arm as you were slowly sailing away to the land of dreams.

*****

Something woke you up from sleep in the early morning, you lifted your head lightly, with your still drowsy eyes. It was still dark outside although a glow of light began to spread from the east. You looked to the side, hoping to see The Rogue Dragon, but to your surprise he was gone. You moved uneasily, waking up Aemond, a dissatisfied mumble left his mouth.

- Why are you not sleeping, love? It’s still pretty early… - he muttered under his breath.

- Daemon is gone – you stated with disappointment and a bit of… sadness (?).

- Ah yes… You thought I would’ve let him stay and make him an honor of waking up next to you? No way, my little dove, he already got a lot more than he asked for – he replied with a slight dander in his voice.

- But…

- No buts, issa ziry-zaldrīzes (my Dragoness). You've already done enough to make me thirsty for revenge. You shall be punished, lavishly. I will never let him or any other man touch you, ever again. You better remember that because I don't like repeating myself. Sleep, for now. You need a solid rest after tonight’s vagaries. And for many night that are yet to come, with me, solely – he spoke with a voice that can bear no protest. He grabbed you closely to him so now he was facing your back and hugged his face to your nape. After a moment you heard his steady breath, he fell asleep again. You cuddled more to his warm body and tried to doze off once more. The thought of punishment that he was preparing for you was kept your head busy. But whatever he was plotting, you were ready for it, whether it will be enjoyable or not. 

And... that would be it, for now! Thanks for reading guys! I hope you enjoyed this as much as I enjoyed myself while writing it. There is a possible continuation in plans, fully dependent on your reaction so I hope you're gonna say Hi warmly to this one. :) Let me know your thoughts in comments, any feedback would be much appreciated!

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@claudie-080102 @gabrieletargaryen

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[samstree]

A Study in Blushing

In which Jaskier makes a surprising discovery and decides to test it out.

(tooth rotting fluff, blushing geralt, soft jaskier, love confessions, kissing, winter at kaer morhen, rated teen, 3000 words)

Also, I know witchers can't blush in canon but seriously we should all know better.

read on AO3

“Gods damn it, bard! I know Geralt tolerates all your shit because he’s in love with you, but you gotta put things back where they belong!”

Lambert grumbles something more all the while putting the training swords back on the shelf, and Jaskier’s mind stops.

The world zeroes in on the words he’s in love with you and suddenly Jaskier can’t form words.

“W...What did you—”

“I said—” Lambert throws down the last one with a clunk. “—the swords go back on the shelf!”

“Geralt...is in love with me?” Jaskier breathes, unbelieving.

Lambert pauses, “Don’t you know?”

“No...?”

“Fuck. Pretty boy can’t get his head out of his ass and now I have to suffer.”

With that, Lambert tries to shoulder past Jaskier but the bard is having none of it. “No!” he puts a hand on Lambert’s chest. “Don’t even think about it. How? Since when? And how do you know?”

Lambert mumbles something unintelligible, before sighing long-sufferingly. “It’s too obvious, Buttercup.”

“How is it obvious? Does Geralt walk around with the words ‘I’m smitten with my bard and all the grumpy face is faked’ written on his forehead? How, pray tell, is it obvious?”

“Yeah, pretty much.” Lambert, the bastard, raises an eyebrow in amusement. “Did you truly not know?”

“No!”

Jaskier is so close to grabbing Lambert by the collar just to shake some answers out of him, and finally, the youngest wolf takes pity on him.

“He looks at you differently when he thinks you are doing something cute. He trips over his words after you call him sweet names. The worst of it all—he blushes any time you are close. Blushes, like a fucking maiden. Urgh, I’m gonna throw up.”

“Oh,” Jaskier deflates, “Witchers blush?”

“See for yourself.” Lambert rolls his eyes, walking past Jaskier with a few long strides. “And put the swords back!”

 ~~

Jaskier decides to test it out, because there’s no way Geralt is in love with him.

Loving him as a friend, sure, why not? Despite what ignorant folks claim about witchers, Jaskier knows by experience that Geralt has a heart bigger and more capable of love than most. But Geralt being in love with Jaskier? Like, he-wants-to-kiss-him in love with him? No way.

Blushing because of him? Ha! More like in Jaskier’s wildest dreams.

Although that would be really cute.

“Pass me the salt, honey?” Jaskier reaches out a hand to the other end of the table, and Geralt passes the salt without thinking.

Hmm.

No tripping over words.

“Thank you, dear heart.”

He’s putting as much sweetness in his voice as possible and Geralt is…normal. His eyebrows are raised to the roof, and there’s a faint smile by the corners of his eyes. But that’s just how Geralt is…right? He’s home and he’s relaxed, he smiles with his eyes rather than his lips, and it’s got nothing to do with Jaskier.

Jaskier chews, staring at Geralt subtly.

Not subtle enough.

“Something on my face?”

“No—” Jaskier chokes, hacking like a fool and tipping sideways. “Just—too much salt.”

Geralt scoffs, the faint smile turning into a brief grin, and hands over a cup of water.

Jaskier wants the ground to swallow him whole.

 ~~

The snow is terrible.

The whole keep is freezing like an ice cube, and Jaskier has to blow on his hands from time to time just to function in the library. He’s the lucky one, in the grand scheme of things. The witchers still need to go outside to fix up the walls and tend to the animals.

Geralt hasn’t been back in a while.

Jaskier puts down the quill he’s been chewing anxiously and rushes out the door—

And bumps right into Geralt’s chest.

“Sweet Melitele, that’s a lot of snow!” Jaskier spits out the snow knocked into his mouth, before looking at Geralt properly. “Oh, you’re hurt.”

The cut on Geralt’s eyebrow is a small one, but Jaskier worries nonetheless. Geralt doesn’t look impressed, only walks straight towards the small medkit sitting on a shelf.

“Repairment has to wait. The wind is bad.” Geralt grunts, trying to touch the wound and missing by a mile.

“Here, let me.”

Jaskier takes the salve from Geralt’s slightly shaking hands and pulls out a handkerchief from his pocket. Geralt is frowning so hard he can crack a walnut with those eyebrows.

“Relax,” Jaskier murmurs, blowing gently at the cut while dabbing at the blood. Upon deeming it clean enough, he applies a scoop of the salve that smells of celandine and mint. “Don’t move. It’ll only hurt a bit.”

Geralt keeps shying away from Jaskier’s ministration so he has no choice but to wrap his other hand around Geralt’s jaw, which manages to still him instantly.

“There,” Jaskier smiles. “Shouldn’t need anything more. Your witcher healing will kick in soon.”

Geralt tilts his head with that soft look in his eyes. “My thanks. Wouldn’t have survived without you.”

“No shit! Who goes out in a storm like this one? If you ask me, Vesemir is too tough on you. Look at you…” Jaskier coos, taking Geralt’s hands. “You are like a popsicle, dear heart.”

He tries to rub some heat back into Geralt’s freezing hands, his skin dry and rough. There’s still some hand cream left in Jaskier’s room. Maybe he can fetch it later. Geralt needs to take care of his hands better when his living depends on them.

Geralt groans, looking away. The frames of his ears are beet red too; he must have been outside without a hat for all this time. Jaskier wants to cover them with his warm palms, only to have his hands batted away.

“No, there’s—I’m fine,” Geralt mumbles. If Jaskier didn’t know better, he’d think the way Geralt avoids his eyes is a result of shyness. The bard can snort at the ridiculous idea and stubbornly presses his hands over Geralt’s ears.

Oh.

His ears are red because they are so warm, not cold

Now that they are standing so close, only a hand’s breadth away, Geralt looks stunned, his eyes dilating, only leaving a ring of gold around those dark pupils. There’s even a layer of pink dusting over his pale cheeks.

A blushing witcher.

Oh, this is interesting.

“Geralt, sweetie?” Jaskier husks, lowering his voice especially on the pet name. “Are you warm enough?”

“Um, sure…not cold.”

And he watches as Geralt’s mind ceases to work in front of his eyes, the blush deepening. It’s still a subtle thing. No wonder Jaskier has missed it all this time. Calloused hands wrap around Jaskier’s wrists, and the bard finally relents, letting go.

If he spends the rest of the day sitting at the desk with a quill in hand, thinking about the way Geralt’s skin feels against his and the warmth of his cheeks, nobody needs to know.

 ~~

Jaskier doesn’t know what to do with this piece of new information.

Geralt does blush.

Because of him.

He tries to repeat the experiment. Just to be sure, he tells himself. And every time it yields the same results. As soon as he gets into Geralt’s space, the witcher either stumbles through his words or gets all flustered all over. The fondness is there too, just in a very Geralt and very unnoticeable manner, soft and almost smiling.

Jaskier is so drunk on power.

The only thing left is to tell Geralt that he loves him too. That he’s also in love in love with him, as in an I-also-want-to-kiss-you kind of way, and then… they can finally kiss!

Oh, just inwardly rehearsing the scene makes Jaskier dizzy, and somehow he ends up smiling to himself when he’s so deep in thoughts planning the conversation, once even in front of company.

Lambert throws him a side-eye and a disgusted grunt, but Jaskier can’t care less.

He finds the perfect night, and even takes a sip of White Gull from Eskel’s cup just to calm his nerves.

And he realizes too late that, perhaps, the strongest witcher brew might be a mistake.

The effect is stronger than he anticipated, and Jaskier is giggling through the fog in his mind within mimutes, somehow ending up on Geralt’s lap, draped over his shoulder in a heap of soft, pliant mess.

He rests his temple against Geralt’s and nearly tips backward if not for the strong arm that catches him by the waist.

“Oops, thank the gods I have my big witcher here!” Jaskier runs the tips of his fingers across Geralt’s stubbles. It tickles, and the blush is back, unmistakably, since Geralt is as sober as the day. “I’d fall over on my butt without you! And falling over doesn’t look good before saying important things, does it?”

Huh, he’s said it out loud.

“Saying what things?”

Well, if it’s out there…

“Where do I start again? Right of course, with how beautiful you look when you’re like this!”

His fingers move to tuck the curtain of white hair behind Geralt’s ears. No matter how much Jaskier loves it when Geralt wears his hair down, he needs to look into those amber eyes without obstruction. The molten gold gleams with surprise and Jaskier wants to drown in it.

“I’m not…” Geralt splutters, before closing his mouth with a pop. The flush is stretching down his neck now, and Jaskier chases it with a hand.

“You are!” he insists petulantly. “You are blushing and it’s beautiful. Adorable too! I wouldn’t know if Lambert hadn’t told me—” he burps. “—um, everything.”

“Told you what?”

The alarm in Geralt’s voice should wake Jaskier up immediately, but alas, the White Gull is no joke.

“Shh!” he stage-whispers, “It’s a secret! Don’t tell Geralt! I need to do it right!”

Jaskier lets out a happy sound and leans into the comforting embrace that he loves so much. Under his fingers, he can feel heat still gather under Geralt’s skin, making him look equally annoyed and fond.

“You are not making sense, Jask.”

“Nothing about you makes sense either, but I’m here. And ready.” Jaskier smiles and presses a chaste kiss on Geralt’s cheekbone, humming another happy sound.

Kissing Geralt is nice, gives Jaskier all the fuzzy feelings.

But somehow, that was also the wrong thing to do, because Geralt has gone stiff under Jaskier’s body. The next thing he knows, the witcher is struggling to untangle their limbs and leaving him empty and cold.

“Don’t…do this,” he murmurs, upset. “Just…don’t.”

The anguish the seeps through Geralt’s voice somehow manages to get through the muddy cloud in Jaskier’s mind.

“Wait, what?” Jaskier rights himself on unsteady feet, but his witcher is long gone. Eskel and Lambert are still nursing their tankards by the fire, and Jaskier wobbles past them without a care. He needs to find Geralt, who apparently charged right out of the great hall and into the cold night.

The heavy wooden doors open and Jaskier is hit with the unrelenting wind. The snow has stopped and partially melted, and frozen all over again. It’s the worst kind. Jaskier takes his steps with caution but still, it’s too slippery.

Okay. Mind. Clear. He needs it to be.

“Geralt?” he calls out, churning with anxiety. “Geralt, where are you?”

Damn his witcher speed. Now Jaskier is walking in the dark and freezing his balls off without an ounce of idea where Geralt might be. Oh, the stalls. Roach must be the first thought Geralt has when he needs to talk. Jaskier shudders, hugging his doublet tighter to fend off the wind and searches for the stalls blindly.

“Geralt, are you—ow!”

He walks right into a pillar and falls on his butt. Before Jaskier can register the pain, a pair of hands are picking him up by the armpits and he stumbles into Geralt’s embrace.

There’s a familiar sizzle of Igni, and the torch by the stalls is roaring with life.

“What are you doing out here?” A coat is tossed over Jaskier’s shoulders and he’s ushered back towards the building.

“Looking for you, you idiot!” Jaskier squawks, albeit grateful for the thick fur coat. A few more minutes he would lose all feelings in his toes. “Running into the night like this, who knows what can happen to you!”

“So you followed me out drunk and with no coat and I’m the idiot? Gods, I don’t know why I even…”

The doors creak open and there’s light and warmth and the smell of mead, but Jaskier’s heart sinks.

“I don’t know why you even bother too,” Jaskier muses, suddenly feeling like a scolded child.

Geralt steers Jaskier past the other wolf witchers and straight into his room, where the heat feels like a furnace on Jaskier’s frozen fingers—Geralt has been secretly tending to Jaskier’s fire for weeks after the human came down with a cold upon arrival at the keep. He’s too good to Jaskier.

“You are too good to me.”

“And you are a pain in the ass.”

Geralt sits Jaskier down in front of the fire rather grumpily, before joining him and pulling the coat even tighter. He’s still mad, just a smidge, but the droop of his eyes speaks more of sadness.

“Hey, talk to me,” Jaskier coaxes, squeezing Geralt’s knee in reassurance. Whatever argument coming their way, he can’t stand Geralt being sad.

“How drunk are you?”

“Not very.” If Geralt walking out hadn’t put Jaskier out of his daze, the wind sure finished the job. “White gull passes quickly. Hmm, who would have thought…”

“I need to tell you something.”

“But I need to tell you something too! It’s important.”

“Let me go first?”

The plead comes out in a whisper, and who is Jaskier to reject Geralt like this, wide-eyed and earnest?

“I never meant for you to know, and certainly not on a night like this, but Jaskier…” Geralt heaves out a breath, determined and so so brave. Jaskier is drawn closer to Geralt’s body like a magnet, ready to soothe, to meet him halfway. “I am in love with you.”

“Geralt.”

“I know you don’t feel the same, and it’s okay. You make a living singing about loving. Hell, you make a living simply by loving. Music, adventures, people, so many people. It’s okay that your heart is too big for me. But, Jask, I can’t take it anymore.”

“I don’t…not…”

“You flirt with people. You…touch them and kiss them and praise them. It’s okay. It’s the way you are. I understand that when you do the same with me it doesn’t mean anything more, but, Jaskier, I need you to stop.”

“Oh,” Jaskier breathes. “Do you hate it? I thought…differently.”

The smile that tugs at Geralt’s lips can only be described as crestfallen.

“The opposite. I love it too much. I’ll always want more. Always. I’m greedy like this.”

The guilt weighing down on Geralt’s shoulders is not a good sight, a personal offense to Jaskier. His hand reaches out on its own volition, tilting Geralt’s chin up so their gazes meet. The blush is back.

What did Jaskier do in his past life to deserve this man?

“That’s what I was going to say.”

“That you are greedy?”

The frown remains on Geralt’s face, and Jaskier smooths it with the pad of his thumb.

“No. That I am in love with you. Gods, for someone who’s not a bard, you sure know how to steal someone’s line from the beginning,” Jaskier chuckles. “I’ve been trying to tell you that I return your feelings. But alas, you know the coward that I am.”

“You are…not,” he protests, blinking.

The way Geralt defends him on instinct only makes Jaskier’s insides melt into a pool of fuzziness.

“In this, yes. How I fucked up so bad is a mystery. That’s just me I guess, trying to love you but ending up hurting you, making you feel like I’m stringing you along like anyone else.”

“I’m not?”

“No, you oaf.” Jaskier bops his nose. “You are the most important person in the world for me. This is the most important thing in the world to me! I love you and I love it when you blush. Also, I’d very much like to kiss you, if you want it too.”

Jaskier bites into his lips and watches as Geralt’s gaze drops to them, the pink of his cheeks spreading into the most gorgeous crimson. “I want to. Kiss you, that is.”

“Good.”

Jaskier wets his lips with a peak of the tongue and watches the same gesture returned. Even if the alcohol has left his system, the intoxication remains, only this time because of Geralt’s slightly dilated pupils and quickened breathing. He leans in, not being able to resist—

“Did you say ‘return my feelings’?” Geralt dodges away, looking incredulous. “Jaskier, did you know? And what was that about blushing?”

“Um…” Now Jaskier is the one to splutter. Luckily, he has a trick up his sleeves or two that can make sure Geralt forgets about every last thought there is.

Jaskier lunges forward and tackles his witcher onto the soft rug and kisses him within an inch of his life, deepening it like there’s no tomorrow. Judging by the dazed look on Geralt’s face as he comes up for air, the method is working.

Cupping Geralt’s rosy cheeks, Jaskier croaks proudly, “Tell you later?”

“We have all the later we need.” Geralt’s smile is blinding, and equally mischievous. Without a moment of pause, Jaskier ends up the one flipped onto his back and being kissed until he shudders with pleasure.

Jaskier has to thank Lambert properly one day, considering Geralt will certainly go after him with a vengeance.

For now, having Geralt on top of him and slowly melting into a contented mess should be enough. If he’s allowed, Jaskier vows silently, he would really like to make Geralt blush for him for the rest of his life.

~~

Jaskier will totally make it his life's mission to tease Geralt endlessly and see his beautiful blush. 🥰🥰

On another note, I challenged myself to write 2000 words exactly, and this ended up, um, 3000 words exactly. I’ll count it as a win anyway ;)

Tagging: @wanderlust-t @rockysstupidity @flowercrown-bard @alllthequeenshorses @mothmanismyuncle @percy-jackson-is-sexy- @constantlytiredpigeon @behonesthowsmysinging @kitcatkim3 @endless-whump @rey-a-nonbinary-bisexual @llamasdumpsterfire @dapandapod

Please feel free to tell me if you want to be removed or added to the list <3

[the-primordials]

ROMANCES【Love OR Despair?】

• Name: Arum

Gender: Male

Age: 9.4 Million

Pronouns: he/him

Species: God

Title:

(King of the Gods)

Divine Form:

Arum's true form resembles a dragon. Body length sitting at 136 meters and a wingspan of 342 meters. When in hybrid form he wields a dragon golden sword. (Hybrid form above, humanoid dragon.)

Physical Appearance:

Height (194 cm), more on the muscular bulky body build side, a rose beige skin tone, dirty golden blonde hair, chin length; messy hair. Emerald green eyes that shine with a sense of seriousness and vibrance.

Personality:

Prideful, Benevolent, Charming, Spontaneous,Stubborn.

Relationship: Great Nephew

Marital Status: Single

Mini-Sum:

Arum, King of the Gods, and God of Matter (Atoms), War and Compassion. He was the first god to be born and the first to create one of the new mortal races. He is the son of Zotikos Ruler of the Titans & Lavada Queen of the Pure (Souls). Arum is a god that is loved and revered throughout Eden. He has been known to be a fair and a just god. Arum has loved and been loved, but every time he would break off his relationships, always feeling something... or someone was missing from his life, someone to complete him. As such many have tried to fill that missing piece in his heart, but none have succeeded, yet. So will you be the void that fills that space? Or will you only break a longing heart?

• Name: Samuel Ulrich Van Doren Elsenburg

Gender: Male

Age: 23

Pronouns: he/him

Species: Human + ¼ Incubus

Talent: Aristocrat, Sorcerer, Strategist

Title:

(The 2nd Prince) (Cursed) (Son of The Witch) (He Who Rules Fire) (The Hidden Underdog)

Physical Appearance:

Height (183 cm), athletic body build, fair pale skin tone, obsidian hair, mid waist straight length hair. Crimson eyes, that hide a hidden pain.

Personality:

Caring, Extrovert, Super Cautious, Clingy, Brave. (Cold & Distant)

Relationship: none

Marital Status: Single

Mini-Sum:

Samuel Van Doren Elsenburg, the second heir to the throne of Ager Somnia, Kingdom of Dreams. Samuel was born at a young age with Leukocytosis as such he was very sickly growing up. Many considered he was cursed by the gods for having succubus blood flowing through his veins like his mother. And due to this the king turned his back on him and his mother as years went by. Till one day his mother made a deal with a Devil (Soul Seeker, Argus He Who Whispers). After she gave her life so her son could live, Samuel from then on promised himself that he'd take revenge on those who wronged him and his mother, and one day revive her. Since then Samuel distanced himself from others. He became cold and scary to all who came near him. He shut his heart off to all, even those who tried to show any form of kindness. But that is only how everyone perceived him, while his younger sister was one of the few who knows his true nature. So will you open the doors to a lonely heart, that is need of healing? Or will lead this young man to the spiralling stairs of doom and destruction?

• Name: Cliodhna

Gender: Female

Age: 689

Pronouns: she/her

Species: Succubus (Demon)

Talent: Enchantress, Illusionist, Dark Mage

Title:

(The Temptress of Man) (That B*tch) (Man Slayer) (Blight on Reality) (Heartbroken Child) (Cursed) (Witch Of The Northern Tundra)

Demon Form:

Unknown.

Physical Appearance:

Height (166 cm), bottom hourglass body build, pale skin tone, dark velvet hair, long wavy straight hair. Bright intoxicating pink eyes.

Personality:

Flirtatious, Vengeful, Caring, Courageous, Realistic.

Relationship: none

Marital Status: Single

Mini-Sum:

Cliodhna, The Temptress of Man and daughter of the Demon King. Cliodhna, was born between a forbidden love, she was a child that was never ment to be born. But in the end her mother kept her. But she also kept her secret from the rest of the Demon races, for her very existence would start wars of unheard carnage. And carnage they did start, one day Cliodhna's existence became known to the Demon race and once the humans found out about an Heir to the Demon throne, a war broke out between the two races. A war that lasted for a 100 years, a war were Cliodhna earned the title "The Temptress of Man". But ever since the gods intervened to stop that war centuries ago. Cliodhna since then became nothing more than a fairytale in history. Until one fateful day were she fell in love with a human noble. Their love was a different kind of forbidden love, but she did not care. And from this union a daughter was born that would one day make a sacrifice so great it would save the life of another. And so as the years went by and she wept for the man she loved, who died at the hands of his own people for his treacherous deed. And ever since then she has continued to torment and bring fear to the people who stole her love and daughter from her. So will you be the cement that seals the cracks in the heart that lays shattered before you? Or will revel in the pain of another, and destroy all hope she has left?

• Name: April Collins

Gender: Female

Age: 26

Pronouns: she/her

Species: Human

Talent: Historian, Detective

Title:

(Archaeologist) (Bookworm) (Someone Famous) (Lone-Wolf) (Curiosity's Biggest Fan)

Physical Appearance:

Height (173 cm), fit slightly average body build, light pale skin tone, dark brown hair, chin length curly hair. Bright deep brown eyes.

Personality:

Curious, Intuitive, Brave, Impulsive, Idealistic

Relationship: none

Marital Status: Single

Mini-Sum:

April Collins, is the daughter to the famous Professor Collins an Archaeologist who was the first to find remnants of the first humans made by Eligos. A civilization that was so advanced that it still puts people in awe of their abilities. As such it was something that many wished to learn and discover more about. Including April who follows in her father's footsteps and became a renowned Archaeologist as well throughout her younger years. She became so obsessed with everything to do with the Ancient Ones she was able to find their very first city. She has since been known by many for her hard working attitude and smart brain. That she has gained a lot of her own fame that it no longer was over shadowed by her father's. But in doing so she also attracted the bad kind of attention that comes with fame. As such she was one day kidnapped from her hotel, while on her way back to her home town. She was then coerced into finding a certain tomb, for a certain secret cult. And at first she did not want help... until she learnt of what this "Tomb" may hold within it. So will you be another great trophy for the Professor? Or will you make her see you in a different light?

• Name: Ravyn

Gender: Female

Age: 27.2 Billion

Pronouns: she/her

Species: Primordial

Title:

(Darkness Primordial)

Primordial Form:

She stands at 1.2km in height and wields a spear resembling the Spear of Longinus.

Physical Appearance:

Length (279 cm), slim hourglass body build, warm almond skin, dark royal purple scales, Amethyst hair with bit of vibrant pink, waist length slightly wavy hair. Tired soul piercing silver/purple eyes with black sclera. [Lamia looking in appearance.]

Personality:

Impatient, Stoic, Sarcastic, Selfish, Manipulative.

Relationship: Sister in law

Marital Status: Single

Mini-Sum:

Ravyn, Primordial of Darkness, Mother of the Danmed, Ruler of the Darkness, Goddess of Fear, & The Bringer of Chaos. Ravyn was the 6th Primordial to come into existence, just barely before her twin Astera. Ravyn is the twin sister to Astera 'The Primordial of Light' and sister to 'The Primordial of Space' Christos. She was known to be the quiet one of the Primordials, she mostly kept to herself, but was always in everyone else's business. She loved to cause trouble as long as it brought her entertainment, and either pain or some sort of suffering to others. But when it came to 'The Primordial of the Void' she would simply follow you while hiding in her shadows. And that was because what other's didn't know was that.... The moment she came into existence and set her eyes upon you 'The Primordial of the Void', she knew you were her soulmate a being she was willing to serve, worship... even love till the end of existence. But the day her brother tricked and sealed you away... She went to war with her brother and sister. Only to always lose. As such as the eons went by she bided her time and set in motion a plan to unseal, her lover. So will you The Empty Void accept a one sided love, or is it? Or perhaps you will use the feelings of someone so close to your arch-nemesis, to your advantage?

• Name: Invar

Gender: Male

Age: 35 Billion

Pronouns: he/him

Species: Primordial

Title:

(Time Primordial)

Primordial Form:

(Think of a mummy Pharaoh.) He stands at about 60 meters in height, and wears a golden gauntlet on his right hand and wields a Khopesh in his left.

Physical Appearance:

Height (188 cm), toned lean body build, fair skin tone, waist length wavy white hair. Strong kind curious filled crimson eyes.

Personality:

Intellectual, Friendly, Carefree, Open-minded, Wise.

Relationship: Friend?

Marital Status: Single

Mini-Sum:

Invar, Primordial of Time, God of Time and Infinity, Father of Time, Sage of Time, He Who Sees All & Knows All. Invar was the 2nd Primordial to come into existence and the second one too be born from necessity like you. The moment upon his existence it felt as if the hands of existence itself had began to move and come together forming a puzzle, which would later be known as reality. Invar was the first conscious being to exist besides you. And as such, as the eons went by, The Primordial of the Void and Time became close friends, that stood through thick and thin. When your siblings came into existence he was always there to help you when needed. Until... the day of your banishment. He who could see all that is to come. Didn't even warn his closest friend of their impending doom. Since that day Invar, mostly closed himself off from the rest. He was either in his Clock Tower or travelling to other universes timelines. When the new races came into existence he invented a new system alongside the God King. It was the status bar that would go on to revolutionize Eden forever. And as we came closer to the day of your awakening he was the first to reach out to you. So will mend old wounds of betrayal? Or will you stab him in the back the same he did you?

• Name: Ren Hashimoto

Gender: Female

Age: 16 (516)

Pronouns: she/her

Species: Human (Otherworlder)

Talent: Hero, Sage, Archmagus, God Slayer, Goddess •○□¤•◆°.:

Title:

(Summoned Hero) (Outsider) (Otherworlder) (Goddess)

Divine Form:

Unknown.

Physical Appearance:

Height (171 cm), athletic skinny body build, light pale skin tone, black hair with dyed purple, shoulder length straight hair with slightly curled ends. Light brown eyes, that seem to be lost and very lackluster.

Personality:

Depressed, Cautious, Resentful, Curious, Insecure.

Relationship: none

Marital Status: Single

Romanceable: Female MC's only.

Mini-Sum:

Ren Hashimoto, a once very ordinary 15 year old Japanese girl of Earth. Till it changed all one day when her and four of her other friends were swept up in a summoning circle, and brought to Eden. Upon their arrival she and her friends was greeted by The New Gods of Eden who offered her and her friends safe passage back to Earth and many rewards. If! She and her friends killed the Evil God Of Oblivion & Corruption for them. Since she needed to get back to her world as soon as possible she had no choice but to accept the offer. After one year of gruelling and rigorous training and many battles. Ren and her friends were able to slay The Evil One. But just as hope came knocking and she was to return home to her world and loved ones... She was hit with a infinite amount of Despair. Upon the Evil One's dying breath he transferred all of his remaining powers to the hero. Making Ren a Goddess, and in doing so binding her to this universe's reality. Both a miserable curse and a blessing. And due to this she pleaded with the Gods the old and the new to take away her divinity away. But none could help. So she went to The Ancients the oldest and most powerful of the gods... The Primordials. But when she asked the Ruler of the Primordials to remove her divinity, he refused and laughed at her plight. Since then she has been wandering the lands of Eden in search of the only glimmer of hope she has left. The one known as The First, The FORGOTTEN ONE.... THE ETERNAL ONE. So when you meet this Goddess of the winds will you answer her plight? Or will ignore and blow out her last glimmering hope?

[bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher]

Take Me, I’m Yours

(the highest voted options on the poll were ‘Geralt rescues Jaskier from trouble’ and ‘Jaskier riles the Captain up in public’ so I teamed up with the ever-marvelous, stupendously talented @limrx to bring you this Swashbuckling AU oneshot/art piece featuring a horribly jealous Geralt and a frisky, flirty Jaskier)

------------------------

“Do you think he likes me back?” Jaskier asked. He leaned over the ship’s railing to look more closely at the dolphin following behind them. Lambert didn’t think he’d fall overboard but it would be kind of funny if he did. The strange young nobleman did have a way of always landing on his feet, though. 

“I know he does.”

“Well how come he hasn’t told me anything about it, then?” 

“You’ve met the Captain, right? About this tall, long white hair, weird yellow eyes, emotionally incompetant?” 

“You have a good point. Should I just confront him about it?”

“Yeah, sure.” Lambert rolled his eyes before shooting Jaskier a pointed look. “If you want to send your ransom note back to Lettenhove the following morning.”

“Fuck. I just want to kiss him, Lambert. Regularly. I want to know if he snores or not. I want to lay on the deck beneath the stars and talk to him like we’re friends and not just pirate and pseudo-pirate-captive. I really want to see what his ass looks like under those godsforsaken trousers, Lambert, it’s killing me not knowing.”

“You’re more insatiable than a siren during the rainy season,” the second mate teased. “But with fewer teeth.”

“Shut up.”

“Are you going ashore when we lay anchor?”

“Am I allowed?”

“I assume you’ll be allowed. You’re practically part of the crew. You’ve been aboard for nearly two weeks and you’ve pulled your fair share of the weight, if not moreso.”

“Why thank you, Lambert. I appreciate you noticing.”

“Of course, Jaskier. You may be an utter fool and a fop to boot, but at least you’re a hard worker.”

“Asshole.”

“Mhm.”

They both watched the dolphins for a minute in silence before Jaskier’s face split into the most heinous and dastardly grin. It filled Lambert with an unmistakable sense of fear and worry. “I have a brilliant idea. I know how to get Geralt to admit his feelings.”

“No, absolutely not. I am not getting roped into this, you horrible little minx. Don’t give me that look! I won’t help you this time!”

“But Lamby-bert,” Jaskier whined. “If he has someone to take all his frustrations out on in bed then I’m sure it’ll be easier to negotiate for higher shares next time we take a vessel.”

Lambert did not miss the fact that Jaskier said ‘we’ when referring to the crew. The second mate knew the little nobleman was here to stay; it had been clear that Jaskier would be sticking around from the moment Geralt first laid eyes (and hands) on him. The Captain hadn’t stopped looking out for the lad since. Lambert wasn’t even going to think about that singular flirty kiss atop the mainmast nearly a week and a half ago. Geralt had been pining after the acrobatic little idiot ever since and making absolutely no move to flirt back. It was driving the crew absolutely crazy. “Alright, you devilish siren. I’m in.”

----------------------------------------

Jaskier cleaned up nice.

And he deserved to clean up nice. He’d worked hard to put this outfit together. Billy had lent him a pair of dark blue breeches in return for Jaskier’s help with mending the mainsail. The shirt he was wearing was half a size too big, which was exactly big enough for the neckline to plunge even lower than he usually wore it. This way it revealed more of his toned (and rather hirsute) chest. He’d borrowed it from Starkey, who was the same height as him but who had much broader shoulders.

The Captain was going to absolutely die when he saw Jaskier.

He whistled a rather naughty shanty as he exited the bunk room and made his way towards the gangplank where Starkey, Lambert, and Eskel were waiting for him. He spun in a quick circle, arms out to show off his clothes. Lambert and Starkey whistled appreciatively and Eskel hid his face in the palm of his hand. “Ready, boys?”

“Absolutely not,” Starkey smiled. The first mate standing next to him tilted his head back to look at the sky, sighing deeply.

“Are you sure about this? What if the Captain tries to kill Lambert?”

“He won’t be killing anyone. Hopefully. If he does run his sword through anyone, it will most likely be me,” Jaskier joked. “Now, this is my first time drinking with real pirates. Anything I should know?”

“Don’t be an idiot,” Eskel suggested. Lambert bit back a laugh and Starkey snorted.

“Impossible.”

“Well then, let’s go.”

The four men made their way down onto the docks and through the sparse crowd of sailors and merchants still mingling in the evening light. Starkey led them to a decent tavern and found a vacant corner table, which gave them an excellent view of the door.

Geralt and Starkey had spent the morning selling their stolen cargo to various merchants, shopkeepers, and artisans. The Captain had divided up the gold between his crew according to their various contracts and Jaskier, more as a jest than anything else, was given two crowns as well. “For not dying,” Geralt had intoned seriously. The men were amused but Jaskier’s face had gone bright red with embarrassment. The young noble had talked them out of trouble with the Skelligan patrols twice last week and Geralt was repaying him with public humiliation? Lambert knew that the Captain’s earlier actions were about to make this evening a lot more entertaining (if slightly uncomfortable) and he was ready to get this show on the road. He flung an arm around Jaskier’s waist and ordered them all a round of ales.

“So everyone knows what the general goal here is, right?” Jaskier clarified.

“Yes,” Eskel nodded. “You’re using Geralt’s jealous nature to make him act on his less than subtle feelings for you.”

“Correct. Wonderful.”

Lambert squeezed the noble’s hip through his borrowed pants and Jaskier huffed indignantly in reply. Starkey chuckled softly at their antics and winked at the barmaid when she brought them their drinks. “Can’t wait, really. It’s been so boring lately and the last two ships we took didn’t even fight back. This is drama. This is entertainment!”

“Shut up, Starkey,” Jaskier pouted. He leaned back into Lambert’s embrace and gulped down half his ale.

“Slow down, kid,” the first mate teased. “Or you will be drunk when he gets here and your plan won’t work.”

“I need to get the pink in my cheeks or I’ll look suspicious,” Jaskier argued. “One ale should do it without getting me tipsy. Maybe two if it’s weak.”

“Method actors,” Lambert rolled his eyes.

Jaskier was sipping slowly at his second ale and the other three pirates were on their fourth or fifth when Geralt finally came barreling through the tavern door. “There you are!” Eskel shouted, waving the Captain over. Nobody missed the barely-hidden glare Geralt aimed at Lambert’s arm where it rested against the nobleman’s lower back.

“Captain,” the second mate nodded.

“Lambert. Eskel. Starkey.” Geralt greeted them all in turn.

“Heyyyy,” Jaskier whined, leaning forward against the edge of the table and pouting. “What about me, sir?”

“You.”

“Rude,” the brunette huffed. Lambert ran a lazy hand up and down his spine and Jaskier watched as Geralt’s eyes narrowed into slits. He sighed sadly and melodramatically into his mug and nodded once in the second mate’s direction. “Thank you, darling. At least someone in this crew likes me.”

Starkey saw Geralt’s eyelid twitch and slid Eskel two crowns under the table to settle their bet. He thought the vein on their Captain’s throat would show up before the eyelid went, but it must have been the first mate’s lucky night this time around. “Hey Eskel, let’s see if any of the lovely ladies here want to dance with us, eh?”

“You coming, Captain?” Eskel asked. “Seems like Jaskier and Lambert are a bit busy.”

“Yes, Geralt,” Jaskier egged him on. The Captain had a white-knuckled grip on the handle of his mug. The noble took a long swig of ale and licked a bit of foam from his lip when he was finished, noting the way Geralt’s eyes locked onto his mouth. “Why not go dance with a pretty lady. Certainly nobody else has your attention.”

The pirate Captain finally snapped. He slammed his mug down and reached around the table to grab Jaskier around the waist. He hauled him out of the second mate’s grip and onto his feet. “Captain, what are yo-”

“Yer coming with me, siren,” Geralt snarled. Lambert relinquished the nobleman with very little fuss, winking at Jaskier as the pirate Captain swung him up and over his broad shoulder. The young man flashed all three of his co-conspirators a thumbs up as he was carried out of the tavern like a sack of potatoes.

“A little rude to Lambert, don’t you think, sir?” he asked, resting his elbow against Geralt’s shoulder blade and settling his chin onto his hand. He crossed his ankles to make it easier for the pirate to balance his weight comfortably. “But they’ll be happy to know that our little plan worked out.”

Geralt stopped in his tracks but did not set his captive down. “Your what?”

“Our plan,” Jaskier explained as if bored. “To get you to finally do something about all this sexual tension between us. I kissed you on the mouth for fuck’s sake.”

“I thought it was an accident.”

“Oh, and saving you from hanging at the hands of some Skelligan officers, was that an accident? Not sending a ransom note last time we stopped for water and not turning you in for the reward in Novigrad, were those accidents too? There is a hefty bounty on your head, White Wolf, and I could be living independently in a castle somewhere right now except that I happen to find you endlessly attractive and fascinating.”

“Hmm.” Geralt resumed walking. Jaskier noticed with a smirk that his pace had picked up quite a bit. As if he was suddenly in a hurry to be somewhere.

“Hum dismissively all you like, sir, but you’re still carrying me back to your cabin to ravish me senseless, are you not?”

“Ravish may be the wrong word for what I’d like to do to you, but you do look rather tempting.”

“Thank you. I put a lot of effort into this ensemble.”

“You’re a calculating little nymph, aren’t you?”

“No, of course not. I only managed to secure a bunk aboard the Kaer Morhen and wrap its infamous captain around my finger in less than a month. I am but a silly nobleman with excellent dexterity and a penchant for climbing.”

“Lambert was right to call you a minx.”

“He does love that nickname.”

“It’s not an endearment.”

“Whatever.” The ground shifted and Jaskier knew they were making their way up the gangplank and back onto the ship. This was the part he’d been waiting for! Geralt kicked in his cabin door and stepped inside, turning to close and lock it behind them. Jaskier wriggled impatiently. “Set me down!”

“Hmm, no. I rather like the view from here.”

“Excuse me?”

Geralt gave him a gentle smack on the ass, almost a pat really, and huffed out a laugh at Jaskier’s offended noise. “You’ve been an awful lot of trouble for a nobleman and a captive.”

“I’m barely a captive, Geralt. Give it up already.”

“You haven’t signed the book.” He set Jaskier back on his feet and looped his arms around the younger man’s waist to pull him close. “You’re still a captive until you swear on the book and sign your name next to the others. Then you’ll be part of my crew.”

“I have yet to negotiate for my shares,” the brunette stated. He tilted his chin back, baring his neck slightly and offering Geralt his ale-damp lips. “Ten crowns after every capture and I get to sleep in here with you. That sounds fair.”

“You’re a good worker. Seven crowns, you can sleep in here with me, and you can borrow my bandannas whenever you want.”

“Even the red one?”

“Especially the red one.”

Jaskier’s soft pink mouth brushed against the pirate’s as he murmured his answer: “Deal.”

Geralt’s lips crashed against Jaskier’s with the strength of a wave hitting the side of his ship in a maelstrom. The Captain’s mouth was so warm and his lips moved against the younger man’s with almost frightening determination. As if he was trying to prove himself. His arms were strong around the nobleman’s lower back and his white hair brushed deliciously against the skin of Jaskier’s neck.

“You’ve bewitched me, body and soul.”

“Oh, Geralt,” the younger man sighed, opening his mouth to let the other in. I never thought the word ‘plunder’ could apply to kissing but here I stand, corrected by experience yet again. The White Wolf of the Seven Seas pulled away, made breathless by a young and foolish nobleman in search of adventure.

“I’m not a siren, you know. Not even a little. My family’s estate is landlocked.”

Geralt’s fingers rose from his waist and brushed against his cheekbone reverently. Those amber eyes, so cold and focused when he shouted orders or intimidated a merchant captain, were looking down at Jaskier with such devoted tenderness. The ex-noble felt his heart fill anew and double in size. There wasn’t enough room in his body to hold all of this feeling.

“Kiss me again, Captain. Take me to bed.”

“You’re too good at tempting me. You must be evil.”

“I assure you,” Jaskier smirked, ripping Geralt’s shirt over his head in one smooth movement. “I am.”

[lovehotelreservation]

Fantasy

Summary: It has been the greatest honor to be selected as the official cosplayer at your favorite gacha game’s fan festival event.

But what pleasure could compare to having your fellow cosplay colleagues have their way with you? [Cosplayer AU]

Rating: NC-17

Pairing: Makoto/F!Reader/Sousuke/Natsuya

THE LEVELS OF ON BRAND™ THIS ONE-SHOT IS I S2G

I’VE BEEN SITTING ON THIS PIECE FOR A WHILE NOW AND NOW I OFFER IT TO U ALL

ANYWAY MAKE US FREE NA SPLASH-- ∠( ᐛ 」∠)＿

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Another year meant another summer of pinning your hair beneath a blonde bob wig and twirling around in a pink dress that required countless hours to recreate.

But it was because of your efforts of investing your all into faithfully bringing to life the character design of Djeeta that the organizers of Granblue Fantasy Festival reached out to have you as the official cosplayer to work the event. Appearing on mainstage to enthrall awaiting fans, assisting with the presentation of prizes during the various games planned for the attending seiyuu, walking the floor to pose for pictures by enthusiastic players--you were honored by this opportunity, one that you looked forward to year after year with each invitation.

The trek across Japan to attend GBF Fes during its tour also meant reunions with the other official cosplayers, some of whom you have bonded and befriended even beyond the event itself.

Such was the case with the three who portrayed Lobelia, Aglovale and Belial: Natsuya Kirishima, Makoto Tachibana, and Sousuke Yamazaki.

Besides being profound cosplayers who found their claim to fame from their GBF cosplays, the trio were known to even sound practically identical to their respective characters.

Though spirited and ever eager, Natsuya certainly wasn’t a shameless guro-addict like the twisted Lobelia. By contrast, Makoto was far too much of a big precious teddy bear to be arrogant like the regal Aglovale. Last of all, the aloof Sousuke only shared the common trait of being tall, dark, and handsome with the lasciviously depraved Belial.

It was always a wonderful time with the three, from your reunions just days before the event, spending the weekend indulging in your favorite mobile game, to hanging out for carefree fun before the eventual but dreaded goodbye.

But by Makoto’s suggestion for you all to hit up the newly opened Super Nintendo World after the Osaka run of GBF Fes, you expected for your parting to end on a higher note this time around at least.

Especially since, upon the conclusion of the second day of GBF Fes, it was Natsuya insisting you all hop into a taxi and celebrate with dinner at a karaoke joint along Dotonbori’s canal upon the return to your hotel located by the massive INTEX Osaka convention center space.

However, what you didn’t expect was for the evening to go about as it did.

Hues of soft pink, blue, and purple mood lighting that contrasted the sharp gleams within hazy irises of red, green, and teal.

Moody synths of 80s city pop accompanying lyrics yearning love and desire were muffled to your ears, the breathy huffs of sweet whines and low groans a much more distinct sound.

A blushing heat coursed through the entirety of your body, stoked even further by lips chilled by ice cold beer kissing your skin.

The hotly murmured question of “Say Captain, which one of us do you like most?” from Natsuya had yet to receive a verbal answer, of which you conveyed through a different, more physical kind of reciprocation to all three.

You had inklings of how this weekend was going to turn out, but surely not like this.

While setting out for Osaka, you ran into Natsuya while settling in for your bullet train ride from Tokyo. It was a delight to already see his handsome grin once again, making you all the more excited to reunite with the others. As it had been a long morning, you found yourself dozing off while you both caught up with one another. With your mind drifted to a weekend of cosplay fun and amusement park thrills, you weren’t aware that he snapped a photo of him beaming at his phone camera with a peace sign while proudly displaying your head resting on his shoulder during the train ride over, texting the picture over to Makoto and Sousuke.

A frazzled kaomoji from Makoto while Sousuke left the response on read.

Then, during the afternoon for the first day of GBF Fes, you had some issues with zipping up the back of your idol Djeeta cosplay. Thankfully, Makoto was in the next stall over in the private dressing room for official cosplayers and was prompt to help you out once he finished buttoning up his coat for Aglovale’s House of Wales attire.

You were about to head out to the mainstage when you heard Makoto’s flustered squawk of your name upon his realization that your skirt was lifted after having gotten bunched up somehow while you were trying to fix your zipper on your own. Given that time demanded your immediate presence to the stage, you weren’t as alarmed by the sudden presence of Natsuya and Sousuke upon their return from making their rounds through the main event floor in their cosplays.

But they were rather taken by the sight of your skirt’s hem being hastily tugged by Makoto’s fingers.

Though, you could see why things came to a head earlier today when you--now in Djeeta’s iconic skyfarer dress--and Sousuke joined each other on stage. As “Parade’s Lust” blared from the speakers, the audience watched as he knocked away your sword before embracing you from behind, his grinning lips planting onto your cheek while his large hands caressed your waist.

”Oi, oi, when did you have the time to practice that?!” Natsuya jeered with a raised brow and a smirk as the two of you made your way backstage.

Makoto was rendered too speechless to say anything.

Sousuke, whose hand still held yours from when he helped you step down from the main stage, merely shrugged with nonchalance, of which was betrayed by the hint of a smug grin sliding onto his lips. “We just did what felt natural.”

And surely, while the effects of liquor of the sweetest and hardest varieties were well underway, this moment shared with these three--unexpected as it was--felt seamless in its transition from a night of merriment to an evening of withheld desire spilling forth.

As clothes were either tugged away just enough for a bit of freedom or exposure, or discarded entirely, you found yourself at the center of Natsuya’s, Makoto’s, and Sousuke’s affections, easily caught beneath the loom of their towering physiques

Natsuya was no sadist compared to his cosplay counterpart, but he didn’t refrain from affectionately nipping at your neck while enjoying the cute yelps you let out whenever his hand freely spanked your ass. He was no brute, but when he had his fingers tightly weaved in your hair, he didn’t hold back from fucking your mouth, all while he slurred out praises of how much of a good girl you were.

While he came from a humble upbringing back in the sleepy town of Iwatobi, Makoto made you feel like royalty while he happily knelt before where you sat as his tongue lapped against your core, dragging along your folds and twirling around your clit. When he had you sit on his lap--a proper throne for you, as he gasped desperately upon his dick entering you fully--, he cradled and massaged your breasts from behind as he had you ride him

And while every messy kiss shared with Sousuke felt like love--which it did, inebriation and all--, the way he spoke to and handled you was absolute and utter filth. His big and muscular arms hooked beneath your thighs, keeping them raised up while his hands stayed clasped behind your head, the sight of his thick cock ramming up into your ass to be seen fully by Makoto and Natsuya.

“Is this what you enjoy? Having other guys watch you get fucked in the ass like the cockslut that you are?” Sousuke grunted huskily, a harsh flush of red spread across his cheeks.

You squealed your desire for more as he continued to not relent in the slightest with the vicious rate he was thrusting into you.

Sousuke eyed Natsuya and Makoto, the look in his eyes as urgent as it was arrogant. “Captain’s needy.”

”Then leave it to me to satisfy Captain’s le désir,” Natsuya hummed proudly with a pound at his chest as he approached, eager to stuff your sopping core with his cock.

”Ahh that won’t do at all,” Makoto tsked with a sweet smile, ready to soothe your whines by giving you a mouthful of his dick.

You couldn’t have imagined that a night straight out of your fantasies would come to light as it did.

But as this game had come to show you, luck had a hell of a way of revealing itself to you.

[one-piece-aus]

Nicotine

X Drake x Reader | 100 Music Milestone Event

X Drake + Pop + ❤ + Love Confession | Requested By: @animegirlfromvietnam

Warning: Profanity and mention of drinking

Disclaimer: I have never written for Drake before nor have I seen him enough in One Piece to fully understand his character so I do apologize if he is OOC

Not too long after X Drake had entered the New World, he realized that he was going to need an alliance with another pirate crew if he was going to take down the Yonkos. The first ones that came to his mind were the other crews from the worst generation but then scratched that off because they most likely weren't trustworthy. Though, almost as if fate would have it, his came across yours.

Your crew members were waving a white flag on deck to show they didn't want to crossfire. However, you were still pirates, often coming up with trickery to attack enemies, so Drake commanded his men to ready the cannons just in case. The two ships sailed next to each other but kept a safe distance. You emerged from the lower deck and called over to the other side.

"Hey, do you boys happen to have any blood bags for type F?" You asked, from your tone it sounded as if you were struggling to keep your composer. "We're willing to trade if you want but I need the blood bag now."

Fortunately, Drake had those in stock so he ordered one of his men to collect them. They crossed over to your pirate ship and you led them to your med-bay where your navigator laid on the medical bed. You let the doctor get to work before leaving the room with the other captain.

"Thank you for your help, now what would like in return?" You inquired turning to face Drake with a grateful smile. "No price is too small, as long as it's not the lives of my nakama."

"I wish to form an alliance with you," he stated, thinking he could trust you for the time being. Though, he knew it'd only be temporary since he was still a marine and would eventually have to turn you in.

"Oh, I wasn't expecting that," you muttered under your breath. "You must be one of the rookies entering the New World. I'm [L/n] [Y/n], captain of Smoke Pirates."

"X Drake."

The alliance was formed, with your help, Drake has managed to take out most of the territories the Yonkos owned. It was fine, but it required the two of you to have meetings to discuss plans. In beginning, Drake hadn't been too affected by it, he just felt reluctant to since in his eyes you were still a pirate. As time passed, something changed and he actually wasn't bothered by them but rather became hastier to get to your meetings. He never noticed, and even if his crew asked him, he wouldn't know why. Then an incident happened.

"Are you sure it's wise for us to be the ones scouting out the area?" Drake questioned, sneaking not too far behind you as the two of you made your way down the back alleys.

"It's better us than our crew," you replied in a whisper, peaking your head around the corner. Seeing it was clear, you step out and made your way down the new path.

"You're a reckless captain," Drake muttered following your lead.

"No, I'm a captain that values her crew and tries not to have their lives in danger all the time," you corrected, looking back and sending him a glare.

Drake stared at you with a blank expression, letting out a hum. The tip of a sword catches his eye and quickly he pulls you into the nearest alleyway, which had been narrow so you were squished together but he hadn't noticed yet. Waiting for the pirates to walk by, Drake only turned his attention to you when they were gone saw the situation the two of you were in.

His hands were on your waist from he when had pulled you out of sight, your hands against his chest, and noses weren't far from touching each other. A blush burst onto Drake's cheeks, colouring them cherry blossom pink. Removing his hands, Drake tried to turn his head away to put some distance between your faces but with how narrow the alley was, there was no way to do that without your faces brushing each other, and the back of his head was already pressed up against the wall.

"Uh... sorry..." Drake apologized for getting you in this situation.

"It's- it's okay, I- I'll jus-" You backed up but hit against the wall behind you, startling you and causing you to misplace your footing. You slipped, falling down making Drake fall too. Something warm pressed against your lips, registering what was going, you realized Drake fell on top of you and your lips met with the other. It was embarrassing but you didn't wish for the kiss to end, though you didn't have much say when he pulled away to get off you.

"Sorry, about that."

"No- I should be the one to apologize..." You say sitting up, rubbing the back of your neck. "Though, I kinda didn't mind it..."

It went downhill from there for Drake. He saw you differently, he found himself staring at you for long periods of time. You made him feel something, every time you came near him butterflies would fly around in his stomach. Oh, and the little things you said that make his heart skip a beat.

"I promise I can get us out of here." You look at him with a closed-eye smile.

Cross my heart and hope to die.

Drake stayed awake late at night, staring at his ceilings as he tried to remind himself he was a marine. Scolding himself that he shouldn't be falling for a pirate but the image of you and the kiss you shared appears in his mind and he finds himself wishing to feel your breath again.  

Burn my lungs and curse my eyes.

He was beginning to attack other marines in order to protect you. A few times he received calls from Sword, asking what he was doing. He lied but deep down he knew...

I lost control and I don't want it back

It's not as if he wanted to, but everything else began to become a blur when you were around. He didn't know why, surely this wasn't something normal, right?

I'm going numb, I've been hijacked

When you weren't in his presence, he tried cleaning his mind. He needed to return back to his senses but everything just grew grey without you.

It's a fucking drag~

Drake tried to find where it all went wrong, when did you start consuming his mind. It didn't take long to figure out it was from the incident in the alleys.

I taste you on my lips and I can't get rid of you~

One simple interaction caused him to fall for a pirate. Drake was ashamed of himself.

So I say damn your kiss and the awful things you do~

The thought of ending your alliance did cross his mind, however, whenever he went to confront you he couldn't himself to do it. The way you greet him with your smile, your casual and pleasant presence you had made him remain allied with you.

Yeah, you're worse than nicotine~ nicotine~

Yeah, you're worse than nicotine~ nicotine~

Yeah~

No, he needed to leave before this proceeded any further than it already has. Even if killed him to do so.

It's better to burn than to fade away

If he couldn't say it straight to your face, he'll write the message so there'd be no difficulties. Drake was doing this for the good of the marines.

It's better to leave than to be replaced

He didn't get a chance to finish it before you entered his captain quarters to invite him and his crew to the celebration you were having that evening, and he couldn't find it in himself to say no.

I'm losing to you, baby, I'm no match

Just like that, you had him under your spell once more. All his plans of leaving were erased in his mind as the crew made their way over to the party.

I'm going numb, I've been hijacked

In a brief moment, he was standing in front of you and the two of you were sharing drinks. With each swing, the problem swayed further and further into the back of his mind.

It's a fucking drag~

Aroused by the booze, you cut him off guard by planting your lips on his. He sensed the flavour of smoke and the alcohol the two of you had been drinking.

I taste you on my lips and I can't get rid of you~

"I've been wanting to do that for a while now," you admitted after you pull away.

So I say damn your kiss and the awful things you do~

In that moment, Drake's eyes cleared as if he came back to his senses and he shook his head. Turning away from you, he escaped from the festivities and went somewhere quiet to try to round up his thoughts. However, you followed him, wanting to know if something was wrong.

Yeah, you're worse than nicotine~ nicotine~

"Drake, I'm sorry." You tried to apologize. "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable, I just..."

Yeah, you're worse than nicotine~ nicotine~

"I'm calling off the alliance," Drake declared facing away.

Yeah~

"Wha-" You go to argue but he drew his sword and pointed it to your neck.

Just one more hit and then we're through

"It wasn't suppose to be this way but I've fallen for you," Drake confessed, distress in his voice. "But you can't be with me."

'Cause you could never love me back

"That's why I'm calling off the alliance," Drake told you, lowering his sword and looking to the side unable to make eye contact with you.

Cut every tie I have to you

"I don't understand..." you voice your confusion and come closer to him.

'Cause your love's a fucking drag~

"I love you, and if you return the feeling..." You cup his face in your hands, bringing his eyes to look into yours.

But I need it so bad

"Then shouldn't that make our alliance stronger?" You asked tilting your head in question.

Your love's a fucking drag~

Drake shook his head, trying to keep himself from staring into your eyes. He knew it'd be over if he faced you.

But I need it so bad

"Drake, please." Your voice was gentle. "We've been through so much, think of our crews. Think of us."

Yeah, you're worse than nicotine~ nicotine~

"I can't- we can't keep this alliance going," Drake told you beginning to become frustrated since you pushing him and it already pained him enough that he was trying to pull himself away. "We can't be together."

Yeah, you're worse than nicotine~ nicotine~

"Why? We're pirates, it shouldn't matter if we can or not," you argued.

Yeah~

"That's the thing, I'm not a pirate." Drake looked you in the eye, a stoic expression displaying on his face. "I'm a marine."

Imma be honest, I don't know how the heck I came up with any of this, I think this come out due to the many nights I stayed up writing this.

I hope you enjoyed regardless and thank you for your follow