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sunfyresrider · 2 years ago

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Love & Ruin 2

Synopsis: After being hidden away for most of your life your mother decided to stop being protective. However, there is one rule you cannot break, DO NOT associate with your uncle Aegon. Of course, it's the first thing you do, and you both quickly realize you will be each other's inevitable downfalls.

Pairing: Aegon Targaryen x You (daughter of Rhaenyra) Warnings: cursing, smut, dubcon, more smut, manipulation, possible murder, obsessive tendencies, incest, SEVERE mental illness, helaemond is canon, failed plots, a disaster wedding, just targ things, too many warnings to count honestly Word count: 10k Note: I am a bad person. Im sorry it took me so long to finish but my life is a cluster fuck of bad and worse and it is a blessing I havent yeeted myself into hell. Pt three is alr in the works unlike this one. PS Helaena's and Aemond's plan did work. I just didn't directly mention what it was...yet. Anyway, I hope you enjoy (if you're still interested) Tags: @lovelykhaleesiii @caffein8me @llearlert @introverbatim @ladybug0095 @yazzzmints @heavenly1927 @rinirinse @aelora-a (srry it didn't let me tag some of you.)

“Be quiet,” Aegon growled into the ear of the whore he chose to warm his bed this morning. The squelching sounds of his thrusts slamming into her cunt echoed throughout the room. She stifled a moan and dug her teeth into the pillow below her head. Her voice did nothing, only reminded him he wasn’t you. Aegon tried to get girls who resembled you but none pleased him the same.

Today was an especially bad day for Aegon and mayhaps he was taking it out on the whore too much. Her cheeks were stained red from his slaps and surely her cervix would be bruised by how hard he was pounding himself into her. He had good reason though; you were returning home.

It took five years, but he almost was able to move forward with his life. You still plagued him in his dreams and there was a constant tugging at his heart everytime your name was brought up. You simply existing reminded him of the only time he was ever happy, and he clung to the memory like a baby clings to their mother's tit.

His family was very determined to keep you away. It worked successfully, he hadn’t heard nor seen from you at all. Every letter, every flight, every potential unsavory way of stalking your whereabouts was immediately dispelled. That was only within the first year, at some point he gave up. Aegon knew you would come back at some point; you were in love with him. But days, weeks, months, and years passed and still he received nothing.

The idea they had turned you against him murdered the last bit of hope he had. It was one of the many things that formed him into the ‘monster’ everyone believed him to be. The first was being born the first son yet being ignored for his elder sister his entire life. The night at Driftmark was the second trauma that seared a mark into his heart and brother's face forever. The third was the forceful marriage to his sister.

Aegon scarcely remembers that day or the night afterwards. He used milk of the poppy to ease his mind to the point he could hardly stand during the vows… he doesn’t know if he actually attended the first dance. He does remember the bedding and it makes his skin crawl.

He was forced to walk into and perform his own rape. He didn’t want it and would never want it. There was no daydream or drug strong enough to make him forget. It was awful in every sense of the word. Aegon cried during it and then he cried after it. No matter how much he scrubbed himself in the bathing chambers he could not free himself of the feeling of disgust. Then there was the overwhelming guilt that came after.

Aegon never touched her again, never really interacted with his own children. Why would he? He was an accomplice in her suffering as much as his own. She didn’t want to marry him either, she didn’t want to bear his children. He could never be a good husband, lover or anything of the sort to Helaena. She deserved it, he thought, to have someone who could care for her. Someone who could love her like a wife… not like a sibling.

But that would never be him and it ate him alive like the disease killing their father. She was too kind, too pure for him or any other man at court. She was stupid, yes, but with a larger heart than any of the women he’s met combined. Yet, he never brought himself to do his duty to stay loyal and cherish her like Alicent told him to. The only good thing he ever did for Hel was leaving her alone, it made her happy to be free of him. In truth, it would make everyone happier if the world was rid of him completely.

Maybe his life wasn’t over yet, maybe there was still a shred of hope for him left in the world. The reason he used to be happy was returning to him. Even if it was to marry another man… He could sort that out easily enough. When Aegon first heard the news, he wasn’t as calm. He

He could take back what was his and become the man everyone wants him to be… Or he’ll drag you down into his depravity with him. It didn’t matter, either option was a severe improvement from the existence he was currently suffering.

“Are you ready to be back?” Jacaerys inquired whilst trying to tame the loose curls on his head. The carriage ride from the doc to the keep had proved to be dreadfully long and boring. Luke was seeping anxiety that made the entire car tense. ‘Aemond, Aemond, Aemond, he’s gonna take my eye! He’s gonna kill me if I go back!’ The chants of a scared kid really did threaten to send you over the edge. ‘Just apologize, Lucerys... He’s not going to do anything while grandsire is alive. Nothing is going to happen, just say sorry before it does.’

Everything you said fell on deaf ears. His fear was expected, he took his uncle's eye and received no punishment. Granted, after hearing both sides it seemed inevitable for someone to get gravely injured. You still genuinely believed or at least convinced yourself a simple apology might just keep Luke alive for a few more years. “No brother, I would rather be at home,” you muttered in a near whisper.

Jace, always the obedient son, was oozing confidence completely unbothered by the situation. He learned that from Daemon, never let them see you falter, especially the Hightower cunts. “It’s because of him, isn’t it?”

Your heart clenched, a sorrowful reminder of your childhood beginning to boil to the surface. A whirlwind of memories threatening to break you.

You learned how truly codependent you were on your uncle. Without him you had become a shell of whatever it was you once were. Your insecurities reigned supreme as you had an insatiable need for approval from everyone. That meant doing everything you were asked and then some to become the greatest version of yourself you could be. You took care of people, especially your brothers whom you felt the full burden for. You were the eldest and you allowed them into a situation that got them hurt and another child maimed.

It wasn’t just your insecurities; your moods would take a turn quicker than before. At the drop of a hat, you could be raging or hysterically crying. Sometimes you didn’t even understand why. You became obsessive over little things that didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things. For example: how your dresses were fitted, how your hair was styled, and what you ate and drank. It wasn’t in the front of your mind at the time, but you did things in the way he always preferred.

Without him, deciding on things became hard. You never needed to think before because he did it for you. Not only that but you became a chronic liar. It wasn’t on purpose, sometimes things would just slip out. You were great at denying any problems you had and chalking them up to your blood moon. You denied any relationship with Aegon and defended him more than he deserved. Especially since he so carelessly abandoned you. No letters, no visits, he left you with fucking nothing. You started to convince yourself you never loved him; it was just pity. You had a burning desire to rescue him and mistook it for genuine affections.

Four years ago, almost to this very day the invitation to the prince and princess’s wedding had just reached your doorstep. You learned that day just how much you did love him because when the letter was read you cried so much you vomited. You stopped eating, stopped sleeping, stopped doing all the things you love and rotted in your bed waiting for the pain to subside… Or for the stranger to take you.

The image of him touching her the same way he did you, the idea of him whispering the same things he did to you, the way she would cry out his name like you did… It made you want to rip your hair out and peel your skin off. She probably had an extremely elegant dress; the throne room was probably filled with music and guests, and they would ride their dragons together to show off their union… You tore all the clothes he liked to shreds and punched a hole in your mirror…

Originally, you never had any disdain for your exceedingly kind and misunderstood aunt but now it was pure untamed hatred. The jealousy was incredible, truly you would be confined to a prison cell if you acted on the things you thought up.

You could kill both of them and end the war before it even started. You prayed she would miscarry the twins, it didn’t happen. You prayed he would get too drunk and die from alcohol poisoning, obviously it didn’t happen. You prayed the entire keep would be set on fire and everyone within it would die burning in flames just as your father did… it did not.

You were never good enough for him. He abandoned you and left you to rot after taking something so important from you. You were a fool, a naive idiot. The fear of being abandoned personified ever more when your mother gave birth to two legitimate children. Everyone was going to abandon you and it was driving you insane. You had mastered the art of pretending, no one was able to tell what was underneath the surface.

Jacaerys was really the only person who noticed the change. He was the only one who saw through your lies and facade. And he was the only one who genuinely helped you overcome the complete insanity you had sunk into. He pulled you out from drowning in a sea of madness and kept you afloat ever since. In turn, you felt a little guilty for your wicked thoughts and desires, but you were atoning for them by good will and actions.

Still, sometimes late at night when you were alone, he would come back. The memories would come flooding in and sleep would evade you. He had burned a scar into your heart that never fully healed and probably never would. According to your mother who said the first heartbreak is always the worst and most memorable. You didn’t want to come back. You didn’t ever want to see Aegon Targaryen again.

“No, it’s because- ” You hit your head on the back of the car, knocking the air out of your lungs. The carriage came to a halt, catapulting Lucerys forward into the other seat. Jacaerys bursted into uncontrollable laughter as he rubbed his forehead from the impact.

It was a great start to a visit, a crash landing. Surely, not foreshadowing the rest of your adventure. As you unpiled from the carriage a welcome party stood there waiting for you. It was unexpected, seeing your grandsire there in decent health, you heard he was much worse.

Then there were the Hightowers, looking as if they wanted to be anywhere but here. Your eyes scanned over them one by one, Alicent wore her plastered fake smile as usual, Otto stood too stiffly and only looked at Daemon, Aemond looked ready to murder you all. He was far different from what you remembered, tall, slender, and handsome even with one eye.

Then there was Helaena… Completely disassociated from whatever was happening and mumbling under her breath. You smiled, the rage you felt before when you imagined her was gone. You had actually healed and successfully moved forward. This was good, so great you could even hug her…

Until your eyes moved to her left. The sunken feeling in your chest blossomed into a new monster threatening to devour you. Your smile faded; your heart began erratically pumping blood to all parts of your body. Your knees locked in place trying to keep your balance.

Aegon… Aegon was only ten feet away and yet there seemed to be miles between you. It was a joke, a great joke, he looked more gorgeous than he ever had. His hair was cut to frame his face perfectly, his jaw was more defined, his dark circles brought out the beautiful sea blue that surrounded his pupils.

The smile that adorned his face was larger than any you had seen him wear prior. His eyes twinkled with childlike glee. The corset you wore became suffocatingly tight and the heat in King’s Landing began to make your head spin. Your breathing was rapid, a million emotions coursing their way through your head.

Aegon took a step down the stairs, your body wanted to flee but you were frozen in time. Another step, all the air in your body left you. A third step made all the bile in your stomach rise to your throat. His feet touched the ground, and he strode towards you, the world started to spin, your mind racing with the worst possible outcomes.

You blinked, for a mere second. You reminded yourself it had been five years; he had no hold on you anymore. He was a monster, a terrible man and a worse son. Aegon was not going to get under your skin, you were not going to falter in front of him. You were better now, you moved on, you were mentally healthy…

You opened your eyes, inhaling a deep breath. He was one pace in front of you, “Niece.”

Disappointment, Aegon was riddled with it every day and today was no expectation. He was so excited his soul wanted to jump out of its skin. But no, the second he approached you passed out and all the sudden he was the villain. What could he have possibly done a foot away to make you faint?

Unless you were too excited to see him, your heartbeat too fast and you fainted. It would make the most sense, reuniting with the person you truly love would send anyone over the edge. It almost made him faint when he first laid eyes upon you.

Gods you were so much more beautiful than he could have imagined. You had grown into a gorgeous woman, easily the prettiest one at court. Your eyes sparkled like diamonds, your hair flowed perfectly down your face, and your cheeks still flushed bright pink when you saw him.

Your dress hugged your figure in all the right places and the things he imagined laid beneath made him insatiably horny. Control, he had to remind himself it’d been years and he needed that. It was hard considering the two days you’d been here he had only seen one glimpse. One quick glimpse in the courtyard before you were stolen away again.

Your chambers were only a few hallways away and he could see you anytime he wanted. And yet, Aegon had to plot when to corner you. There was not only a hoard of guards following you around every step you took but Jacaerys clung to your skirts like a lost orphan.

So, he waited and waited… and fucking waited until he was practically ripping the hair from his skull. The lack of your presence was okay on the first day, the second it was tolerable but by the third day it became suspicious. Impatient and spoiled, his mother’s words rang true more and more each day.

It was increasingly clear that it wasn’t just them keeping you from him, but you were putting extra care into avoiding him. What did he do wrong? The stalking? The letters? The gifts that were never opened. It was all obvious professions of love… Why would you be uncomfortable with that?

Aegon was nursing another goblet of wine as he sunk to the floor. His face felt wet as if he were crying… Was he crying? His body to the point of numbness he could not tell any longer. Sadly, it seemed the wine was not working to cure the ever-disheartening thoughts in his mind.

You were going to get married and forget all about him. They hadn’t given him a single opportunity to attempt to carve his way back into your heart and most likely weren’t going to. What was the reason for living at this point? The one thing he yearned to touch was so close yet so far.

He scoffed at himself. Aegon was no tragic poet, but he was beginning to sound like one. It was the alcohol, a new type probably causing his episode. He went to grasp the corner of the table to stand up, but his legs could no longer withstand his weight. The contents on the table along with his own body fell to the floor.

Not one of his proudest moments to date.

“You’re pathetic,” an irritating voice laced with superiority drew him out of his head. “Brother, have you come to visit your- I mean my children? They aren’t here.” Aemond clenched his jaw once, twice until he let out a deep breath. There was no point in arguing with Aegon, there was no winning against someone fueled by pure delusions.

He would never come to see his- Aegon’s children in his room. They would be with their sweet mother far away from the monstrosity they called dad. “We’re all being forced to attend her wedding tourney.”

“When?” Aegon’s eyes lit up and the sunken expression finally lifted. “At dawn,” Aemond took a step back before the smell of wine, sweat and uncleanliness of three days seeped into his nose. “For the love of the seven take a bath!”

Hope, there was still hope left in the world! All of the sudden he had awakened, the whimpering pathetic mess he was a few moments ago was long forgotten. The gears in his brain began turning…

As Aemond strode out of Aegon’s chambers a new plan formed into the mind of the monster himself… “Little brother,” he sang with a cruelty only Aegon could possess. “Will our dear uncle Gwayne be participating?”

Aemond did not loathe his brother as much as everyone believed he did. Yes, he was jealous Aegon the wastrel was first born, and he was not. Yes, he was jealous Helaena was forced to marry the pig instead of him. No, he did not blame his brother for any of this. Solidarity was exceedingly important in times like these, future succession wars and all.

What he learned was, Aegon hated being married to Helaena as much as she did. Aegon didn’t want to be king and would gladly give it to Aemond if the time came. Lastly, as sad as Aegon could be he was fiercely loyal to his family. If it came down to it Aemond knew his brother would die for them… or take an eye instead.

“Has he stopped wallowing in his sorrow?” Even when she insulted people Helaena’s voice sounded like angels in his ear. “No, though he has come up with another borderline war crime plan.” She let out a deep sigh as she fiddled with the needle she used to sew. “Should I ask?”

“He’s urging Gwayne to kill the Fiance before they have a chance to wed.” Helaena stifled a laugh; she should be offended he would dishonor her or even vengeful since her husband dare tried to intervene on another woman’s affairs. Instead, she bit her lip from smiling, “I should be glad she is not as deranged as him or I may not be here today.”

Aemond rose from his seat and sat down next to her. His long fingers gently caressed the side of her face, pushing back the strands that obscured his view of her violet eyes. “I would kill her before she could ever lift a finger.”

Helaena gently tugged Aemond’s hands away from her face, cupping them in her lap. “Aems you are far too serious. She’s still as sweet as a rose I hear…”

There was a sudden silence between them, not uncomfortable in the slightest but eerily still, nonetheless. If Helaena was being honest with herself, she felt terribly for you. She couldn’t imagine what pain he had caused or what exactly he had done to cause you to faint at the mere sight of him.

She could imagine, Helaena simply wished not to burden herself with those thoughts. You were her savior in a weird sense of the word. Because of your existence her brother did not attempt to bed her or force heirs upon her, he did not touch her, he did not bother her unless requested of him. You kept his mind preoccupied, so she wasn’t completely trapped in a horrid marriage such as her mothers. Aegon was a good brother and only a brother… Sometimes she worried what would happen if you ceased to exist.

Still, she was trapped in a marriage. Aemond and Helaena had two vastly different reasons for wanting you around. Helaena wanted to see Aegon content, happy even if they were lucky. And if things happened the way it did in her dreams… Their marriage would be annulled and you two could wed and she could continue to do as she pleased with the father of her children. A fairytale but she was known for being the dreamer.

Aemond simply wanted his brother to get off his fucking ass and do something with his life. He wanted him to stop whoring, to stop pushing away duties, and to start taking matters seriously. The only way he was going to do that was if his favorite toy was promptly returned to him. You also kept Aegon far away from his beloved Helaena, that was merely a bonus.

If he had to choose, obviously he would have not chosen his brother to become obsessed with one of the bastards, it couldn’t be helped anymore. The seeds of whatever drug Aegon made you take to enjoy him had already been planted. The spell you used to seduce him had already begun working.

At the very least you defended them… somewhat. It was enough to make him wish you were dead even less. He had to remind himself, though you were a bastard and related to his sworn enemy, you were also just a woman. As his mother once said, ‘all women are created in the image of the mother and to be spoken of with reverence… And to be treated as such!’

Aemond let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. “We’re going to find a convoluted way to help him, aren’t we?” Helaena hummed to herself for a moment, was there any way they could really help you? “Do you believe she is distant because she believes he abandoned her?”

They gazed at each other for a moment, a silent agreement. You were easy to read, at least to the dreamer herself… “Yes Aems, I think we are.”

The dress you were forced into was unbearably tight, the summer sun had seeped through the red fabric and your blood felt as if it was boiling. The royal stand was too crowded, too many unwelcome faces and bodies suffocating you. The noise of horses and knights preparing to show off for your favor made your ears ache. Unbearable, that was the best way you could describe your current predicament.

The fainting spell was enough to have your mother confine you to chambers. She knew, your brothers knew, the Hightowers knew, everyone in the entire keep could see through you both. At every single turn you were specifically swayed far away from your uncle. Absolutely no contact, especially since you were to be married.

That’s what the entire day was for, to celebrate you being sold off to a son of Dorne. If the heat in King’s Landing doesn’t kill you first, then surely the sun there will do the job. You hoped your death would come sooner rather than late.

If the day could not go any worse the sound of someone taking a seat next to you caused you to flinch. You could smell him, practically taste the wine emitting off of him. Then there was the seat to your left, the scent of flowers filled your nose. Your eyes stayed glued to your hands. You didn’t dare move or breathe…

A gentle hand that was as soft as a feather pillow touched yours. “Don’t be nervous.” Helaena, of all the people in the world you did not expect her to say such. Especially now, since you were separating husband and wife or did, they purposely do this to torment you further? “If I’m sitting in your place I can move, princess.”

You kept your head turned to her, trying your hardest to ignore the one sitting far too close to your right. Where was your mother? Your brothers? Where was your family to rescue you? “Nonsense! I purposely asked Jacaerys to let me sit next to you.” To the right, you could feel two violet eyes burning holes into the back of your skull.

“How lovely,” you muttered out trying to find your family from the corner of your eyes. How in the seven hells was he next to you? You turned your body towards the crowd, an invisible shield in your mind blocking you from turning the other way.

Behind you, your entire family was in the row above staring daggers into Aegon. Of course, he stole Lucerys seat before he had a chance to protest. The sound of trumpets blaring, and the weakened voice of your grandsire distracted you, momentarily from the hell you were living in.

A warm and soft hand was placed over your own. Dragging your nails from tarnishing the skin around them. “Afraid your husband to be is going to lose?” It felt as though a bolt of lightning shot down your back. You bit your lip, no you wanted him to lose and potentially be stabbed in a duel. You actually want to be stabbed too right now.

Milk of the poppy was your savior. That’s what had been prescribed to keep you grounded. It’s why you’re not currently on the floor unconscious. It's why you decided to engage in conversation instead of keeping your mouth shut. It's why you let his hands caress your own and bask in the warmth they provided. It wasn’t you; it was the medication.

“Why aren’t you participating in the tourney?” You could feel a smile curve onto his face, though you swore not to look. “Why would I? Do you want me to compete for your favor?” You turned to look at him, shocked by the accusation you would want him of all people competing for you. That was a fantasy of children, a dead one at that.

A mistake was made when you glanced at him. Gods, he was beautiful in the most pathetic way possible. The dark circles, the smug smile, the unruly hair, the piercing eyes and the jaw with just a tad of baby fat encompassing it. You forgot his lady wife sitting next to you, you forgot your family watching you. For a moment, it was just you looking at the pretty monster who ruined you. A shimmer of hope, a memory of childhood championship bubbled to the surface.

“No Aegon, I think you would lose,” you jested. His eyes sparkled; his subtle grin turned into a wide blinding smile. “I think I already have your favor.” Your mouth parted to speak, cheeks brimming red from the implication.

Down below the sounds of cracking shields and screams of pain stifled by armor were becoming the loudest noise. A Blackwood had just begun a duel with a Bracken and… his entrails were staining the tan colored sand a dark shade of crimson. You felt bile rising up in your throat as you unconsciously tightened your drip on Aegon’s hand. An act that didn’t go unnoticed and was quickly returned.

“Not a fan of bloodshed?” His voice sounded softer, almost kind versus his usual unserious tone. He was staring at the side of your face and his eyes shone with mild concern combined with amusement. Aegon was always one for violence, not you. By no means were you against it, seeing the insides of someone’s stomach simply didn’t suit your fancy.

“And the day grows ugly…” Helaena let out a deep sigh as she gazed at the scene below. Her voice made you quickly realize how disrespectful you were being towards their marriage. In a second, your hand was ripped out of his grasp and placed firmly on your lap. Avoid, you avoided both of their looks and your gaze moved strictly forward.

You could have sworn you saw a flash of Aemond’s eyepatch and his fingers patting at her knee. Oddly enough, you were very suspicious of brother and sister relationships considering the family you were born into. Thank heavens you were amongst the normal ones… almost.

“You’re not wrong, Hel. You’re not wrong.” Aegon’s voice had lost all its original sympathetic tone as his lips formed into a pout like a spoiled brat. “Princess! Your favor would surely help me win this tournament if you could be so kind.”

The sound of your fiancés voice made you want to sink into the abyss of your mind and let it swallow you. Maybe even feed yourself to Vhagar much like your late aunt Laena did. Aegon looked worse, enraged and annoyed to the utmost level.

His body moved slowly towards your fiancée, and you swore if looks could kill he would be dead. You didn’t flinch or falter this time. You no longer frowned at the sight of the man you were supposed to marry. In fact, you were bubbling with joy.

The second Martell son held a huge smile while he waited for you to place your favor on his lance. You did your best to make a spectacle out of it, wishing him luck as loudly as you could. Your mother was smiling proudly, surely congratulating herself on a fine match she had made.

She didn’t understand, you weren’t happy because of him. You were happy to see Aegon leaking envy from his pores with the most miserable look on his face. Now he was feeling exactly what you did and it felt fucking fantastic. You gracefully sat back in place with a smile that went ear to ear.

“Would you like to place a bet on who will win, uncle?” He shifted in place, his eyes following the black mare your fiancée rode. “I don’t intend on betting coins, niece.” An awfully smug look creeped onto his face. “What are we betting?”

Aegon leaned into you, so his mouth nearly brushed over your ear. His breath was heavy and laced with confidence. His whispers sent a shiver up your spine that glued you in place. “If Gwayne Hightowers knocks your beloved husband off his horse I get to claim you in front of everyone.”

“…”

Your breath hitched in your throat as the world paused. Heat rose from the tips of your toes to the very top of your head, radiating in all directions. The drugs were no longer keeping your very unstable emotions at bay. Your cheeks were not just flushed by the idea but from the crushing reminder he was not yours to claim. He was stolen from you and didn’t mind until you showed back up. No letters, no secret rendezvous, no gifts on name days or holidays… To Aegon it was always just a game.

A game he was still fucking playing at your own expense. Could he not see he had done enough? He had ruined what sliver of self-respect you had years ago? What else was there for him to take besides your life. Your original despair turned into something hateful, “My husband will win and when he does you have to stay away from me for as long as I’m here.”

His mouth hung agape as he was trying to debate this completely unfair bet. Aegon was going to make a jest, defend himself or anything really before the trumpets blared loud enough for the deaf to hear. “Hmph,” you turned in your seat, stone faced, chin held high, completely ignoring his presence to watch the knights begin to mount their horses.

Ser Gwayne Hightower was wearing a suit of armor and a green cape. Gwayne’s helm was in the shape of a lantern… It looked completely ridiculous. His horse wasn’t stupid, it was a powerful white charger, and his lance appeared to be held firmly in his grip. From all the stories you’ve heard, he was an amazing knight. He’d won many tourneys in the past and nearly knocked down Daemon once.

Your fiancée was on the other side, and he certainly did stand out… The golden decor on his armor was perhaps a bit much and he refused to wear a helm. His horse was beautiful albeit not as powerful as the charger. It wasn’t looking very good.

You were too busy praying to the seven for mercy when the two horses took off. In a flash their lances connected, and poor Quentyn was nearly thrown off. You heard a snicker from the corner, and you whipped your head to stare at the smirk plastered all over Aegon’s face. “Heh look at that!” No fucking way, no way in the names of any god would he get to do anything with you. “Fuck you, uncle,” the venom laced words seeped out of your mouth before you could contain them. Your perfect facade was beginning to break so quickly.

“That can be arranged.” You gritted your teeth and your nostrils flared. Seeing him win in anyway made you want to snatch a sword and shove it right between his fucking…

“We have a winner!”

The crowd erupted into deafening cheers, and you forgot whatever your last thought was. You stood up from your seat to gaze at the ground and surely enough…

“Quentyn Martell has won the favor of the Princess!”

Heh heh heh…. You turned to look at him with a smirk only the divine could wear, “I win.”

He miss stepped, Aegon had completely misread the situation at hand. Her mind had been completely poisoned by those… those cunts! And Gwayne completely fumbled the fucking tourney. This added more layers to the issues already at hand. Firstly, her husband needed to go and fast. Secondly, he had to untaint her mind. Thirdly, how the hell was he going to keep her here with him? Aegon only had a single day and night to do it…

CRASH

Another empty goblet of wine was thrown into the wall. The small shards covered the floor like winter snow tainted by red droplets of wine. The prince was raging and drinking… ceaselessly. “For the love of the seven will you sit down!” Aemond watched unamused, on the edge of storming out himself at this display. It was getting annoying how easily irritated his brother was becoming. Aegon stomped across, “We have to kill him… Preferably sooner rather than late.”

“We could tell the truth about her virtue and have a Septon annul the marriage… avoid making any unnecessary enemies.” Aegon pivoted to stare at Aemond, face void of any signs of agreement. “Yes, and besmirch her reputation in the process… Ha! That will surely make her crawl into my bed.”

Aemond really fucking hated sarcasm above all forms of conversation. “Oh, great manipulative tactician, what exactly were you thinking?” His steps paused as he toyed with the knife he kept on belt. He wasn’t a genius nor was he overly capable of manipulation like his grandfather…

“It can only work if she is obsessed with me again.” The younger brother let out a groan, rubbing his face with both his hands. “What exactly are you planning to do?”

A wicked smirk curled its way onto his lips. His pupils momentarily turned dark, “Not I, dear brother, what are you going to do.” Aemond lowered his hands, so his eye picked through, raising an eyebrow.

—

“This won’t do,” Rhaenyra declared as she tossed another necklace laced with jewels onto the floor of your chambers. “Mother!” you gaped as the expensive piece fell to the floor. She pursed her lips together, fingers grazing the delicate jewelry laid before you. “My first born, my only daughter is getting married… Tacky crystals won’t do.” You sunk deeper into your chair, twirling your wet hair in between your fingers.

Rhaenyra closely examined a few more pieces, none of which suited her exquisite taste. She turned to you, her eyebrows creasing together. “You look more pale than usual.” You looked up at her and her eyes were laced with concern. One thing about your mother is that you could never lie to her. She knew you more than you knew yourself. The slightest bit of discomfort she could snuff out and exile it from your mind.

“I haven’t been sleeping well as of late.” Her gentle hands went to comb through your hair. “If you changed your mind and don’t wish to get married, I could always have Daemon, take care of it.” You choked up a laugh, “threatening murder on my wedding day? How very festive.”

A small smile made her lips curve upwards. She let out a breath, plucking a necklace off the counter and holding it to your neck. “Is it him?” The dragon necklace made of diamonds laced with gold details seemed to taunt you. “No, he hasn’t bothered me at all.” A bold-faced lie that your mother could see through instantaneously. Rhaenyra wrapped the necklace around your throat and clasped it in the back. “Really? He seemed to bother you at the tourney.”

The necklace seemed to be choking you though it wasn’t tight at all. It would have been something you wore if you were getting married to him instead. A golden dragon paying homage to Sunfyre… “Just playful banter. Honestly it went far better than expected.”

She looked as if she was about to contest what you said but three knocks at the door caught both your attention. It slowly creaked open revealing a maid no older than fifteen. She stood meekly in the entrance shifting eyes between your mother and yourself.

“I didn’t mean to disturb you; the king requested your presence.” Your mother raised her brow, questioning the situation at hand. You gave a nearly unnoticeable nod, reassuring her everything was all right. She clapped her hands together, “You’re not disturbing anyone! My love I’ll return shortly.”

Rhaenyra strided out the door with the confidence only a queen could possess. You envied the way she carried herself no matter the situation. You slumped back down into your chair staring at yourself in the grandiose mirror. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad having Daemon rid you of your husband… If anything, he would probably take pride in having something to hold over your head.

But a war was brewing, it was an inevitable fact that no one could deny and soon it would be impossible to ignore. You needed the dornish alliance, and you were the perfect bargaining chip… Curse the seven for making you a woman.

“You look like you’re in agony. Already getting the wedding blues?” It’s no use asking how he snuck in, it’s no use asking why he was here, and it’s absolutely no fucking use to start panicking. “Uncle, I thought we had an agreement.” His steps were light, almost frolicking to stand behind your seat in front of the vanity. Aegon’s face was the ideal image of serenity, you couldn’t say the same for yourself.

“It’s your wedding day! Surely, I can offer my congratulations on this joyous day.” There wasn’t an honest way you could describe the pain within your chest. It felt as if a blade had carved a hole within your heart that refused to heal. A dark abyss threatening to swallow you whole. He wasn’t meant to be happy; you were supposed to be cheery. Aegon was meant to pin after you until he died… Not move on and get married, have children, and celebrate your own wedding.

You didn’t feel the tears quietly falling from your eyes or the way your lip was quivering. His hand moved to graze your shoulder, but you jumped out of your seat, snapping your head back to face him. “Don’t touch me!” He put his hands up in mock surrender, “W-woah…”

“Did you come here to torment me some more? Do you revel watching me be so miserable?” He stumbled back, muttering some incoherent apology that fell on deaf ears. “You abandoned me! You left me like a dog and went to go playhouse with your perfect fucking family, perfect fucking wife and two perfect children.”

One of the many things you were shouting must have triggered something within him. Aegon grabbed your shoulders with such force you almost buckled under their grip. He shook you like a child would shake their pet if it stopped listening. “Perfect? Have you become fucking delusional? What part of a forced marriage to your sister sounds perfect to you?!”

“Let me go! Don’t- fucking touch me!” You shouted in between sobs. “No! You’re telling me you’ve been ignoring me for years because you’re fucking jealous?” You swatted at his face, attempting to grab him by his hair to pull him down. Poor idea, Aegon always thought violence was exciting. Somewhere amidst the fight you ended up wrestling on the ground shouting curses at one another.

“I hate you! I would never be jealous of you!” Aegon shiftly straddled you and began fighting to grab your wrists again. To make it all the more unbearable the bastard was smiling. “Bullshit! It’s seeping off of you.” You bit down on his hand that came just a little too close to your mouth. He growled, slamming on wrists behind your head. “Seven hells will you calm down and listen!”

You writhed underneath him, albeit with less screams of curses. This rather pathetic display went on for only another minute before he forced his lips onto yours. It was rough, mainly teeth clashing together and lips fighting against one another. Part of you wished it could continue, to relive your past one more time before you were sold off.

The other part of you bit his lip hard enough to draw blood. Aegon relented, a droplet of blood staining his swollen bottom lip. Whatever spell he had put on you had worked; you were quiet and unusually still. “Look at me.” You turned your head to face the wall, refusing to be trapped by those damned eyes. “Look at me!” Begrudgingly, after being shouted at, you looked at him. “My marriage is not happy. I swear on my own life I only bedded her once. I was so drunk I can’t even remember if it truly happened…”

“More lies… You have two children.” He scoffed, looking around the room as if asking the seven for patience. “Oh, for the love of- Do you really think those are mine? Just look at them!” Aegon appeared unbelievably desperate for you to believe him. His eyes frantically searching yours for any comfort…

The twins did appear more similar to one brother than the other… Jaehaera herself was a spitting image of Helaena only. “I don’t believe you…” His face dropped as if you had taken an arrow to his heart. “But it wouldn’t matter if I did. I’m getting married tonight.” A foolish course of action on your part because you gave him hope. A dangerous thing if given to the wrong people and he was by far the wrong person.

He pressed his mouth against you once more, this time his soft lips caressed your own gently. The taste of wine and iron coated your tastebuds, and it wasn’t at all displeasing. It was comforting, like a hug from an old friend. He pulled his right hand away from your wrist, almost giving you time to escape. But the second your arm moved he grabbed it with his left. A gentle, almost comfortable, kiss was turning into a desperate one.

Aegon’s tongue slid into your mouth doing circles with your own. Your breaths quickened as he began to nibble on your bottom lip, pulling it between his teeth and then kissing it before letting go again. His hands slid down to your thighs, cupping them firmly in his warm palms and massaging their shape. You shivered when his fingers brushed against your most sensitive area, it had been so long since anyone had touched you.

The wedding you were supposed to be attending today became a distant memory as he kissed you senseless. His lips trailed across your jawline and down your neck, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. When his nose grazed yours again you found yourself trembling with need.

“You have missed me,” he whispered breathlessly. You wanted to say no, that your body was betraying you but when his fingers grazed your unclothed cunt all you could mutter was “ah, ah, ah~”

His tongue flicked out and traced up the side of your neck, then back down. He slipped his tongue inside of your ear, and then swallowed down all of your words. His fingers began gently teasing at your clit, sliding between your wet folds, rubbing it painstakingly slow. You whimpered into his mouth, begging him to do more.

Aegon wasn’t supposed to give it all to you so easily but… Forcing in a few fingers was far from all he could do. He began thrusting his fingers in and out of your slick folds, making sure to tease your clit each time. His eye had a wicked gleam to them watching you come undone underneath him, “you think you’ll be happy with another man? You think he’ll be able to please you like I do?”

You opened your mouth but all that came out was a muffled cry. “No one knows your body like I do. No one can ever please you like I do.” His fingers moved swifter curling up to hit the sweet spot inside of you. Your legs buckled around him as you began to moan ceaselessly. A wicked smile took over his features, “be honest with yourself everytime you try to fuck another man you’ll be imagining me, my lips, my tongue, my fingers and my cock inside of you.”

Your arms fell limply by your sides, the world spinning in circles as a delicious haze descended upon you. Your hips moved of their own accord, grinding against his fingers as he continued to push them deeper inside of you. “I’ve already ruined you, what other man could want you? Who do you belong to? Say it!”

“Y-You! Aegon! I belong to you.” You cried out in pleasure, your voice echoing through the room. He pressed his lips against you once more, swallowing all the noises you made as your cunt tightened around his thick fingers. “That’s a good little girl,” He purred as your orgasm washed over you.

“Aegon…” You breathed, your head lolling to the side as he pulled his fingers out of your quivering pussy. He sat up, face returning to its usual expression of complete nonchalant. “I’ll give you time to get all dressed up, recite vows you do not mean with a stranger, dance until your heart's content and then I’m taking back what’s rightfully mine.”

He leaped off of you swiftly, lazily fixing his hair and wiping the blood from his mouth. You propped yourself up on your elbows, “What in the seven hells?” Aegon smiled at you, but it wasn’t one of genuine joy. It was sick with cruel eyes behind it. “You’ll see.”

The seeds of doubt had been planted into your mind and had already begun to sprout. The once joyous occasion was quickly turning into a fucking nightmare. To be Frank, you really wish you were dead instead of standing up here reciting vows you did not mean. It was awkward, unbelievably awkward. For five years your beloved had been pining for you and you were too blind to see it.

Or it was all a sick joke being played on you. Which one was worse you did not know. Your entire family stood there, smiling, your mother nearly on the verge of tears seeing her only daughter preparing to start a family of her own… Gods, is this how Aegon felt all these years knowing he was the disappointment? You had been completely soiled and yet here you stand with your new husband… Aegon’s scent and markings weren’t even fully off of you!

The entire ceremony was eerily calm. No random bursts of violence or protests to your union. Which means your uncle may or may not intend to murder and or maim this man tonight. Any sound of mind woman would be sick at the thought and run for aid… Obviously you were not at all that type of girl. Currently you were jumping out of your skin waiting for him to finally arrive and rescue you.

The only issue was, he never did show up. Not for the first kiss, not for the first dance, not for the speech his father was barely able to make or the feast itself… Did he intend to ignore you until it was all over?

____________________________________

Aegon was unbelievably late to the wedding celebration. It was on purpose; he had a few loose strings he needed to tie before he arrived. For once he was sober and painstakingly polite as he walked in. It is fair to mention he had the servants meticulously fix his normal disheveled appearance so he could make an impression on you.

When Aegon first entered the great hall, his eyes were immediately drawn to the center of the room, where a grand table adorned in the finest gold sits on a raised dais. The royal table is flanked on either side by rich red tapestries, ornately embroidered with the sigils of the houses respectively. If only he could burn all of the dornish banners with Sunfyre.

As he moved throughout the room, Aegon was struck by the attention to detail. Everywhere you looked, you saw the sign of the union between two powerful houses, a testament to the joyous occasion for which this room has been decked out. It was fucking disgusting and Aegon wanted to puke on it.

The throne room was filled to the brim with Lords and Ladies alike from all across the realm. In the center, just in front of the throne sat the royal table. On the opposing sides of the room were the packed tables for the highly esteemed guests. The middle of the room was cleared for dancing and eventually the marriage itself…

He wished he could throw himself into the spikes of the throne. Instead, he had to slither his way through the crowds to make way to the table. Aegon was tired of waiting, He was tired of hearing your family gawk at the well-made match and he was especially tired of doing nothing. Your husband would be dealt with in due time, but he hadn’t the patience to pretend not to be itching to speak to you, to touch you, anything but sit here and fucking watch.

He finally pulled himself up onto the podium and marched his way in front of you. You seemed stunned, miserable, in awe of his beauty. All of which were better than you being happy to be wed. "I'm insulted you have yet to ask me to dance, uncle." His lips twisted into his usual overly confident smile. “didn’t want to disturb the happy couple so soon.”

Your eyes rolled into the back of your skull as you stuck out your hand waiting for him to take it. There were stares from certain people of course, those who knew what happened at Driftmark and potentially before. You didn’t really care anymore.

For a moment, he was the perfect gentleman. Placing his hands in only the proper places and spinning you around the floor with ease. If you were a normal family, this would be a sweet interaction between relatives… But you were twisted and Targaryens. “You know, I’m putting more effort into this dance than my own wedding.” You scoffed, “Oh joy, surely no one will find this suspicious at all.”

Aegon’s face mirrored disgust as he glanced around you. “Is something the matter?” He rolled his eyes, "Your dearly beloved is gawking." You stood on your tiptoes to glance over his shoulder. Surely enough, the pretty dornish prince was smiling ear to ear watching you…"Do something about it."

The mischievous look Aegon always wore as a child made its reappearance. It was quick, his hands grasping onto your face and pulling you so close you could feel his breath on your skin. “You would let me dishonor you in front of all these people, bad princess.” You whined trying to lean up into his face, but he pulled back, “tsk tsk, can’t let your husband see you so needy for my affection now, can we?”

You wished he would stop referring to him as your husband. You wished he would stop reminding you of what waited for you after the night ended. “Sister… Prince Aegon.” Jacaerys appeared from behind like a thief in the night. Immediately souring any positive mood Aegon could have been in. He stepped back, letting his hands fall to his sides. “Nephew.” He gritted through his teeth with a subtle bow.

“Princess, would you dance with me?” You glanced between the two and felt the humiliation of the situation beginning to seep in. Your mother was on the high podium with a faux smile and a death grip on her fork observing you… “Of course! Let’s go little brother.”

The dance was alright… But you couldn’t get your mind off of the Lannister girl who was practically drooling at the sight of Aegon. He had slept with her before you knew this much. A secret part of you kept track of the whores he buried his cock inside, at least the rich ones. What happened next was honestly a blur, you couldn’t remember a thing. Except that you may or may not have called her a whore and threatened her life if she dared to touch him… She scurried away with her hands on her and tears in her eyes.

You weren’t jealous at all, only defending Helaena’s honor.

____________________________________

“Prince Aegon, pleasure to finally meet you,” If the night couldn't get any better the man of the hour had just willingly approached the man plotting against him… “Prince Quentyn, nice of you to believe this is a pleasure.” He smirked, “Your wife looks very beautiful.” Aegon patted his shoulders, “as does yours.”

Quentyn winced, a rather noticeable scowl growing on his face. “She’ll never be yours, my prince.”

“You’ll see later tonight whose name she calls out while your cock is inside her.” He smiled a crooked grin. Quentyn’s fists balled up next to his sides, Aegon wasn’t one to directly fight, he was more behind the scenes type of criminal. There was no denying that he was strong, strong enough to crack this man’s skull. But that wasn’t part of the plan… His feet moved fast, swiftly connecting his fist to Aegon’s jaw.

The crowd erupted behind them, lords and ladies screaming trying to escape the violence. Suddenly, Aegon stopped trying to attack and let the dornish cunt take charge. He tackled him to the ground and landed hit after hit… Was this really worth it, he thought to himself as blood started to trickle down his face. “You- fucking- wastrel-” Aegon was laughing hysterically whilst getting his face beat in… All according to plan, he told himself.

“Get off of him!” You screeched in horror pulling at the man assaulting your lover. It wasn’t meant to take a turn like it did. Quentyn, not recognizing you, turned and landed a hit square to your cheek knocking you on your ass. “Protect the princess!” Some guard shouted from behind whilst dogpiling onto your husband. He stared in horror at what he had done, you were gripping your cheek mortified, and Aegon was laying there covered in blood laughing his ass off like a psychopath.

The maester was applying ice to your cheekbone as you nervously picked at the seams on your dress. “We’ll have the marriage annulled by tomorrow.” Rhaenyra paced inside the room. “On what grounds? Aegon was obviously egging him on,” Jacaerys groaned from the corner. “I could kill him and fix this entirely,” Daemon muttered watching his wife rage on.

The rest of the argument was drowned out, the only noise you could hear was the sound of Aegon’s jaw cracking. You didn’t feel despair that the wedding was ruined, you didn’t feel depressed that your husband had hit you… No, you felt completely fucking enraged.

Seeing Aegon harmed had awoken something in you. It was hateful and could not be quelled by a simple apology. He fucking beat him to a pulp in the midst of your wedding then had the audacity to lay a hand on you… It may or may not have awoken something because seeing Aegon laughing whilst covered in his own blood made your core heat up.

“Could I be given some milk of the poppy for the pain, mother?” Rhaenyra looked at you with the most sorrowful expression she could muster, “oh my sweet girl.” She cupped your cheeks in her hands and rubbed at the bruise that was forming. “Go fetch some tea for my daughter, Maester… Now!”

____________________________________

You were returning to your chambers in a rather dumbed down state. The medicine made your mind hazy, and your body feel light as a feather. It was like wine but far better with less of a hangover. The corridors were dark, all the excitement from tonight was far over. You hummed to yourself lazily, dreading the return to where your husband lay. Until you felt a hand wrap around your mouth and yank you into a hole in the wall you never knew was there.

You tried to scream but were quickly shushed by a voice that could only belong to one man. “Aegon? What are you doing?” He smiled at you, rubbing the bruise on your cheek. “Will you go out for a walk with me?” You raised your eyebrow in distrust, “To where?” Aegon grinned, almost too enthusiastically to trust, “the dragonpit.”

The most unexpected event of tonight wasn’t the wedding brawl nor the injury that befall you. It was the fact you were riding on Sunfyre again, with Aegon holding onto your waist as you soared through the stars. It was a wedding gift, he claimed. As far as you knew Aegon never let anyone touch his dragon let alone ride with him, except you.

It was indescribable, the feeling of the wind rushing past your cheeks. The view of the city and the moon shining above you reflecting off his scales. You were giggling uncontrollably the entire flight listening to Aegon tell jests you hadn’t heard in years. Whatever injury he had gained was long forgotten the second you took off. Whatever drama or chaos in the keep didn’t exist outside. In the sky, you both were completely free.

You couldn’t say how long you spent outside. Mayhaps it was an hour or two before Sunfyre descended onto a nearby beach surrounded by the most beautiful rock formations you had seen. “Is this your version of bridenapping me?” You teased while he helped you climb down the saddle. “It’s only kidnapping if you fight back.”

He grasped your hand leading you across the sandy beach, showcasing the stars he supposedly, desperately wanted to show you. “I have an actual gift for you too.” You raised your eyebrows in disbelief, “Is it a ride home on Sunfyre?” Aegon laughed, genuinely laughed for the first time since you’ve returned. He dug in his pocket searching for something… “I had it made years ago but never had the chance to properly give it to you.”

In his hand was the most beautiful golden ring in the shape of a dragon. “A ring? A Sunfyre ring?” Aegon grabbed your hand and slipped it on with ease, “I’m not that creative, you know this. it was meant to be something to remember me by when you left.” Tears were prickling your eyes once more. The fool kept the damned ring all these years and never mentioned it. “Aegon… Be honest for once with me please. Do you still love me?”

He paused, searching tirelessly for the right words to say. “I… There hasn’t been a day in five years where I haven’t thought about you at least once. There hasn’t been an hour that something has not reminded me of you. There hasn’t been a single night I’ve slept without seeing you… It isn’t normal, it’s twisted and sick and cruel just like I am. No matter what you do to others, to me, to yourself. No matter if the world ends in a freeze or we are in the midst of a war of the ages… I believe I’ll always feel this… And I don’t think I’ll be able to stop until the seven hells take me.”

You sniffled; he always had such a roundabout way of saying things. “I’ll always love you too.” He smiled genuinely, pulling you into a kiss so gentle yet so firm it made you forget all the dangers of the world, the drama, the potential war, your husband, everything was irrelevant except for you two, right now under the stars.

“We still haven’t done the bedding ceremony.” You whispered against his lips. His eyes lit up, “Have you always been so needy for me?” You didn’t have time to protest before he was passionately colliding his lips against yours once more. You threw your arms around his neck and pulled him closer into you, making sure no part of you would ever be apart from him again.

His arms slipped below your waist as he lowered you onto the ground as gently as he could. Your legs fell open instinctively and his hands began to explore your body. It was vastly different from every other time you’ve been together. It was gentle and loving, passionate and pleasurable without the pain.

Your bodies started to move in sync with each other, stripping away the clothes that hid your most intimate parts. His hands held you close to his chest, keeping you warm while you were exposed to the elements. You moaned into his mouth, kissing him passionately with a hunger you had forgotten existed.

He broke the kiss, gasping for air. You opened your eyes to see the moonlight reflected off his face, sometimes Aegon Targaryen looked more God than man. He moved to suckle on your neck as he ran his length against your slit.

“You’re so beautiful,” He murmured huskily against your ear. He slowly pushed inside, filling you with his thickness. You gasped from the sudden sensation. He was so deep within you, so far reaching you almost felt like you could reach out and touch the stars.

His kisses trailed down your neck, nibbling, sucking, biting. He took his time thrusting inside of you with slow movements, appreciating every moment your bodies were entertained. He stopped mid-thrust, holding himself deep within you.

“I love you, Princess.” He whispered, his voice so tender and soft. You blushed like a child; it was silly to think his cock being inside you didn’t make you feel as embarrassed as him telling you, his feelings. “Always.” You murmured back. He kissed you deeply, his tongue slipping past your teeth.

You clung tight to his neck, your nails digging into his skin. He moved faster, his breaths coming in shorter and quicker. You moaned, your thighs trembling from the feeling of fullness. His fingers traced circles on your inner thigh, and then he moved to your clit.

He worked you effortlessly, eliciting soft whimpers and moans and love confessions. The world was a blur of fluorescent colors and smells, nothing mattered but you and Aegon. His climax came swiftly, almost right after your own. You begged for him to cum inside you, to fill you with his seed and he always did as you asked.

He collapsed on top of you, his weight heavy on your shoulders. You wrapped your arms around his back, feeling him relax. “Aegon…” You spoke his name softly, your head resting on his shoulder. “Mhmm?” He said in a daze. “Again?” You whispered, your lips brushing against his neck. He smirked, his cock twitching inside of you.

____________________________________

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oddyseye · 1 month ago

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I agree with your position on Calypso being childlike in Epic is detrimental to male victims of sexual assault, but it *is* within Homer's original work that the suitors had malicious thoughts about Penelope in a similar way. He didn't focus on it so explicitly like Jorge is going to do in Epic, but there are several times when Penelope mentions how much of a threat they are to 'us', and an additional moment where the suitors *do* deliberately express desire to have sex with her, and wait until she has left the room to speak in such a manner. From Wilson's translation:

She [Penelope] went back to her room, and took her son's uneasy words to heart. She went upstairs, along with both her slaves, and wept there for her dear Odysseus, until Athena gave her eyes sweet sleep.

Throughout the shadowy hall the suitors clamored, praying to lie beside her in her bed. Telemachus inhaled, then started speaking.

"You suitors, you are taking this too far. Let us enjoy the feast in peace. It is a lovely thing to listen to a bard, especially with one with such a godlike voice."

From Fagles' translation:

Astonished, she withdrew to her own room. She took to heart the clear good sense in what her son had said. Climbing up the loft chamber with her women, she fell to weeping for Odysseus, her beloved husband, till watchful Athena sealed her eyes with welcome sleep.

But the suitors broke into uproar through the shadowed halls, all of them lifting prayers to lie beside her, share her bed, until discreet Telemachus took command: "You suitors who plague my mother, you, you insolent, overweening... for this evening let us dine and take our pleasure, no more shouting now. What a fine thing it is to listen to such a bard as we have here --- the man sings like a god."

I do wish that Jorge had left in that aspect of Odysseus' time trapped with Calypso intact, as well as his time with Circe. The musical suffers without it because this then does seem to be like a sensationalism thing. Anyway, I have enjoyed reading your breakdowns so far! I hope to see more with the next saga coming out in a few days. Wishing you all the best.

Okay, first off, thank you for being respectful, unlike half the brain-dead trolls who can’t read. I appreciate that you came with receipts, and you know what? That’s rare around these streets, so kudos for that. Seriously. You clearly care about the material, and that deserves respect. But now, let me roll up my sleeves because I do have some things to say.

Here’s Wilson’s translation again, from the same scene you mentioned:

“The suitors made a din throughout the shadowy halls, each man praying to lie beside her in her bed.”

Praying. Highlight it. Circle it in red. These losers were not planning anything; they were fantasizing. Not plotting, not scheming, not planning some coordinated assault. Praying. These morons are fantasizing about her like horny teenagers, not predators with an actual plan. Because that is what they are. Youth.

Even Fagles, who’s more dramatic in his language, sticks to the same tone:

“The suitors broke into uproar through the shadowed halls, all of them lifting prayers to lie beside her, share her bed…”

Lifting prayers. Again, they’re fantasizing, not attacking. These guys are scum, but they’re not warriors. They’re lazy, spineless leeches who drink Odysseus’ wine and stuff their faces with his food while posturing like kings.

The original line goes as follows:

"��ἱ δ᾽ εὐχόμενοι πάντες ἐπ᾽ ἀλλήλοισι λέγοντο κοιμηθεῖν."

Translated literally, it says:

“And they, all praying, said among themselves to lie with her.”

Let’s focus on εὐχόμενοι (euchomenoi), the main verb here. It’s crucial because it doesn’t mean “plotting” or “planning.” It means praying, wishing, or hoping — a nonviolent, internal desire directed toward the gods. These guys weren’t conspiring to assault Penelope. They were sitting around fantasizing and asking divine forces to grant them her love (or, more likely, her submission).

Now, let’s look at κοιμηθεῖν (koimethein), which translates to “to sleep”. It is...not even sexual. It is literally a normal verb, “to sleep.” Homer had plenty of vocabulary to describe acts of physical aggression if that’s what he wanted to imply. Words like βιάζω (biazō, meaning “to force”) or ἁρπάζω (harpazō, meaning “to seize”) are all over the Iliad and Odyssey. If the suitors were intending rape, Homer would’ve used more explicit language. He didn’t. Let me contrast this with an actual moment in the Odyssey where sexual violence is implied, when he recalls his time on the island of Calypso:

“ἔνθα μὲν ἀμφ᾽ ἀνάγκῃ, τῇ δὲ θεὰ ἐρῶσά μιν ἔσχε.” (“There he stayed out of necessity, for the goddess, in her love, held him there.”)

Notice the two parts here. Odysseus stayed out of necessity, not because he wanted to. And why was he there? Because Calypso held him. That’s not love. That’s entrapment. Homer makes it clear that Odysseus had no agency in this situation — he was kept there against his will.

Homer uses the same word when Odysseus describes his time with Circe:

“ἀλλ᾽ ἔμεν᾽ ἐν σπέσσι λαῶν ἀνάγκῃ.” (“But I stayed in her halls by necessity.”)

The word ἀνάγκῃ is usually translated to “necessity,” but its meaning runs so much deeper. It implies force, constraint, distress, even violence. This isn’t a neutral word, and it sure as hell isn’t romantic.

When the gods finally intervene in the situation with Calypso, Hermes doesn’t mince words:

“ἀλλ᾽ ἤτοι δὴ νῦν οὔ τοι θέμις ἐστὶν ἄνακτα θνητὸν ἀνδρῶν ἐρύκειν.” (“It is not lawful for you to keep a mortal man here.”)

The gods themselves have to tell Calypso to let him go because she won’t do it willingly. That’s not the behavior of a tragic lover — it’s the behavior of someone who refuses to relinquish control.

Even when she finally agrees to release Odysseus, she doesn’t make it easy for him. She says:

“καὶ τὸν ἔασα πονεύμενον οἴκαδε νοστῆσαι.” (“I will allow him, suffering, to return home.”)

Notice that word — πονεύμενον (poneumenon), meaning “suffering” or “toiling.” She’s not helping him. She’s forcing him to work for his freedom, as if she’s making him earn the right to escape. And what does she give him to leave? Not a ship, not safe passage — she hands him an axe and tells him to build his own raft. But anyway, back to the topic at hand. They suitors, yes, they are lusting after Penelope, but there’s no plan of attack here. They’re scum, but they’re cowardly scum. They want Penelope to hand herself over to them, not because they’re forcing her physically, but because they think they can break her spirit. The whole point of the suitors is that they’re lecherous freeloaders who don’t actually have the guts to do anything.

And let’s talk about context. Penelope is a queen. She’s surrounded by her maids, she has her son in the house, and she’s got the weight of Odysseus’ legacy protecting her. The suitors know they can’t just drag her off to a bedroom without consequences. They’re playing a long game of manipulation and coercion, trying to wear her down until she chooses one of them. That’s why they’re so frustrated by her weaving trick — because she’s outsmarting them at their own game.

If Homer had wanted to imply a real physical threat, he would’ve. This is the same guy who wrote gory, brutal battle scenes and didn’t shy away from dark topics. He wasn’t subtle. If the suitors were planning to physically assault Penelope, we would know. Instead, what we get is a bunch of entitled men sitting around, praying to get lucky.

Now, does this mean the suitors aren’t a threat? Of course not. Their presence is invasive, degrading, and psychologically abusive. Penelope has to endure their constant disrespect and their lewd comments, and that’s horrifying in its own way. But we have to call it what it is: harassment and coercion, not rape.

And I know some people will argue that it’s “just a retelling” and that Jorge has the right to make changes. Sure, he does. But if you’re going to adapt one of the most iconic texts in Western literature, you have a responsibility to understand what you’re working with. You can’t just slap modern trauma narratives onto these characters without considering the implications.

So yeah, I disagree with you. The suitors weren’t planning to rape Penelope. That’s not what Homer wrote, and it’s not what the story is about. The fact that so many people jump to that conclusion says more about our culture than it does about the text.

That said, I do appreciate your thoughtfulness and your willingness to engage in this discussion. It’s rare to see someone actually care about the nuances of the Odyssey, even if we don’t agree. Thanks for that.

#epic the musical #the odyssey #greek mythology #odysseus #calypso #greek gods

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bungoustraypups · 7 months ago

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i don't talk enough about my headcanons involving fukumori specifically while mori's pregnant* during the bungou stray pups universe timeline events, and that needs to change tbh.

so, take some mostly transposed from twitter with some tumblr originals mixed in:

imagine heavily pregnant mori stealing fukuzawas clothes because it's both easier and less stressful than buying tailored clothes of his own. he mostly does this to avoid reminding himself most commercial pregnancy clothing is labeled as "maternity wear, but also because fukuzawa tells him how precious/hot he looks wearing his clothes while heavily pregnant anyway so it's a double win

fukuzawa cuddled up to mori during the last days of his pregnancy making sure he's as comfortable as he can be as mori sleeps more than he's ever slept before because he can be safe knowing that fukuzawa's there for him

when mori's in the second and third trimesters and the poor guy's just. aching constantly (he should get an award for carrying his husband's bigass kids because they didn't get their size from mori), so fukuzawa's often rubbing his back/feet for him

fukuzawa feels bad about the physical strain on mori too and knows he can't really do anything to stop him from aching since it's kinda part of the process so he does what he can to ease it while also saying variations of "sorry for doing this to you" while mori grumbles halfheartedly at him

despite all the pouting and whining he does, mori never really blames anything on fukuzawa, because he knows as well as anyone that this is just how it goes, and also knows that fukuzawa could be treating him so much worse, because he's been treated worse in the past (see my completed, multi-chapter, minor angst with an impossibly fluffy and sweet happy ending, fukumori babyfic "dog days are over" for more details on uh, all of that)

speaking of that tho, mori getting emotional over how sweet fukuzawa is to him is >>>>. not even because mori thinks he doesn't deserve it (he does, but that eases with time, more and more as time goes on, and more easily than anyone expects it to), but just because he's already so emotional with more hormones running wild inside of him than he knows what to do with or has had to deal with since he started testosterone honestly, and unable to hold back those emotions like he usually would instinctually (even though fukuzawa's been trying to coax him into being more open ever since the relationship started but he also knows these things take time)

you know the ADA & PM threw them a surprise baby shower (to mori, at least, fukuzawa knew about it in order to keep mori from knowing about it, and kept him distracted while they were setting it up) too, and mori wept tears of joy when they came home from a "spontaneous day out" to it. he naturally immediately threatened everyone there with a fate worse than death if they told anyone about his reaction, and even though they knew he was absolutely not being serious at all, they don't mention it outside of the attendants lmao

also, fukuzawa holding mori as close as he can, as often and as much as he can, whether they're laying down in bed/on the couch/etc or not, touching him and holding his face and his hands etc, so gently and tenderly, not because he thinks he's "fragile" or anything, but because he loves him so much, mori and their baby both, and they're both so used to only being violent or touch being accompanied with pain or violence that every time they touch and hold each other tenderly is a reminder of how far their lives have come, and a reminder to mori that, this time, their child will grow up with two fathers who love and care about them and want to keep them safe and hold them close and gentle because they love them, and this time mori doesn't have to do it alone, he doesn't have to be the only one trying to save his child (and ultimately, the only one who suffered when he lost her)

fukuzawa resting his head on mori's belly and tracing circles on it with his thumb, cooing softly to their baby while mori knits them a lil stuffed animal to give after they're born (it's a wolf pup) along with a baby blanket

mori being very, very pregnant, but still trying to do things on his own, and hissing at fukuzawa like an angry cat when he tries to help, only to realize he can't properly do the thing and reluctantly letting fukuzawa help as he pouts off to the side lmao

and of course, mori feeling frustrated at "being useless" while pregnant, and fukuzawa saying "you're literally growing a person, inside of your body, with your body's limited resources, all while still also doing things, right now. i don't think that's quite right, my love"

tbh i will never not be weak for fukuzawa being totally enamored with mori growing a little person, their little person, in him because how can i not be. it's precious and also he would be

and of course, head always full of thoughts of. fukuzawa cuddling with mori while he's pregnant and always keeping his hands on mori's belly. mori loves being held by fukuzawa because he feels safe and also loved and also thinks it's absolutely precious how protective fukuzawa gets too. they also are both so very enamored with and in awe of the physical representation of their love, the proof that their baby is healthy and growing and they'll get to meet them soon. they're so in love with their precious little thing long before they arrive and they've never been happier about anything in their lives before

*note: i headcanon mori as a trans man, for those who are new to my blog/posts on here. pls don't tag this as like, omegaverse or au or anything, bc it's Not, it's just canon divergence. heavy canon divergence lmao but canon divergence nonetheless bc this is very much still with the intent of being in the general bsd universe

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bahrtofane · 7 months ago

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Promises under the stars - Carlos ending

Part 1

Part 1 Jude pov

Part 2 READ PT 2 FIRST PLEAAAZEEE

im begging read pt 2 before this pls. plz.

—

Here it is yall.

Why is there a Carlos ending? Good question ! While brain rotting with my dear dear friend it spiraled and we grew to love him too great and I couldn’t just let him suffer! He deserves an ending with his baby okay !!

Word count - 1.4k+

Watch it - alcoholic behavior galore. Miserable Jude. Mentions of child birth nothing descriptive tho

———

It turns out Jude is one stubborn mother fucker.

He’s everywhere you go to the point that you go through with the damn restraining order. Carlos cuts his hours in order to be home with you more due to the pregnancy and just to keep and eye out for any more bizarre events.

Little does he know what is to come.

——

At 2 pm Jude comes banging on your driveway gate, yelling and throwing curses at the both of you.

You’re taking a nap. Tuckered out from the mornings errands and the start of building your nursery in one of the spare rooms.

Carlos is sitting at the kitchen table reading his emails when he hears the noise.

He calls the police and watches from the front door as they drag Jude off screaming and in tears.

He tells you about it when you wake about an hour later. It’s all over the news anyway. Madrid star jailed for public intoxication and violation of a restraining order.

You both decide heading to Spain for the rest of your pregnancy might be best. You refused a doula, you wanted it to be much more intimate. But the stress is starting to get to you. Tremors and headaches, nights spent worrying.

“It will pass.” Carlos promises. Kissing your knuckles softly.

——-

Jude can't think straight. In every breath he smells the perfume you wore last time he saw you at that damn cafe.

When he closes his eyes he sees you being grabbed away from him. Pregnant with his child.

In his dreams he’s tormented by a shadowed of a future that can not be.

Jude thinks there’s a million better endings than this one. That if he were to die right now he would cheer.

There is no one to comfort him. Not in a way that matters. His family no longer talks to him and his house is much too big to be alone in. He still fears the darkness. The unknown.

Instead he buys time with alcohol. Drinking till he can’t see straight. Never mind if he has practice or a game.

He parties so hard he never remembers what he did the night before.

He gets slower on the pitch. Making messy tackles and ending up with unnecessary cards and his temper becomes a liability.

He’s gotten multiple takings. You need to calm down Jude they keep saying. How can he calm down with so much rage, a rage that’s almost as old as he is.

How can he forget you ?

——

You get to Spain and feel like you’re going to pop, even though you know you have a few months left.

His mother clears out rooms for you on the first floor so you can avoid going up and down the stairs too much.

“Have you thought of names?” His dad asks at dinner.

You shrug, “not really. We haven’t had the chance to sit down and think about it properly. “

He hums, knife sliding against his plate.

Carlos has a hand on your knee, rubbing his fingers softly against the material of your dress. Dresses are the only thing that fit you anymore. The only thing you feel comfortable enough in.

His sisters stop by with gifts for the baby, their husband as well. Each giving you hugs and kisses.

“Oh I can’t wait.” Blanca smiles, giving your shoulder a squeeze.

You have a little gender reveal in the living room. Just a cake in your pajamas while everyone is at home. His parents are smiling wide, phones out. His sisters watch with eyes wide, leaning into their husbands.

You and Carlos cut into it, hands on the knife as it sinks in. Pink icing on the knife. You’re having a girl.

——-

The nursery gets finished a few weeks before your due date. She’s going to be a summer baby. It fits well.

The house is filled with people in and out to come visit you. And soon comes the family reunion.

You’re forced to sit and relax, rolling your eyes watching the prep going on around you.

When the now familiar faces fill the home you greet them with a smile and they all shower you in compliments and well wishes. It turns more into a baby shower, gifts pouring in til, the nursery is full of them.

Carlos sticks to your side like glue. A hand on your back helping you get to your seat and settled. “Need more pillows?”

You shake your head, “I’m good my love thank you. “

He kisses your temple and the dinner service begins.

This time you understand more of what his mother says in the toast. She even welcomes your baby into the family and you can’t stop smiling. She’s done so much for you. There’s no woman you’d want as your mother in law more than her. Reyes is so so kind. How can you ever repay her kindness?

You retire to your room early into the night. Already tired from being on your feet more than usual. Carlos joins you, even if you insist that he can stay out and mingle he follows you. Drawing the curtains and getting your bed ready.

He presses a kiss to your stomach when you’re situated. “She’s almost here.” He whispers.

You smile, “I know. I still can’t believe it.”

“Me neither. “

“What did you want to name her anyway?”

He hums, rubbing a hand along your stomach, “I don’t really know. I like typical Spanish names. Maybe like Rosalia. What do you think.”

“I think that I have someone I want to name her after.”

“Really?”

You nod, “your mother. You think she’d like it? I want to give her two first names and the second would be Reyes.”

Carlos turns to his side, cradling your face in his hands. “Oh sweetheart she’s going to love it. I love it. Are you sure?”

You kiss his nose. “I’m sure. “

——-

You have your baby in a nearby hospital. A little bundle no more than 6 pounds. Crying out while you hold her close. Carlos is crying. And so are you.

Her name is just like you wanted. Your favorite flower is her first and Reyes the second. And of course she gets the insanely long full Sainz family full name. The nurse runs out of room when she writes it all down. Takes an extra piece of paper but it fits. Eventually.

His parents visit you with flowers a day later.

“Look at her name.” Carlos tells his mother.

She takes a closer look, and bursts into tears. “She has my name.” She cries into her husband's arms.

“I hope you like it.” You sniffle, unable to stop your own tears.

She wraps her arms around you gently, “oh I love it. I love it so so much.”

You don’t invite your parents. Them coming to the wedding was enough for you. They can meet her when the time comes. Too much meddling in your life has turned you distant to them at best. Oh well.

When you make it back home you’re greeted to a home cooked meal made by his sisters. All of your favorites and boy do you dig in.

Everyone is excited to see her. Little fingers reaching out into the world.

Carlos holds her flush to his chest when you get settled for the night.

“Our baby. My little girl. She’s so beautiful.” He kisses her head.

You smile, fixing the hat she has on. “You’re going to be such a good dad Carlos.” You kiss his cheek.

He flushes, “you think?”

You nod, watching him set her down into her crib.

“I know it.”

You didn’t know it was possible to love more. But your girl is proving you wrong. And everyone else in the family it seems. They’re obsessed with her.

She’s going to know so much love.

Things did work out in the end. With Carlos and your baby sleeping peacefully in the same room and the moonlight dancing through the curtains, it was all worth it in the end.

You whisper a different promise under the stars. This time it’s for your family. For your baby. For Carlos. For his family who have opened their home to you.

The stars twinkle back at you and you find peace. You’ve found it, tucked away in the Spanish countryside. Your peace has finally come.

#jude x reader #PUTS bahr #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz x y/n #carlos sainz x female reader #carlos sainz fanfic #carlos sainz fic #carlos sainz angst #carlos sainz fluff

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dellalyra · 1 year ago

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𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗥𝗼𝗮𝗱 𝘁𝗼 𝗛𝗲𝗮𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗴 - ꜰᴀᴍɪʟʏ ꜰᴏʀᴍᴀᴛɪᴏɴꜱ

pixie says: i am healing and yes - i have written family formations. this is my fix it fic - canon be damned. family formations is happiness only. this fic is what i would like to see as the ending of the final battle of jjk. cw: angsty at the start, but also sweet, bittersweet stuff, canon typical gore, creative liberties and lots of spoilers if you’re not okay w that go away and mdni bc I said so.

“I won’t ask you not to go.”

“Good. I wouldn’t listen to you anyway.”

“Yaknow, when we were 16 I thought your stubbornness would ease off with age.”

“You’re the one who married me.”

“Best choice I ever made.”

You can’t help but smile at the man laying on the bed beside where you stood. Black and blue bruises fading to green on his usually unmarred skin evidence of the toll the fight took on his body - which he barely escaped with his life. The deep laceration on his stomach only stemmed by the work of your best friend who had cried into your arms several days prior saying she had been terrified she couldn’t save him for you, for the kids.

Yet, she did.

She saved him, and your son.

Your son who spent most of his time asleep, body recovering from weeks of torture and mind melding itself back together with love and care.

Your husband’s cursed energy was burnt out. The usual bottomless pit was drained to bring him back to you and extract your son from his own body. He was injured, his eyes were okay, all six of them and he’s alive and he’s safe and he’s okay.

Then the announcement came.

You all knew it would come.

The final challenge.

Kenjaku’s challenge.

There was no dissuading Yuuji, not ever but especially now he knows the truth of his parentage. Choso too, pain and suffering bottled for 150 years is a powerful motivator. Yuuta - he was going to protect everyone, no matter who he had to face. Inumaki? Was not leaving Yuuta to face this without him. Maki’s rage fuelled a fire within her, the loss of so many people making her ready to ‘bitch slap’ him, as she so delicately put.

To top it all off.

You.

Like hell were you letting these kids go alone. Were you scared? Infinitely. Only a fool would say they weren’t. You knew the risks, a widower, a baby without a mother, weddings you’d never see.

They were risks you had to take.

For Megumi. For Yuuji. Two boys who deserve a love filled future.

For Tsumiki. Your daughter snatched from your hands.

For Nanami. A brother in arms, a best friend, a mentor and a godfather.

For Akio - to grow up safe.

For your ‘Toru. He deserved to not fight anymore. He deserved peace - you both did. He deserved the life you spoke about at night in bed curled in his arms.

For Geto. For the man who was your brother in all but blood. For one half of a whole. For a future ripped apart by trauma and a body desecrated.

Satoru knew you’d go. He held you tight as his wounds would allow and protested his attendance but you and Shoko pointed out to him that his current condition would make him someone to be protected - not vice versa.

He grit his teeth and cursed.

He believed in you. Your strength and courage and immense abilities.

But that didn’t make him any less scared.

He wondered if this was how you felt.

Megumi has been sleeping for going on 24 hours now. You don’t wake him. Neither does Yuuji.

Satoru looks at you.

You sit on the bed beside him.

“Satoru. We both know this might now work in our favour. We both know I might not -” you start, breath shaky but determined.

“Absolutely not. Don’t you dare say it, Princess.” He says, grasping your cheek.

“Satoru. Listen to me. If I don’t come back, I want to go with the knowledge you’ve heard all of this. If I die, take Megumi - go find Akio, bring Shoko and the students. Leave Japan. No more fighting, I want you to live. I want you to see our sons first day of school, Megumi’s graduation, all of it. I want your world filled with love and happiness even if I lose I don’t want to be avenged. Fuck vengeance, just live. Live for our boys, make a shrine for ‘Miki, and Suguru, and Nanamin.” You say, tears flowing.

“Y/N, please - please don’t talk -” Satoru says, head buried in your neck.

“I have to. It’s important to me. You deserve to live, ‘toru. You deserve love, and happiness.”

“How can I have those if you’re not there?” He says.

“Because we have two beautiful boys who adore their daddy very much, and I’d never be gone completely. You - Gojo Satoru - have been the light of my life, the blood in my veins and the air in my lungs since we were 16. I am so, so grateful to have had you in this life, and I know you love me the same.” You say, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

“I’ve loved you since the moment you got mad at me for picking a daisy a ladybug sat on. I can’t imagine an existence without you, and it runs so deep that I think my soul has merged with yours. You have always, always, been everything to me - and every day I’ve loved you more. My, sweet, brave girl.” He chokes.

All you can do is let out a watery laugh as you kiss him, soft and gentle.

“You made me promise to come home. I need you to do the same, princess.” He says, and you stick out a pinky finger which he takes in his own.

“Pinky promise.” You say, because you’re going to do everything to come home to your boys.

You stand, and yelp as a large hand smacks the globe of your asscheek.

“Go kick some cursed booty, Princess.” He says, smiling.

“Aye, aye, captain.” You blow him as kiss and he catches it, pretending to eat it.

The door softly closes behind you.

Seeing Kenjaku again was jarring. Satoru was right, your eyes saw Geto - but your soul knew otherwise. An oppressive power circled him as he teased and taunted before Choso lunged and the battle begun.

Curses swarmed like locusts all around, and you all moved in perfect formation - you fought back a comment that the mornings they grumbled at training were worthwhile after all.

Inumaki brought up the rear, a layer of protection casting an eye over the battlefield.

Maki - wasn’t the Maki you saw the last time you witness her in action. She’s lethal, a hurricane of destruction and terrifying rage as she brutally slaughters all in her path, and you swell with pride.

Yuuji and Yuuta - seamless in tandem with each other as strong fists flung them toward Yuuta’s swinging blade as they cleared a path to the centre.

Choso was engaged directly with Kenjaku - screams of rage and fury built of years of trauma swirled through the air along with shards of pure crimson as father and son clashed.

You were everyone’s back up, flashes of green pulsing around as soon as anyone became too close for your comfort to any of the others, protection second nature in your subconscious as you ripped through enemies with dagger and claws, ripping limb from limb to exorcise the curses and the raw grief in your body.

Out of the corner of your eye, a lethal looking serpentine curse lunged toward Yuuji - currently wrestling another monstrosity and you knew he hadn’t noticed it - you wouldn’t get there in time. Just as you shouted his name as it was inches from his head a whizzing rushed past your ear and toward the curse, which you saw crumble in a heap beside a gaping Itadori.

You move to run to him, but you don’t get far before a voice sounds from behind you.

“Looks like I still need to do everything around here, eh, Itadori?”

That voice.

You both spin on your heels, and behind you, hammer in hand - stood Nobara Kugisaki.

You blinked.

Presumed dead, as Shoko had refused to speak of it - she had done it.

Shoko had healed her too, and black leather eyepatch covered one side of her face but she was smirking, a hand on her hip.

“No fucking way! ‘Bara!” Yuuji says, barrelling toward her - his honorary twin sister.

He scoops her up and she thrashes.

“Put me down you oaf! I nearly died, don’t kill me again!” She shouted.

“You’re really here, Nobara?” You say, tears flooding your eyes.

“As fabulous as ever, Y/N-sensei.” She winked and threw herself into your arms.

“Eh - as much as I love this vibe guys could I have some help please, Itadori?” Comes the voice of Yuuta, snapping you all out of it as Yuuji drops his best friend and runs away to him calling ‘sorry, senpai!’.

Nobara runs to your left - to provide back up for Maki as the frenzy resumes.

Hours pass, but before you can comprehend how many - all that’s left is a smirking Kenjaku surrounded by 7 warriors.

You stride forward, dropping your blades and stopping right in front of him.

“What are you doing?!” Shouts Maki.

The clatter of the daggers is sharp against the silence. Kenjaku’s blank face looks down at you.

“I know you’re in there Nii-chan. I know you can hear me. I’m sorry we couldn’t save you, but we love you. All of us. ‘Toru and I had a baby, you’d love him. I’m also sorry for what I’m about to do.” You say.

In the blink of an eye, you whirl back your fist and drive it straight into his nose. The curse reels as he stumbles - unexpected force from your smaller body fueled by rage.

The momentary distraction works as you begin to pull out your trump card - hoping to weaken him before he can use his.

You hear Inumaki shout ‘shield your eyes’ to all the kids as your body begins to emit a strong, golden light - searing everything in its path as a screech echoes from Kenjaku - the tarmac beneath you bubbling from the energy emitted as you shout: “Cursed Technique - forbidden technique - sunbeam.”

As the screeching ends, and the light fades it’s visible effect is clear as patches of skin have melted from the body leaving bone exposed and the top of the head protecting the brain of Kenjaku is exposed - with you panting on your knees as Kenjaku attempts to regain himself. The fury on his face alerts Yuuji who grabs Choso who immediately understands, running toward you to scoop you up and away. Yuuji barrels toward and everyone begins to scream as you see Kenjaku’s hand making the sign required.

Uzumaki.

You all brace for impact but the shockwave and death of Yuuji never came. When your eyes all open, a black dome is covering the area both men were. It’s solid surface impenetrable - no matter who you were. Just as you think to summon your domain to override you look - that’s not a domain with traces of Kenjaku.

Those traces…

Yuuji Itadori.

“Stop! Stop! No domains!” You shout to the kids.

“What?!” Maki responds.

“It’s not Kenjaku’s. This domain - its Yuuji’s. This is Yuuji’s domain! He did it!” You say, beaming - pride and astonishment mixed with exhaustion.

“She’s right. This is my brothers energy.” Choso agrees.

“Holy shit, it is.” Nobara chimes in.

“We can only wait.” Yuuta says, anxiously leaning on his sword.

This battle was between the two in the domain now, having no idea what Yuuji’s domain would be left you all blind.

You were gently sat on the ground, a characteristic you learned was intrinsic to Choso by now - someone who you have grown to count as a very special friend over the last few months.

You wait.

And wait.

Nobara curled up beside you, as Maki filled her in on all she’d missed. You didn’t miss the whimper when she was told of Megumi’s imprisonment.

And after 20 minutes, Inumaki’s soft voice jolts you all.

“Look.”

The domain was fading, melting from above.

It lowered like melting ice and the dust within cleared until a backlit figure stood beside a crumpled lump on the ground. The figure was heaving air into their lungs.

The body walked forward.

“YUUJI!” Came 7 voices.

The lump. Kenjaku. Corpse mangled and bloody and a grizzly mass of brain matter was coating the ground as slowly disintegrating into dust.

He did it.

He killed Kenjaku.

“Little brother, you did it! Are you hurt?” Choso grasped his exhausted younger brother and Yuuji shook his head and you saw a weak smile on his bloodied face.

“Y/N?” Itadori rasps.

“Yes, sweet boy?” You smile, hand on his cheek and tears on your face.

“Can we go home now?” He says.

You huff out laughing.

“Let’s go home, sweetheart.”

Yuuta on one side and Choso on the other, helping the exhausted boy - they all began to walk away.

“Are you coming?” Nobara asks, as you crouch down beside the corpse.

You whip out your phone, clicking a contact and pressing the share location button.

“You guys go ahead. I’ll be there soon. Yuuta, help patch up Yuuji.”

They all exchange looks but go ahead anyway.

You sit down. Looking at the body, and fix the top part of the head so it sits where it should.

Before long, you hear footsteps behind you and someone sits beside you.

“He’d go crazy if he saw his hair that messy.” Shoko huffed.

“He’d probably blame Satoru.” You respond and she smirks, lighting a cigarette.

“You hurt?” She asks.

“No. Just… tired.” You say, leaning your head on the shoulder of your best friend.

“Me too.” She leans to close his eyes.

“He would have been so proud of all of us, Koko. He always said you’d look hot in a lab coat.”

“He would have had Akio hanging from him 24/7 too, kids always loved him for some reason.” She mentions and you both laugh. Her head rests on yours.

There’s silence for a few minutes.

“He looks peaceful, doesn’t he? Like how he used to look when he’d sleep on my lap under the tree.” Shoko says, voice thick.

“We can pretend for a moment that he is just asleep.” You say.

“I’m glad Satoru isn’t here.” You confess and she nods.

“Koko?” You whisper.

“Yeah?” She says, squishing her cigarette out.

“We can take him home now. Do it right.” You say, tears forming again.

“Somewhere close, so I can sit and have a smoke with him sometimes.” She agrees.

You stand, holding your hand out - the remnants of your cursed energy forming a floating box of vines around the body, neither of you could carry him so you’d create a way to transport him home.

You turn your hand to her, the vines levitating behind you.

She grabs your hand.

“Let’s go see your husband.” She says, wiping her face as you walk hand in hand back to base.

Walking toward healing, and a safe future.

#jjk #jjk x reader #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo fluff #family formations extras #jjk spoilers #family formations #gojo angst

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spoonfulofmilo · 9 months ago

Note

Could you do fic for James Vowles with wife reader? With her being in the Williams garage, she witnessed Alex and Danny incident at the Japan GP and was so worried about them that she ended up going to James at the pitwall for his comfort. He decided to hug her while calming her down and going to both of the drivers to make sure they're okay. Just something fluff and little angst. Add something if you want to. Thanks!! :)))

what is it with me only getting these fics out like 2-3 weeks after the race, anyway, it's again so short but my mental health is suffering right now, so, and im happy with it the length it is.

my masterlist can be accessed here

Please keep requesting - y'all have awesome ideas we agree on a lot of stuff :) - my guidelines are here, and if you want some prompts, they are here.

also feel free to come in and start chatting to me in my asks, would love to get to know y'all better

and if you want to be added to my taglist lmk :)

---

“Come on Logan, show ‘em why you deserved to be in the car last weekend.”

Logan nodded as he pulled his helmet on and gave a thumbs up and a fist bump to Y/N. It was her first weekend at the grand prix, as she preferred to stay at home, and let James call her to give her an update. But James had been pleading with her to come ‘just once’ and after the disaster weekend they’d had in Australia, she had braved the timezone and flown out for Japan.

She sat down on the folding chairs with the rest of the pit crew, while PR managers and assistants and anyone who liked James, which was 90% of the garage, was trying to persuade her to sit on a more comfortable chair. She shook her head smiling, insisting she was fine as long as she wasn’t in the way, on the folding chair, with the pit crew.

James shook his head fondly, gazing at his wife as she chatted to Alex’s race engineer, before he slung his headset on and walked out to the pit wall.

Unfortunately the joy in the Williams garage lasted all of about 1 corner. A cheer erupted as they all got through turn 1 okay, but it was yelled too soon.

“As they make their way through AND OFF INTO THE WALL, off into the wall goes the 2 cars, and a big crash into the tire barrier,”

“Yeah, that’s going to be an immediate safety car, a heavy impact for Ricciardo and Albon…”

“Red flag, red flag.”

Y/N could see the anger as the mechanics grew angry, yelling stuff, but it all felt muffled underwater, as the camera cut to a replay of the crash. She sat there, staring as she watched Daniel and Alex’s cars clobber the barriers again.

So much for good luck this weekend. She watched as Daniel hopped out of the car, and she saw that Alex was having a little trouble due to the tyres almost balanced perfectly on his halo.

She heard the other cars filtering into the pits and as the pit crews dash around the cars Y/N escape through the garage and up to the pit wall, where she spotted James chatting to some of the other mechanics. She quickly crossed the pit lane and hopped up to the pitwall.

“Hey darling, what are you doing here?”

Y/N didn’t know what to say to that. What was she doing here? She looked at her husband trying to convey all of her current thoughts through her eyes. Thankfully he seemed to get the message and embraced her in a hug.

“Don’t worry, don’t worry, they’re both fine, they’re both okay. The red flag is because the barrier is destroyed and they’ll be here before the end of the red flag, okay? I’m sorry darling, that must have been terrifying to see that crash, especially when you have no information. How about you stay here, I think Alex and Daniel will come from there,” he pointed somewhere, Y/N wasn’t paying attention properly “so they’ll walk past here and you can see that they’re completely safe and sound.”

Y/N nodded at that, and snuggled in further to her husband’s embrace as he asked about tyres for Logan’s restart and discussed new strategy, keeping an eye out for the 2 drivers.

come walking down the pit lane. She careful extracted herself from James’ embrace, he nodded as he saw the 2 drivers arriving.

Y/N ran over and embraced them both in a hug, ignoring the commentators comments of ‘mom’ and ‘awwww’ and she pulled them in close and started rambling

“Oh my god, are you okay, that was a big crash, are you sure you don’t need to go to the medical centre, wait, hang on, what’s the test, uuhhhh, how many fingers am i holding up?”

“2, Y/N, relax, we’re okay.” Daniel put a hand on her shoulder

“Y/N breathe okay, I know that was a big crash and that I think was your first big crash while being here, so I’d imagine it's a little scary, but it’s okay. We’re both okay, Daniel and I in one piece.” Alex pulled her into a hug, before releasing her.

Y/N didn’t trust her voice, just nodding and furiously wiping away at the tears falling down her face.

“C’mon, I’ll get you back to James and then by the time the red flag is over, I’ll be back from media and we can watch the race together, okay?”

Y/N nodded again, smiling more than she was as Alex led her back to James.

“Keep her safe until I get back, yeah boss?”

“Oh come on Alex, you don’t trust me with my own wife?”

---

taglist: @leosxrealm, @tallrock35, @wolf-knights, @janeholt3, @pear-1206

#f1 x reader #miloformula123fan #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #james vowles x reader #james vowles #james vowles fanfic #james vowles fic #james vowles x female reader #james vowles x you #james vowles x y/n

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bluebellhairpin · 1 year ago

Text

Erwin Smith X Wife!Reader

Summary: The aftermath of your first murder opens a whole new door on your sexual escapades with your husband. He is more than eager to help you figure out if you like it or not. (word count; 3.4K < )

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI. NSFW - Porn with almost no plot. DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT (if you don't like it, don't read it) Cannibalistic themes (Both in the literal sense and as a love metaphor). Sexual themes and Smut (Oral - receiving. Blood kink (menstrual specifically). (Unprotected sex + penetrative sex but focuses on the oral more.)) Reader; has female anatomy, has periods.

Listening to: 'Dinner & Diatribes' by Hozier - "I'd suffer Hell if you'd tell me... Scarcely can speak for my thinking of what you'd do to me tonight."

Series Masterlist || AO3 Link || Masterlist || Ko-Fi

“Then I examined my own heart. And there you were. Never, I fear, to be removed.” - Jane Austen, 'Emma'

You didn’t realize quite how serious Erwin was. You didn’t even know how you thought about it. You didn’t really think much about it anyway.

Admittedly, despite how lust-filled your mind was in the moment (and perhaps the memory was tainted? But who were you to argue) you couldn’t help the feelings that swelled in your lower belly at the thought of your husband between your legs for something so unusual.

Something so many thought was untouchable, or dirty.

At the time he seemed very enthusiastic about it - his words rang through your head still days after. It was like your heart was clutching to them like they were the last pearls in a jewelry box.

“The things I would do for a chance to be between your legs while you bleed life right into my mouth.”

You realized that it must’ve been pure coincidence that it hadn’t come up before.

Sure, certain aspects would probably have produced more questions that, at the time, he would’ve been unable to answer. But now you knew his habits, his tendencies, the unnatural appetite he had towards human flesh - now he knew you supported them, he had no reason to hold back. He had no reason to hide just how carnal his desire for you ran.

So he didn’t.

The kitchen island where the sink was, allowed you to look out over the dining room and patio outside. Erwin was out again tonight, so the dishes you washed up were all your own from the day - despite how quiet it was, your mind was loud.

You were wondering why killing that cashier wasn’t bothering you more. First murders were meant to be the most memorable. Perhaps your lack of reaction - the numbness you felt where grief or shock should be - maybe that was your reaction.

But you held no pity or remorse for the woman who still lay unbutchered in your freezer downstairs. You believed whole-heartedly that she deserved it.

With the last plate put on the drying rack, you pulled the plug from the sink and watched the bubbles fade away. You knew exactly where your next stop was. It wasn’t even seven, but bed had been calling you all day - if only to curl up somewhere warm to alleviate the aches and pains that came with the first few days of your dreaded period.

The lock on the front door clicked, and with a shudder it opened and closed again to welcome your husband home. He was early. Again.

Oh how you enjoyed his company. You always had, he knew just when you needed the peace of quiet, when you needed space for yourself, he knew when you needed a warm body pressed against your own, and he knew when you needed to be sedated with a warm womb of cum. He could read you like a book - he had a vast collection of those, but if you asked he’d say his favorite always had been you.

With his shoes, jacket, and briefcase put aside, he walked over with a tired smile and a quiet greeting. Erwin came up beside you, ignoring your wet hands as he took one in his while the other found its home around your waist.

“How has your evening been?” he asked, mouth firmly pressed to your temple in some sort of kiss between words.

“Slow,” you sighed, leaning into his side, “Lower back has been a pain.” You could almost hear how Erwin’s eyebrows creased in concern.

“What for?” he said, leaning back partially to get a good look at your face. “You know I prefer you doing strenuous things with me around, then you don’t hurt yourself.”

You tsked him, shaking your head with a light smile.

“Honey it’s always like that when I’m on my period.” You could see it on his face, how he processed what you’d said. How his eyes darkened and his grip of your waist drew you in slightly closer.

“Oh?”

His voice was soft, curious, but the look in his eye told you it was nothing but innocent. He was far too sly for that. Far too devious. Had a far too large bloodlust. The way his eyes were flicking lower wasn’t telling you that he wanted a kiss - no, he was eyeing a place much lower.

And, currently much messier.

“I know that look.” you said, and your hand curled up around the still-fresh collar of his dress shirt. “Didn’t know what it was about less than a week ago, but now…”

Your words trailed off, quiet. An unspoken understanding went though you both - he of hunger, you of curiosity. What would it feel like to have your husband feeding himself full of the blood that slipped out from your cunt?

You felt yourself shift, an ache started to build between your legs, and your breathing became more apparent as your chest pressed against his. Erwin’s arm snaked around your waist, a firm hold taken in order to safely turn and cart you away without having to separate. Nothing was even happening yet and you knew exactly how much he didn’t want to part from you - you felt quite the same way.

It didn’t take long for Erwin’s mouth to attach to your neck after you’d been laid on your bed. Your legs had already spread to accommodate his hips, and the slow - barely there - drag of his clothed crotch on yours.

He was filled with as much lust as he was hunger. Erwin could feel it, deep in the very marrow of his bones that he’d need all night for his feelings to fade. The more he thought about it happening - how willing you were to let him do what he most truly desired - the more his need grew. And his need to return the favor grew too.

Erwin would bleed himself dry to fill your cup, carve the flesh right off his bones to make sure you were never hungry again. But that would have to wait. You had much to do together before that time came.

As he felt you whimper under his tongue, while his teeth slowly sunk in and out of your shoulders and neck, his hands wandered. He felt light headed at the thought of what lay waiting for him beneath your clothing. The mild summer air had left you in almost scraps of clothes even though you’d been inside all day, he had to steady his breathing just so he didn’t tear them completely apart.

He knew you liked these shorts.

Erwin’s hands found their way under your shirt, slowly pushing the fabric up over your stomach and chest until you had to raise your arms to let him take it off completely. He - unfortunately - had to break away from your delicious skin to do so, however - fortunately - the sight he was left with made his cock swell again.

It wasn’t something he’d never seen before, he’d seen all of you many times, almost had the sight committed to memory. But this was different. The way he saw your chest rise and fall, eyes half-lidded, and body completely trembling under him. He could see how badly you needed him, it was spoken without words.

The blood running through your veins, the breath in your lungs - he felt like he could see your very heart beating in your chest and it drove him wild.

He couldn’t help but lean down and claim your lips in a long, deep kiss. You groaned into his mouth when he rutted into your covered cunt again, and he broke away to see your lips swollen and glossy.

“Are you ready for this?” he asked. “Because sweetheart once I start on you, I doubt I’ll want to stop until you stop bleeding.” His voice was soft, but even he could hear the edge added by his own desperation to get started. However the way you were looking at him - something wasn’t quite right. “Does it make you uncomfortable?”

“No.” you replied, breathless.

“But something’s wrong.” he took your chin in his hand, gently trailing his thumb across your lower lip. “Tell me.” he said, casting a spell to demand your words to fall right into his palm.

“It’s so…” you started, shifting under him - still from arousal - but trying to find the right words while your brain was covered in a fog. “Are you sure you want to do this? It’s not - it’s so - you don’t have to.”

“But you want me to, don’t you?” he asked. His other hand moved, trailing down your body to press down on a spot just above your clothed slit. “I can feel it. Right here.” Oh his lips he felt your breath leave your mouth in a hushed huff, and felt how your hips chased his hand as he pulled it away.

“Yes, I - I really would like to try. Just this once. You don’t have to again.”

“Honey, remember who you’re talking to.” He said, making sure you were looking into his eyes as he spoke. “I already know that once this is over I will be completely filled with longing for the chance to do it again. To me your womb is always ripe for the taking.” With his words his hands both took hold of your hips, slipping under the cloth, ready and waiting. “I’ll ask once more. Are you ready for this?”

You looked up at him with a soft smile, and Erwin knew that look in your eyes - the one that could be filled with cartoonish pink hearts, almost unfit for such a scene as this.

“Yes.”

You found out very quickly that Erwin left very little room for you to move.

On a normal day, he would eat you out and urge you to do with him as you pleased. You could hump his mouth and grind into his nose as much as you wished, often he begged for it. Right now, however, that was not the case.

You couldn’t even do so much as start to lift your hips off the sheets. Erwin’s arm lay slung over your hips, pressing you into the mattress in a show of strength you’d only seen him muster when working as a butcher, brutally and in your basement.

With a curl of his fingers inside your cunt, you keened once more with your heels digging into the crisp fabric adorning Erwin’s back. You tried to move, to rut further for more, however it only made Erwin stop. He pulled away, and your head lifted off your pillow to look down at him.

“Try that one more time and I’ll give you a real reason not to.” You then thought of how alike Erwin could’ve been to a predatory animal hunched over a carcass.

He was all dark eyes and ruffled hair, with a string of your slick and blood threading his chin to your pussy. From you he truly was taking what he wanted, and he wasn’t even going to let you stop him from having his way. It almost frightened you, how easily he was holding you down. But he had never done it before - how he must have held back in times like these. Now though he was letting go - all for the taste your blood brought.

It made your chest heave, and your cunt clench onto his fingers. That made him grin - because of course there was no way he wouldn’t notice how tightly you were gripping his digits - and his once pearly white teeth were stained pink and red, yet to be licked clean by a greedy tongue.

“Of course you’d like that. What a dirty thing you are. You never cease to surprise me.” he said, then lent down to lick you from where his fingers nestled in your heat up to your clit, long and slow. “But I don’t want to hurt you, not right now. So don’t move.”

You swallowed, nodding. Your head fell back and he returned to his meal. Between his thrusting fingers and the way his lips suckled on your clit, you wondered just how far he could go while devouring you. How far he would go. Even how far you’d let him.

You couldn’t lie and say none of it appealed to you. Maybe you were more fucked up than Erwin was, with how a strong rush of heat went to your core at the thought of him stripping your bones clean of their marrow with his need. His fingers curled to just the right spot to push your high ever closer, and you had a moment of clarity before it all came crashing down.

How romantic it was that your husband was so truly consumed by his love that he had to physically feast on parts of you in order to sedate himself.

After a moment, as your eyes slowly stopped fluttering behind your eyelids, Erwin’s hand slid around your waist to rest on your back, and as he moved himself to kneel on the bed he pulled you up and into his lap. Your legs were pulled so your knees pressed against each side of his hips, your thighs spread wide over his own. His other hand was still snug inside your cunt, slowly scissoring, pushing and pulling, teasing enough in your post-orgasm bliss to leave you open-mouthed and moaning into his neck.

If he kept it up, your lips would be drooling all over his collar as much as your slick drooled all over his thighs.

With a squelch of your cunt, you caught Erwin’s eyes casting themselves lower, and he pulled back. His eyes were fixed on the hand that had crept out from between your legs, and the way his lips parted in awe made you curious. What could render him so speechless?

There, sitting really quite innocently in the space just below Erwin’s pointer and middle finger, was a clot.

They weren’t unfamiliar to you. Lumps of tissue and blood that passed each month like clockwork had left you curious too - you knew what they were and they never worried you, it left you in awe at the way your body worked more than it disgusted you. However Erwin was being unreadable. It made you start to shift away.

“Don’t.” Erwin said, grip on you vice-tight in warning. So you chose to wait. To watch and see what he would do next.

He took the lump between his fingers, prodding it, spreading it over his palm. Inspecting it with curious fingers and eyes. When his hand stilled, your eyes flicked back up to his face, watching as his eyes softened to a dark wonder, and as his tongue wet his bottom lip.

He brought his hand to his mouth, licking it clean - clot, tissue, blood and all. His eyes closed, rolling into the back of his skull. It made a strange lump form in your throat, and your core clench with some sick sense of want. But how sick could it be if you both wanted it that bad?

His now mostly clean and wet hand met your body again. Both hands found a place on your ribs just below the sides of your breasts and trailed down. His eyes opened, meeting yours, but you couldn’t help but watch as his jaw moved, cleaning over his teeth as if sucking the last of you to his tongue and down his throat.

His throat which was now stained inside and out with your blood.

Something about it made you sigh wistfully, relaxing to his touch and threading almost limp arms around his shoulders. Waiting to be cleaned and put to bed. Unlike you, Erwin could always read you - he knew what you were thinking, and the smile on his face told you clearly that you weren’t on the same page as him.

“Do you think we’re finished?” Erwin asked, pushing his crotch into yours, uncaring about the mess of slick and blood he was getting over his once pristine slacks. “I’m not planning on stopping until we’re both spent, and as you can feel, I’m nowhere near done yet.” His hands found home on your hips and pulled your spread legs closer so your core was flush to his hard cock.

“Erwin…” you said, breathless as one hand found the soft hairs on the back of his neck. His nose bumped into your cheek, mouth landing on yours for one soft moment when your voice trailed off.

“What is it?” he asked. His voice was soft, despite the hard and slow back and forth his hands guided your hips. It made your heart swell as your breathing hitched and you pressed yourself closer still - to his cock, his chest, his hands and face, anywhere he’d let you be.

“I’m aching for you.” you replied, shifting in his lap and working your hands down to start tugging his shirt out from where it was tucked into his pants. You mouthed at his jaw and neck, tasting all sorts of yourself on your tongue. His arm pressed you closer, wordlessly stilling your movements. ‘Calm’ he spoke, ‘be with me here, in this moment’.

“Tell me what you want from me.” he said, taking your cheek in his palm, “Anything. I am all yours.”

“I just need you.” you said. Like a key to a lock, his hold loosened, and your hands returned to their previous venture - getting as much of Erwin's clothes off as quickly as possible. While your fingers wandered, your mouth returned to licking his throat clean of your slick mess. “Fill me. Use me. Lay me here and do what you like, just don’t leave me empty.”

You could feel his groan resonate from his chest to yours, the hardness pressed to your pussy jumped. In a moment he kissed you, sharing a taste of him, you, and a twang of iron.

“Whatever you wish for sweetheart,” he murmured to your lips, shifting as he spoke and kissed you so he could add a third - undressing - to his growing list of things to do all at once, “I’ll give you everything and more.”

Somehow, among the mess of his lips on yours, he shed his clothes and had laid you back down onto the bed. He seemed almost content, despite you writhing beneath him for more, to just get his cock wet grinding into your cunt with your legs wrapped snug around his hips.

“Erwin please, stop teasing.” He pulled away from your mouth as you spoke, a hand resting beside your head while the other stilled your thigh.

“I know, I know, just,” He said, taking in a deep breath when his eyes dropped lower, “I’m going to need a second.”

You followed, taking in how his cock was tainted with his pre and your slick - and a sheen of pinky-red that bled into his dirty blond pubes. From how angry and hard Erwin’s cock was, and the flush on his cheeks, you could put two and two together.

“Are you gonna cum that fast just because there’s blood down there?”

“‘t’s your blood.” he replied, eyes screwed shut as he took in a deep breath and opened them again - seemingly recomposed.

“Still.” You smiled, reaching a hand up to coyly curl your fingers at the longer hairs near his ear.

“Don’t.” He warned, catching on to your internal plot to tease him further, brows furrowed and bottom lip sticking out in an almost-pout. You licked your bottom lip, getting a flavor of salt and metal, before kissing him again.

“I think I will.” You said, squeezing your legs around him, nudging his cock closer to your waiting pussy. “You being so turned on by it is kinda turning me on.”

Erwin only scoffed - mumbling something about how perfect you were - before kissing you again, deeply, and shifting his lower body so his tip caught on your clit before sliding lower. He entered slowly, letting you stretch around his girth, even though with all the fluids down there making it easier than usual. He seemed to be wanting to take his time, and despite how needy you were before it felt too good to complain.

You were more than happy to lay back and let him have his way with you, and he was more than willing to let you.

#cw blood #erwin smith x reader #erwin x reader #erwin smith x you #aot x reader #attack on titan x reader #snk x reader #erwin smith smut #erwin smut #aot smut

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kmomof4 · 6 months ago

Text

Return to Me: A New Fic for CSSNS24

Here is my second fic for the final @cssns!!

Ohhhhhh, I am SO EXCITED to share this fic with you!! I have to tell y'all, I thought I had an idea of what the original Dracula story looked like, and that idea is what inspired this fic. But turns out, I had no idea what Dracula was really about, which shouldn't have surprised me since I've never read the book nor seen any Dracula movie. Too much of a wimp... But anyway, that idea is where this fic came from, even if the idea bore almost no resemblance to the original story. Anyway, I hope you enjoy!!

@snowbellewells and @hollyethecurious deserve all the love and long distance internet hugs for their beta work on this fic. They both had suggestions and insights that made it so much better!!! Thank you so much, ladies!!!

@motherkatereloyshipper did her magic AGAIN on the artwork!! Isn't it gorgeous? Please give her ALL the love!!!

Summary: Vampire Killian Jones has been waiting for his bride to return to him for 250yrs, and now that she has, there are a couple of obstacles that must be overcome before they can truly be together. Will they succeed?

*Spoiler Alert*

Of course they will. Happy endings are ALWAYS guaranteed with me...

Words: 7300

Rating: M for violence and smut

Tags: CSSNS24, Vampires, Reincarnation, TLK, Happy Ending, Temporary Major Character Death

On ao3

Tagging the usuals. Please let me know if you'd like to be added or removed.

@jrob64 @winterbaby89 @hollyethecurious @the-darkdragonfly @jennjenn615

@donteattheappleshook @undercaffinatednightmare @pirateherokillian @cocohook38 @qualitycoffeethings

@booksteaandtoomuchtv @superchocovian @motherkatereloyshipper @snowbellewells @pirateprincessofpizza

@djlbg @lfh1226-linda @xarandomdreamx @tiganasummertree @bluewildcatfanatic

@anmylica @laianely @resident-of-storybrooke @exhaustedpirate @gingerchangeling

@caught-in-the-filter @ultraluckycatnd @stahlop @darkshadow7 @fleurdepetite

@captainswan-kellie @soniccat @beckettj @teamhook @whimsicallyenchantedrose

@thisonesatellite @jonesfandomfanatic @elfiola @zaharadessert @ilovemesomekillianjones

@mie779 @kymbersmith-90 @suwya @veryverynotgoodwrites

Under the cut, unless Tumblr ate it.

Return to Me

Queen Emma stood at the window in the highest tower of the castle she called home and watched as her love led their army away to fight King Malcolm - the despot of a cobbled together kingdom some leagues away, who’d now turned his sights on adding her husband’s small kingdom to his dominion.

She had no doubt that Killian would ultimately emerge victorious, but she couldn’t help the dread that squeezed her heart as she watched him march away, leading his men into battle. Their kingdom was small but prosperous, their people strong, loyal, and eager to defend their homeland and their Sovereign from the aggression of a very well-known and universally hated tyrant. The people of Malcolm’s kingdom were little more than slaves to his oppression, with no real strength or motivation, other than fear, to conquer strong and well-defended lands.

There was nothing she could do but hope and pray for his safe return to her, so she turned away from the window and prepared herself for the day ahead. She was no stranger to duty and was ready to fulfill hers while her beloved was away. It was important for the remaining people in her kingdom to see and to know that their welfare would not suffer while their Sovereign was absent. And that duty fell now to Emma alone. Just as her husband wouldn’t fail their kingdom, she would prevail in her charge as well.

Many hours later, a large hand slammed over Emma’s mouth, waking her from a sound sleep. The strangled scream that burst from her was muffled both by the offending appendage and the way she struggled within her assailant’s grasp. It was only moments before the hand was replaced with a gag that was stuffed in her mouth and a bag placed over her head. A strong arm was wrapped around her middle as she did everything she could to escape. There were several of them, as evidenced by the grasping hands trying to grab her flailing limbs. They were finally successful, and her hands and legs were bound securely as she was carried through the silent halls of the castle. The guards who should have defended their queen had obviously been dealt with when her kidnappers approached her chambers.

They emerged into the night, evidenced by the slight breeze against her bare arms. She was unceremoniously thrown into a cage of some sort - the wooden bars solid and tearing at her exposed skin. She tried to stand in her prison as, with a jerk, they began to move, but her tied hands and feet made that impossible. She fell into a heap, tears of pain and fear filling her eyes.

Still blinded by the bag over her head - the stink of it making it difficult to draw a deep breath - Emma tried her best to keep her wits about her and not panic.

Who were these men and where were they taking her?

~*~*~

She must have fallen asleep at some point in their journey, because she was jerked into wakefulness when they came to a sudden stop. The air didn’t seem as close now as when they set out from the castle, and the sounds of many horses and low murmurs among the clanking of iron told her she was in the camp of an army. King Malcolm must have sent men to kidnap her to give him an advantage in the coming battle. She could hear her captors dismounting and coming to the door of her cage.

She positioned herself as far away from the door as she possibly could. There was blessed little hope for escape, but she wouldn’t make it easy for them. The gate of her prison was opened and, from the lurching tilt of the cage, she knew the man who’d just climbed inside was quite large. She held her breath waiting for him to put his hands on her. She suppressed a shudder of revulsion as a large hand wrapped around her bound ankles and began to pull her forward. She wrinkled her nose in disgust as his stench reached her. The moment she perceived that she was close enough, she pulled her head back and then forcefully jerked it forward, hoping beyond hope that she’d make contact with some tender part of her aggressor’s anatomy.

A sickening crunch and a howl of pain reached her ears a moment later. The hand around her ankles disappeared, and Emma began kicking her legs, trying to keep anyone else from laying their hands on her person. But her victory was short-lived. Similar to the night before, strong arms wrapped around her middle and hauled her bodily out of the cage she’d traveled in.

She twisted and flailed as much as she could while in her captor’s grasp, until she was put down on her feet and tied securely to some kind of post or tree. Only then was the bag over her head removed.

She blinked furiously against the bright morning sunlight that was just cresting the hill on which she stood. Once her eyes focused, she could see the army bearing the colors of her kingdom on the opposite hill, on the other side of a small valley where the two armies would presumably meet in battle. The army and her beloved were too far away to see clearly, but she now knew with certainty who had kidnapped her and also had a pretty good idea of his plans for her.

She turned her head to the side to see King Malcolm, a gloating sneer on his face. Finally seeing him in person rather than conjuring him in her mind's eye, he wasn’t nearly as impressive as the tales made him out to be. He was only slightly taller than she was - certainly not as tall as Killian - stocky, and with straight hair the color of dirt. His teeth were yellow, though the beard and mustache he sported was neatly trimmed.

He stroked his chin as he moved toward her. “It’s a shame that I’ve already bound myself to Lady Fiona,” he mused, his sneer turning lascivious as he looked her up and down. “You’d make quite a lovely bride…”

His words came to a sudden stop when Emma spit in his face. He roughly grabbed her chin in his hand and moved closer to her, his face inches from her own. He stank, like the rest of his men, and Emma was glad she’d had nothing to eat for hours, or she would surely lose it from the foulness invading her nostrils.

“Now you listen here, you draggle-tail.” The sneer was back in full force, and Emma glared with all the animosity she held in her heart for this foul coward of a man. “The only reason you’re still alive is because I want to be sure King Killian sees what happens to those who defy me.” He turned away from her, and over his shoulder she could just see the line of her kingdom’s army charging down the hill toward the valley.

They were too far. He was too far. He’d never reach her in time. A calm resolve settled about her shoulders. King Malcolm intended to kill her to punish Killian. She could see him now at the front of the army, though he was still too far to make out any details of his beloved face.

She thought back over the past weeks and months of their lives together. Killian approaching her father to arrange their marriage. The flutter in her heart and instant connection she felt with him when she saw him for the first time as she entered the church to join her life to his. After their wedding, when she was escorted to her chambers - Killian explaining that he did not expect consummation of their marriage when they’d only met a few hours ago at the altar - turning to her husband and informing him that she expected consummation and would be sharing his bed henceforth. Killian’s affectionate appellation the exchange engendered. The days, and nights, since then, the love and happiness they’d found together.

She gasped in pain as the blade King Malcolm carried found its mark. Numbness spread through her body from the fatal wound as her lifeblood spilled to the ground below.

She could see Killian now, far enough ahead of the main line of the army, even as darkness encroached on her vision. His scream of anguish reached her ears even as she sagged against her bonds, her strength failing her. Her vision was blurring, but she struggled to keep her eyes on him until the last possible moment.

I love you, Killian.

Then her eyes closed and Emma knew no more.

~*~*~

Many, MANY years later

Killian awoke from his slumber at dusk, yet another long and lonely night stretched out before him. No different from every other night. He sighed, melancholy settling on his shoulders like a cloak. He didn’t know how much longer he could endure this lonely existence. But when he thought of the future - the future he was waiting for, that he’d been promised - he knew he could wait forever. To the end of the world, or time.

As he moved through the corridors of the castle, something came over him. He could smell a freshness in the air, a sense of anticipation that rivaled the longing for spring when the first crocuses and snowdrops pushed through the frozen ground.

Turning his attention to the village below his castle, he sent forth his preternatural hearing to try and locate the source of this difference in the air. The village was growing quiet as shopkeepers closed their doors, children were called inside, and families gathered around the table for the evening meal. All was as it should be. As King of this tiny kingdom, he took his duty to see to the welfare of his people seriously. Just as he had during his days of life. Even if it wasn’t strictly necessary any longer.

The inn on the edge of the village drew his attention as he focused in on the newcomer who’d just entered the common room. The kingdom didn’t have visitors. Since the day his existence had changed, no one but those specifically traveling here for some reason had ever come. So this man had a reason for being here, and Killian needed to know what it was. The man’s voice had an oddly familiar huskiness to it - something about the cadence and inflection, the way he uttered the words more than the words themselves - that made Killian want - no, need - to see exactly who spoke.

With a wave of his hand, he transformed into a bat and quickly flew down to the large pine tree in the open courtyard of the inn. This particular perch would give him a good vantage point to see inside both the stables and the common room, as well as many of the private rooms inside, in case he wasn’t immediately able to put eyes on the speaker who had brought him down to the village in the first place.

He hung upside down from one of the lower boughs of the tree, peering inside the common room, when the freshness of the air he’d noticed earlier permeated his concentration causing him to turn his attention to the stables. An involuntary gasp in the form of a high pitched squeak- too high for humans to hear- left him as his eyes beheld his love for the first time in centuries.

His shock was profound as he transformed back to himself and hid in the shadows of the huge tree. Blood tears filled his eyes as they eagerly drank in everything about his Swan - his pet name for his beloved bride because of her beauty and fierceness if provoked. Long golden hair that curled slightly was gathered at the crown of her head, but still hung down to her shoulder blades. His keen eyesight could see the green of her eyes and even the dimples on her chin and on either side of her full pink mouth that he’d traced many times with his tongue in the throes of passion. It was all the time he had before she entered the common room of the inn, shutting the door tightly behind her.

Killian moved to the window, still careful to remain in the shadows, to see if she joined the man he was seeking or if she was traveling alone. She sat down at a table across from a man whose countenance tickled the edges of Killian’s memory, but he couldn’t quite place him. They were sitting close enough to the window that he had no trouble hearing their conversation.

“Neal, what is going on here?” she asked, furtively looking around, her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “You bring me to this… place… not on any map, out in the middle of nowhere with no explanation other than you have some mission to fulfill before the wedding. This looks straight out of, I don’t know, almost Medieval times. No paved roads, or vehicles for that matter, other than carts and horses. The women are all dressed like…” She looked down and motioned vaguely at her own attire of pants tucked into tall boots and a close-fitting shirt with no evidence of a corset underneath, all covered by a red leather jacket that barely skimmed her waist. “Not like me.” She paused for a moment before continuing. “It’s like time stood still here.” She sat back and crossed her arms over her chest. “I think it’s time you told me exactly what this mission is and why we’re here.”

Just at that moment, the innkeeper approached their table holding two keys. “Dr. Cassidy, Miss Swan,” he began. Killian was shaken down to his marrow to hear his own sobriquet applied as a proper name to his reincarnated love. She looked at the innkeeper confusion furrowing her brow.

“We’re together,” she informed him. “We just need one room.”

The innkeeper shook his head. “Separate rooms for men and women who are not married,” he informed her. “King Killian would never allow otherwise.” He left the keys on the table and withdrew just as one of the serving girls laid down plates of roasted chicken, vegetables, and fresh baked bread in front of them.

The consternation on her visage was very familiar, and Killian felt a surge of inexpressible joy that brought a wide smile to his lips.

“Is he kidding?” she asked this Dr. Neal Cassidy. The stare she pinned him with was also very familiar, and Killian could almost feel sorry for the man as he seemed to squirm a bit under her intense gaze. “Explain. Now,” she continued. “What is this place? What are we doing here?”

The man leaned across the table and lowered his voice, obviously not wanting to be overheard.

“Ems,” he began, glancing around to make sure there was no one near enough to hear him. Too bad he didn’t know Killian stood just on the other side of the wall and could hear every word that proceeded from his lips. “The reason we’re here - the mission - is to kill…” His love’s eyes widened as Dr. Cassidy glanced around again to be sure there was still no one within earshot, “a vampire.”

Killian let out a resigned breath as full recognition flooded him. Here we go again, he thought. The reason this Dr. Cassidy sounded, and then looked, vaguely familiar to him was because he was of King Malcolm’s bloodline. The last in a long, long line of adversaries who refused to leave him in peace.

“A… vampire?” she asked, incredulously. “But…”

“Don’t say they don’t exist,” Cassidy interrupted, his hand waving dismissively about. “I can assure you, they do. And this one has had a vendetta against my family for 250 years.” Killian could clearly see the disbelief in his love’s eyes as the man continued his impassioned explanation. “This vampire has killed every single one of my male ancestors, from my own father to my great-great-great-whatever going back to 1768. Why, I have no idea. But I didn’t want us to begin our lives together with this shadow hanging over us. So I’m here to kill him, before he comes after me. And I will succeed.”

The words took a moment to register, but once they did, Killian’s eyes widened in surprise and then narrowed in suspicion. This man, this Dr. Cassidy - descendent of Malcolm, the man who’d… - was planning to marry his Swan. He stood rooted in the shadows unable to do anything but watch and seethe in helpless fury.

“Neal…” she began, doubt and confusion in her eyes. “You can’t be serious.”

“I am,” he insisted, interrupting her rudely. “Look, I know it sounds crazy, but you wanted an explanation and you got it. Just trust me, ok?”

“Fine,” she said, though her eyes told a different story altogether. “Let’s say I trust you, and vampires are real.” The skepticism in her tone was on full display, and Killian knew she still didn’t believe Dr. Cassidy’s words. “What if you don’t kill him?” she asked. “What if he kills you, too?”

“He won’t,” he assured her, reaching across the table toward her. “We’ll attack during the day, while he’s asleep. A stake to the heart and cutting off his head will ensure his death. Then we can return home, get married, and live our lives in peace.”

Killian ground his teeth in anger at the lies Dr. Cassidy was spinning. Why the man felt the need for deception about the history between his family - King Malcolm’s progeny - and Killian himself, he could only speculate. But the man was obviously not worthy to call his Swan his own.

“And you know how to find him?” she asked.

Dr. Cassidy nodded and pulled out a small notebook. “This has been handed down to me from my father and from his father before him. Everything we need to know to kill the creature is right here.” He opened the book and flipped to a page with a map. “This is a map of the castle, so yes, I know exactly how to find him.”

They finished their meal in relative silence. Once they’d satisfied their respective appetites, they each took a key and walked toward the stairs on the other side of the common room. Killian’s gaze fixed on Dr. Cassidy. He had some plans to make before he’d surely face this latest adversary come dawn.

~*~*~

Emma Swan rummaged through her duffle and pulled out her sleep shorts and tank top as she tried and failed to put Neal’s words from her mind.

Something about his explanation didn’t ring true to her. She had a sixth sense type of thing- she likened it to a superpower- but she could always tell when someone was lying to her. And as she ran back over his words about the vampire, she knew he was not telling her the truth. Not about the vampire himself, though. As unbelievable as his words were, they were not the rambling mutterings of a madman. And her superpower had been completely silent when he spoke about its existence. It was only when he spoke of the reason for the vampire’s vendetta that her intuition awoke, telling her of his deception. He had to know why, why the vampire was targeting his family. That was the only thing he said that wasn’t straight facts. For some reason though, he didn’t want her to know what the reason was.

She crawled into bed, closed her eyes, and prayed sleep would find her quickly.

It seemed only minutes later that Emma felt a feather light brush against her cheek and heard whispered words laden with tender affection.

“Emma. Emma, my Swan.”

Her eyelids fluttered open and her gaze landed on the most handsome man she’d ever seen. There was something very familiar about him, though she couldn’t say just what it was. It didn’t even occur to her to be alarmed at the presence of a strange man in her room. His hair was black as midnight and his blue eyes shone in the moonlight spilling into the room. His skin was unnaturally pale and neatly trimmed scruff the same color as his hair covered his jaw. He was tall and well built. His pants clung to the long lean muscles in his legs and he wore a dark shirt that wouldn’t look out of place on a pirate of old underneath a red brocade vest.

“Who are you?” she asked as she sat up in the bed. “How do you know my name? What are you doing here?”

He knelt beside her bed and extended his hand toward her. She placed her hand in his, feeling inexplicably drawn toward him.

“I am Killian Jones,” he said. His voice was low and rich and it wrapped around her like a warm blanket on a cold winter's night. “I am the Sovereign of these lands, and you are my love. I’ve waited for you for 250 years.”

“What?!” she cried, pulling her hand from his. His last words made her mind race back to what Neal had said earlier as she quickly put the pieces together. “You’re the vampire!” She couldn’t contain the horror in her voice or, she was sure, on her face. “Oh, God! You’re going to kill me, aren’t you?” She could hardly believe what she was seeing, visual confirmation of Neal’s words. She pulled her legs toward her chest and scooted as close to the head of the bed as she could, trying to present as small a target as was possible. “Why me? Neal said you targeted his family! I’m not his family, yet!”

“No, my Swan,” he assured her, gentle compassion beset on his features, his hand still outstretched, her superpower as silent as could be. “I am not here to kill you. You are my bride. Returned to me. As promised.”

Bride? Returned to me? As promised? “Whoa, whoa, whoa! Nobody promised anyone anything!” she exclaimed. Without fully realizing what she was doing, she extended a hand towards him, and he gently clasped her fingers.

Love. A deep and abiding love that she’d never known swept over her as pictures filled her mind. Pictures narrated by the man kneeling before her.

“King Malcolm demanded tribute from our small but prosperous kingdom. He was nothing but a tyrant, and I refused. Our people were loyal and strong, and I knew that we could defeat him if it came to battle. The dawn when we were to meet, our lookout ran to me with his spyglass. I opened it and trained it across the valley to where his army was mustered.”

A gasp of profound grief filled her mind as she saw what Killian saw through the spyglass. A woman tied to a post, her face covered with a dark bag. The obvious leader of the army, King Malcolm, grabbed the bag off of the woman’s head, her long blonde hair settling about her shoulders. There wasn’t time to get a good look at her face, but the scream of anguish from Killian told her that whoever it was, was someone of great import to him. He sounded the advance - the thunder of hooves and battle cries of the men deafening in Emma’s mind. Watching the scene now through Killian’s eyes, as they got closer to the opposing army, King Malcolm drew his blade across the throat of the blonde woman, Killian’s cry of fury now filling her mind. The armies met, and Killian was relentless against his adversaries until he met King Malcolm himself. The fighting between the two men was brief - Killian obviously a far superior swordsman. It was only moments before Killian’s sword was buried in his enemy’s gut, withdrawn and brought down again where King Malcolm’s neck met his shoulder, literally slicing the man in two.

The battle was over, and Killian rushed to the dead woman on the other side of the valley. Emma watched through Killian’s eyes as he gently turned her face towards him. Emma’s breath caught and she couldn’t look away from the ashen visage of Killian’s beloved- her own face. His grief and despair poured from his lips as he gathered his love to his chest, uncaring of her blood that covered him.

Killian’s narration resumed.

“King Malcolm was soundly defeated, paying for his hubris with his life. But not before he took my greatest treasure away from me. My Swan, my bride, my Emma. We’d only been married a few months when I rode away to war. If I’d known what his plans were…”

His words drifted off for a moment before resuming again. “I’d heard of a witch who lived in the woods near the border of our kingdom. I’d left her in peace because, to my knowledge, she didn’t use her magic for nefarious purposes. I took the body of my beloved to her, mad in my grief, hoping that something could be done to bring my love back to me.”

Emma watched as Killian emerged into a clearing with a small hut on the opposite side. She could smell the woodsmoke tinged with aromatic herbs from the chimney. Could hear his gasping cries and the sound of his pounding fist upon the door. When it opened, Emma gasped in horror. The witch had no face. Long matted red hair framed a pale visage with thick black stitches where her eyes should be. She spoke in an otherworldly whisper as she invited Killian Jones in.

He laid the body of his beloved on a pallet on the floor and begged the witch to do something, anything. Holding her hands out in front of her, Emma gasped again at the bright blue eyes in the center of each of the witch’s palms. She slowly moved her arms back and forth, the eyes darting around, before she began to speak.

“I am powerless against the bonds of death, Killian Jones,” she murmured, but with an undertone that reminded Emma of the swell of the ocean pounding against the rocks of the seashore. “But know this, your love will return to you one day, not by my hand and many lifetimes hence. I will give you a potion that will enable you to live until that time. When she returns to you, her True Love's Kiss will restore you to life and you will live out your days in peace.”

The witch fell silent and her arms dropped to her side, the unnerving eyes now covered from Emma’s sight. The witch turned to a shelf laden with bottles and her hands moved surely among them until they settled on the one she sought. She turned back to Killian and handed him the bottle before speaking again.

“Drinking this will give you endless life, and will freeze time within the confines of your kingdom. The night will be your domain, and you will thirst for blood. Until the time your True Love returns to you.”

Killian uncorked the bottle and downed the contents in one go. It was only seconds later that he doubled over in excruciating pain, his cries surely reaching far beyond the woods in which they all stood. It seemed forever to Emma, but his cries finally came to an end and he straightened upright again. His eyes darted around the hut before landing on the witch. Emma could feel the struggle within him - his thirst for blood was overwhelming, but his gratitude for the witch’s prophecy and the potion kept him from slaking that thirst on the first available person he met. His hands shook as he reached out toward her, expressing his thanks. He turned and picked up his bride and quickly took his leave. It wasn’t far into the woods before the thirst took him completely. He hid his love and found a deer to satisfy his hunger. Emma had never hunted anything in her life and couldn’t watch this particular scene. As she waited for it to be over, she heard his voice in her head again.

“Since this time, I have never left my lands.” His voice was sad, resigned, the weight of centuries contained within it. “I’ve only left my halls to feed on the animals of the forest as I waited for you to return to me. Malcolm was the first, but he was by no means the last, to seek to forcibly take my dominion from me. Over the centuries, father and then son have sought to destroy me, but all have failed. Your Dr. Cassidy is the last of that line. Each one has come after me. I have never, in 250 years, sought them out. Malcolm was the one who took you from me, and he tasted my wrath. I held no ill will toward his progeny. I have only ever defended myself against their aggression.”

The scenes came to an end, and Emma was back in her room in the inn, Killian Jones, still gently holding her hand in his own, kneeling before her.

“I knew he was lying,” she whispered. “He said he didn’t know why you targeted his family, but you didn’t. They targeted you.” He nodded slowly, his eyes never leaving hers. “His great-great…” Emma shook her head slightly, “whatever murdered your love… Murdered… me?” He nodded again. “And you’ve been waiting for me to return to you all this time.” Emma’s heart broke at the sadness in his eyes, and she moved to the edge of her bed, placing her feet on the floor, only inches separating them. “I can’t. I won’t allow this to happen.” She brought her hand to his face and cupped his jaw before lifting his face to hers and placing a gentle kiss to his lips.

A prism of rainbow colors blew through the room, and Emma gasped as she pulled back from him. Memories of her previous life flooded her mind - the contract of marriage drawn up between her father and Killian, her love for him from the moment she laid eyes on her betrothed, the swan nickname that he’d called her when she insisted on sharing his bed on their wedding night. She remembered the happy days of their lives before Killian had ridden off to defend their home from Malcolm and then being kidnapped and murdered on a high hill, her beloved on the other side of the small valley that lay between them.

“Killian,” she cried, falling into his arms where he still knelt on the floor. She kissed him fiercely, her hands in his hair, her body held in strong arms and lined up against his from their knees to their lips. They separated briefly, and Emma thought she could drown in the bottomless pools of blue that stared back at her. His skin was no longer pale, but glowed with youth and health. Her fingers trailed lightly down his face to his neck where she could feel his pulse fluttering under her fingers.

“Emma,” he whispered. “You’ve returned to me, and brought me back to life.” He was too overcome to say anymore and rose to his feet, his beloved still in his arms. Taking a deep breath, he was completely without words to express the love and joy flowing through him, not to mention the blood flowing through his veins! He was alive! At long last! He lived again, and his Emma, his Swan, was in his arms after 25o years. He captured her lips with his, teeth and tongues clashing with all the fervor of lovers long separated, finally reunited.

He lowered her to the bed and drew back, his eyes raking over his beloved, taking her in from head to toe - green eyes like emeralds glazed with passion, blonde hair fanned out over her pillow, her lips were red and kiss swollen, her chest heaved, nipples at attention as she struggled to catch her breath. Her long long legs writhed on the bed, seeking friction for the arousal she clearly felt.

“You are so beautiful, my Swan,” he murmured. His fingers trailed lightly down her arms, then sought the bare skin underneath the bodice she wore. She gasped and grasped the bottom of the garment before drawing it over her head in one smooth movement, baring her breasts to him.

Killian quickly removed his own clothing as she took her bottoms off before returning to her on the bed. Stretching out beside his love, his fingers lightly grazed the side of her breast as his mouth sought hers again. His moan of rapture came from the depths of his very soul. His beloved wife was returned to him. There were times over the past two and a half centuries that he despaired of ever seeing this day, but now that it was here, it seemed all these years without her were but a blink of an eye.

The fervent and frantic motions between them calmed when Killian captured her lips. Emma clung to him, drawing him closer and closer to where she desperately needed him. Her hands traced the long lines of his back from his shoulders to his ass, and delighted at the lean strength she found there. She rolled to her back, bringing him with her, settling him between her legs. Pressing her hips against his hardness, she shuddered at the exquisite pleasure that raced down her spine.

Killian released her lips and dipped his tongue into the two dimples on either side of her mouth and the one on her chin, just as he had remembered doing earlier this evening when beholding her for the first time in so long. He worked his way down the graceful slope of her neck, nibbling and biting, leaving open mouth kisses and raising gooseflesh in his wake. He circled one nipple and then the other with his tongue before drawing it into the warm cavern of his mouth, sucking gently. Her moan of pleasure went straight to his cock and he wasn’t sure he’d be able to wait to be inside her until he brought her to the pinnacle of ecstasy.

“Killian,” she breathed, writhing beneath him. “Killian, please. I need you so much.”

“Patience, dearest,” he replied in between kisses down her torso. “I must quench my thirst on you now.” She released her breath on a shaky exhale as he spread her legs and blew gently on her soaked folds. Killian couldn’t help but chuckle as she squirmed, but his need was also great, so he dove into the decadent feast laid out before him and was rewarded with a burst of sweetness on his tongue and a high pitched cry from his beloved signaling her climax. He lapped up every drop she bestowed on him before moving up her delectable body once again. Capturing her lips once more, he lined himself up with her channel and pushed into her scorching hot depths.

“Emma,” he cried, “How I love you!” He began to move, slowly at first, but then with more speed as his passion overtook him.

“I love you, too, Killian,” she moaned. “Take me. Mark me. Make me yours! Please!”

“I have missed you… so much… my love…” He buried his face in her neck and obliging her words, sucked on her pulse point, drawing heat to the surface of her skin. Her walls gripped him as she fell again, and he could hold himself back no longer, emptying himself into her with a roar of euphoria.

He collapsed onto his love, but couldn’t open his eyes for several minutes, his newly alive body utterly exhausted. When he could move again, he rolled off of her and gathered her into his arms, nuzzling and kissing her neck. She hummed in satisfaction and met his lips with her own.

“At times, I would despair that this day would ever come,” he murmured into her lips.

“But I’m here now. And I’ll never leave you,” she promised him. “We need to do something about Neal. He plans to kill you come dawn.”

Killian chuckled amusedly. “Let him come. I’m human again. I won’t be asleep like he expects. I’ll be waiting for him.”

“Let me,” Emma said, her green eyes flashing, her voice filled with passion. “His ancestor started all this - trying to take everything from you and separating us for 250 years by murder, no less. And Neal lied to me about you. Allow me recompense for all that he and his ancestors have taken from us.”

Killian stroked her cheek tenderly. “As you wish, my love.” He gathered her close, her head resting on his chest. “Once we awaken in the morning, you’ll meet him and I’ll slip away to the castle. I’ll be waiting for you in the great hall.” He smiled gently at her. “We will resume our rule of this land, side by side. As it should be.”

“I can’t wait,” Emma murmured. She reached up and kissed him gently before settling her head back on his chest again. It wasn’t long before her breaths evened out and deepened, indicating her peaceful slumber. Killian struggled to remain awake for just a few minutes more of finally holding his love in his arms again after so long. He stroked her hair gently and kissed the top of her head before his eyes slowly closed.

~*~*~

Killian peeled his eyes open and sat up, alarmed, to find himself alone in his chambers at his castle. The magic within him - that bound him and his kingdom - always made sure that he was safely ensconced in his castle before dawn. And the remnants he could feel now left within him must have done the same. Even if it was no longer necessary. He gasped in fear and looked down at his hands in a panic, terrified he might find it was a dream and he was still a vampire. The sun was just beginning to rise over the trees and into his chambers and he could clearly see that his hands were warm and pink with life, rather than the pale ashen color he’d seen for so long.

He rose from his bed, still naked, his eyes darting around his chambers. It was dawn, and he was awake! He was alive! He hadn’t seen the sun in 250 years and it was glorious! The comparison to Emma’s hair was completely unavoidable.

Emma!

She’d be here with Dr. Cassidy soon, and Killian needed to prepare himself. He dressed himself carefully and proceeded to the great hall to receive his guests.

~*~*~

Emma and Neal approached the castle, bold as brass. When she’d awoken alone that morning, Killian’s clothes were still scattered around the room, testimony to the night of passion she’d shared with her love, besides the sizable hickey he’d left on her neck. She’d needed to leave her hair down to hide it from Neal when they left the inn on horseback about forty-five minutes before. Now they could clearly see the gates of the castle, wide open.

As if they were expected.

It was exactly the same as her memories of her past life. As they passed under the portcullis, she knew what she’d see - the wide courtyard where the market day was held weekly, or the army Killian commanded practiced drills. They approached the keep, and Emma held her breath. Neal strutted forward as if he was the lord of this castle, and Emma ground her teeth in anger.

She followed behind him as he consulted the notebook he’d shown her the night before. They continued through the halls of the castle until they entered the Great Hall. Emma’s heart leapt to see Killian on the other side, silently waiting for them.

“Killian,” she cried, running to him, completely uncaring about Neal’s reaction. He rose to his feet, unspeakable joy on his face. Catching her in his arms, their lips met in a kiss so full of passion, she never wanted it to end.

Much too soon for her liking, Killian pulled back.

“My love,” he whispered, trailing his fingers down her cheek. The move was so full of tenderness, it made Emma want to weep.

She met his sapphire gaze with her own and whispered. “Soon,” she assured him before turning to Neal, who stood dumbfounded where she’d left him by the doors. Taking slow, deliberate steps, Emma crossed the room until she stood just a few feet away from her former fiancé.

“I imagine you have some questions,” she began. “Are you wondering how we could possibly know each other, what that kiss was about, exactly what is going on here? I am very happy to answer those questions,” she said with a satisfied smirk on her face. She paused for a moment, before taking another slow and deliberate step toward him. “But not before you hear what I have to say to you.”

Another step.

“You lied to me,” she accused softly. “You said that this monster had a vendetta against your family, and you didn’t know why. When actually, it was the other way around. Your family held on to a hopeless vendetta against him.” The blood drained out of Neal’s face, and Emma couldn’t help the small smile that touched her lips. “You and each of your male ancestors have come against him. Never has he come against you. Not once in two-hundred-fifty years.”

“Emma…”

“Now, for the questions… And the answer is really all rolled up into one. What exactly is going on here? Justice. You came here, the last in a long long line, expecting to finally destroy the vampire whom you claim has plagued your family for centuries. When actually, my True Love and I will be exacting retribution for your and your family’s crimes against us.”

Neal’s voice shook as he whispered, “True Love?”

“Yes,” she replied. “True Love. And you want to know how I know?” She nodded at him, a knowing and gleeful smile on her face. “I know because after he told me the truth, his kiss brought the memories of my past life back to me and brought him back to life again. This vampire has waited for me to return to him after your ancestor murdered me in cold blood, in full view of him and the armies they both led. Since then, your family has come against him, over and over again, until this very day. You are the last. And you will be the last. With no son to take up your vendetta, we will live out the rest of our lives in peace.”

With those words, Emma reached into the bag at her side where she carried all the weapons Neal had brought along on his fruitless quest. Quick as lightning, she pulled out the wickedly sharp wooden stake that he’d planned to plunge into Killian’s chest and plunged it into his neck. Blood poured through his fingers, too much to be stopped. He staggered forward, his other arm reaching for her, his eyes glazed and unseeing. Emma stepped back out of his reach into Killian’s warm embrace.

It was only moments before he was completely still. Emma turned to face her True Love and was shocked to see tears in his eyes.

“What is it?” she asked.

“It’s over,” he said in a whisper.

“It’s over,” she repeated, nodding gently.

“And you’ve returned to me.” A tear slowly tracked down his face as he looked into her eyes and tenderly, reverently stroked her cheek.

“And I’ve returned to you.” She lifted her hand to his face and drew him down to her lips, her kiss promising forever.

The End

~*~*~

Thank you so much for reading and sharing! I'd love to know what you think!!

#cssns24 #return to me #krystal writes #art by motherkatereloyshipper

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