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verystrxxwberry · 3 days ago

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ELDARYA CHRISTMAS SCENARIOS!

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𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: Long scenarios, individual character x reader, fluff, slightly tiny little bit suggestive on leiftan’s part??, sfw and fluff in general :) ↝ 𝐂𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: Merry Christmas everyone!! I’m sorry for posting this quite late, I like to do stuff at the last moment hehe. I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing this! I'm sorry for any misspellings!!!

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EZAREL – First snow

The elf had spent several days on a mission, which would result in a nice nap in your room. Because, yes, when Ezarel is tired your bed is much more appetizing than his. While you read to keep yourself awake, Ezarel cuddled one of the many pillows on your bed. You could hear his breathing steady and calm, finally resting after the exhaustion away from you. Time had passed quickly, both for you and for him, and the sun had hid in the horizon. The room was getting darker and darker and for the sake of your eyes you had to turn on the lamp in the bedside table. You closed the book and set it aside, curling up under the comforter next to Ezarel. You felt sorry for him, and how his face had troubling dark circles under his eyes. Taking enough courage to face the cold winter atmosphere, you left the bed and your room, heading to the kitchen. You wanted to spoil Ezarel when he woke up from his not-so-little nap, and that concluded in giving him hot chocolate with marshmallows. You had a hard time convincing Karuto, but he allowed you the luxury of taking two cups since it was, after all, that time of the year in Eldarya.

Once you returned to the room, the aroma of chocolate was enough to rouse Ezarel from his precious sleep. You heard a grunt coming from the elf, who was hiding his head under the pillow he was hugging, as a sign of his awakening. “Oh, I thought you were dead,” you said jokingly, moving towards him. He pushed the pillow away from his arms and rubbed his face wearily, trying to look as awake as possible. “Are you okay?”

With a sigh he uncovered his face and turned his gaze to you, still coming out of his trance. Slowly he nodded. You could see that his hair was quite messy, which was adorable. “The temperatures have dropped...” his voice was hoarse from exhaustion. “What have you brought? It smells too good” He asked as he continued to lie down. He didn't seem to have much desire to get up. Seeing Ezarel so comfortable filled your heart with warmth. You walked over and finally sat down on the edge of the bed, showing him the cups. That was enough to make him sit up.

“I brought a gift,” you mused with a soft smile. The elf redid his ponytail and hugged you by the shoulders, causing you to almost throw the chocolate onto the bed.

“Ooooh, thank you so much!” He said to you in a firmer, more awake voice. To help you settle in, he made a space in the bed for you, holding his own mug in his lap. You settled in next to him and both of you began to consume the sweet contents of the cup. “That's amazing, thanks for the thoughtfulness, hun.”

The sweet and savory combination of hot chocolate and marshmallows invaded your mouth, you wanted to melt from how good something hot felt with the temperature so low that day. “Yes it's true that it's quite cold today...” You muttered, covering your lap with the blanket. You got a playful look back from him. And without having time enough to think about what he was up to, you felt something icy on your leg. His foot. With a jump you jumped up, letting out a small squeak, “Ezarel!” Your reaction was all he needed to burst out laughing. “My God, nasty!” you felt a shiver, not only from the cold, but from the fact that a foot had touched your leg.

“Just know that my foot is clean,” he said with a chuckle, watching your body go numb with disgust. “I think if you pull the blind down it will be less cold,” his suggestion didn’t sound that bad. With your free hand, you pulled aside the curtain to lower the blind. But you saw how the streetlights allowed you to see the faint fall of a few white flakes. The ground still retained its orange autumn color, hinting that it was just beginning to snow.

“Ezarel, it's snowing!” You exclaimed instantly, causing some interest in the elf. Somewhat lazily he threw off the blanket and walked to your back, looking out the window.

“Oh, that explains why it was so cold today.” He murmurs and you notice how his hand rests on your waist. His smile widened with affection as you watched the snow fall steadily. “How cute.” He whispered to himself. As the snow continued to fall, slowly accumulating on the ground, you were able to feel his lips press carefully to your head. Ezarel settled small kisses on your head as you continued to admire the snow. “I hope you're not thinking of going outside. You'll get sick.”

“But you have to enjoy life a little, Ez...” You glanced in his direction and watched how he frowned slightly.

“If you couldn't stand my freezing foot, you'll be less able to stand the temperature outside.” He genuinely mocked you, giving your hip a little squeeze. “Let's go back to bed, come on.”

As much as you wanted to complain about the elf's decision, you knew the most logical and cozy option was to snuggle up next to your boyfriend as you watched the snow fall. Both empty mugs rested on the nightstand, your back resting against his chest while the blanket shielded you from the surrounding coldness. It was certainly peaceful, and the open call of winter. Ezarel's slow, rhythmic breathing against the back of your neck lulled you into sleep. You knew that when you awoke you would find the Eldaryan streets covered in snow.

NEVRA – Under the mistletoe

It was lovely how all Eldaryans had cooperated to decorate the streets with Christmas decorations. Even the headquarters had been decorated and in the center of the hall of doors there was a big Christmas tree. But still you had not had enough time to admire all the decorations. The work had you stifled, the reports kept coming in, and you questioned whether the work would ever be finished even at this time of year. You wanted to spend it like in your childhood, without school, in bed resting and having fun with your family and friends. Instead, you were there, working in the library without a break. What it was like being an adult now... A soft grunt escaped your tired lips. You were sure that chair was shaped like your butt at this point from the time you had spent sitting there. You stretched your limbs, causing your foot to push the table a little and, as a result, a pen fell to the floor. “Shit...”

“Didn't they tell you to keep quiet in the library?” You heard a whisper from behind you. You looked up to meet Nevra, who was holding a small smile on his face, showing some sympathy for you. His hand rested on the back of the chair. “You look like you need a break.”

“Of course I do...” You sighed, picking up the pen from the floor and looking at the papers you had left to review. Nevra sighed with you, not too convinced to leave you there, exploiting yourself with work.

“Put this down, darling,” he grabbed your hand, using his other hand to set the pen down on the table, ”come on, let's unwind.” The icy touch of his skin contrasted the gentleness with which he held your hand. With a tug he lifted you out of the chair.

“Nevra, I must finish this...” You groaned, though you didn't have enough strength to stop your feet, guided by him. You walked out of the library, unrestricted by noise.

“Let Kero handle it, he's been spoiling the kids all day.” Nevra chuckled, looking over his shoulder at you. “Have you seen the Christmas decorations?”

“Yes, from afar” you replied, meeting the peak of the large Christmas tree. You descended the stairs and could see that the tree was indeed huge. There were some children with their mothers looking up at the lights with excitement. It was cute. “It's bigger than I expected...”

“I assure you it was bigger.” Nevra's fingers interlocked with yours. “You'll see, in a few days this area will be full of gifts,” he told you with a certain cheerful tone as he pointed to the free space between the ground and the last leaves of the tree. As he spoke he was drawing you towards him, circling the tree slowly, ”there will also be for you. Christmas was not celebrated in my village. The first year here it was mind-blowing, there was a bigger tree, and Karenn got lots of presents.”

“And you?” you asked, looking up at him. Nevra looked thoughtful, chuckling softly and shaking his head. His footsteps stopped in front of the Pantry, his eyes focusing on yours.

“I received gifts, yes - all from my fans.... I didn't like them very much though.” He mumbled, looking up at the ceiling with a weary sigh. “But I know this year my gifts are going to be better. Even if they're not in great quantity, they're going to be of the best quality.” The assurance in his words made you laugh.

“You're too confident.” You said jokingly, poking his arm lightly. With a soft playful groan he looked back at you, then looked away again.

“To not be, sweetheart, since it seems my beauty has caught your eye,” he giggled even more, nuzzling your chin delicately and making you look up. Oh, the mistletoe... “You hadn't even noticed, huh?”

“You did it on purpose...” You noticed a certain warmth in your cheeks, looking up at Nevra again. You were both just below. His hand slid down to cradle your cheek, using his thumb to gently caress it.

“No, no way.” With some sarcasm he replied to you, taking a few short steps to close the distance between you. “You're going to be my best Christmas present,” he whispered, not even taking a few seconds to consider if he should. What was clearest to Nevra when he was with you was that he wanted to kiss you. His lips soon found yours, waiting for your response before making them dance together. It wasn't a kiss with any other intentions beyond proving that his words were honest. The love he was conveying through his gentle kiss wanted to make you melt. His other hand held your hip to keep you steady on your feet.

The moment was so beautiful that you had forgotten the world around you. Nevra's essence was magical and enchanting, it made you feel unique in the world, like no one else existed.

“Fuck, not again!” You heard a growl next to you. Karuto was sick of couples kissing at the door of the Pantry, and God, you were interrupting the passage! It was normal for him to get angry. However, his reaction got a chuckle out of both of you.

“Well, that didn't work out too well...” Nevra mumbled, looking at you with a playful grin, “I hope my gift isn't over.”

VALKYON – Christmas lights

Your boyfriend had been so busy putting up the streetlights that you had barely been able to see him. You knew that going to see the lights with him would be a problem since he might have hated them by the end of the week from seeing them so much. You were surprised that Eldarya also had a Christmas market, but you were looking forward to going! You decided to shower and get ready for when Valkyon returned from the forge. Maybe insisting once with going would be enough, maybe a few kisses could pay for the tiredness of the last weeks preparing the Christmas decorations. This little dragon has a soft heart for you, so it wouldn't be a matter of minutes before he agreed to go with you. Just to spoil you and see you happy.

You heard the door open, showing Valkyon entering along with a yawn. He was used to finding you in his room when he returned, in fact, he openly lent you a copy of his room keys. “Welcome back!” you said enthusiastically, receiving a kind and warm smile.

Evidently he noticed that you were dressed better than usual. He crawled on the bed until he reached you and kissed your shoulder ever so gently. “You look beautiful,” he whispered, you could smell a certain aroma of metal, fire, wood and light sweat from him, ”what's the occasion?”

“I wanted to go see the Christmas lights,” the softness in your voice showed your hesitation for his answer. Valkyon was silent for a few seconds, looking at you as he nodded his head, waiting for you to continue. “Would you like to come with me?”

“Sure,” his response was instantaneous, and you were relieved to know he was willing to go. “Shall we go now?” What you liked most about Valkyon was how direct he was when he had something on his mind. He didn't even care that he wasn't dressed up enough, he just wished he could go with you. You stood up and waited for Valkyon to get warm. Together you left the headquarters behind. You noticed the change from the inside of the building to the outside, as the night allowed the Christmas lights to shine. The market stalls were also reflecting lights that coordinated each other's colors. Some stalls were red and some green, some red and some white... It made a cheerful vibe, as well as creatures playing instruments in the sweetest and most talented way possible. The lights that hung from lamppost to lamppost had different shapes, but also accompanied the familiarity of the time.

“Wow, you guys did an amazing job,” you expressed, the hanging lights showing some typical gingerbread cookie figures, then creatures with presents, then Christmas balls, snowflakes.... You could see what a great job they had done the last few weeks.

“I'm glad you like it,” Valkyon added with a genuinely pleased expression. You walked through the streets, admiring the details the markets had to offer. From books to handmade pendants, from handmade bags to instant food stalls. “If there's something you like, let me know.”

“No, it's not necessary. I just want to see the lights.” You let him know until you finally reached a bench in a more secluded spot that would allow you to see the visual wonder that was Eldarya during Christmas. You took his warm hands to make him sit with you. “The lights look beautiful. But I think you're the prettiest light here.”

Your heart flipped a little at the cheesy words you said, but it seemed to embarrass Valkyon at how pretty they had been. “I beg to differ, you are the light of my life. I have done nothing. You have improved the lives of many people here.”

“Hush, hush. We are both each other's lights,” you laughed at how he frowned in embarrassment. His heart was beating faster than normal.

“Sounds good to me...” he calmed his posture and merely smiled, ”but just know that you look even better than those lights.” He pointed down the populated street, making you laugh at his insistence. As an affectionate gesture you leaned your head on his shoulder, looking at the Christmas stalls. Valkyon also rested his head over yours, sighing calmly.

“I love you,” you hear him whisper. The instruments played by creatures made the atmosphere more romantic between you. Valkyon always had the most direct way to make you feel loved.

“What did you say?” you teased, earning his neutral stare.

“That I love you. I love you very much.” He affectionately held both of your hands.

“Me too, very very much.”

LEIFTAN – Christmas baking

Leiftan has always been a person who prefers to stay in the background. He prefers to listen rather than talk, he prefers to see rather than do. He thought it was adorable to watch you bake, and he was sure that if he joined in, he would destroy the vibes. But this time you hadn't allowed him to watch and had dragged him into the kitchen to make some Christmas cookies. Before he could complain, you both had your hands full of flour as you kneaded the dough into shape.

“I don't know why you don't do this more often,” you began in an attempt to break the silence, distracting him from the tree shape he was making.

“What? Baking? I don't think I'm very good at it,” he muttered with an uncomfortable smile. You frowned slightly, seeing your partner's insecurity for most things that required some dexterity.

“Well, you're wrong. You're making some very pretty shapes.” You replied as you pointed to the cookies on the counter that he had made. It was very satisfying to see the shapes of little angels, bells and snowflakes. A small, shy, chuckle escaped his lips, shaking his head. “You'll see that when you taste the cookies you'll melt from how well you've done.”

“Really, love...” he continued to laugh as he finished his tree cookie and placed it on the tray next to the others. “Whenever you want, we can put them inside the oven.” He said to you as he washed his hands of the flour. You finished your little snowman cookie and placed it on your tray, then looked at him and nodded your head. Between the two of you, you placed the trays in the oven, and now it was your turn to wait until they were golden brown. In the meantime, Leiftan was in charge of melting chocolate to decorate the cookies later.

He was quite a focused person. Only your playful side would bring him out of that shy side to do crazy things. With the spray can of whipping cream you decided to approach him, “Leif? Open your mouth for a second...” the smile on your face went unnoticed, because the blind trust he had in you was.... well, blind. He opened his lips slightly, and it was enough for you to fill the small space with a mound of whipped cream. He opened his eyes widely and swallowed instinctively, starting to cough from shock.

“Love!” He exclaimed between coughs, making you laugh even harder. But poor guy, he was red and all from embarrassment. It took him a few seconds to pull himself together, looking at you with a mixture of embarrassment and amusement. “That's playing dirty...” he muttered and with his thumb he smeared the tip of your nose with chocolate. You made a small gesture of displeasure in jest, reaching for the chocolate with your tongue, which made him laugh. “Ah no, not that,” his thumb sealed your lips so you couldn’t use anything to clean yourself. In a quick gesture you tried to attack him with the whipped cream again, smearing part of his cheek and nose. You stuck out your tongue to tease him, licking his thumb. With a shudder he pulled away.

The kitchen was invaded by your genuine laughter. Moments like that with Leiftan were totally adorable and full of affection.

“You're dirty,” you said as a matter of fact, teasing him and totally ignoring that his hands had left traces of chocolate on your face.

“So are you,” he said in the same tone, taking your jaw carefully and reaching up to wipe the chocolate off your cheeks with little kisses and innocent bites. It made you shiver in a ticklish way.

“Are you trying to eat me?” you teased him, knowing he would be completely embarrassed. But nevertheless he answered you with a little hum, kissing the tip of your nose and finally your lips.

“Maybe,” he answered you with a gentle whisper. This man was going to kill you at any moment. “You'd have to be just as gentle and clean me up.” You couldn't help but get butterflies when he talked to you that way. He still had a trace of cream on his cheek, and there was a long wait until the cookies were ready. You smirked subtly.

“It's my turn to try to eat you then.”

LANCE – Secret santa!

You and Mathieu had decided to revive the Christmas spirit and celebrate a secret Santa the year you came back from the crystal, and it was the best choice ever! It became a tradition to do it every year. This year wasn’t the exception. Many agreed to participate, and you had had a month to get inspired and buy gifts. You were Eweleïn’s Secret Santa and with your budget and all the hints you had obtained from her, you decided to buy her some white earmuffs and a brown scarf. You all gathered at break time in a circle, and all the gifts had been placed in the center with the names of those for whom the gift was intended. The only thing that worried you was that Lance had been too quiet for the last month, and you planned to talk to him if that didn't change during this meeting. However, you could see the anxious and excited faces of some of your mates, even you had a certain adrenaline rush to know Eweleïn's reaction to your gift.

When she held it in her hands you tried to keep your expression as neutral as possible, and a sense of relief came over you when you saw the elf react positively. She realized that it was you who had given her a certain gift because she was giving different hints for her gift to different people.

You were anxious to know what it was that had been given to you and who had given it to you. You watched as Mathieu received gloves from a random girl, as Lance received a coat from Nevra. It was all very friendly, and you were delighted to see that Lance was more cheerful than usual around so many people.

You finally had the gift in your hands. You could tell from the shape that it was a box. You were very impatient to know its contents so you quickly got rid of the paper and, evidently, there was a box. When you opened it you found a box of chocolates, a soft and warm blanket, a book... and another small box? You decided to open the small box only to find a ring and a note that read

“would you like to marry me?”

Your jaw dropped, realizing immediately that it had been your partner, Lance, who had been your Secret Santa that year. “What? Really?” you whispered in shock. Suddenly the whole circle fell silent, spectating your response. Lance was the one who had been the most anxious during the stay. He nodded his head slowly. “My God...” Still in awe you pulled the ring out of the box, looking at it with a big smile and a twinkle in your eyes from the illusion.

“Are you going to say yes or do we need more time for you to say yes?” Karenn asked, snapping you out of your trance.

“Of course I am going to say yes. Of course I want to marry you, Lance!” You exclaimed excitedly and the immediate response from the others was to clap enthusiastically. Lance didn't think twice to get up from his seat and embrace you, lifting you a little off the ground.

“Thank you so much… Thank you so damn much..” He whispered over and over again. He gently set you down on the floor and then knelt down, taking the ring from your hands. “May I?” You immediately nodded with excitement, giving him your hand so he could place the ring on your wedding ring finger.

Once again, the applause began, though Lance ignored it and focused on planting a firm, contented kiss on your lips as a thank you for making that decision.

“Then the next thing we can do is start planning your wedding!” Mathieu exclaimed enthusiastically.

And without a doubt, saying yes was the best decision you could have ever made.

MATHIEU – Making snowmen together!

It had been very spontaneous of you and Mathieu to go out that night to play in the snow. But what could you do? Your boyfriend was like a restless child from time to time and sometimes dragged you into his bad ideas. Your feet sank into the snow with every step you took, which slowed down your running to escape the snowballs raining down on you from Mathieu. Each one of them hit your back, not hard but not gently either. You laughed, trying to counter him with your own balls, but missing half of them.

“You're really bad at this!” Mathieu said with a chuckle, hiding behind a bench.

“Don't hide coward!” You exclaimed as you grabbed a large amount of snow and ran towards him. You heard him let out a rather high-pitched scream as he started to run away from you, but you were quick to drop all that snow on him, making him fall. “Now who's the bad one at this?”

“Okay, I give up...” He said with a chuckle, glancing in your direction as he shook the snow off his coat. It has been like half an hour since you both started that snowball war. “Let me rest...” He muttered dramatically as he lay there in the snow, closing his eyes and sticking out his tongue as if he were dead.

“Have you ever thought about doing theater? Because you'd be bad at it.” You jokingly commented to him, placing both feet on either side of his torso. He frowned a little.

“That's envy, I'd be very good at it.” And with a quick movement he grabbed both your ankles, pulling you to fall on top of him. You grunted a little, your hands on either side of his head for balance. With his playful smile he gave you a kiss on the cheek. “Do you want to try to make a snowman?” he proposed, caressing your waist affectionately.

“That's not a bad idea,” you nodded, standing up even though you had started to settle into that position. You gave him your hand so he could get up, shaking the snow off his coat again. You both began to roll the snow, bundling it together and focusing on making balls satisfactorily large enough for your snowman. The first attempt came out a little... small. He named it Max, your son. You used stones to decorate his head. The mismatch between many of the attempts was honestly hilarious. But Mathieu wanted to make a snowman that would last all winter, if possible.

“Honey, let's make one like the… animal crossing one, you know?,” he told you with a proud smile, ”so that even they will be proud of how well we made them.” Mathieu continued rolling up a ball too big for your liking.

“Ah, right... you know it is not going to come to life, right?” you teased him, adjusting the snow to form a medium-sized ball, which could fit the one Mat was making.

“We're in Eldarya, anything is possible,” and he was absolutely right. But when you put the two balls together, nothing happened. However, it was satisfying to see how well it was coming together. “Only the head is missing. I stole a carrot from Karuto for the nose.”

His happiness reminded you of that of a small child, and it was contagious.

“Is that so? Nice, one more reason for him to hate us,” your comment made him laugh as he helped you to form a smaller ball for the head. “I'm going to take care of getting sticks for his arms,” you let him know. Mathieu nodded, taking charge of forming the face to your snowman. You walked away a bit to get some wooden sticks large enough to fit the medium-sized ball. Mathieu was so focused that he was frowning.

“This is the perfect creation,” he whispered, sticking the carrot in the center of the face and putting a hat on its head. He didn't forget about the scarf detail either, even if it sacrificed his neck to the chilly atmosphere. You applauded him, honestly impressed by how well it had turned out for you. But it hadn't come to life.

“Good job, baby! What are you going to name this one?” You looked at him with amusement. Mathieu was taking the job seriously.

“Eh... When it comes to life, it'll decide that for itself.” His pride was evident to hide his lack of imagination at that moment. You hummed, thinking for a moment.

“Let's call him Valky, I think it suits him perfectly.” You commented, adjusting the hat so it wouldn't fall off. Mathieu's smile softened, agreeing with you. Even if he hadn't met Valkyon, he knew the importance he had in Eldarya.

“I'm sure he would have loved to see this.” He laughed, wiping the snow off your own coat. “Do you feel like going to dinner? All this exercise has left me hungry,” proposed the young man with a sweet expression. Your guts were roaring with hunger, too. You couldn't say no to him.

The next day Mathieu got sick from lending Valky the scarf.

✰; remember to reblog and like to support my content, I hope you enjoyed it! Merry Christmas and happy new year everyone!

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marsborne · 2 days ago

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Strands of Change - Pinocchio x Reader

After defeating the King of Puppets, Pinocchio has been experiencing significant changes. - warnings: none - word count: 605

You stand there on the second floor of the hotel, gently stroking Spring, the ginger cat who had claimed your curious and gentle puppet's heart from the very first day.

Geppetto is holed up in his study, immersed in his usual tinkerings, while Polendina has wandered off somewhere, though you faintly recall him mentioning a desire to speak with Pinocchio.

The moment feels quiet, still, but then a faint noise catches your attention. You step closer to the railing, peering down into the lobby, and your eyes widen.

There they stand, both Sophia and Pinocchio, speaking in soft tones. He has finally returned. Yet something about him seems... different. The puppet beside her doesn’t look quite the same. Has his hair grown longer?

Your gaze lingers on him, drawn irresistibly, while Spring meows plaintively at your side, swatting at your arm in protest of your sudden inattention. Her little paws tug at you, but you don’t move, you can’t move. Not yet.

Finally, after a beat that stretches on for what feels like forever, you take a deep breath and descend the stairs, your heart light yet heavy in the same moment. He sees you immediately, of course. He always does. Pinocchio steps toward you, meeting you halfway, and you reach out, resting your hands gently on his shoulders. Your eyes take him in with quiet reverence, a soft awe you don’t try to hide.

And he tenses, just slightly, beneath your touch.

"You... your hair..." Your voice is soft, almost a whisper, filled with something he can’t quite name.

At your words, he stiffens further, his mind spiraling into uncertainty. Does this change make him... less? Less worthy? Less of what you want? His voice is hesitant, testing the fragile waters of your reaction.

"Is it... not okay?"

His question is barely above a murmur, yet it carries the weight of his fears. He is learning, changing, becoming more human with every passing day, and with that growth comes the anxiety of never quite knowing what is right or wrong, what is enough.

"What? No! No, no, no, dear," you blurt out, your tone swift and urgent, as if to dispel every doubt clouding his mind. "It's perfectly fine."

Without thinking, your fingers move to tuck a stray strand of his dark, soft hair behind his ear. Your hand lingers, cupping his cold, freckled cheek with a tenderness that feels like home.

"I think you look beautiful," you say, and your words are a quiet melody, carried on the warmth of a gentle smile. And he was. He really was beautiful.

Pinocchio’s mechanical heart stutters, his springs tightening as if trying to contain the weight of his emotions. In this moment, he feels weightless, floating, soaring, as if the simple way you look at him could unmake and remake him all at once.

This feeling, he thinks, must be what it means to change. To be real. To be human. And it’s all he wants. Though, in truth, he’s known what he wants for a long time now.

He wants you.

The spell of the moment is broken by the soft circling of Spring around your legs, her tail curling with playful insistence. You chuckle at her antics, a sound that draws a small but unmistakable smile from Pinocchio.

From her place nearby, Sophia watches, a knowing look in her eye and a quiet grin curling at her lips. She says nothing, but in her silence, there is understanding, an acknowledgment of a love that is growing, tender and real, between a human and a puppet who is learning to love.

Lowkey losing my nerves over this game but it's pino so it's alr <3 I beat the king of puppets yesterday and got reminded of something that I thought of like a year ago and oh OH. I had to write this

#lies of p #lies of p pinocchio #lies of p fanfic #lies of p headcanon #lies of p x reader #p x reader #pinocchio x reader #oneshot #reader insert #x reader #lies of p game #pinocchio #fluff #i love him its not even funny anymore #sophia monad #lop

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cirilla-fiona-riannon · 2 days ago

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Mitsuhide's Sequel Snippets

Translations may not always capture the exact nuances or tone of the original text. Expect grammatical errors and inaccuracies.

Mai: "I didn't come after you because I was worried."

Mitsuhide: "What?"

Mai: "The reason I waited for you like this..."

I pointed gently at the lantern in Mitsuhide's hand.

Mai: "…was to bring you some light."

Mitsuhide: "..........."

Mai: "I didn't have one either, so I picked one up in the castle town."

Mai: "I thought it'd be nice if we could walk home together after your work."

Mitsuhide: "I see."

(He looked a bit surprised. Did I end up worrying him instead?)

Mai: "Um, just so you know, I was very careful."

Mai: "I avoided roads where bandits often appear, gathered herbs along the way to ward off wild animals, and even marked my path to avoid getting lost."

Mitsuhide: "I know."

He lightly patted my head as if to reassure me.

Mitsuhide: "I know you wouldn't do anything reckless that would endanger your life."

Mai: "Of course. I remember everything you taught me."

Mitsuhide: "You've become quite the excellent student."

Mai: "Only because I have the best teacher."

We exchanged smiles, though a faint ache stirred in my chest.

(When I saw him coming toward me just now, I felt a mix of happiness and excitement.)

The only sounds I heard were the cries of birds singing in the night and the rustling of leaves.

There was no trace of breathing or footsteps, and his body seemed to dissolve into the darkness.

(This man belongs to the shadows.)

(He fits so perfectly, almost too perfectly.)

I shifted my gaze to the lantern.

The light piercing through the darkness was almost painful to the eyes.

(We promised to share our feelings and live together.)

(I swear I won't question his heart again, but the path he's chosen still hasn't changed.)

Mitsuhide: "Mai."

Mai: "Y-Yes?"

Snapping back to reality, I looked up to meet his eyes as he leaned in and whispered in my ear.

Mitsuhide: "It's been a while since we've had time alone. Let's take a detour."

(A detour?)

(This place...)

I looked around and stopped without thinking.

(This is the path leading to the secret meeting place of Yoshiaki and his men.)

Although the anger and sadness I felt that night have disappeared, the place still radiated an eerie, bone-chilling cold, as if it were the entrance to another world.

(This is the world he lives in, so different from the one I've lived in.)

He took a few steps forward and turned to look at me.

Mitsuhide: "Mai, I'm sure you already know this."

Mitsuhide: "The path I walk is a one-way road to hell."

Mitsuhide: "But if you say you'll walk it with me, I'll push aside the enemy's fangs and the eternal flames for you."

Mitsuhide: "I'll fight them all for you."

His faint smile, a mix of mature composure and profound loneliness, gripped my chest so tightly it hurt.

I was reminded again that there was no one else I could share my life with but him.

(He sees through everything.)

(He knows I'm hurting, knows exactly why, and yet even then...)

Warmth and affection overflowed within me as I stared at his outstretched hand.

Mitsuhide: "Come here."

Mai: "Okay."

Without hesitation, I placed my hand in his.

His cool, smooth palm enveloped my fingers completely.

Mai: "My feelings won't change, no matter what."

Mitsuhide: "I know."

The touch of his hand grew gradually warmer, and with it, the vague unease I had been feeling began to fade away.

#ikemen sengoku #ikesen jp #ikesen mitsuhide #ikesen translations #ikesen #mitsuhide akechi

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winglesswren · 2 days ago

Text

solitude; serenity

fandom/pairing: arcane, jayvik

chapter: 1/4, 1.5k words

ao3 🔗 https://archiveofourown.org/works/61568524

(fic is currently archive locked; subject to change if i get brave and/or recieve any positive feedback but i am a coward)

posting chapter one in this format as well as on the archive; full chapter under the cut, below fic summary

edit: page break didnt work im a mobile user i will fix it tomorrow from my laptop before work

summary:

Viktor hesitates for a moment, but it seems Jayce is truly asleep. He brings one hand up, slowly, and cups Jayce’s jaw in his palm, letting his thumb swipe across his cheek affectionately.

Jayce is always so full of jittery anxious energy, buzzing around and chattering about whatever crosses his mind, never stopping for air. It’s nice to see him so relaxed like this. Something in Viktor’s chest contracts at the trust that Jayce is putting in him, to allow him to see him so unguarded.

Selfishly, Viktor wishes that he could bottle this up and live in it forever. He wishes that nothing ever had to change. Wishes that he deserved this softness that Jayce has given him, this unconditional kindness and love that he could have had seven years ago if things had been just a little different.

If he had been just a little braver.

(full chapter under the break)

A/N: boom baby chapter one of four here we go! merry christmas and happy holidays to all, and a HUGE shoutout to my friend milo @dykelizard for beta’ing this for me because i was this 🤏 close to just giving up on the whole thing and scrapping it

It’s still dark when Jayce flinches awake, the blankets wrapped around his legs and holding him immobile. His bad leg aches in protest, and he winces as he untangles himself from the cocoon and slips from the bed.

He glances over his shoulder, running a hand through his hair, and softens at the sight that greets him.

Viktor is still asleep, curled on his side with his hair falling softly over his face. He still hasn’t cut it, although he had brought it up to Jayce once, right after they had fled. Jayce had just hummed, twirling a strand around his finger and murmuring that he should do what made him feel comfortable.

It hasn’t been brought up again, but Viktor hadn’t cut his hair, and Jayce had noticed the scissors that had been on the corner of the bathroom counter were back in the cabinet.

Viktor looks younger like this, eyes closed and face relaxed. As if he carries less of the tension and grief that he holds to his heart when awake, although there is still a blip of something in his expression that refuses to let go of his guilt. Jayce wishes he could soothe it.

Instead, he just reaches out and smooths a hand over Viktor’s hair, tucking the errant strands behind his ear and brushing his thumb across his cheekbone.

His partner shifts under his touch, exhales, but doesn’t wake. His face is still lined with exhaustion, and Jayce knows that he hasn’t been sleeping well, although he refuses to talk to Jayce about what’s haunting him, keeping him awake deep into the night.

For now, though, Viktor is asleep, and Jayce pulls back his hand before he wakes him. For a moment, Viktor presses forward, chasing his hand, and his brows furrow, but almost immediately he curls back in on himself and calms.

Jayce has been staring for far too long, he realizes with a start. He turns his back and pads into the hallway, pushing the door until it’s only open a sliver. The rest of the house is quiet and cold, the lack of lights and the clouds covering the moon leaving a chill in the air. Jayce tamps down on a shudder and slips out the front door onto the porch.

There are no stars, but with the heavy fog, Jayce is unsurprised that the sky is hidden. He does miss the view, though. With winter edging closer, it’s been days of relentless cold and damp. But stars are a rare sight here anyways, wherever the arcane has spat them out. It’s quiet, and beautiful, but it’s a change. One that Jayce still isn’t sure he’ll ever fully adjust to.

He sits down hesitantly at the edge of the grass, tucking his bad leg under him and wincing as the muscles contract in a spasm at the movement. It’s been months and still the deep ache doesn’t subside. The bones had healed wrong, ever so slightly, and Jayce tells Viktor over and over when it gets bad that he just slept on it wrong, that he twisted his ankle going down the stairs, that he must have just landed wrong on his foot walking back from town.

He can tell Viktor barely believes him.

A sudden weight at his side startles him, and he jolts, but it’s just Viktor, settling down beside him and making himself comfortable on the grass without looking over at Jayce at all.

There is a brief silence, where neither of them move, and then Jayce steels himself and scoots closer, wrapping an arm around Viktor’s shoulders. He doesn’t pull away, to Jayce’s surprise, and if anything, nudges a little closer.

“I woke up and you had left. Why are you out here in the cold?” Viktor’s voice is low and raspy with sleep, and Jayce has to swallow around the sudden urge to press a kiss to his cheek and pull him closer.

He clears his throat roughly to shake the image from his mind and refocuses on Viktor’s question. “I, ah. I couldn’t sleep, so I just. I didn’t want to wake you.”

Viktor raises an eyebrow. “It’s November, Jayce. You could have stayed in the kitchen or on the couch. What is really bothering you?”

Jayce looks away, heat rising in his face, pulling back and turning towards the sky. His eyes widen. “Viktor,” he breathes, pointing.

Viktor reluctantly follows his gaze.

There are stars poking through the fog. Hundreds, thousands of tiny pinpricks of light in the sky, dim through the haze. “I haven’t seen stars since…” Viktor’s voice trailed off, and Jayce just shuffles to rest his knee against Viktor’s.

”Yeah. Me neither.”

Jayce feels Viktor’s breath puff against his neck as he shifts to look up at him. Slowly, like he thinks Jayce will take flight like a frightened animal at the wrong move, Viktor shifts closer, leaning his head against Jayce’s shoulder. He stays that way for a long moment, frozen, until Jayce finally gathers his wits enough to bring his arm back up and wrap it around Viktor’s shoulders again, this time tucking him tight against his side instead of loosely holding him.

”It’s beautiful.”

Viktor hums. “It is,” he agrees, but his eyes never leave Jayce’s face.

They sit together, silent, until the chill bites through the sweater Viktor has thrown on and a tremor ripples through his body. Jayce is immediately on alert at his side, sitting up straighter.

”Are you cold?”

Viktor considers lying, considers shaking his head and pressing into Jayce’s side and prolonging this moment a little longer, but before he can decide, a breeze rips past them and he shudders violently before he can tense up against it.

Jayce clambers to his feet, dragging Viktor up with him. “You should have told me, it’s too cold for you to be sitting out here without a jacket,” he scolds.

Viktor scoffs, but allows himself to be dragged back towards the door. “You came out here first. I just followed you.”

Jayce throws a glance over his shoulder as he tugs Viktor inside and then spins to shut and lock the front door. “You don’t have to follow me everywhere. I was going to come right back in.”

The mood shifts, just for a moment, but Jayce catches it, biting at the side of his lower lip. It’s raw from him chewing on it already, Viktor notices. A worried habit that he never managed to kick. It’s familiar. “I’m sorry,” Jayce blurts, unprompted. “I’ll stay inside, next time. I didn’t mean to… worry you or anything.”

That’s…startling? Not what Viktor expected him to say at all. He blinks. ”I just wasn’t expecting you to be gone. You can wake me up, if you need something. No sense in secrets, Jayce.” He smiles, a little more bitter than he means, but Jayce seems to understand.

”I know,” he sighs, running a hand through his hair. “I know, I just…you don’t sleep well anyways anymore, and I didn’t want to ruin what little sleep you were getting.”

Viktor raises an eyebrow, expression going just a bit cross, and Jayce automatically braces himself for the rebuke. It’s the same exasperated, fond look Viktor used to give him in the lab six years ago when he would work himself into the ground and Viktor would have to haul him back to his apartment before their combined sleep deprivation caused another explosion.

Instead of arguing back, however, Viktor just turns and starts towards their room again, barely sparing a glance back when Jayce doesn’t move. “Coming?”

”Right! We should…yes. Yeah. Coming.” He scrambles after Viktor, closing the door behind them and flicking on the lamp on the bedside table.

“You should change,” Viktor hums, already moving to slip out of his own slightly damp clothing. “You have grass stains on your knees.”

He does, Jayce is startled to find, when he pulls the fabric taut and glances down. His knees are a muted green. He’ll need to wash them tomorrow. Tomorrow? Today? He isn’t sure of the exact time.

“Are you going to stare at the floor all night, or come back to bed?” Viktor teases, and Jayce snaps out of his little trance and strips his shirt and jeans off, pulling on the soft sleepwear that Viktor chucks at his face.

”I’m coming. Don’t be impatient,” he jokes back, and Viktor huffs a small laugh.

”Have you ever known me to wait for anything?”

Jayce rolls his eyes. “You’re a fast learner.”

They lapse back into comfortable silence as they both dress and then Viktor curls up back under the blankets against the wall. Jayce awkwardly clambers in after him and draws his body up against the edge of the bed, carefully keeping a couple of inches between their shoulders.

Viktor is the first to fall back asleep, breaths evening back out as he slips back under. Jayce stays carefully on his side of the bed until he knows Viktor is asleep, and then relaxes as much as he dares, eyes closing against his will.

For as much as he was awake ten minutes ago, he’s still exhausted, and it’s catching up to him.

Viktor shifts, humming contentedly as he pushes himself against Jayce’s side and tucking himself under his arm.

Jayce doesn’t have it in himself, nor does he have the room, to pull away.

(He’s asleep before he can even really consider it anyways.)

#wren fandom tag #wren fanfic tag #arcane #jayvik #viktor arcane #jayce talis #fanfiction #arcane fanfic #arcane fanfiction #cannot believe im writing again #somebody sedate me

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221bshrlocked · 15 hours ago

Text

Let All My Love Keep Silence

Pairing: Vampire Pero Tovar x Witch Fem!Reader

Words: 21,640

Warning: Angst to Fluff to Smut. Mutual Pining. Angst to Smut to Angst to Sort of Fluff. Forbidden Love!! Bath sharing-ish. Dirty/Sweet Talk. Minor Hair-Pulling. Oral (female and male receiving). Creampie. Fluid Exchange Kink. Mentions of Blood in a sexual way (go away if you don't like that). Penetrative, Unprotected Sex. Creampie. Reader and Tovar getting off on the idea of ruining each other's biology because of their coupling.

Summary: When two strangers meet in the mystical land of Egypt, they are transported back to a moment filled with nothing but hurt and pain. Neither wishes to accompany the other, but duty requires both of them to travel together, and on occassion, fight alongside each other. A string of curious events continues to befall the company, and a staggering revelation leads them to think they may have met long before that chance gathering in the qahwa weeks prior. And an even more shocking confession brings the once sworn enemies together...or perhaps, finally returns them to one another.

A/N: This is for the lovely @artemiseamoon who's also taking part in the @pedrostories Secret Santa Event and whom I have to thank for being so very patient with me. I hope you like this babes, I've included what I thought would be a good mixture of the prompts you gave me so I hope you enjoy reading this. I apologize profusely that this is a few days late, but I wanted it to be as close to perfection as possible!! Side note, this is set sometime in 15th century Egypt. Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays :D

“All your fury is to hide a fragile heart.” —Ghassan Kanafani September 17th, 1422

There was a strange air about the tavern tonight, one that made it rather difficult to focus on the reason behind your visit to this specific village. No sooner than you had walked in did you notice the shadows flickering around a particularly secluded corner within the busy establishment. And although the drunken laughter and obnoxious swearing filled the inn, you could not help but dwell on the ominous silence that danced along the walls of said corner as you slowly sat down and studied the patrons within the room. It was almost instantaneous, the way your eyes met his through the vigorous crowd, and you knew immediately that the tempest storming in those dark eyes were but a mere reflection of the curiosity and caution swimming in your own.

But it was not curiosity alone that made him stand from his seat and approach you. No, it was the unspoken understanding of the lives you led that forced him to make his way to you with a purposeful grace unlike any you have ever seen. You arched an eyebrow, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of your lips as he took a seat opposite of you. His fingers tapped a slow rhythm on the wooden table’s surface, a sign of the ancient wariness that has passed between your kind and his own for centuries. Silence stretched between your cold smirk and his furrowed, nearly angry eyebrows, thickening the tension and the weight of history you were sure would make things more complicated—on your end at least.

Yet beneath the surface of unpleasant memories, you could recognize a flicker of something else—a shared, albeit grudging respect of the mutual abilities and prowess you both shared, however different they were. Your gaze was unwavering,

You didn’t dare blink, afraid the momentary blindness would bring about your demise. So sure that he would want to rip your neck to pieces, your eyes widen in horror when he holds his hand out for you to take. You look between him and his limb, unsure of what game he was wanting to play with you. Not wanting to show him any weakness, you smile cautiously at him as you extend your own, the sudden touch of his skin making you flinch as unfamiliar memories flood your mind’s eye. You cannot let go of his hand, not because you do not want to, but because the grip he has on your palm tightens as similar, unfamiliar images crash into him. You both look at each other, unsure whether you are both seeing, and experiencing, the same painful evocations.

It lasts for longer than you care to admit, and when his hold finally loosens, you let go and return your back to rest, unable to hold back from clutching at your chest when you feel an invisible bolt of lightning strike through you. You gaze up into his eyes then, and find his grimace deeper, except it is not one of anger but contempt. Whatever he has seen of you was far from favorable, and you knew he presumed similarly.

“What brings you here?” His voice is low, the sneer on his expression reminding you of something from a long time ago, a past life perhaps. You shake your head, wanting to rid yourself of whatever was attempting to come to the forefront of your mind. There were matters more important.

“Do not flatter yourself. I did not come for you, but for a posting.” You cross your arms, watching him as he looks to the side, perhaps wondering if there were more of you around.

“I am alone.” You are not sure what pushes you to tell him such a dangerous fact, but you watch as his shoulders visibly relax at your admission. He returns his gaze to you, and if you didn’t know better, you would think his eyes could see right through you.

“That makes two of us bruja.” He responds in kind, and you wish you weren’t so obvious in your own inquiries.

“A Spaniard in Cairo? Are you here for business or pleasure?” The question is not to his liking, and you chuckle at the prospect of this man thinking that you weren’t knowledgeable enough to place his mother tongue, let alone his accent.

“Business, though pleasure is not too far.” It’s menacing, the way his smile stretches so easily and reveals his sharp cuspids. You are aware he is purposeful in his warning, and if you were wiser, you would have turned away from him, perhaps even stood up and walked out of the qahwa. But you narrow your eyes at him, challenging him without thinking of the consequences. The serenity that befalls him is irritating and you nearly comment on his surly behavior when a man interrupts the two of you and pushes your ‘companion’ aside.

“I leave you for a few minutes and you find yourself a lovely woman to terrorize. When will you ever learn Tovar?” The name makes you flinch. You swear you have heard it before, and your reaction doesn’t go unnoticed by the man in front of you. Except, he misunderstands your response for something else, and you know instantly why the smile drops instantly. You should not intimidate him more, but you choose to, wanting to relay a message of pure, unadulterated hatred to him.

Reaching out, you shake Tovar’s friend’s hand, introducing yourself and letting him know that Tovar was far from threatening.

“It is lovely to meet you, lass. My name is William Garin, and this ray of sunshine is my old friend, Pero Tovar.” As soon as Tovar’s full name is known to you, you sit back and giggle as anger radiates off of him.

“It’s a pleasure William, and…Tovar.” You smirk at him, not bothering to react to Tovar as he stands aggressively and walks away from your table.

“Maybe the coffee didn’t agree with him.” You comment in passing, shrugging your shoulders when William apologizes for his friend and asks to buy you another drink.

“That is thoughtful of you, but I think I have had enough for the night. Perhaps you could buy one for your friend?” You ask in passing, your eyes never once leaving the entrance of the establishment.

“I would but unlike me, the man refuses to drink. Come to think of it, I rarely see him consume anything other than that damned drink he always carries on him.” You scrunch your nose at the fact, wondering whether William knows the true nature of his friend.

“Nevermind him. What is a pretty thing like you doing in a place like this?” He leans over, smiling devilishly at you when you mirror him and push into his space.

“I’m flattered William, I really am. But there is more to me than meets the eye.” You swirl around the drink in your hand, tilting your head to the side when you notice Tovar entering the qahwa once more. He doesn’t join you though, and you suspect it is because you now have his name.

“I can see that, love.” William’s smile drops and you watch as he points down to the several daggers he can see attached to the inside of your robes. You lean away from him and purse your lips, letting him know that you should have seen his plan coming.

“What do you want with Tovar?” His voice should be menacing, but you choose not to laugh at him out of respect. Unlike his friend, the man was genuinely being protective, and you admire that about him. You have always admired that about humans.

“Contrary to popular opinion, I am not here for him but for a proposition.” You don’t bother elaborating as you take out a piece of paper and slide it across the table. William reads it slowly, giving it back to you and looking behind him to see if you had any company.

“As I told your friend, I am here alone. I work alone, usually.” You finish your drink and leave a few coins on the table, enough for William to notice that you are covering his payment as well.

“You are aware this commission is for a group of mercenaries?” He asks, and you nod instantly, folding the paper and pushing it back into your pocket.

“Yes, I am. I may prefer to work alone but circumstances led me here and I- I find myself wanting to take part in this…expedition.” You do not elaborate, not wanting to raise any flags for William as to what you are. Thankfully, he takes your word and refrains from inquiring further about the subject.

“Have the two of you met before?” The question catches you off guard, and you turn to face Tovar, wondering the same thing as you find his eyes already gazing upon you.

“I would remember if I have, but no. I- I have not met him before.” You blink away the faint memories from earlier haunting you once more, returning your attention to William and offering him a friendly smile.

“Hmm, something tells me things did not get off on a good start for either of you.” William says as he glances at his friend, raising his drink in an attempt to persuade him to join the two of you, but to his disappointment, Tovar turns away and glues his focus on the wall.

“I have known him for years, and I assure you, he is never so hostile to someone he has just made an acquaintance of.” There is a warning laced between those words, and you nod in affirmation, not wanting to have two men in the company against you.

“I understand. I must confess, I am not often met with kindness wherever I go…so I fear there is some effect I am having on him. I assure you, however, it is not my intention to anger. I merely wish to…let him know he should steer clear of me as I will of him.” Again, you are unsure why you confess such a sentiment to William and it must not be what he expects to hear from you because he raises a curious eyebrow before laughing out loud. You’re thrown back by the reaction but you say nothing as William stands to his height and nods in appreciation.

“In that case, lass…should he bother you, do not hesitate to come for my aid.” He silently thanks you for the drink as he finishes it quickly before placing it down on the table. You eye the goblet for a few seconds, hating that he placed it in front of you…and Tovar.

“That will not be needed, but thank you for the offer. I will keep it in mind.” You retract your hands from the table, placing them on your lap to avoid any misunderstandings with Tovar.

“See you tomorrow at the port.” He calls after you as he leaves, patting Tovar on the back twice on his way to the stairs. Wonderful, they were staying in the inn as well. You rub your temple harshly, wondering why those visions plagued you for months on end, only to bring you to such a man.

A vampire of all creatures.

Could he not, at the very least, be a lycan?

Your racing thoughts are interrupted by none other than the man himself, and you ground yourself before you meet his gaze once more. He wastes no time before he grabs William’s drinking cup and pulls it out of reach.

“You need not worry, I am not interested in him. Or you!” You blink tiredly, knowing that your meeting was due to a mission and not something else.

“That is hard to believe, maga, when you explicitly asked for my name.” His expression is hard, and you swear you see the whites of his eyes turn a deep shade of gold for a moment, but you know he would never act irrationally in such a crowded place.

“If you recall, nightwalker, I did not ask for your name. It was given to me freely by your friend, whom I suspect, does not know of your true nature, or else he would have refrained from giving me both his name and yours.” You hiss at him, your behavior making him frown harshly and clench his jaw tightly.”

“I suspect you heard everything, and against my better judgment, I will put your mind to rest. You seem older than others of your kind I have met before, so you know it is not possible for me to lie to another…creature. I have no use of your names, nor will I use them to my benefit.” Your revelation comes as a shock to him, because as soon as the promise leaves your lips, his demeanor shifts, and he no longer radiates violence but a sense of understanding.

“But make no mistake, if I so much as suspect anything from you, I will choose my safety…and whatever that entails with it. Do you understand me?” Too long a moment passes between you, but you wait with bated breath until he nods in agreement before you stand and step away from him.

“As I told your friend, I do not wish to have anything to do with you. And I will happily remain out of your way to offer you similar courtesy.” Your voice is unwavering, and Tovar studies you closely, his eyes as fixed as your message. He stands opposite you and for a moment, you are distracted by his broad shoulders and firm presence. But you brush the thought aside and blink slowly when he nods in affirmation one last time.

“Sleep well, bruja.” He bids you a good night and walks away, leaving you more confused and concerned than when you first entered the qahwa an hour ago. Looking around the voyagers in the room, you cannot help but think of leaving the country altogether. You are confident that should you stay, things would only grow more complicated, and you have no desire to live in anxiety until this mission is finished. But you know you should not ignore your visions, nor should you move past what you saw when you took Tovar’s hands.

You could not place this need to know who he is to you. Nor did you wish to ignore the sense of familiarity that washed over you when you held his hand in your own.

The feeling was unlike anything else you have ever experienced, and the desire to place him grew exponentially over night, keeping you awake until the sun shone in the sky. You pushed the windows open at dawn, allowing the prayer call to put your mind at ease as you prepared for the day.

A part of you had accepted what the next few weeks, perhaps months, could reveal. You knew you should listen to your mind, allow it to care for your well being and drive you away from this task. But as you exited the inn and found Tovar waiting upon a camel and eyeing you as you approached the men he was surrounded with, you knew your heart had won this time.

You would not leave. You would not run away. And you certainly would not allow Tovar to have you question your sanity.

“Who brought the girl?” You walked to your horse, patting her neck as you fed her the carrots you bought the previous night. Ignoring the question, you continue to softly rub your companion, whispering words of encouragement as she ate every last bit of food you offered her. Expecting the man to move aside when no answer was offered to him, you glance quickly to the side when you hear him approach closer than you appreciated, and as he reached out to touch your hair, you dragged a dagger across his chest and pinned it just beneath his neck, holding his arm in between the two of you and staring at him until his eyes were filled with nothing but shock and fear.

“If you value your neck, I suggest you keep the rest of your limbs to yourself.” The warning is breathed lowly, loud enough for him to hear, and the rest of the men to wonder about. It takes him a little over a minute to respond, and you push him away aggressively, making your lack of patience known to the others. You wait to see if anyone else is willing to test you, and when they all return to their conversations, you attend to your horse once more.

As you mount her, you chance a look at Tovar and find him attempting to hide a smirk from you. Unsure of what he could possibly be smiling about, you pat your horse and ask her to move towards the dock, not bothering to wait for any of the company.

Passing the busy markets of Cairo, you admire the crafts and tools being sold throughout, and you make a stop when you notice Tefnut eyeing the ripe strawberries ahead. You jump down and walk towards the older woman, collecting a fair amount of strawberries and putting it on the scale to see how much it costs. She holds out seven fingers and you nod in gratitude, giving her the coins she requested and then some. She pats her chest in return, handing you another few strawberries to which you refuse, silently letting her know that you do not need any more.

Making your way back to your horse, you stop in your tracks when you see Tovar and William flanking your horse and conversing. Not wanting to create a scene, you approach Tefnut and take her reins, bringing her forward and away from the two men so she can eat in peace.

“What do you think you are doing with my horse?”

“If you value your companion, lass, perhaps do not leave her by herself. We were behind you when we saw a man attempt to take her away.” William starts, holding his hands up to ensure you do not misunderstand his kindness for something else. You look between him and Tovar, and you cannot help the shock written on your features when you find him relishing the sunlight as it begins to warm the day.

Tovar knows immediately why you are stupefied but he shakes his head, refusing to give in to whatever inquiries you now hold for him.

“Vámonos,” he paces away on his camel, calling after William who continues to wait for a response from you.

“Noted, thank you.” You say nothing further, knowing that explaining why you are not worried for your horse could open potential lines of questioning from both him and Tovar. As you watch them move closer to the port, you wonder how Tovar is able to bask in the warmth of the sun without instantly setting into fire. Pushing the rest of the strawberries into Tefnut’s mouth, you mount her and follow the two men, already meditating on the different spells that could offer such protection.

You were sure it was a spell, but you were also aware that only a powerful witch could hold such abilities in her hands. Not only that, but he would have needed to either compel her or do something so honorable that she granted him this in return. The question was, did Tovar receive this gift through coercion or offering.

When you finally reach the port and find the rest of the company surrounding a gentleman standing high on a ship, you get off Tefnut and walk towards the back, listening to who you presume is the headhunter of this mission.

“Now, you may ask yourselves why there is such a large number of you, the answer of which lies in who and what you are meant to be protecting. For the coming weeks, you are tasked with protecting the merchant caravans traveling along the Nile. Our merchants will be carrying several goods, the most important of which are textiles and gold.” You listen carefully in an attempt to find answers to your questions. You are unsure whether you were brought to this land for the sole purpose of protecting said merchants, or something in association.

“Before I go any further, you all must understand something very important. Should any one of you grow greedy and tired of your travels and decide to steal something for yourself, I assure you, I will ensure your death comes soon after by none other than the rest of the company, who will be paid double upon their return. Do not test me.” He refuses to smile throughout his speech, and you know then that he may have been double-crossed by mercenaries before. A familiar sensation crosses over you and you turn around in time to see Tovar refusing to look elsewhere. You maintain his gaze for a moment out of habit, and only when the headhunter continues his speech do you finally turn away.

“Expect bandits of many allegiances along the route. And under no circumstances will you allow others in your company that have not been hired by me. You will each receive a quarter of your share now, and when you have reached Aswan, you will have the rest of your payment.” You notice several men raise their hands to inquire after their task, but you pay them no mind as you approach the merchants and introduce yourself. Two men nearly huff in humor when you tell them you are one of their protectors, but the third man quiets them instantly, letting them know what he has seen earlier in the morning.

“Good day to you all,” you bid them a farewell before returning to your post, watching as each man receives his share from the gentleman on the ship and makes his way back to the merchants. When it is your turn, you say nothing but your name, to which the older man nods and continues on. As you move back to your horse, you walk past Tovar, and for a split second, his scent seeps through your senses and halts you in your steps.

Myrrh and Oud.

The combination is distinct, one that you are sure you have been in the presence of before. And as you turn around to look at the man you informed the night prior that you wish to steer clear of him, you get the sense that your desires would soon shift and lead you into temptations. Or perhaps, trouble.

Shaking the intrusive thought away, you lead your horse to the back of the company and wait for them to move. If Tovar notices the way you meditate on him throughout the morning and well into the afternoon, he says nothing of it and does as he promises.

You speak to no one as you move up the Nile towards Atfeh, and by nightfall, you find that you are nearly reaching the end of Cairo. As the winds shift and the air grows colder, you hear the leader of the merchants speak to several of the men in the company. Knowing that you are probably resting for the night, you hop off of your horse and lead her towards the shallow end of the Nile, telling her to remain there for the night until you come in the morning.

“Enkotk hahten,” you pat her a few times and back away from the waters, aiming to find a nice tree to make your cot beneath so you can avoid remaining with the men. Not looking behind you, you bump into someone’s chest and slowly turn to find Tovar looking past you and towards your companion.

“Am I mistaken in assuming that you just put a spell on your horse, hechicera?” You are aware his question is not one of nosiness but curiosity, yet you grow irritated at his questioning gaze, mostly due to the fact that he was forcing his scent upon you once more, a scent which you grew to enjoy with each minute that passed in his presence.

“Am I mistaken in assuming that you can walk during the day because of one of my people’s spells?” You retort and notice the manner in which his body grows rigid instantly. He had not expected your question, that you are certain of, but what throws you off is the somber, almost lonely spirit that comes over him at your inquiry.

“I- I do not know.” You furrow an eyebrow at him, unsure of why your heart clenches tightly at such a sad expression from him. Not knowing what you should do, you step away from him to clear your mind, not wanting his musk to distract you any further.

“I make sure she remains where she is, and anyone who means her harm is gifted with an unkindly kick to the face.” The comment seems to fulfill its purpose and you watch as Tovar nods once before moving his camel towards the water as well. You are not sure what about him that seems so fascinating to you, but you move away from the company regardless, not wanting to partake with any of the men as the night grows colder and lonelier.

Lying below a tree at the edge of the company, you glance around to ensure that no one is nearby before reaching out both of your hands and envisioning the tree above you.

“Come, O Isis, mighty in magic, protector of your son Horus! Deliver me from all evil, harmful things, from the serpent, from poison, and from any harm that comes my way. Let him who knows no evil against me enter.” Whispering the words into the night air, you open your eyes and watch as a soft haze only you can see falls around you. Glancing out into the Nile, you see Tovar push his camel near your horse and pat Tefnut on her back. Unlike the others, she responds kindly to him, nosing at his armor and forcing a graceful smile onto his features. The moment is cut short when he suddenly turns to look at you, and before you can turn away, he steps away from your horse and bows his head, silently apologizing for presuming familiarity with your companion.

Pulling the blanket over yourself, you shut your eyes and surrender to a deep sleep. It has been long since you allowed yourself any respite, but something about the previous night’s meeting, and today’s long journey, pushes you briskly into an intense slumber.

You dream of ancient dunes and majestic monuments. You dream of the running waters of the Nile River and a sunrise unlike any you have ever seen. You dream of long-forgotten touches and soft kisses.

But perhaps most importantly, you dream of a pair of brown eyes, following you everywhere you go, gazing through your soul longingly, begging you to return the love etched deep within them.

Hoping. Hoping for salvation.

“All roads lead to you, even those I took to forget you.” —Mahmoud Darwish October 30th, 1422

“¡Cuidado!” You stoop to the ground in time to avoid a dagger to the neck, and without hesitation, you pull the weapon through the air, aiming it straight into your assailant’s chest and watching as he falls to the ground with shock and fear written on his expression. There is no time to dwell on the reason behind your enemy’s attack, and you swiftly end one man after another, noting the unique ways they move and speak in hopes of understanding more about them.

Chaos continues to unfold around you, and you do your best to remain beside the merchants and their goods, refusing to allow anyone near them. There is a strange air about the field, one that you cannot help but recognize instantly. You would know that presence anywhere in the world, and as you take down the men approaching those you are meant to protect, you miss one strutting from behind you, and when you finally feel his spirit lingering just against your back, you are met with a pair of strong hands, ones that push you aside and receive a silver dagger in your stead.

A painful howl rips through your chest, and you watch in horror as Tovar reaches behind him and drags the weapon from his back, not caring for how beastly he must look as he penetrates the knife three times into his enemy’s jugular. He turns around and studies you, and the shock of his actions must be apparent because he nods once and moves on to the next unfriendly visitor.

You are unsure of how to think of what he has willingly done for you, but you waste no time and stand to your height, continuing to battle alongside him in hopes of returning the favor should it be needed. There is no way of knowing how long the company spends fighting off the bandits, but by the time you are done, the sun slowly begins to set past the horizon and you are left with a multitude of bodies to either bury or scavenge from.

When you are positive you are no longer needed, you walk towards the nearby village, wanting to find the source of familiarity brushing over your mind ever since you entered Asyut. Moving through the quiet streets, you call out to the spirit of the witch, hoping she has enough strength to respond in kind. Not a few moments later, you watch as a soft, green thread loops around you and slowly pulls you forward. You follow without delay, watching as the thread grows into a deeper shade the closer you approach the hiding place. As soon as you stand in front of the broken down building, you push through doors and run into the property, not caring for the possibility of more bandits.

Making a sharp turn to the left, you come to a halt as you look upon a face you have not seen in decades.

“Petra,” you call out for her, running to her side as she breaks down into tears and reaches for your arms. A sigh of relief escapes your lips as you wrap yourself around her, and you briefly feel a sense of trepidation take over you, but you give the thought no time to linger, wanting to nurse your friend’s wounds as soon as possible.

“What are you doing here?” You pull away and hold her cheeks in your hands, looking in between her bloodied and bruised eyes as she continues to sob in your arms.

“I- I do not know. They never told me what they wanted with me, only that I was useful to them in some way. But now that I know you are here, I suspect they are after you. Please, sister, tell me you are safe. Tell me they are not after you.” She speaks haphazardly and you quiet her down to the best of your abilities, not wanting to give her any reason for more panic now that you saved her.

“I am well, dearest. Do not worry,” you smile at her, pulling her to her feet and breaking the chains around her wrists to lead her away. Only when you reach the door to the abandoned home do you look up and find Tovar waiting for the two of you. You do not get a chance to explain yourself asTovar sniffs the air deeply and releases the unholiest of growls, aimed not at you but your coven sister.

“What- what is he doing here?” She shakes in fear and hides behind you, and you throw a protection spell around her for precaution, not wanting to lead attention to the three of you.

“He will not hurt you, I promise.” The words do not leave your mouth for more than a few seconds before Tovar menacingly walks towards you, his eyes turning a deep shade of fiery gold that reminds you of what he is.

“Do not test my patience, Tovar.” The command is barely louder than a whisper, yet he refuses to back down, offering you a similar order in kind. “Do not mock my kindness, maga.” The display of his canines would shake you to your core had you not spent the past few weeks traveling with him and knowing him just a little bit more.

Neither of you seem to back down, and only when you feel your friend descend to the floor and clutch at your feet do you finally push Tovar away and warn him with a snap of your fingers. A fire engulfs the inside of the building instantly, and you watch as his demeanor shifts to one of caution. He looks around him briefly and returns his focus on you, not bothering to say another word as he backs away and holds his hands up in defeat.

“Remember the headhunter’s words, she cannot join us.” He warns as he walks out of the smoky room and out to the street.

“I will vouch for her.” You retort immediately, letting him know that your decision is not up for debate. He shakes his head at you and glances at Petra one last time, breathing in her scent one last time as he returns to the company.

“Why are you traveling with that- that thing?” Petra inquires when Tovar is out of reach, and you turn to her, patting her on the neck one last time as you lead her to your group.

“It was not my decision. I- I joined a company tasked with protecting a group of merchants and he happened to be one of them.” You weave your hands around her skin, silently breathing healing and protection spells that would alleviate her pain and wounds quicker.

“Do you know him?” There is a strangeness about the question she asks and for whatever reason your mind conjures, you shake your head in an instant, a part of you letting you know that it would be unwise to tell her of the familiarity you feel with him.

When you reach the company, you speak with the merchants, letting them know that you found your sister by chance, and that she would only accompany you for a few days before she feels better. As they inspect her, you barely manage to hide the smile from your face at how helpless she makes herself appear to them, and only when they nod their approval do you take her away and ask her to ride on Tefnut.

The rest of the day is met with more silence, the company beginning to wonder why the bandits have increased suddenly. This was the fourth attack in the span of three weeks, and although your numbers did not noticeably decrease, you also cannot help but think of how abnormal things have become the closer you grow to your destination.

You speak with your old friend, asking her about what she has accomplished in the past few decades, and responding in kind when she wonders where you have been and why the coven has not seen you for nearly a century. You do not know how to answer her, knowing that you could not lie to her if you tried. You tell her you had people to help across the world, sites you wished to visit at least once in case the wars of the New World reached your place.

When night falls, you choose to bring her to an inn, telling her to remain within her room for her own safety. And if she wants to ask where you will go, she does not get to it as Tovar’s presence suddenly becomes known within the confines of the small tavern.

“I assure you, he will not harm you in any way.” You shut the door behind you, locking it and casting one last spell out of fear of other, non-creature visitors. Heading down the stairs, you find Tovar seated by himself at one corner of the cafe, the scene reminding you of that fateful night a few weeks prior. You approach him slowly, not wanting to trigger his anger any further.

As you sit down opposite him, you find the color of his face graying, and nearly reach out to touch him but remember how little you know each other. He sneaks a glance at you, but says nothing, the somber expression he offers you forcing your heart to beat faster out of sympathy.

“Are you unwell?”

“It is none of your concern.” His answer is laced with venom, and you cannot blame him for the hostility, knowing that had he brought more of his kind near you, you would be as uncomfortable, if not more.

“I promise she will not grow near you.” You are not sure what pushes you to offer him such a vow, but the manner in which he recoils into himself and winces at your words lets you know he is not appreciative of the gesture.

“Do not make promises you cannot keep, bruja. You and I know of the past our kinds have suffered through.” His voice is tired, and you attempt to ask him once more if he is unwell.

“Tovar, what you have done for me today-”

“Save it, I do not care for your gratitude, nor do I have any use for it.” He pushes you aside as he walks out of the inn, and you are left speechless, afraid of why your chest tightens at the prospect of him getting hurt for your sake. You have questioned the action all day long, trying your damnedest to find a reason behind the selfless act he performed without so much as a blink of an eye. Nothing has changed throughout the past few weeks, apart of course from the occasional hello and silent sharing of space.

Looking outside, you find the sun setting across the village, and you choose to spend the night walking about the town, wanting to rid your mind of the thousands of questions roaming about Tovar and Petra’s presence.

Gods, why was she here of all places? There was never a reason for someone like her to go so far from her home, let alone travel outside of the coven. There was an oddity to you running into her in this land, more so at being captured by men dressed in attire you have not seen before.

Venturing deeper into town, you surrender to the relief that washes over you the farther you move away from the inn. A part of you feels guilty for not spending more time with your coven sister, but you decide to listen to your heart once more, already ruminating on why reluctance flooded at you upon your first sight of her.

“Goddess divine, please tell me. I am your servant, and I long to know.” The prayer is whispered into the night air, and you decide to ignore the matter and look for more healing herbs, knowing that you should enforce your aid on Tovar the next time you see him. That dagger would be nothing had he fed, but you have not seen him drink an ounce of blood throughout the past few weeks and you would hate for any sickness to befall him because of your lack of focus.

So engrossed in the concoctions of herbs and potions you are collecting, you completely miss the thread of green calling for you, and only when it begins turning into a soft shade of red do you finally recognize it. You drop the powders in your hand and race to the inn, regretting ever leaving Petra by herself. Deep down, you knew there would be an issue between her and Tovar, but you had hoped that he understood you were not to be trifled with.

By the time you reach the inn and run up the stairs, you find the door to her room unlocked and broken off of its hinges. You gasp when you find Tovar bloodied and heaving, his hands clasping onto your sister’s neck as his fingers dig deeper into the skin.

“Tovar,” you try to warn, but the look he offers you is nothing less than murderous.

“Tell her…tell her what you told me.” He is breathing heavily, and you note the way he refuses to loosen his hold on her.

“Unholy animal-” She hisses at him, only to be met with a snarl and a threat of a bite to her neck. You are not sure what he is referring to, but seeing her eyes widen in shock and horror lets you know that it must be important enough for Tovar to test your patience so openly.

“Tell her, what you told me.” He orders once more, his eyes never leaving your own as you snap your fingers and create a door to the room, one that remains shut tightly to avoid any visitors.

“Tovar, unhand her.”

“I cannot do that, bruja.” He shakes his head, his retort not leaving you much of a choice.

“Petra, please. Give him whatever he wants.” You plead with your friend, wishing she is a bit wiser than others of your kind.

“If I tell h-her, she…she will not believe. I am her sister, and you are…nothing. You are nothing to her. She will not believe-” You step forward when you hear an agonizing screech escape her throat and you watch as Tovar delivers a harsh bite to her shoulder. He unclenches his jaws from her a moment later, licking his lips once and shutting his eyes to better envision what her blood offers her. There is a moment of silence as Tovar sees in her memories what he has been seeking, and only when he is satisfied does he push her to the ground and grip her hair tightly.

“If you do not tell her, I will show her. Which do you prefer, capulla?” At the mention of her memories, her eyes seek you out and tear up, leading you to tilt your head to the side and approach the two of them slowly.

“You must understand, we- we couldn’t…” She attempts to make excuses but Tovar was never known for his patience, and he twists her neck once, signaling another bite to her shoulder should she refuse to obey him.

“Tell. Her.” His voice is menacing, and you nod at her with a smile, wanting her to understand that it will all be well.

“In my pocket…reach for the paper in my pocket.” She signals for her right pocket and waits with bated breath as Tovar snatches it and throws it at you. You inhale deeply, unsure of what either of them is referring to.

Slowly unfolding the flimsy piece of paper, you read the top line of the letter and flinch at the familiarity of the date.

“What is this?” You ask Tovar, unsure of what he is attempting to show you. His body grows tired by the minute, but he pays it no mind as he maintains his hold on your sister and responds to your question.

“This is the reason why you cannot recall any memories since the last time you were here,” he finds more knowledge of his statement in your eyes than he thought he would, and he takes a deep breath before continuing with his revelation, “and why I cannot remember anything before 1249.” Once again, the date is not unknown to you, and your eyes widen in realization as you come to understand what he is referring to.

“That was-”

“Yes, the same year you were here.” He cuts you off, pointing at Petra to let you know of her involvement. When you do not make a move to read the letter, he nods towards the piece of parchment and asks you to read it one more time.

“Read it. Out loud, please.”

“December 24th, 1249. An equilibrium, at last, has been attained.” The sentence is bothersome, and you turn to look at Petra, finding more fear in her eyes now that you had hold of the letter than before, when it was only her and Tovar.

“Por favor, continúa.”

“I pen these words with a trembling hand, for the events I am about to recount are of such grievous nature that they shake the very foundation of our order. The traitors have been uncovered, and what we beheld defies comprehension. Upon first encountering them, our hearts were struck with disbelief, for it was assumed—nay, taken as truth—that our coven’s esteemed leader bore envy for her gifts. How deeply mistaken we were! Alas, the fault lay with us all.” You bite your lower lip in anticipation of what’s to come, gazing at Tovar to find any inclination of what the contents of this letter mean to you, either of you. He is nearly trembling but he remains steadfast in his stance, not once letting go of the witch in his hands as you continue to read the words so close to you, yet so far.

“Until the night of her final sighting, we labored under the notion that she had been cruelly abducted. But, oh, how far this presumption was from the truth! When at last we found her, it was in the arms of the devil himself. Not as his prisoner, nor his thrall, but as his equal, his beloved.” You look up to Tovar once more and find him refusing to meet your eyes, as if seeing you would break him for eternity. “She had not been coerced, nor, as his own kind did divulge to us, had he been ensnared by her enchantments. Together they stood, bound by their own volition, in a union both repugnant and unholy. How vile such a betrayal is to witness!” At the mention of the relationship, a flash of an unknown, distant memory crashes through your mind, and you are met with visions of your arms wrapped around the golden skin of a man, one who resembles the vampire standing not a few steps away from you.

No, it cannot be.

“Let it be known that on that cursed night, witches and vampires, long foes, stood as one to halt an abomination. It was a spectacle both harrowing and grotesque—to see the depths of her devotion to him, and his to her.” You are not aware of the tears streaming down your cheeks until you shakily gaze at Tovar and find similar sadness rolling down his face and onto his armor. The words ripping through your chest are of similar torment to him, but he does not budge to grow closer to you, instead furthering his painful grip on Petra out of heartbreak and anger.

“More abhorrent still were his pleas, his promises of eternal torment should harm befall her. In the end, it was their own affections that wrought their downfall. Unable to endure the sight of her bloodied form, he cast aside all pretenses of strength and supplicated himself for her sake—not his own, but hers alone.” You cannot find it in yourself to read it further, the retelling of those events twisting a knife deep within your heart that you swear you may die should you continue.

“Read on, querida.”

“In response to his desperate entreaties, we offered him a choice, though it pained us greatly to do so. It was then he understood why their bond could never endure. A single glance sufficed to convey our intent, followed by but a whisper: she was to forget him, utterly and irrevocably, until the very earth itself crumbled into dust. And thus, he consented, knowing it was their only reprieve. He resolved to undertake the task himself, loathing the mere notion that another might exert such power over her. He could not, would not, permit any other soul to carry out so dreadful an act. It was a torment of unimaginable cruelty, and he alone would bear its weight.” You can feel Tovar’s spirit burst into little fires, and you know then why his hurt runs deeper than your own, why you longed to be near him all those weeks ago but chose to stay clear of him out of a hidden inclination, as if growing closer to him made you burn.

“When his turn came, the coven encircled him, our enchantments weaving an intricate web about his mind, until her name was lost to him entirely. The very notion of her existence was swept away, as fleeting and insubstantial as the sands of the Egyptian dunes beneath the relentless desert wind. Perhaps he welcomed it, for the burden of love was too great even for one such as he. Yet, I confess, I do not believe the spell was entirely imposed upon him. A creature of his power could never have been subdued against his will. For this reason alone we sent her to him, to bring about his end. How little did we anticipate the depth of their bond, for it became evident they would be one another’s undoing.” There is no doubt in your mind on who the letter is referring to, as each word delivers a long lost memory you have begged your soul to recall countless of times. You can envision him so clearly in your mind—his laughter as you drew circles on his chest, his eyes gazing at you longingly as you kissed your love across his skin, his hands as they broke you apart and bound you together with affection and loyalty, and above all, his spirit as it promised to never leave yours, not even if the gods themselves ordered you apart.

He was yours. And you were his.

“I recount these dreadful events as a record of the night in Luxor, that it may stand as a warning to all who come after. We ensured that no offspring could result from their cursed union, for such a progeny would herald the ruin of all creation. Yet, I implore you, vigilance must remain eternal. They were not easily subdued, and should fate ever conspire to reunite them, it will herald the death of us all.” Tovar kneels to the ground, his mouth whispering promises of evil into your sister’s ears as you finish the letter and finally read the betrayal of the writer.

“Yours in eternal duty, Petra A.”

Silence fills the room as you allow the history within the letter to settle in your mind. You fold the letter and place it in your pocket, not caring for anything but the woman kneeling in front of you.

“You betrayed me. You- my own people, betrayed me? How could you do it?” You ask her as you crawl towards her on the floor, not once asking Tovar to ease his grasp on her.

“You have to know why. Your…union is- it is unforgivable.” Her hatred disgusts you, and you frown at how easily she attempts to explain her actions.

“You speak of our union so simply, as if you yourself did not join my brothers and ask them to aid your conquest.” Tovar growls his own concerns to her, not caring for how violent he is becoming as his nails bleed her skin further. Her sobs are silent and she shuts her eyes when you stand and move away from her.

“I need you to know Petra that- that my lack of forgiveness is not due to your betrayal, but because you enforced your pathetic values over my happiness, over his peace. I will find you in every lifetime, and I will rip out your soul with my bare hands…and send you to the goddess without powers, and without explanation.” Before you can respond to you, you reach out your hand and grab hold of her mind, weaving intricate designs around her body until you find what you are searching for and tugging it from her physical presence.

Tovar watches as a yellow cloud forms around the room, and with a snap of your fingers, a mixture of fire and water storms around the yellow shadow, encircling it until it turns into ash and drops to the ground. You twirl your finger around the dust, collecting it into a small pouch and shutting it tightly.

If he is in awe of what you had just done, he says nothing and stands to his height, kicking the lifeless body at his feet to ensure she is no longer alive

“What will you do with her?” You ask as you watch Tovar drag her body from your room and throw her into his own that is across from you

“Scatter her across the Nile.” He shuts the door to his quarters and returns, settling down on the bed beside you quietly.

“My own people betrayed me.” The admission hurts more than you care to admit, and you turn to look at Tovar, only to find him wiping the streaks of tears away from his cheeks.

“Only because mine told them.” He responds instantly, and you hate how little he seems to be affected by his own revelation.

“What happened?” You are not sure what brings you to ask him such a question, but a part of you wishes to know whether he knew beforehand or if her presence alerted him to so sinister a plot.

“I sought you out after our conversation, to ask if you can aid me with…it does not matter. When I could not find you, I came to rest, and found the door unlocked, your friend spewing words that seemed too familiar for me to ignore.” You make a mental note of asking him later what he required from you, and you watch closely as his lips quiver with what happened while you were in the village.

“She did not appear too taken by my presence, but when I passed into your room, her fear stenched the room instantly, and I knew then that- that what I felt initially was not intuition but truth.” He looks to you then, and you find the brown of his eyes so expressive, a reminder of how he looked at you before…all those years ago.

“She must have seen realization dawn on me and felt it unnecessary to continue her lies. She had come with those bandits willingly, bandits which I should let you know, are of my own kind. They feared our paths had crossed in this land and wanted to ensure we did not remember what had happened before. Before I can ask her what she was referring to, she did…this.” He points at the lashes across his face, the deep cuts covering his arms and chest, wounds you hurt to think of. Without much thought, you stand and approach your bag, collecting the herbs you managed to purchase before the events of the night unfolded.

“What are you doing?” He stands instantly, only to sit back down when you turn around and silently ask him to rest. Tovar remains quiet as you bring your bag to him and remove as many of the healing herbs as you can.

“Can you please remove your armor and tunic?” You ask once, refusing to look into his eyes as he begins the slow, agonizing process of taking his clothes off. Neither of you say anything as you wait for him to throw his belongings to the floor, and you let him know that you will fix them as soon as you are finished administering the medication to his skin.

“This may hurt a bit. I- forgive me.”

“It is nothing, hermosa.” You do not dare ask him why his names for you changed, but you wait patiently as he continues to tell you what Petra informed him of.

“She knew my wrath would fuel me, and by the time I had my hand wrapped around her throat, she spilled her secrets easily, telling me of everything your kind and mine had done to us 173 years ago. She- she spoke of their success as if it was destined by God himself, as if our lives meant nothing. I knew I would rip her throat to pieces if she did not call you, so I led her to believe that I will release her when you come.” He hisses in pain when you rub a brown salve across his chest and arms, turning the other way to avoid showing you his fangs.

“And then I came.” You distract him, letting him know that you understand he does not mean to snarl at you.

“And then you came.” His body shakes the lower you apply the herbs, and when he is sure you are finished, he stands and walks away from you.

A loud gasp spills into the room when you see his back and the wound he received because of you.

“T-tovar.” You whimper his name, and it takes every ounce of control to not throw your arms around him and apologize for your lack of sight.

“I am not worth your tears, sabia.” He turns around and smiles sadly at you, reaching for your cheeks and wiping the tears away. You step closer to him, and only when Tovar scents your body does he come to his senses, quickly backing away from you and reaching for his tunic.

“Wait- Tovar, please wait. I- I can heal this.” You lead him to the bedside once more, and kneel on it as you ask him to face away from you.

“Do not worry yourself.”

“You and I both know that this silver will only spread, and unless you feed now, you will not be able to heal quickly. Please, let me heal you.” Your voice breaks at the end, and Tovar can do nothing when you plead with him. He nods silently and shuts his eyes as he feels your hands skim across the skin of his back. Your touch is so familiar yet so distant, and he suspects that similar emotions tunnel through you, but he pays them no mind, not wanting to abuse your kindness and have you think he wants more from you now that-

Now that you both knew the truth.

“O Isis, great healer, mother of Horus, deliver your humble servant, Pero Tovar, from all evil. May the breath of life fill his lungs, and may your light heal his wounds. By the power of Geb and Nut, the father of the earth and the mother of the sky, may your body be restored. Let the sacred words cleanse your mind and body, and the breath of life renew your soul and spirit.” Tovar can feel you touch his skin in strange patterns, and he nearly asks why you are choosing the old gods of this land when he feels a kindle of fire radiate across his back. He haunches over in pain, but says nothing as you continue to touch his back, your skin softer and hotter than anything he has ever felt in his life.

He is unsure how long he remains in your bed, and only when he feels you let out a long sigh does he turn around and find you slowly falling over.

“Cariño, you are hurt!” You smile at the worry in his voice, chuckling at how different everything seems to be now that you both put a name to the mixed feelings you experienced all those weeks ago upon your reuniting.

“It…I am well, P-pero.” The whisper of his name could send him flying if he was capable of such a feat, and he swallows thickly as he lays you down and covers you with the bedsheets.

“Rest, mi luna. And I will come to wake you tomorrow.” He smiles down at you, the expression letting you feel a safety you have not known in so long. You nod absentmindedly, letting go of his hands and falling into a deep sleep as Tovar collects his belongings and leaves your room. He locks the door behind you and makes quick work of his clothes, his body rejuvenated with more than your words and herbs.

Entering into his room, he is met with the lifeless body of Petra, and he cannot help but sneer at everything she has done to him and you. Without wasting another moment, he carries her body and shuts his eyes, racing down the stairs and out to the Nile bank in a matter of seconds. He glances around to ensure no one can see him, and when he is positive he is alone, he quickly shreds the witch's body to pieces, scattering them across the river as he promised you until nothing but her blood remains on the soiled ground.

Looking out into the dark horizon, he allows himself a moment of respite and clarity, wanting to bask in the knowledge of what he has felt ever since he laid eyes on you in the qahwa was nothing but his heart’s memories begging him to remember you.

He had known then it was no coincidence, the way your scent was so familiar to his senses, and he was aware that this same recognition was what drove him to seek you out after the battle and know why your sister’s blood was so fundamental to his memories.

Tovar did not know what would become of either of you, but after your little tricks minutes ago, and the way you wept as you read that letter, he dared to hope.

Hope for a chance to prove his loyalty to you.

Hope for the possibility of finding love in your eyes once more, the same deep affection he has felt for you all those years ago, and the one that drove him to remain near you ever since your paths crossed.

“The voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses.” —E. E. CummingsDecember 3, 1422

He was different, much less wary than before, and more interested in keeping your company throughout the journey. You could not refuse his kindness, nor his friendship. So much has passed between the two of you in the past few weeks. From fighting bandits alongside each other, to sitting quietly around the fire at night, your shared experiences grew with each passing day, and before you could place a word on it, your fondness for him evolved into something deeper, something you reminisced about and wondered if it was new or based on past feelings.

The memories returned, one by one, and as you trotted alongside him throughout the day, you stole glances of him, often finding his brown eyes aimed at you before you attended yours on him. He would smile and turn aside, embarrassed you had caught him openly dreaming of you.

And with those memories came a sense of possessiveness. You could not keep silent when he was approached by the bedouin women you met along the way, and he certainly could not keep his mouth shut when other men in your company sought you out late at night. There was an unspoken rule between the two of you, an understanding that you were not available to others, and you desired to speak of its finality, but it appeared that he wanted to address said rule long after the mission was finished. He preferred to keep you at arm’s length, afraid to speak of the matters that befell you on All Hallows’ Eve. You told him later of your reluctant thoughts on whom you thought was a close friend, surprised to find him answering you about your own kind’s heightened powers during this time of year. He recalled things you were sure only a witch would know, and smiled as he realized how he knew such matters.

The more time you spent together, the more you understood of your past life, or, the life you held before they made you forget each other. You learned about his past, and in turn, realized things within your own life. Tovar too became more aware of his behavior the more you spoke of what you envisioned each night. Of course, you would never tell him of the more intimate moments your mind’s eye recollected, but you got the sense that he knew. The mischievous smile that graced his features and the shy demeanor that overtook him each time you recollected a day from your past lead you to believe that he saw similar dreams, or perhaps, imagined said sentiments when he rested his body late at night.

Yet, with those shared experiences, you had to continue pretending that you were not more. As much as he hated to admit it, Tovar was a shy soul, and you were not one to speak of such matters with someone unwilling to actively take part in such a conversation. So, you let him lead, praying each night that he would begin to notice the way you look at him, the longing filling your hands whenever he is near, the wildness of your heartbeat as it whispered his name over and over again.

But he never crossed that line, and you pushed his reluctance aside as you took your belongings and made your way to one of the hamams. You had invited him earlier, letting him know of the privacy you can afford with your earnings. Then he brushed off your offer, mumbling something or other about not trusting the open space about the establishment. But you could see through the excuse; something was bothersome to him, and you hoped you had not done anything to upset him. He may have been a nightwalker, but he held a sensitive soul, one you remembered vividly from before. When neither of you moved following your invitation, you looked upon him, silently asking if he was bothered by something you may have done. He shook his head then, as if to tell you he can read your thoughts and does not wish to dwell on the matter.

“The waters in these baths come from the oasis nearby, they have healing abilities.” You attempt to tempt him, but he does not budge, refusing you once more as he walks away and disappointedly responds to you.

“Déjalo.”

You were not sure if it was possible to be more plain; sure, if he wishes to discuss your situation after the commission, you could take him up on the offer then. But he does not bother to explain himself to you, the hot and cold behavior throwing you off and raising anxious questions in your mind. You pray to the gods you had not accidentally pushed him away. It would break you.

A part of you wanted nothing more than to blame him, but you could not. His kind was never confrontational with matters of the heart, and you guessed it took you a long time before to become so intimate with him.

Reaching the bath you rented for the night, you smile at the woman sitting outside and let her know that another, more brooding gentleman may or may not join you. You ignore the smirk on her expression, silently entering the vapor-filled room and shutting the door behind you.

It is more exquisite than you initially thought, and you set your towels aside, stripping down to nothing and throwing the dress atop your towels before stepping into the hot water. It does wonders to your body, the immense and quick relief allowing you to momentarily forget why you had originally wanted to spend some time here. The quietness of the room, and the marvelous architecture engulfing your tired soul, allow you to doze off. You whisper soothing spells across the waters, wanting to feel more relaxed in preparation for the journey tomorrow.

As you float around the small space, you feel a familiar presence grow closer to you, and not moments after your eyes flutter open do you hear the door to the hamam open wide, signaling the arrival of none other than Tovar. He reluctantly enters the cloudy area, adjusting his sight to the space until his attention falls directly on you.

Silence fills the room as you both acknowledge the other’s presence, and before you can ask him what has changed his mind, Tovar places his belongings beside your own and asks you to turn around. You give him a moment of privacy and face the small window at the end of the little opening within the wall, watching the stars twinkle outside in an attempt to focus on anything other than the nude man touching the same waters you are resting in.

“Are you decent?” You cannot help but smile at the question, and when a gruff consent vibrates across the walls, you turn around and finally meet Tovar’s eyes. Although you have healed him weeks prior, the sight of his golden skin littered with old wounds and scars sets you on fire, and you have to force your gaze away from his chest to avoid embarrassing yourself.

“I am glad you came,” your attempt at making the moment less awkward fails, as Tovar does not bother to respond to you but steps around the water silently and lets the heat heal his weary soul.

You are unsure how much time passes, but you let Tovar lead the space, afraid his anxiety would force him out of the waters. You can tell he is watching you closely, and you do not bother to behave any differently than if you were alone, knowing that he much prefers the quiet enjoyment of the intimate moment over anything more involving. He allows himself to relax soon after, and you throw him a soft smile as you pass the palms of your hands across the waters and heat it just a little bit more. His skin grows a little red, and you worry it may not be to his liking.

“Is it uncomfortable?” You inquire, hoping he would not shy from telling you his true feelings.

“Está bien,” he breathes lowly, and you cannot help the shiver that courses down your spine when his deep voice reaches your skin. Tovar notices the effect he holds on you, and without dwelling much on the appropriateness of his actions, he approaches you, his gaze never once wavering as the water dances around your bodies. You hold your breath, afraid to break whatever haze that befell you, and when he is a mere hair-breadth away, you look up and into his eyes, allow your chest to rise and fall rapidly as shallow breaths come and go, signaling your excitement and nervousness.

You watch him closely, and in turn, Tovar studies every movement of your body, as if you were a prey he has been seeking for ions. He never once looks beneath your neckline, and you credit his immense self-control, knowing you are incapable of offering him similar comfort. When your back touches the cold tiles of the wall, you swallow the lump in your throat and quiver, lips shaking at the prospect of whatever the vampire in front of you has in mind.

His eyes are dark with promises only you know he can fulfill, and as stares into you, you are suddenly taken back to a similar moment, one that has you regret ever hurting him. Focusing on the scar across his eye, you raise your hand and slide it over his temple and cheek, frowning at imposing such lasting violence on his skin.

“Forgive me,” there is nothing more to say, the history you find in his eyes letting you know he remembers what you have done to him upon your first meeting. He shuts his eyes and nuzzles into your hand, unaware of the way his hand reaches out to grasp at your upper arm. Tovar pulls you closer until you are breathing the same air, and when he opens his eyes and finds tears rolling down your cheeks, he wipes them away, his attention seeking your lips when a droplet of water sticks to the lower skin. Sliding his thumb across your mouth, he parts his own lips and tilts closer to you, until nose nudges yours and forces you to look up.

So very close to feeling his mouth steal your breath away, you feel your heart shatter into a million pieces when Tovar suddenly moves to the other end of the bath, his back turned away from you and his muscles rippling with an anger you have not seen for weeks.

“Wha-”

“I cannot understand you.” He is seething, and had you not been sure he was finally going to claim you, you would have thought this was all a dream, a very sick, twisted dream.

“What…what do you mean?”

“You allow me such…liberties, and yet you- you seek out the merchant boy whenever you can? As if we are nothing but- but…” Tovar trips over his words, and your frown deepens when you finally piece together what he means to say to you.

“Tovar, if there is a concern you wish to address, do so plainly.” You approach him then, voice wavering slightly when he turns around and stares somewhere behind you, as if he could not bear looking into your eyes.

“Do not play coy with me, bruja.” The name he breathes, one that slowly turned into something that makes you smile, now sounds nothing more than an insult, and you feel a pang of hurt at the insinuation behind his words. You try to maintain your composure, but the manner in which he is set in his mind lets you know he may not see past his perspective at this moment.

“I am not one to jest, Tovar, and until you are willing to speak freely and listen in turn, I will waste my time. Enjoy the bath…alone.” You attempt to move past him but he reaches out for your arm and pulls you back, causing you to snarl at him out of fear of getting hurt any further.

“Do not touch me!”

He removes his hand immediately, staring at fiery eyes as you narrow them at him in irritation. You know you should leave, not speak another word that may be misconstrued or worse, one that cannot be taken back. But his anger lights your own and you walk towards him, pushing your finger into his chest as you part with nothing but lies.

“If you were vain, I would justify your anger as such. But this is different and whatever jealousy you are falling into is unnecessary.”

“And what if I am?” His question is unexpected, skin buzzing with energy now that you have spoken of what his mind has been thinking of for the past few days. You attempt to convince yourself to retract whatever thoughts brewing deep within, but seeing him react so strongly to your proximity and assertiveness pushes you further and before you can control yourself and walk away, you retort with a hiss.

“If you were, I would tell you that you have no reason to be. I am nothing to you, and I am certainly not interested in this swine of a man. This behavior will only-” Perhaps the universe decided against your response and wished to avoid any further misunderstandings because just as you are readying yourself for an outright battle, the doorkeeper walks in and interrupts your conversation.

“Yajib ‘an tughadiron,” she requests for both of you to leave, and you suspect it may be because of the hamam’s rules, the ones you chose to ignore for Tovar’s sake. Shaking your head at him, you do not care for your nudity as you leave the waters and haphazardly wear your tunics once more, apologizing to the young woman for any inconvenience you may have caused and leaving before Tovar can so much as think of another sentiment against you.

Only when you reach the dressing rooms do you allow Tovar’s concerns to settle in, and you settle against the wall, eyes looking into nothing when it occurs to you that he has plainly admitted to feeling jealous of your conversations with the merchant. You are unsure why he would allow his mind to tread towards such thoughts when he can plainly hear your words and understand your inquiries are nothing more than shared interests in the trade products. Your journey was close to an end. Edfu was a few days away from your destination and you wished to see what goods you can buy from the merchants that may be of benefit to you once you leave.

There was absolutely no reason for Tovar to ever waste a moment on why you are conversing with the man, and you shake your head in disappointment, knowing this could all be avoidable had he asked to speak with you on your…relationship.

Putting on your clothes, you swear beneath your breath at the thickness of that man, knowing that it was probably as difficult to get him to confess his feelings to you before as it was now.

“Goddess help me,” you speak to the empty room, only to flinch when you hear heavy breathing emanate from behind you. Turning around, you find Tovar’s chest rising and falling angrily, as if the mere sight of you caused him extreme discomfort. Not caring for the display of intensity, you pull on your tunics and avoid his gaze, allowing him another moment of respite before you truly rip into him. He surprises you, though, when he approaches you and waits for you to look at him before he speaks.

“No, you are wrong. You are not nothing to me, and…I- I am jealous bruja, I have been jealous for weeks now.” The way in which he murmurs his confession disarms you, and you stop moving altogether, eyebrows furrowing at his choice in words and their timing. You cross your arms and meet his gaze head on, refusing to back down as you have done so weeks prior.

“Who could you possibly be jealous of, Tovar? I rarely speak to anyone in our company.” You know better than to interrupt him, but you cannot help the question from leaving your lips, wanting him to think through his next words carefully to avoid irritating you any further. Then he shakes his head and swallows the lump in his throat, and you are, once again, mollified at how easily he affects your mood.

“I am not jealous of those men, I- I am jealous of-” You can tell he is struggling to find the right word to speak, because his hands clench and unclench, jaw set in place and lips pursing with impatience, as if he hated himself for not being capable of speaking his mind freely. You wait for him, knowing that you may never have him so forthright ever again, and as his breathing calms, you are suddenly hit with a wave of defeat and hurt, feelings you were positive are not your own but his.

“I am jealous of the rain.” The words escape his lips, barely above a whisper, yet heavy to feel like a confession of the soul. For a man of his stature, you are shocked to see a shaking ripple descend down his form, his hands ball into fists at his sides, the knuckles turning white, as though he is holding himself back from closing the distance between you. When he finally musters up the courage to look at you, you are met with a vulnerability you never thought you could see in him again—a rawness that strips away the hardened exterior he wears like armor.

His brows knit together, raised in despair, as if willing you to understand the storm inside him without him having to explain. You blink in confusion, unsure what he wants to convey. Tovar mistakes your quietness for indifference, clearing his throat to give himself enough time to find the necessary sentiments in hopes of forcing your heart to beat for him. When he speaks again, his voice is steadier, though no less anguished.

“I am jealous of the rain, mi amor. I am jealous of the rain because it touches you so intimately, night after night, when I cannot.” His shoulders, broad and strong, sag ever so slightly as if they can no longer bear the weight of his emotions. And you feel your breath hitch, his words settling like an ocean of water on your chest, heavy with longing and need. He does not stop, the floodgates of his emotions now open and unreserved, begging to be released for his sake and for a glimpse of hope from yours.

“I am jealous of the rain because it kisses your skin continuously when I dream of nothing else but that very thing.” Tovar takes a step closer, the space between you trembling with unspoken yearning. You can feel heat radiation from him, the fire in his words burning brother with every syllable. And your eyes, full of wonder and curiosity, pull him in further offering him a glimpse of what he held in his arms centuries ago. He was not a man of faith, far from it, but seeing the manner in which your body leans into his space, Tovar is sure his prayers have been answered, and your spirit finally felt the desperation of his very essence.

“I am jealous of the rain because…” His voice falters, his jaw tightening as he struggles to continue, afraid you fear the depth of what he desires from you. “Because every time it comes, you welcome it with open arms and smiles, letting it do whatever it wishes with your body…when I am desperately-” A single tear trails down his cheek, and you see his composure shatter as his hand briefly reaches towards you, only to stop mid-air, retreating as though he’s afraid his touch might burn you.

Or worse, your skin sets him into an eternal fire.

“When I am desperately wanting to be the one you welcome, the one you grace with upturned lips.” Tovar’s revelation hands in the air, raw and unrelenting. You feel your heart ache for him, but before you can respond, he surges forward again, his voice rising with an almost pained intensity. You dare not flinch, knowing whatever has hold of him will soon overflow through you and push you to put him out of his misery.

“Do you know what it feels like, bruja? To be so close to you and yet so far away? To burn every time you laugh, every time you speak, knowing that I am nothing but a shadow at your side? One that you despise because of what my kind has done to you.”

He steps back as if his own confession has wounded him, his hands shaking at the thought of you denying his heart, the one he had no choice but to bear to you, uncaring of what you may do to it. His next words are softer, almost fragile, as if spoken into a void he is confident will only face him in return and ignore him.

“I am jealous of the rain…but I am terrified as well. Terrified that you will leave once I-”

“Pero,” you interrupt, trembling at the intensity of his feelings, and the knowledge that he more than reciprocated your own but was drowning in a sea of helplessness.

Pero freezes, his dark eyes widening with disbelief at hearing you call him by his given name. You step forward, lips parting in anticipation, and for the first time, your voice breaks through his storm of self-pity.

“You have been jealous of the rain, and all this time, I have been jealous of the moon.” His brow furrows, confusion flickering across his features at hearing you return his confession in kind. But you continue, growing steadier the closer you move towards him.

“Watching how it lights up your face at night when I wish to be the one you look to.” His breath catches as your words settle between you, and you press on, your own emotions spilling forth like a river breaking through land.

“Longing for you to see me the way I see you. Praying to every god known to man that you will look past my nature and find my heart, the one that speaks your name with every beat.” Pero’s expression shifts, his guarded walls crumbling as he steps closer. His voice is shaking with uncertainty as finally allows himself to touch you. His hand finds your cheek and he leans forward to rest his forehead against your own, shutting his eyes to ensure that this was not a dream, that you were in his arms, returning his love and more.

“How can you be jealous of the moon…when you are mi luna?” He pulls away then, searching your eyes for any lies and finding nothing but unadulterated truth. You bite into your lower lip as his eyes pierce through you, leaving you breathless and needy for him. Swallowing hard, you cannot hold back any longer and throw your arms around him, letting your body sag against his embrace as he holds you against him and tightens his arms around you.

“I—I cannot breathe when you are not near.” Pero releases a deep sigh of relief at your confession, his breath a ragged whisper as he nuzzles into your neck and scents your intoxicating skin.

“Dios mío, bruja. You will be the death of me.” For the first time in decades, the weight of longing gives way to the lightness of surrender, and you dig your nails into his back, wanting him to know that you cannot ever allow space between you now that it has finally disappeared.

“I think I am finally starting to believe you mean that.” You chuckle against him, and as you feel him pull away, you look at him and search his face for any hint of hesitation. But all you find is sincerity, his eyes fixed on you, dark and unwavering, as if you are the only thing anchoring him to this earth.

“And if I do?” Pero asks, his voice low and tinged with an unguarded mischievousness.

Your chest tightens at the rawness in his tone, the unspoken please woven into his words forcing your heart to pound against your ribcage. The warmth of his presence pulls you in, and you swallow nervously, wanting to ensure you have his undivided attention before you reveal your deepest desires.

“Then I beg you to show me.”

His eyes, once filled with mischief, convey disbelief, and he simply stares at you as though he cannot comprehend what he is hearing. The air around you feels charged, heavy with unspoken hunger that neither of you dare to release just yet.

“Amor,” he says, ceasing to breathe until he is certain of what you are asking of him.

“Pero, please.” You clasp onto the collar of his tunic, eyes locked onto his as you will him to understand that you mean your request with every ounce of your being.

The conflict in his eyes is palpable, his jaw clenching as he fights some internal battle, his physical needs pushing past all else.

“You wish for me to-” He stops himself, his words faltering as if he is afraid to say them aloud. Pero brushes a stray strand of hair from your face, the touch featherlight, yet intense enough to send a shiver down your spine, the moment making it impossible to look away.

“Yes,” you nod, praying he can move past any reluctance and see your desire for him as clear as day. “I need you, Pero.”

For a moment, he simply looks at you, as though trying to memorize every detail of your face. Then, with a deep sigh, his gaze softens and he grazes your cheek with his fingers.

“If I have you,” he says quietly, wanting you to understand how fervent his feelings for you are, “I will never again let you out of my sight. I will fight the heavens and the earth to keep you by my side.” His promise should terrify you, the possessiveness and loyalty he displays making you think twice before you completely surrender to him. But the opposite occurs, and you find yourself willing to forever be at his mercy.

“Pero, I am yours,” You reply, balancing yourself on your toes as you tilt your chin up to offer him a final answer. “I have always been yours.”

His lips curve into the faintest smile, a bittersweet expression that speaks of all the pain, longing, and love he has carried for so long. Slowly, he leans in, parting his lips as you both shut your eyes and finally give your hearts away.

Again.

The world around you fades into nothingness as your breath mingles with his own, your lips touching with a mixture of tenderness and desperation. The soft kiss is thick with emotions, and you dare not let go of him, terrified he might disappear should you release him. Pero must feel a similar fear, his hands rough and trembling as he holds onto your waist with one and cups your neck with the other. You both tilt your heads to the side with need to deepen the kiss, and no sooner than you part your lips does Pero, with fierce and unapologetic rawness, collide against you. He presses against you with a fervor that steals the air from your lungs, the hand around your neck slipping into your damp hair and tangling in the strands as he pulls you impossibly closer. His body molds into yours, a growl escaping his throat when he feels your hand find their way to his chest and clutch at him as if your own life depended on his presence.

And when his teeth grace your lower lip, a spark of intensity ignites something primal between you. Your heart beats erratically at the shameful thought storms your mind, and you find yourself wishing with every bit of you that Pero could see through your need and give you what you desire without you needing to beg him for it.

Pero must sense the wanton ache threatening to make itself known because he finally breaks away, not to pull back, but to study your expression and take pride in the effect he holds on you. Your lips tingle, swollen and red from the raw intensity of the exchange, and you cannot help but stare at his fangs, wondering what they would feel like as they sank deep into your skin until he gorged himself on you. Then you meet his eyes and are taken aback by the golden rings piercing through you. It takes you but a moment to understand that he knows what you want from him, and he licks his lips dramatically, savoring the taste of you before he leans down and carries you in his arms.

“Whatever debauched desire you want from me, querida, it is yours.” You take note of the truths between the lines, flushing heatedly at being so seen by the man you have fallen in love with once and learned to love again.

“Take me.” The two words are whispered with assertiveness, and Pero does not need to be told twice, quietly pushing your head to rest on his shoulders as he rushes to his quarters. Neither of you say anything, knowing that should you speak another word, you would have each other out in the open without a single care. Only when you reach the hallway of your rooms does Pero stop and turn to you.

“Do you wish for my bed, or for your own?” The question is asked, not out of reluctance, but out of care. He wants to ensure your comfort, refusing to place you into a distressing space that may have you guessing his loyalty to you.

“I want to be in your bed. I- I want to erase the memories of our last goodbye, the silence that followed us like ghosts. I want to feel the world in your arms, Pero, and nowhere else.” The sentiment is heartbreaking, and Pero nearly falls to his knees at the depth of your emotions. He nods once and makes his way to his quarters, unlocking the door and walking inside as you snap your fingers to shut the door behind you.

He sets you down and gulps nervously, hands etching to strip you bare but waiting for permission to do so. You rest your forehead on his chest to quiet your mind, and when you are sure you can meet his piercing eyes once more, you raise your head and look at him. A faint glow of candle light dances shadows against the stone walls, the tension in the air simmering and threatening to overflow. You lock your gaze upon him, wishing to hear what he has dreamed of, hoping it is not too far from what your mind conjured up of him.

“What do you want?” You ask, allowing his presence to anchor you to the ground so you do not fall over from the proximity of his rigid body.

“I want…you.” Pero says, his hesitance born not from his feelings but the self-control he is fighting to maintain. “I have never felt as deep and as torturous a desire as I feel for you.” His confession pins you to him, and you suddenly feel like a prey ensnared with her predator, haunted by the thought of having him in such a way that the universe deemed unholy.

But how could such love be unholy, when all you seek to do is pray his name like a sweet benediction, and in turn, permit him to prostrate at your feet as he entreats for a glimpse of your affections.

Unable to bear the separation for another moment, you pull away and begin to undo the knots of your clothes. Pero bites into his lower lip, refusing to focus anywhere but your fingers as you unlace the fabric shielding you from his eyes. With each piece of fabric you throw onto the floor, Pero finds it a little more difficult to maintain himself, the last ounce of self-control threatening to evaporate into thin air.

Afraid of what he may do to you, he mirrors you and slowly unclothes himself, finding the fire in your eyes as heated and cardinal as the flame burning his soul. And when you are both left with nothing but your linen undergarments, Pero stretches his hand and takes hold of the band around your breasts, waiting until you nod to unwind it from your body. He slips his fingers beneath the white fabric and pushes it down, no longer able to keep his gaze appropriate as your skin is displayed for his hungry eyes. He looks at you, and he finds his mind conjuring up images of similar moments from a past life, ones that had him kiss and bite along the curve of your delicious breasts until you could not bear it any longer. He ceases to breathe altogether, returning his attention to your face as he steps closer to you and pushes your lower undergarment to the floor, finally allowing him to view you whole.

“You…you undo me. Every glance, every breath, every inch of you.” His voice quivers as he speaks, his hands grasping your waist and forcing you to shiver in return.

“Pero,” you place your hands across his chest, fisting the linen of his shirt and pushing it a little higher, signaling your need to see him. “I wish to see you…all of you.” You gulp anxiously, wanting to simultaneously rapidly surrender to him and slowly fall in his arms. His eyes darken, a mixture of determination and something more primal flickering in his gaze at your request sounding so melodious to his ears. He removes your hands from his chest and takes hold of the edge of his shirt, raising it high above his head and swinging it behind him as he stands in all his glory.

You finally allow yourself to properly view him, and you cannot help but gasp at the glory of his body, the muscles rippling when your gaze falls upon them and envision long nights of passion, soaked in sweat and pleasure.

“Goddess in heaven, you are…breathtaking.” You whisper, fingers training the sharp lines of his jaw, down to his neck and lower to his rigid stomach. His breath quickens beneath your touch, and you feel your heart threaten to beat out of your chest when he grasps your hand and pulls you against him, until your hard nipples brush against the hair on his chest.

“You have stolen the words from my lips.” Pero smirks at you, and you feel a bit dazed from the sudden, possessive touches, wishing he could end your misery then and there, push you down on all force and fill you with his gorgeous cock until you knew nothing but the sound of his name and the heat of his seed spilling inside you. You blink at him, distracted by thoughts of what he may do to you, only to find his grip loosening around your wrist and nearly pull away.

“Is there something on your mind?” Your voice drops, filled with worry at the thought of him doubting you.

“I- I do not wish to hurt you. I fear that should I…should we continue-” Pero hesitates for a moment, uncertainty creeping into his heart as he registers the dazed look about you due to his neediness. He fears what he may do should you continue to be so willing and pliant in his embrace. He knows, and remembers, all that you have done to each other centuries ago, but a part of him understands that this was then.

And you were here, now.

“I have wanted you, for so long mi cielo. I am unsure whether I can be gentle tonight.” You interrupt his train of thought, cupping his face with reverence, until his eyes focus on you once more, and ignore the flying doubts threatening to halt your union.

“You do not need to hold back,” you continue, voice assertive, yet filled with a desperate need that grows hotter the longer you remain so far from him, “not with me.”

“I do not need gentle, Pero. I need you.” You breathe with a finality, pressing your body closer to his until he sees and feels nothing but you. His lips part at your confidence, cock twitching at hearing what you crave from him.

“You will tell me to stop,” he says, voice laced with a warning that you know better than to ignore, “tell me to stop before I go too far.”

“I am yours, always.” your eyes never leave his, the trust between you simmering and reaching a zenith more powerful than any fear. He leans down, molding his lips with your own as he wraps his arms around your thighs and carries you, deepening the kiss when you cross your legs behind his back and swallow his moans. He kneels on the bed, but does not let go of you, slowly moving across the soft sheets until he lays you down against his pillows. You twist your head to the cushions beneath you, taking in Pero’s musk and filling your senses with his scent. He sits back and watches you lose yourself in him. Waiting for you to satisfy your cravings, Pero traces his fingers down your body, clenching his jaws tightly when he flicks a nipple and watches it pucker beneath his touch.

There is a glow about your skin that he cannot fathom, and he commits this moment to memory, wanting to create new visions grounded more in the present than the past.

“Your blood, it sings to me, mi bruja,” Pero groans, forcing a shudder across your very being as his words settle and pull you from your momentary haze. “I can hear it rushing to the surface, desperately pleading to touch my tongue.” He gives you no time to dwell on his promises, falling against you and attacking your neck with wet kisses and teasing bites. You drag your nails across his back, tangling your fingers in his hair as he holds onto you hard enough to brand you. Your scratches sends a new wave of pleasure down his spine, and he continues to lick and nip at your sternum, the top of your breasts, and at last, your hardened peaks. His fingers deftly pinch the other nipple, rolling it aggressively until you finally ask him what you have thought of since you knew who he was to you.

“Do it, please.” You moan, your body aching to feel his teeth sink deep within and drag your blood onto his tongue. He blows air against the cold, damp skin of your breasts, watching you squirm beneath him and shake with shameless lust.

“No, no little one. The first time my teeth sink into you,” he hums his pleasure against you, voice dark and seductive as he leaves a trail of bites down your stomach, “it will be when my cock is deep inside you, filling you with my seed.” He pushes your thighs apart, nesting his hips perfectly against you, his cock twitching against your heated core deliciously, the hard, velvety skin kissing your mound and silently asking it to wait…just a little bit more.

“Ohhhh g-gods,” your hands grip his shoulders tightly, and you muster up the courage to look down, wanting to watch his every move as he finally brings you to the deepest abyss.

“Por favor, mi hechicera, call for me. Call for me as you always have, as I have longed to hear again.” He urges as one hand descends down your body and draws patterns across your inner thighs while the other rests above your heart, wanting to hear it beat his name with each kiss he delivers to your flushed body.

“Pero,” you sigh longingly, the word slipping from your lips both like a prayer and a confession.

“Hmmm, again.” Pero groans, his touches growing more confident, reaching just a bit closer to where you ache for him. He roams his eyes across your body, finding the familiarity of your beauty melancholic yet intoxicating.

“P-Pero…oh-” Again, you moan his name with flagrant agony, suspended between pain and pleasure. He smiles at you then, watching as your spirit recognizes his own and reaches for some semblance of relief. When your eyes remember to open once more, Pero slips his fingers in between your folds and drags his middle finger twice to force your attention on him. You reach for the hand atop your breast, intertwining your fingers with his own and digging your heels into the sheets in preparation for what is to come. You mouth another plea, tears threatening to stream from your eyes as you feel another finger tease your entrance.

“Moan for me, little luna.” He commands, his teeth biting at your upper thigh as you flinch beneath him, the knowledge that he can bring your demise so easily soaking his fingers instantly.

“Please, touch me Pero.”

“Where would you like me to touch you?” Pero’s voice is rough with hunger, the beast within wishing to have you now etching to make himself known with each little whimper you gift him.

“Where I ache for you.” You attempt to bring yourself closer to his hand, fuck yourself on his fingers for some relief, but Pero shakes his head and pulls away, dragging your wetness across your thighs and pressing down on your hips to keep you still.

“Here,” he teases with a smirk, hands laying flat against your waist. “Or here?” He moves his fingers slowly across your stomach, just barely touching your skin, chuckling to himself when he sees how impatient you are becoming. “Perhaps…here.” Knowing he cannot hold back much longer, Tovar brings his hand back to your core, allowing you a single breath before he pushes two fingers deep inside your cunt.

“Yesssss, everywhere. Pero….everywhere.” You arch your back, lost in the sensation of his thick fingers as they prod at your inner walls. Torn between keeping your eyes on him and throwing your head back, you blink hazily at him until you can no longer maintain his gaze, the golden rings suddenly taking over his orbs driving your ecstasy further.

“Do you want more, my love?” He kisses your navel, nosing at the skin and breathing in your scent. His senses flood with your essence, and he drives his fingers deeper, pushing against a place that has you squirming beneath him and reaching for his arms.

“Please, Pero.”

“I have waited for this for centuries,” Pero murmurs, his voice raw with longing.

“As have I.” You barely manage to breathe the sentiment, unable to focus on much else apart from the pleasure he continues to ring from your body.

“You are exquisite.” You push your head aside, biting into the sheets to prevent more noises from spilling into the room. Tovar pouts at your timidity, and he stops moving altogether until you manage to look at him through heavy-lidded eyes. “No, do not shy away from me, mi bruja.” He feels the heat rise between you, and he drags himself lower, until you feel his breath fan over your wet cunt.

“Let me have you, querida.” He groans, knowing that you both have waited a lifetime to feel this intimacy once more. When you nod your consent, Pero dives into you, tongue licking at the sensitive nub until your nails dig roughly into the skin of his forearm.

“Nghhh,” you gasp in shock, the strength with which Pero delivers each stroke of his tongue signaling the ferocity of his desire, the wet movement igniting sparks of pleasure that ripple through your body and leave you trembling under his unrelenting touch. You whine his name, along with incoherent thoughts, one that has you wishing he could somehow sink deeper into you.

“Does that feel good?” His touch is possessive, as dominating and rough as his voice. You wonder how you have passed through life without feeling this each night, but you pay the sadness no mind, wanting to relish in finally being in his arms.

“Hmm,” you instinctively respond to him, skin rising with goosebumps as he wraps his lips around your aroused peak, grazing his teeth across the small muscle until he feels you lose your mind.

“That taste of you…it drives me mad with need, amor.” Pero confesses as he tongues at your folds, driving his fingers harder and quicker inside you until your walls begin to flutter around him, pulling him in deeper with each pass he expertly delivers to your weeping core.

“I can feel you, embracing my fingers, growing more heated and—tight.” The growl that escapes his throat is enough to push you higher to the edge, the desire laced in his words and his actions letting you know this was only the beginning. You look at him then, finding his golden eyes trained directly at you. The knowledge that such a powerful man has willingly chosen to surrender himself to you is intoxicating and you pray for him one last time, finding your past, present, and future in the intensity of his gaze.

“Pero, I-...I’m,” you stammer, the pressure building inside you threatening to spill over against his mouth. He does not let up once, continuing his ministrations until he feels you clench around him even tighter.

“Fall apart for me, amor.” Tovar commands softly, allowing himself a moment of respite before he returns his attention to your warm cunt. “Let me taste your pleasure—now.”

The order comes in between thick laps of his tongue against your folds and harsh thrusts of his digits into your aching core, the sensations overwhelming you until you are powerless. With a few more brushes of his fingers against your quivering walls, you submit yourself to the pleasure, a silent scream signaling your climax to Tovar, the expression of ecstasy on your glowing features forcing him to continue pulling more from your body.

He maintains his gaze upon you, his fingers halting as far inside you as he can reach until he feels a soft spot push against him. He rubs against the swollen bit of you a few times, enclosing his lips around your flushed pearl one last time and sucking as hard as he can. Had his arm not been against your chest, Tovar is sure you would have flown from him, and he maintains his strength against you as you continue coming in his arms, sobbing his name over and over again until he sees your tears wet his sheets.

Not wanting to turn the pleasure uncomfortable, he stops his attention and raises himself from your thighs, slowly slipping his fingers from your core and watching as more wetness seeps out of you.

“You are radiating.” Pero comments, waiting for your eyes to find him before dragging his fingers across his tongue and licking them dry. You let go of his arm and reach for your cunt, covering it with your hands embarrassingly as you attempt to sit up and feel his skin slide against yours. Might it be because of me?” The question is asked before you find his lips and slip your tongue inside his mouth, tasting your arousal on his lips and moaning at the filthy nature of what the two of you are doing.

“You- you know as well as I this is all for you, because of you.” You reply as you kiss across his chest, marveling at the sheer power hiding beneath the scars and muscles on display for your hungry eyes. Sneaking a glance at him, you wait until his golden eyes shine brighter before dragging your hand down his stomach.

“Ahh, b-brujita-” he moans in return, the warmth and softness of your palm holding him hard enough to have his cock still twitch against you. He kisses your temple as he shuts his eyes, feeling your touches grow more confident and teasing.

“Why do you enjoy calling me a witch so…sinfully?” You giggle when he hisses through gritted teeth, your fingers rolling his base right as you drag your nails to the flushed tip of his member.

“B-because you have spun your—oh, your spells upon my heart, bewitching it with your- your soft touches, and sweet words.” Pero admits desperately, his hands resting against your shoulders as you slide your hand back and forth.

“I do not recall doing such intricate designs…amor.” Your smile does wonders to him, the playfulness of your pleasure allowing him to remember nights he thought he could never recall again. Then you use his language, and he feels as if the world around him is passing away into nothing.

“No? T-then explain how madly bewitched I am by your very soul.” There is longing laced around his simple confession, and you cannot help but pull him against you, wrapping an arm around his neck and kissing him passionately as he pushes you against the bed.

“Pero,” the heat you feel in your core intensifies, but you know you want, more than anything, to hold the weight of his cock on your tongue before he takes you.

“Ahhh, hermosa- por favor, sácame de mi miseria.” You push him on his back and he falls willingly, fingers twisting in your hand instantly when he sees you descend down his body and continue teasing his cock.

“Will you let me have you as well?” You ask, kissing and nipping down his body, never once breaking his gaze as you lick down his navel and breathe against the base of his cock, waiting for him to give you permission.

“You do not need-” He begins to say but you cut him off with a kiss to the tip of his cock, claiming his as yours. The action shocks him into silence, and he throws his head back, revealing the sharp canines he tries his best to keep in hiding.

“Let me taste your cock on my lips, please!” You beg, mouth and hand aching to feel him against you.

“Soy tuyo.” He sighs in defeat, resting his thumb against your lips and rubbing the plump skin twice before nodding in acceptance. Not a second passes before your mouth wraps completely around him, and Pero is sure he has died and gone to the highest of heavens, the warmth of your throat proving to him that such wonders do exist.

“Ahhh diablilla,” his breath comes in ragged gasps, fingers twisting into your hair again as you look at him and continue to take him as far down as you could. A mixture of his arousal and your saliva streams down your chin, and Pero whines when he sees you drag it across the rest of him and massage his base, not caring for how filthy you may look.

“You look beautiful…with your lips wrapped around my cock.” He groans, hands tightening on your neck as you move your head up and down the length of him. When you are sure will not turn away, you lightly pass your teeth against the crown of his cock, watching as his hips push forward unintentionally and send him deeper inside you.

“How far are you willing to go to make me lose my sanity, woman?” He snarls at you, shaking his head in disbelief as you continue to pleasure you, as you know. You smirk as you worship him, removing your mouth from his velvety, hard skin for a moment to respond and returning your touches again to prevent him from retorting in kind.

“Far,” your eyes meet his with a spark of defiance and mischief, and Tovar is powerless beneath you, completely and utterly powerless.

“I- I fear you may not have to…I- I am,” he stammers, groaning in unbelievable rapture as he imagines what your cunt must feel like if your mouth flutters around his length like an angel’s wings.

“I cannot take much more, love…you feel too- too heavenly.” Pero admits shamelessly, his body trembling with the overwhelming sensations coursing through his veins. You shake your head then, watching as the action spirals him back against the bed once more.

“I thought I was your little devil?” You respond, kissing along his wet cock and watching as he fights to maintain some semblance of control.

“Oh god…the devil was once an angel, querida.” His voice is strained with need, and you are unsure if he wishes for you to continue or halt.

“If I am an angel, then you must be my god…my master.” You whisper to him then, moving your hands across him and pressing your breasts near the reddened tip to prove to him you are as dazed, if not more, by his existence as he appears to be by your own.

“No…no little one, it is you who is the master of this lonely heart. You and no one else.” You do not expect such a heartfelt revelation to break through the wanton desires swimming in his golden eyes, the words forcing you to stop altogether as you memorize the somber and hopelessly-in-love features gazing at you.

“Come here!” Pero uses your momentary distraction to his advantage, dragging you against his body and pushing you beneath him once more, nesting his hips perfectly in between your thighs and snatching both of your wrists above your head.

“But I-” you begin, but he silences you with a passionate kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth hungrily until he can taste his arousal in your mouth. The knowledge that you both swallowed the other’s essence deep inside of you sends his heart into a frenzy, and you must reach a similar conclusion because you respond to his vigor with as much madness, swirling your tongue around his own and praying he can finally put you out of your misery and take you.

“Another twist of your tongue and I would have lost myself in your mouth.” He warns as he kisses your jaw, laughing when he hears you question him through a fit of giggles.

“Is that so bad?”

“No, but if I am finally having you, then I am coming in your pretty cunt first…and then I will fill your other holes. ¿Me entiendes?” His voice drops with desire, eyebrows raised in determination as you finally allow his words to settle in your mind.

“Pero, take me. Now…and do not dare to be gentle.” You plead, burning with a need to feel his cock brand your cunt as his.

“I want you to ruin me,” you confess, hands balling into fists as you attempt to loosen his grip from around you. He growls at your request, letting go of your arms and smiling when your arms reach around his back in an attempt to pull him closer to you. “And put me back together…with your touch etched on every inch of my skin.”

“You will tell me if-” You cut him off one last time with a fierce kiss, nodding when you release him and reach for his cock.

“Look at me,” he drags your attention away from the space between your bodies to his golden eyes, staring at you closely until he ensures you are focusing on nothing but him. “And know that I am never letting you go.” His demand is low and full of promise, and before you can answer him, he removes your hand from his length and drags it twice across your folds, not wasting another moment before pushing himself into your tightening walls.

“F-fuck,” the expletive would shock him had he not known you, and he rests his weight against his hands, sheathing himself completely inside you until there is nothing but the air separating your bodies. He waits for you to breathe, and when he is sure you have adjusted to him, he pulls out as far as he can before pushing back inside with a groan.

“You are…my desires incarnate.” He groans, one hand gripping your hips as the other fists into the sheets beneath your head.

“Your cock is—it feels like a fire blazing inside of me. Hot, heavy and s-so fucking hard.” Your body arches towards him, and you cannot help but lose yourself in his eyes as his thrusts deliver with a steady, roughening pace. Your words undo him, and he cannot control his body from pushing harder into you, the feeling of your cunt, so warm and inviting, making him wish he can stay attached to you forever.

“I feel you in my soul, my love.” He nudges his nose against your chin, breathing heavily as your fingers tug on his hair and beg him for more.

“Ohhh, yes!”

Your cries match his groans, and as you find that familiar pleasure build once more, you are met with a vision not unlike the one you are experiencing now, one that has you looking forward to all the nights you would share with Pero now that you found him again.

“Your cunt is heaven, as if you were made for me. I fear I will never get enough of you.” Pero shakes his head as he nuzzles into the crook of your neck, finger bruising your skin as your sighs grow louder in his ears.

“You have…completely undone me, Pero.” Your gasps are music to his ears, and he feels your core clench harder around him, pulling him in deeper with each push of his hips.

“How is that,” he asks, his voice gruff with need, “I can feel your heartbeat,” you tilt your head to the side as he sucks on your neck and marks you as his, “each time you clench around me?”

“Please,” unable to form more words, you plead for him to finally drink from you, wanting to be connected to him in every way possible.

“Has your body learned my touch already, mi bruja?” He chuckles at you then, watching as your skin comes alive the more he shapes your cunt to his length.

“Does it remember my cock when- oh fuck, when it claimed you time after another all those years ago?” His hand caresses down your side, until it rests against your thigh and pushes it higher. You cross your legs behind his back, his cock filling you deliciously.

“Pero, you are killing me.”

“No, little one, I am calling for your witch’s blood to pray for me.” His whole being is raw with need, and he grows crazed when your body responds to his madness and glows for him.

“Oh, she likes to hear how I crave her?” You want to sob at his teasing, but with each word he whispers to you, you feel yourself growing closer to the edge of release.

“Does that please you—knowing that, when I fill you with my seed, and keep you in my arms forever, that your witch will be ruined for all eternity? Does that make you wet, mi bruja traviesa?”

“Yes, oh- oh gods, Pero, please. Claim me!” You cry out at the sentiment, body shuddering with anticipation of what you are confident will be the greatest pleasure known to the world.

“Lord knows how fucking gratifying it will feel to have your blood course through my veins…knowing that I have feasted upon you, mierda- ah mierda…until you have ruined me.” His growls increase, as do his thrusts, and when you turn to look at him and find his eyes no longer golden but red, you beg him one last time, knowing he will not turn you down once more.

“I- I am close…so close.”

“Where can I-” He stares at your skin, unsure of where you would rather hold evidence of his bite. There is madness storming in his eyes, one that has you cutting him off and telling him to do whatever he wishes with you.

“Wherever you desire, my love.”

“I…love you, my beautiful witch. With every part of me capable of knowing such a feeling.” He confess, his hands trembling as he wraps his hand around your neck and tilts your head far back so he can gain access to the top of your breasts. Your body is prepared to explore in pleasure, and when you feel him kiss the top of your nipple twice, you ask him to join you.

“Pero, be with me.”

The moment his teeth pierce your sink, a strangely familiar warmth washes over your body, and you flutter around his cock instantly, the pleasure of your coupling and his feeding blinding your sight and sending you into a state of ecstasy you long to experience again already. You can hear him groan against you, his seed filling your womb with long, hot ropes of warmth that mirrors the heat beating against your chest. He gulps you down hungrily, enough to satiate the desire he feels for you but not to send you into a sleep. When he is sure he has had his fill of you, he clenches his jaw and pulls away, licking the wound twice to prevent it from bleeding any further.

Pero looks at you then, a part of him afraid of how you may react when you find the beast in him wanting for more. But as you always have, you caress his cheek gently and pull him down, kissing his lips one last time as you finally whisper those words to him.

“I l-love you Pero, oh so much.”

He nearly cries at the sentiment, unsure of what good he has done in his life that deserves such affections from you. Slowly, he pulls himself away from your body, wincing in discomfort when the sudden lack of your heat washes over him. You pout in return, wanting to remain filled with him until the morning, but knowing that you both needed a moment of respite if you were to continue through the night.

Pero falls to his back, not wasting a moment as he pulls you to his side, until you are intertwined in each other. Neither of you say anything, and Pero meditates on the words you whispered to him seconds ago, wondering if you were merely remembering your past or truly meant what you have conveyed to him.

The room feels suspended in time, the air heavy with the revelations you parted to one another throughout the night. He leans over and urges you with a question.

“What can you remember?” He asks then, wanting to know, more than anything, if you recall him the way he knows you.

“I feel as if I- I remember everything.” You look up at him and smile, fingers drawing patterns across his damp chest, wanting to be sure you were still in his arms.

“Tell me,” his breath fans over your temple as he kisses you once, reutrning the smile on your features and waiting to hear your response.

“I remember your eyes, how safe they always made me feel. And I remember your touch, the way you tended to be soft when you loved me, and the roughness you brought when you craved me.” Your heart pounds as you recall the visions that have plagued your mind for weeks on end. And Pero’s lips part, but no words escape him. He swallows hard, his throat bobbing as you continue to prove to him that, whatever your heart knows now, is more important that what you have felt for him before.

“Most of all, I remember how deeply you loved me and how I could not breathe without being in your arms.”

The silence stretches between you, heavy and intimate with promises of what is to come. When you speak again, your voice is tinged with an almost unbearable sadness, afraid of what his answer will be to the question that plagued your spirit for a while now.

“Where will you go…when this is all over?”

“I will find those responsible for our lost time,” his jaw is set with determination, tone cold and resolute when he offers you nothing but the truth.

“And I will kill every last one of them.” Your brows knit together when you see pain flicker across his face, the memories of what your kind and his have done to you pushing you to ask one last request of him.

“Let me come with you.” Your hand brushes against his, playing with the veins on his wrist as you wait for a response.

“I cannot, mi corazón.” He shakes his head and silently apologizes to you when he sees anguish etched into your very soul.

“Please?”

“Have I not promised you long ago that these hands were for you? That I would do whatever it takes to keep you safe.” He cups your cheek, the smile he aims at you letting you know that there is a future for the both of you when he is finished with his mission.

“Can I not offer you the same promise?” You lean into his touch, wanting to prove to him that, just as his hands are for you, your magic is for him, and him alone.

“Everything I do, my love, is for you. My anger, my wrath, my revenge…it is all for you. I will raise hell on earth if anyone strives to separate us once more. Why would you bloody your hands, when I care not for my own?” Tovar says firmly, wanting you to be certain that his love and loyalty will never pass away again, that he will surely return to your side when he is confident no one means you any harm.

“Because, Pero…I never understood love until I felt your hands on me, and I want your hands to carry my heart. But for you to do so, I must ask the same in return. I must drench my hands in the same blood, if only to feel worthy of caring for such a gift from you.” Your voice softens his expression, and you pray to the old gods that he sees how far you are willing to go to keep him safe from harm.

“You wish to carry my heart, when you yourself are my heart?” A storm of emotions swirls around his question, and he leans down to meet your lips in a chaste kiss once more, shaking with the thought of ever putting you in danger again.

“Pero,” you hold his gaze then, once again knowing that he will not refuse you now that he sees you are just as wanting to rid the world of those who hurt you as he is.

“Sí, mi amor?” He breathes, his voice barely louder than a whisper.

“Let me protect you as you once protected me.” You say with determination, and watch as his eyes struggle to comprehend your request.

“Please, my love. Let me.”

“I could never deny you any request.” With a sigh of defeat, he chuckles at you and nods in agreement, closing his eyes and surrendering to the knowledge that you will always hold him powerless in the palm of your hand.

“Mi alma, you are too entangled in my soul for me to ever be apart from you. Whatever you desire, you have it.”

“Te amo, mi bruja.” He murmurs, voice thick with emotion, and heart even heavier with the love he sees etched, not just in your eyes, but your very existence.

“And I love you.” Your words are a promise, a bond unbroken by time or circumstance, one that you solidify with a kiss to his heart before you allow the Luxor night air to lull you to sleep.

Translation: Maga - mage Bruja - witch Hechicera - Sorceress/enchantress Capulla - dumbass Querida - dear Hermosa - beautiful Luna - moon Cielo - heaven Cariño - darling/sweetheart Alma - spirit Vida - life Amor - love Corazón - heart Sácame de mi miseria - put me out of my misery Soy tuyo - I am yours Diablilla - little devil ¿Me entiendes? - Do you understand me? Bruja traviesa - naughty witch Mierda - shit

Pedro Pascal Taglist (and any of his characters):

@paste-0-princess @feelmyroarrrr @libbymouse @its--fandom--darling @spideysimpossiblegirl @princess76179 @cheekygeek05 @miraclesoflove @purple-mango @metalarmsandmanbuns @acthenerd @greeneyedblondie44 @cannedsoupsucks @wordsnwhiskey @talesfromtheguild @f0rever15elf @vibin-hippie @onesmokinbabe @leaiorganas @words-way-of-life @kideyz @lovesickmadsadpoet @niall7inches @rosiefridayrogersunday @sleep-tight1 @itsfreeekinbats @cybergroupie @marsplsstop @ezrasbirdie @diogodxlot @janebby @juletheghoul @bii-aan-ckaa @nohartandsole @djjarins @giselatropicana @maziken @blackmarketmummy @laviipopii @ew-erin @fan-of-encouragement @melody13522 @clydesducktape @planetariumx @thirddeadlysin @leannawithacapitala @fangirl-316 @thou-creature-of-the-deep @what-iwish-you-knew @nabootycall @pascalsky @pedrostories @anaaaispunk @monocromaticstaircase @severinsnape @elegantduckturtle @gothicxbarbie @revengeisaconfesionofpain @hypnoash @pedritopascalito @eri16 @andiesturgss @snarwor @christina-loves @tintinn16 @persephones-garden @reaperofmen @heykathchuu @hotchlover @kaumalade @MSWarriorBabe80 @nakhudanyx @ezras-channel-rat @solemnlyswearss @thegirlnextdoorssister @alpaca-swimsuit @elinedjarin @yuukiblissthemusicwitch @dihra-vesa @pscalwhiskey @midwesternwitchery @daddymando @letskeepthislo-ki @xwalltoast @alexxavicry @ewoksrus @dear-fifi @nagassia @kirsteng42 @s-u-t @yourdragonsfire @girlofchaos @thisshipwillsail316 @squidwell @the-helmet-stays-on @mssbridgerton @buckybarneshairpullingkink @hungrhay @hugmedin @balck-rose-29 @trickstersp8 @happycupcakeenthusiast @daddypedritopascalito @onlinecementery @janebby @domaniquessidehoe @cassiepascal @lillianacristina @bitchwitch1981 @hallecarey1 @vee-bees-vlog @riddlelecter

P.S. If someone can let me know whether the tags are working, I would really appreciate it!!!

#pedrostoriesgift24 #pedrostories #pero tovar #pero tovar/reader #pero tovar x reader #vampire pero tovar #witch reader #vampire/reader #vampire x reader #pedro pascal #the great wall #tovar x reader #tovar/reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #pero tovar fanfiction #pero tovar smut

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marcyvamp1re-blog · 2 days ago

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could you do rouge x reader where the reader is immune to their mutation

𓆩 ALL I WANTED 𓆪

Synopsis; Rouge had always been afraid of touching people. The fear was instinctive, a barrier she couldn't explain but never dared to break. Until she met you. For the first time, she felt the warmth of human connection, and everything changed.

Pairing ── Anna Marie x Inmune! Reader.

Content. MDNI ⚠︎ ── fluff, excessive affection, fear of death, fear of using powers, emotional vulnerability, and themes of trust and healing.

A/N ── English is not my first language — Spanish — I like Rouge sometimes. She’s an interesting and complex character, but she doesn’t always win me over completely. Plus, it still hurts what she did to poor Gambit. That man didn’t deserve so much suffering!

Rouge had always lived under the weight of a fear that seemed inseparable from her being, like a persistent shadow that followed her wherever she went. A subtle but constant fear: the fear of hurting, of destroying, of being a threat to anyone who dared to come close. That anguish was her curse, an invisible barrier that isolated her even in places where acceptance was promised, like Xavier’s school. There, where others sought refuge, she found an echo of the same: confusion, terror, and a sense of being trapped in her own body, a prison of skin and power that kept her apart from everything she desired.

Few had dared to cross that abyss. Magneto and Mystique were perhaps the only exceptions, but even those relationships were marked by distance, by the impossibility of going beyond words. Her power, a blessing in battle, was a curse for the heart. She avoided any deeper bond herself, knowing the danger was too great. Until you came along.

She couldn’t quite say who you were: a new student, a curious passerby who accidentally touched her, someone looking for something more at the Institute. But the truth is, that first touch changed everything. It was an instant, barely a whisper between lives, but in that moment, something inside Rouge broke and rebuilt itself. She expected pain, fear, harm, as always. But it didn’t happen. There were no screams, no suffering, no dark certainty of having taken more than she could give back. Instead, there was something she had never felt before: warmth, relief, a spark of connection she didn’t dare believe was real.

When she looked at you, her eyes were filled with disbelief. And before she could stop herself, she hugged you. Tightly, desperately, with an intensity only someone who had been alone for too long could understand. In that embrace, the world stopped being a cold and distant place. For the first time, she felt what it was like to be touched without fear, without danger. The moment was eternal and, at the same time, fleeting. As she pulled away, her words barely formed an awkward apology, her voice breaking with emotion. But you didn’t move away. You didn’t run. You stayed, with a calmness that seemed to disarm her, and you smiled as if everything was okay. And for her, in that moment, it was.

As the days went by, Rouge began to seek you out. At first, timidly, as if afraid to scare away what you had started to build. But little by little, her desire to see you became something she couldn’t deny. Spending time with you was unlike anything she had ever experienced. You weren’t like the others. You didn’t see her power as a lurking monster but as a part of her, one that didn’t define who she was.

One day, her heart racing, she gathered her courage and asked, “Would you like to walk with me after class?” It seemed like a simple, almost insignificant gesture, but for Rouge, it was a huge step toward something she had never believed possible. And you, with that same calm smile, said yes.

Afternoons together became a ritual. You walked through the Institute’s gardens, sometimes in silence, other times laughing about trivial things. The barriers Rouge had built over the years began to crumble, piece by piece, with each conversation, with each glance. In your company, the weight of her fear lightened. It was as if, finally, she could breathe without fearing she would suffocate those around her.

The little things became treasures for Rouge: studying together in the library, sharing a joke during a boring class, or even the simulated battles where, for a moment, she allowed herself to feel free. With you, strategies and movements were no longer an exercise in survival but a game, a dance where she didn’t have to think about the risks of her power. She could laugh, make mistakes, try again. And when everything was over, there was always that hug—warm and genuine—that seemed to heal parts of her she didn’t even know were wounded.

And the nights… The nights were her favorite refuge. Lying on the floor of your room, with the lights off and a movie playing softly in the background, Rouge found a kind of peace she had never known. The shared laughter, the feigned scares during horror scenes, the whispered conversations that seemed to last all night. Sometimes, without realizing it, the two of you would fall asleep, curled up together, as if the entire world disappeared in that small space. For Rouge, those moments were magic. They were family. They were home.

Over time, Rouge began to understand something that had always seemed impossible: that her life could be more than fear and loneliness. With you, she had found a friendship that didn’t need labels, a bond that asked for nothing in return but authenticity. And on that journey together, through the little and big things, Rouge discovered something even more important: that she was capable of loving and being loved. That, in the end, her power wasn’t what defined who she was, but her ability to open up, to trust, to embrace the light you offered her.

Rouge had always walked alone, used to keeping a cautious distance from others. It was her way of protecting them—and protecting herself from the pain of losing them. But now, with that small spark of connection she had found in you, everything was beginning to change, though the fear still lingered in the shadows, like an old friend she couldn’t quite say goodbye to.

There were days when you joined the group training sessions. Scott led the simulations with his characteristic discipline, Jean adjusted the scenarios with telepathic precision, and Logan, always on the sidelines, observed with a mix of apathy and concern, as if he were waiting for something to go wrong. But you were always there, with that calm, contagious presence that even managed to soften Logan’s sharp remarks.

Rouge remembered one moment in particular—a cold afternoon in the simulation room. The exercise was simple: form teams and complete a mission under pressure. You and Rouge moved together, slipping through the shadows as you dodged virtual obstacles. “Watch your left,” you murmured softly, and even though you knew she had it under control, you couldn’t help but warn her. At the end of the exercise, when Logan made his usual sarcastic comment about teamwork, you just laughed. Rouge, however, found herself staring at your hands, wondering how it was possible for you to be so close without fear.

There were quiet mornings in the Institute’s dining hall, when the sunlight was just beginning to filter through the windows. You insisted on keeping her company, even when she said it wasn’t necessary. Gambit would often pass by with his coffee, tossing a flirtatious comment at Rouge before Kitty reprimanded him with a laugh. Bobby, always playful, would throw ice balls to start spontaneous battles. But you and Rouge would usually sit in a corner, away from the commotion, sharing pieces of toast and quiet conversations. Sometimes, you didn’t even talk. You would hand her a packet of butter, or she’d offer you her last strawberry—small gestures that meant more than any words could express.

One afternoon in the garden, you both ran into Ororo. She was planting new flowers in the greenhouse, a mix of roses and lilies that seemed to glow under her careful touch. “Nature always finds a way to grow,” Ororo said, more to herself than to either of you. Rouge watched her with a strange sense of admiration. For a moment, she allowed herself to imagine that she too could bloom, even if slowly, even if the thorns of her power would always be there. When she turned to look at you, she saw you were already watching her, as though you understood what was on her mind. You didn’t need to say anything. The warmth in your gaze was enough.

And then there were the small adventures around the mansion. Like that time Kitty dragged both of you to a movie night, convincing even Kurt to join, who appeared in the middle of the room with his signature “Bamf” and a mischievous grin. While the others argued about which movie to watch, you and Rouge simply sat together on the couch, sharing a blanket that seemed far too big for the two of you. At some point, as laughter filled the room, you felt her head rest against your shoulder. It was a small, almost imperceptible gesture, but for Rouge, it meant everything. It was her way of saying she trusted you, that she was beginning to find her place.

Yet the fear never truly disappeared. One night, after an intense training session, Rouge was quieter than usual. Logan had made a stern comment about how dangerous it was to let one’s guard down, and even though you tried to console her, she seemed lost in her thoughts. That same night, she dreamed something terrible happened to you. In her nightmare, she saw you touch her, only to fall lifeless, just like others before you. She woke with a strangled gasp, her heart pounding in her chest. She spent hours sitting at the edge of her bed, hands trembling, thinking about how easily she could lose you—how danger always seemed to follow her. The next day, when she saw you, she couldn’t help but avoid your gaze. She feared ruining what you had, feared being the cause of your pain.

But you didn’t give up on her. One afternoon, while Rouge was sitting under a tree, scribbling something in a notebook she wouldn’t let anyone see, you approached her with a calm smile and sat beside her. At first, you didn’t say anything—just pulled out a small book and began to read aloud in a soft voice. The cadence of your words filled the air, creating a haven of calm that slowly began to ease her tension. When you finished, you closed the book gently and turned to her. “You don’t have to carry it all alone, you know?” you finally said, your voice a whisper that broke through the barriers Rouge always kept in place. She didn’t respond, but inside, something loosened.

One rainy afternoon, Jean found the two of you in the library. You were teaching Rouge a card trick you’d learned from Gambit, while Rouge tried (without much success) to stifle her laughter. Jean paused in the doorway, silently watching you for a moment before walking away. That night, Jean spoke to Professor Xavier, moved by how Rouge—who had always kept everyone at a distance—was beginning to open up.

Over time, Rouge started to let you into her world more and more. Of course, there were bad days—moments when the fear returned with full force, reminding her how fragile her happiness could be. But then you were there, with a look, a gesture, a word that brought her back to calm. One night, as the two of you stargazed on the mansion’s rooftop, she turned to you and whispered, “I don’t know how you do it… but thank you.” And even though you hadn’t expected a response, you knew those words were Rouge’s way of saying everything she couldn’t express.

For the first time in her life, Rouge didn’t just see shadows. Now, there was light between them. And you were the reason.

#x reader #fem reader #neutral reader #male reader #marvel x you #marvel x reader #marvel xmen #marvel #rouge xmen #rouge x reader #anna marie #anna marie x reader

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peppymintdreams · 3 days ago

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Christmas (Baby Please Come Home)

Isaac Rhoades x Pickle

The snow fell softly outside, blanketing the streets in a layer of white that shimmered under the glow of streetlights. Inside the quiet apartment, Isaac sat alone on the couch, staring at the twinkling lights of the Christmas tree. The apartment felt too big, too quiet, without you there.

He leaned back, letting out a soft sigh as the song played from the old record player in the corner:

"They're singing 'Deck the Halls'..."

"But it's not like Christmas at all..."

Isaac ran a hand through his dark hair, his expression unusually tender as his thoughts drifted to you. You had gone home for the holidays to visit family, something Isaac had insisted on despite knowing how much he’d miss you. At the time, he had waved off his own feelings, telling himself he could handle a few days alone.

But now, on Christmas Eve, the absence of your presence was unbearable.

The ornaments on the tree sparkled, and the faint scent of pine lingered in the air. Everything was perfect—except you weren’t there to share it with him.

Isaac rose from the couch, walking toward the window. He stood there for a moment, gazing out at the snow-covered streets. Couples walked hand in hand, families hurried to finish last-minute shopping, and children laughed as they built snowmen. The world was alive with holiday cheer, but to Isaac, it all felt hollow without you.

He turned back to the room, his gaze landing on the little gifts he had wrapped and placed under the tree. Each one was carefully chosen with you in mind: a first-edition book he knew you’d been eyeing, a sweater in your favorite color, and a small, velvet box containing something far more meaningful.

Isaac’s jaw tightened as the song continued to play. He walked to the record player, his hand hovering over the needle, but he couldn’t bring himself to stop it.

"If there was a way..."

"I'd hold back these tears..."

"But it's Christmas day..."

The sound of the door unlocking pulled him from his thoughts. His head snapped up, his heart leaping in his chest. For a moment, he thought he was imagining things—until the door swung open, and there you stood, bundled in a heavy coat and scarf, your cheeks flushed from the cold.

“Surprise,” you said softly, your voice tinged with both nervousness and excitement.

Isaac stared at you for a moment, as if he couldn’t believe his eyes. Then, without a word, he crossed the room in a few long strides and pulled you into his arms.

“You’re here,” he murmured, his deep voice trembling just slightly. His arms tightened around you, as if afraid you’d disappear.

You laughed, the sound muffled against his chest. “I couldn’t stay away. I missed you too much.”

Isaac pulled back just enough to look at you, his hands framing your face. His piercing eyes searched yours, and a soft, almost disbelieving smile tugged at his lips. “You have no idea how much I’ve missed you,” he said, his voice rich and warm. “Christmas isn’t Christmas without you.”

You leaned into his touch, your own hands resting on his chest. “I thought you’d be mad that I cut my trip short.”

“Mad?” Isaac shook his head, a low chuckle rumbling in his throat. “I’m too damn relieved to be mad.”

The song on the record player swelled, filling the room with its bittersweet melody. Isaac glanced toward the tree, then back at you, his expression softening even further. “Come on,” he said, taking your hand. “I made hot cocoa, and there are presents waiting for you.”

You let him lead you to the couch, the warmth of the apartment quickly chasing away the chill from outside. As you sat beside him, the two of you curled up under a blanket, Isaac handed you a mug of cocoa topped with whipped cream and a sprinkle of cinnamon—just the way you liked it.

The night passed in a blur of laughter, stolen kisses, and the soft rustle of wrapping paper. Isaac’s reserved demeanor melted away entirely as he watched your face light up with each gift you opened.

Finally, as the clock neared midnight, Isaac reached under the tree and pulled out the small, velvet box. He held it in his hands for a moment, his expression unreadable, before turning to you.

“I wasn’t sure if this was the right time,” he said, his voice quieter than usual. “But having you here… it feels like fate.”

Your breath caught as he opened the box, revealing a delicate ring that seemed to sparkle with its own light.

“Pickle,” he said, his tone filled with a rare vulnerability, “you’re my everything. My home, my family, my future. Will you marry me?”

Tears filled your eyes as you nodded, unable to find the words to express how you felt. Isaac slipped the ring onto your finger, his hands steady despite the emotion in his gaze.

As the song played its final notes, Isaac leaned in, capturing your lips in a kiss that was both tender and full of promise. The world outside faded away, leaving only the two of you and the quiet magic of Christmas.

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numbuh424 · 21 hours ago

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Just finished reading this and I don't even know what to say... Except I do, because I'm about to talk about it at length and discuss all my favorite parts <3

While I was reading this I would occasionally switch tabs to look at the artwork again and the way you expanded upon each piece is so, so incredible. I'm genuinely blown away and so moved to have my work be the basis of this incredible fic :') :')

Going over some of my favorite parts from each section:

Age 7 -

"His mind itself was characteristic of the wind; a force in constant motion, inclined towards coldness. That trait was what brought him here in the first place, to this exact orphanage, in this exact, frozen city."

This is so beautifully written. You captured the vibe I was going for in the first piece so well!! Like an innocence about to disappear into the darkness. Your descriptions of the surroundings were so brilliantly detailed, it brought me right to the gates of Wammy's for a moment. God. "And thus, Nate’s new life began with death."

I actually shed a tear over this oh my god. Like I just started reading but was instantly hit with emotions knowing what's to come </3 </3

Age 13 -

The part about how the successor program immediately tries to numb the children toward the concept of death, and using that to segue into the impact of L's death is so amazing!! Of course, Near never thought L would live forever, but the suddenness impacting him both internally and externally, because now this was all suddenly his burden to bear, is so heart-wrenching </3

"This investigation would be a far more complex puzzle. He had no data to work with. No evidence, no suspects, no leads. No existing puzzle pieces to measure against one another and click neatly into place."

Reading this entire paragraph made me so emotional like goddd he was so young when the case that killed one of the world's most untouchable men was handed over to him... and they just expected him to solve it with little to nothing!! and he did!! but at what cost!!

Age 18 -

"Bloodied fingers were curled, thumb and forefinger almost touching as though poised to hold a pen."

I GASPED OUT LOUD OH MY GOD

"Instead, another light in Near’s dull existence had flickered and burned out, and so, too, had the light in his eyes."

Your attention to the details of the illustrations, such as the light dying in his eyes at the warehouse, is so good. I'll talk about it more at the end but god, I'm already so emotional over it.

Age 21 -

"It was a heavy-looking eyesore; an insult to the professional craft of jewellery-making.

He concluded it was for the best that the necklace was never found. The file was cast to the right with a thunk."

I giggled at this. Leave it to him to disregard priceless jewellery because he finds it ugly lol.

I love how you expanded upon his thought process during the C-Kira case! You can really understand why he responded the way he did to C-Kira in the end. His boredom is insanely palpable </3

Age 27 -

"One long, thin ribbon of hair hung over L’s face."

THE SWITCH TO CALLING HIM L FELT LIKE A GUNSHOT I physically recoiled oh my god.

"He never had good reason to reopen any of them; neither the physical boxes nor the memories bound to them."

Oh </3 </3 </3

"In his toy box, L caught a glimpse of a few old finger puppets, from a time when excitement was in abundance. His lip quirked.

A-Kira… this was going to be interesting."

OBSESSED. MY GOD. Something that I've always loved is the way Death Note began with boredom (Light and Ryuk) and ended with boredom (Near). Near using that same line is such an incredible way to end <3

Okay this is just me rambling now but when I filled up the form for what I wanted I remember worrying that my ask of "anything to do with near" would be difficult to follow through on since I was kind of vague and didn't have much to suggest. But this exceeded any and all expectations I had. It's so perfect 😭😭

I touched on this briefly above, but one of my favorite parts throughout the entire fic is the mention of the light in his eyes and how it changes - it twinkling under the snowfall, dying at the warehouse, and then coming back ever so slightly in the form of the TV light when he sees A-Kira's message ("L sat upright, a small speck of TV light entering the corner of his eye."). I seriously wish I had better words to describe how I felt reading that last bit because the way it comes full circle makes my heart swell <3

The little bits of storytelling in the illustrations were enhanced tenfold by your amazing writing, I genuinely feel so honored receiving this 🥹 I couldn't have asked for anything better, I'm so so in love with this fic. Thank you soooo so much for writing this!!! ❤️❤️❤️

Merry Christmas @numbuh424!!! Here is my gift for the @dnsecretsanta exchange 🎄🎅🎁

Inspired by this gorgeous artwork :-)

#EVERYONE READ THIS FIC PLEASE #elle is talking again #dnsecretsanta24 #near #when I saw your post for the first time yesterday I knew I had to wait before reading it because #I was about to go out and I had already finished doing my makeup. I just knew I'd ruin it by getting emotional while reading #and I was right! HAHSHDNS

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amplifyme · 5 days ago

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Now this feels like Christmas.

youtube

#the peanuts #linus and lucy #i am deep in the 'bah humbug" zone this year #i'm just waiting for the holidays to be over #no excitement whatsoever #no christmas tree or decorations or watching movies or christmas playlists #just blah #but this almost touched my cold dark heart

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reilemon · 3 months ago

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🌊Beneath the Abyss🌊

♡︎ synopsis: Lured by a haunting melody, you find yourself pulled into the depths of the sea, only to be saved by Rafayel, a mysterious merman.

♡︎ pairing: Rafayel x fem!reader

⭒˗ˏˋ𓆩 ⚠ 𓆪ˎˊ˗⭒MINORS DNI (18+ ONLY)⭒˗ˏˋ𓆩 ⚠ 𓆪ˎˊ˗⭒

♡︎ cw: depictions of (almost) drowning, mermaid au , semi-public seggs, oral (f!receiving)

♡︎ word count: 6.2k

♡︎ a/n: the second story for kinktober 2024. the beginning was very fun to write for someone with thalassophobia 🙂

♡︎ Thank you to my dearest friend and my beta reader ♡︎@its-de♡︎ for helping.

divider by @cafekitsune

Tonight is like any other night - where you sit on a wooden bench by the cliffside and read an old book. The sky is dark as ink, the stars distant and blinking slowly. The moon hangs low and casts a silvery light, illuminating the worn pages of your book. The sea is far below, its waves like whispers, soothing your thoughts as you read. Each wave crashes against the cliff’s base in a rhythmic hum. This place seems cold and unwelcome, but it’s yours. You’ve always come here, seeking solitude that only the night can offer. The dark doesn’t frighten you—it embraces you like an old friend. You feel safe here.

But then, it happens.

A sound, soft at first, like a breath carried on the wind, slips through the night. As it drifts closer, it wraps itself around your mind, around your soul. It’s a melody unlike anything you’ve ever heard—haunting, hypnotic, and achingly beautiful. It calls to something deep inside of you, and before you even realize what you’re doing, you’re standing, the book forgotten, your feet moving on their own.

The song grows stronger, tugging at you, pulling you toward the cliff's edge. You don’t resist. You can’t. The sea below crashing, dark and deep, but it no longer feels distant or dangerous. It feels inviting. The melody grows stronger, filling the air with its melancholic beauty. It’s not the sweetness of the song that unnerves you, but the way it seeps into your bones, like the sea pulling at the shore. You take another step, the rocks beneath your feet slick and uneven, but none of it matters now. Only the song matters.

And then—you fall.

The world tilts, and the sky spins above you as you plummet toward the water. Panic grips your chest, your heart racing as you crash into the icy depths. The cold is shocking, like needles through your lungs, and the once inviting sea now feels like it has you in its grasp, pulling you under. You thrash, desperate, your limbs sluggish as the water envelops your whole being. You open your mouth to scream, but no sound escapes—only bubbles rising to the surface.

You can’t believe this is happening. You’re going to drown.

Terror floods your veins as you sink deeper, your lungs burning, the black water pressing in from all sides. The song, the beautiful, irresistible song, has led you to this cold, watery grave.

You’re sinking into the deep. How could you let this happen to you?

But then, through the suffocating darkness, you see him.

A figure, a shadow, moving swiftly through the water. His form isn’t human, but sleek and graceful. His movements are too fluid, too fast. You blink, your vision fading as the last of your air escapes in a stream of bubbles.

For a brief moment, you think he’ll leave you to this terrible fate. But then, his hands, cool and firm, wrap around your waist, pulling you upward with a strength that feels effortless. His touch is strangely gentle as he propels you toward the surface, through the crushing weight of the sea.

You break through the surface with a gasp, sucking in air as your body shakes, your limbs still heavy and numb from the cold. His grip remains on you, guiding you through the water as he swims toward the shore. He brings you to a sheltered cove hidden from the world. Here, the water is calm, the sea’s roar softened to a murmur. He releases you gently onto the shore, your body trembling, your mind reeling from what just happened.

You lie there for a moment, catching your breath, your heart pounding in your chest. When you finally lift your head, you see him.

You can’t believe it. You sit in the sand, your breath ragged, lungs burning from the saltwater you swallowed, but your eyes—your eyes are locked on him. A figure not human, not entirely, but something out of stories you were told as a child. Stories you never believed. Myths, you always thought.

A merman.

The word seems impossible, heavy and foreign in your mind, yet he is there before you, dripping with seawater, his form half in the waves, half on the shore. His dusky purple hair clings to his forehead, eyes the color of shifting sunsets—blue fading into pink, hypnotic and unreal. His pale blue tail glistens under the moonlight, every shimmering scale catching the silver glow, moving with a grace that seems almost too smooth.

Are you hallucinating? You struggle to grasp at the fact what you're seeing is true. Mermaids were the stuff of stories, tales sailors told after too much drink, legends spun to explain away the strange sea. But now, here he is. A merman. He saved you.

You feel the weight of that thought settle in your chest—he saved you. Pulled you from the dark, icy depths. His hands had been firm around your waist, his strength undeniable as he swam you to safety, your body limp and helpless in his grip. The memory of it sends a shiver through you, a mixture of fear and awe. And now he is watching you with those strange, unreadable eyes. Your heart beats faster, not out of fear but something deeper—curiosity, wonder, gratitude. You don’t know how to feel.

“Thank you,” you manage to say, your voice hoarse and trembling.

He doesn’t respond, his gaze flickering as if trying to understand your words. He’s silent, but there’s something in his eyes—something that isn’t cold, something that isn’t indifferent. He’s saved you, and yet, you can see the hesitation and caution. His lips part, as if he wants to say something, but no words come. He seems frustrated, as though language is a barrier neither of you can cross.

Still, there’s a connection between you—fragile but real. You stand up and take a small step toward him, your eyes meeting his. He stares at you, taking in your wet form, the way your clothes cling to your body. There’s a flicker of something in his expression—something that looks almost like curiosity. But then, as quickly as it appeared, it’s gone.

As he slips back into the water, his eyes linger on you one last time, and without a word, he disappears beneath the surface. You realize then, with a strange certainty, that you’ll see him again. He may not have meant for you to be drawn into his world, but now, neither of you can escape it. You’ve crossed a threshold, and there’s no going back.

Tomorrow, you’ll return. You both will.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𓇼 ࣪ 𓈒ㅤׂㅤ⋆｡𖦹 °. 𓇼

You arrive at the cove just as the sun begins to set, the sky turning into shades of amber and rose. What happened last night feels surreal. But the ache in your muscles tells you it was very much real. In your hand, you clutch a small gold bracelet. It’s a token, a simple gesture, but it feels like the least you can offer him for saving your life. You hope he’ll accept it.

You sit by the shore, the same place where he left you, eyes scanning the horizon. You don’t know how long you’ll wait, but something tells you he’ll come. And you don’t wait long.

The water stirs, a ripple moving across the surface. Your breath catches in your throat as you see him. He emerges from the depths with that same graceful ease, his scales glistening in the fading sunset. His eyes find yours, and for a moment, neither of you speak. You simply stare, caught in the same strange tension from the night before. He stays just out of reach, half-submerged in the shallow waters of the cove, watching you.

You shift towards him slowly, trying not to startle him this time. You hold up the bracelet. “For you.” your voice hesitant. You know he doesn’t understand the words, but maybe he’ll understand the gesture.

His gaze flickers to the bracelet, and slowly, cautiously, he moves closer. He raises one hand from the sea, fingers delicate, reaching toward the gift. His gaze never leaves yours as his fingers brush against the gold. You clasp it around his wrist gently, and a breath you’ve been holding leaves your lips. He stares at it for a moment, watching the way it catches the light. Then, he looks at you, his expression unreadable, but his guard... lowered. He doesn’t speak, but there’s a softness in his gaze now.

You smile, gesturing to yourself. “I’m...” You say your name slow and clear, hoping he’ll understand. You point again, repeating, “My name is...”

He watches you, brow furrowing in concentration. He lifts a hand, mimicking your gesture, pointing to himself. “Rafayel,” he says, and your heart skips a beat at the sound of his silky voice.

A smile tugs at your lips. You repeat his name, savoring the sound of it. It’s a small step, but it feels like a bridge between your worlds.

For the next few minutes, you try to teach him more. Simple words. “Water.” You gesture to the sea. “Sky.” You point to the sky. Each time, he watches you closely, though his lips struggle to form the words. He repeats after you, hesitant at first, but with growing confidence. It’s slow, but it’s something. You laugh softly when he stumbles over a word, and his lips twitch, just the slightest hint of amusement in return.

The moon starts to rise. You sit by the shore while Rafayel rests in the shallow water, his body half-submerged. The quiet between you feels comfortable now, no longer heavy with uncertainty. He watches you with a mix of curiosity and caution, his guard still there, but not as rigid.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𓇼 ࣪ 𓈒ㅤׂㅤ⋆｡𖦹 °. 𓇼

You bring a book the next night, an old fairytale, the kind with simple words and enchanting stories. He’s there again and you sit together by the water, turning the pages. You point at the pictures, saying the words slowly, and he listens, repeating the ones he can manage. Each night, you bring another, reading to him in the soft glow of the moon. His words are broken, but he tries. He watches your lips when you speak, mimicking the movements, and each night, you get a little closer to understanding each other.

And as the days pass, something else shifts between you. His wariness fades, replaced by a playful curiosity. He teases you with small splashes of water, grinning at your surprised reactions. His hands linger when he helps you stand up, his touch growing bolder, more confident. You catch him staring sometimes, his eyes roaming your face, your body, with an intensity that sends warmth rushing through you.

You talk more now, not just with words but with gestures, shared looks, and smiles. He asks questions, his voice thick with the unfamiliar human language, but eager to learn. You tell him about your world, your life, and he listens, even if he doesn’t understand it all. And when he speaks of his world, you try to piece together the meaning from the few words he knows, from the way his hands move as if painting a picture.

And each night, as you leave the cove, there’s a part of you that doesn’t want to go. There’s a part of him, too, that lingers in the water, watching you with a look that makes you think he feels the same.

The gold bracelet still gleams on his wrist, a reminder of the night he saved your life.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𓇼 ࣪ 𓈒ㅤׂㅤ⋆｡𖦹 °. 𓇼

Rafayel has always been wary of humans, but with you, he finds himself wanting to know more. There’s a softness in your eyes that eases him, a vulnerability that makes him open up, bit by bit. Each time you smile at him, something stirs in his chest, he can’t quite explain it. It’s different from anything he’s ever known. You’re not like the humans he’s been taught to avoid; there’s no malice, no threat in your presence.

Your beauty, though undeniable, isn’t what captivates him the most. It’s the way you see him. He is not a creature from the deep, something to be feared, but something - someone you want to know. And it confuses him—this growing need to be closer to you, to understand you, to touch you. He’s never felt this way before, and it scares him. But he can’t stay away. The more time he spends with you, the more he begins to desire your presence, the way you make him feel more alive.

The comfort of the cove has become a sanctuary for Rafayel and you. But tonight, something lingers in the air. You’ve been thinking about that first night—about the song that led you to the edge of the cliff. You turn to him, your voice soft but curious “That night, the song... were you the one singing it?”

Rafayel’s gaze hardens at the question, his eyes showing a mix of emotions. He doesn’t answer right away, and for a moment, you worry that you’ve overstepped. But then, his head dips, as if looking for the right words. He takes a breath, his voice low. “Song... not for you.” His eyes meet yours, and there’s something darker there now, something painful. “For sailors, bad men. Hurt... my kind.”

You feel the weight of his words. You’ve heard stories of sailors plundering the depths, but seeing the pain in Rafayel’s eyes—it feels real now. His hand reaches for yours. He explains, his voice thick with emotions he struggles to contain. “Revenge, for my kind. They come, take… kill. They don’t care. ”His fingers tighten slightly around yours, as if bracing himself for what he’s about to say next. “I... stop them. I sing, they follow.”

You realize then what his song was meant to do. It was a lure for the sailors, to drag them beneath the waves. The weight of that presses down on you, and yet, there’s no fear. Only sadness for the pain he’s carried. You swallow, trying to find the right words. “But... I wasn’t meant to hear it.”

He shakes his head, his grip on your hand softening, his voice quieter now. “No. You... not like them. You hear, but...” His brow furrows. “I... not want to hurt you.” The vulnerability in his voice catches you off guard. This creature, so powerful and full of vengeance, pulled you from the depths when he could have just let you drown.

You look at him. “I’m sorry.” you say softly, though you know it’s not enough. “I’m sorry for what they did to you. I didn’t know.”

His eyes soften, the darkness in them fading as he looks at you. “You... don’t need to know,” he murmurs. “You are... different.”

You squeeze his hand gently, offering what comfort you can. “I’m glad you didn’t let me drown.” you say, a soft smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

Rafayel smiles back and you see a glimmer of warmth in his eyes. “Me too.” he says quietly, his thumb brushing against the back of your hand.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𓇼 ࣪ 𓈒ㅤׂㅤ⋆｡𖦹 °. 𓇼

The nights spent by the cove have become a routine. You sit with a fairytale book in your lap, your fingers tracing over the worn pages as you read aloud. Rafayel lies on his stomach, his body still, but his gaze is not. He watches you, ombre eyes tracing every movement of your lips, every flutter of lashes as you speak. You glance up from the book, catching the intensity of his stare. A playful smile tugs at your lips, and you pause mid-sentence. "What are you looking at?" you tease.

Rafayel’s brows furrow in concentration. He still struggles to find the words, but he gestures to his own face, then to yours. "You... beautiful."

The words catch you off guard, a blush peppering your cheeks. You are taken aback by his honesty. He says it so simply, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. Your heart skips a beat, but you brush it off with a soft laugh. “Thank you.”

He tilts his head with confusion in his eyes, as though he doesn’t understand why you would laugh. You shake your head, reaching out to rest your hand on his arm, feeling his cool skin. His body reacts instantly to your touch, a shiver running through him, but he doesn’t pull away. Instead, his hand comes to rest over yours.

Each evening, the distance between slowly fades. Touches become more frequent, more intentional. A hand resting on his arm, fingers tracing his jaw, the way his tail brushes lightly against your leg as he moves closer.

One night, Rafayel’s curiosity takes a new turn. You’re sitting on the sand, the fabric of your flowy dress bunched up around your legs. His gaze lingers on the material that shifts with the breeze. He tilts his head, lips in a small pout. Then he reaches out, pointing at your legs, gesturing to the flowing fabric. “Why... clothes?” he asks.

You laugh softly. “Humans wear different clothing depending on the weather, or their style. And we wear shoes to protect our feet.”

At the mention of shoes, his eyes drop to your bare feet. He looks back at you, his lips parting as if to ask something, but hesitates.

"Do you want to touch them?" you ask.

His face lights up with a mix of curiosity and caution. He nods. You stretch your leg out toward him, offering your foot, and he reaches for it, his fingers brushing lightly over the arch. You smile, watching his face as he studies your foot with such focus that makes you chuckle. But then, his fingers accidentally graze a ticklish spot making you pull away from his grasp and laugh as a reflex.

He jerks his hand back, eyes wide with concern, but you shake your head quickly, still laughing. “It’s okay! You just tickled me.”

His expression softens into a playful one, and he does it again, deliberately this time. He watches as your body reacts, your foot flinching away from his mischievous hands, your laughter bubbling up again. You can see the spark in his eyes, the way his lips curl into that rare smile you’re starting to see more often.

Now your eyes trace pale blue tail that glimmers in the water. You can’t stop yourself from staring. You’ve wanted to touch it from the very first moment you saw him.

You take a deep breath. “Can I... touch your tail? It’s okay if you don’t wa - .”

He chuckles at your stammering and nods, easing your anxiety. He takes your hand in his, and lowers it onto his tail, around where knees would be. Your lips part in awe, feeling the cool, sleek texture of his scales beneath your fingertips. It’s smooth, almost silky.

You look up at him. “Your tail... it’s incredible.”

Rafayel’s lips twitch into a small smile, pleased by your fascination. He shifts his body, fully focusing on your legs again. His eyes travel up, towards the space between your thighs. He glances at your face, then back, as though trying to make sense of something. Slowly, he leans in, his head tilting as he peers under the hem of your dress, his curiosity as innocent as it is bold.

A flush of heat rises to your cheeks, scooting back and pressing your thighs together. "Uh, Rafayel..." you murmur, your voice catching.

He looks up at you, confused. You can tell he doesn’t fully understand what he’s done to make you flustered, but he’s aware of the shift in your energy. “What... there?” he asks, his voice uncertain, his hand motioning toward your dress.

You bite your lip, the blush deepening. There’s no hidden intent in his question—just pure curiosity, the same way he’d ask about the books or the language you’re teaching him. You take a shaky breath. “It’s... private,” you say, choosing your words carefully. “Humans have parts that are personal, and we usually keep them covered, especially around others.”

He nods slowly. His eyes go to your dress for just a moment before they return to yours. “Private,” he repeats, the word unfamiliar on his tongue, but he seems to grasp the meaning of it. You can see the restraint in him now, the way he pulls back slightly, giving you space.

In the quiet that follows, you smile at him, reaching out to touch his face lightly, your fingers brushing over his soft skin. “You’re learning quickly,” you say softly, and he leans into your touch, his eyes closing for just a moment. But now you have a question. Your heart races as you summon the courage to speak. "Rafayel..." you begin, your voice barely above a whisper. You swallow hard, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. "Where... where are your private parts?"

The words hang awkwardly between you, and you immediately regret it. Your body tenses as you brace for his reaction. Instead of laughing or brushing off the question, Rafayel’s expression softens with understanding. He lies on his back, glancing down at his sleek, muscled form. There’s a pause as he considers how to respond, his lips curving in a soft smile.

"They're hidden," he says quietly, pointing to the area right below his pelvis. "Beneath, for… when we need them."

You find yourself staring at the spot where he’s pointing. You bite your lip, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye. His gaze is already on you, soft and unassuming, as if waiting for you to speak.

"So… how does it work?" you ask hesitantly.

Rafayel tilts his head, his brow furrowing slightly as he processes your words. "Work?" he repeats. He looks down at his tail, then back up at you. "You… want to know?"

The heat rises to your cheeks, and you glance away, your fingers fidgeting with the hem of your dress. "I—I guess, yeah," you stammer. "I mean, you asked me, and I…" You trail off, embarrassed.

Rafayel’s lips quirk into a small, knowing smile, and his eyes soften at the sight of your flushed cheeks. Slowly, he speaks again. "I can… show?"

Your breath catches in your throat. The idea of him revealing that intimate part of himself makes your heart race. But before you can respond, Rafayel adds "If… I see yours too?"

Your hands tighten on the fabric of your dress, your mind racing. There's an openness in the way he asks, a genuine desire to understand you better. "You want to see mine?" you ask, your voice trembling just a little. Rafayel nods, his eyes flicking downward for just a second before meeting yours again. “Yes. You… show me. I… show you."

The tension hangs heavy between you, and for a moment, you both just sit there. You consider his words and finally, you nod. "Okay."

Rafayel hesitates for a moment, his eyes searching yours for permission one more time. With a slow nod from you, he shifts, moving just enough to give you a better view. The area he pointed at begins to part slightly, the scales pulling aside to show what is hidden. Your eyes widen as you catch the first glimpse of what lies underneath. The sight is mesmerizing, a beautiful hybrid of human and something entirely otherworldly. His member, long and thick, tapers slightly toward the tip. The texture is smooth with faint ridges along its surface. Your breath hitches as you notice how his arousal throbs gently, merging seamlessly with his aquatic form.

Rafayel watches you, how fascinated you are by this part of him. His lips quirk into a teasing smile, but a faint blush colors his cheeks. He’s aware of the tension of this moment, but there’s a playful, mischievous glint in his eyes as he tilts his head.

"You… stare long time," he teases, "You… like?"

Your breath catches as you meet Rafayel’s gaze, embarrassed for staring for so long. "Maybe," you admit with a shy smile.

Rafayel’s smile widens, his blush deepening. He glances down at himself, starting to feel bashful under your gaze, before his eyes return to yours. He shifts slightly, his hand moving to caress your cheek. His eyes move downward, toward the thin piece of clothing, then back to your face. You know it’s your turn.

The realization makes your palms clammy. Rafayel’s gaze never leaves yours, patient but full of expectation. And you want to match his vulnerability, to let him see you in the same way you’ve seen him. With a trembling hand, you reach under your dress, tugging down the bottom part of your swimsuit, his eyes following your every movement. Discarding the piece of clothing to the side, you lean back on your hands, spreading your legs.

Rafayel’s eyes widen as he stares at your exposed form, lingering on the soft skin between your thighs, on the slickness already gathering there. He looks mesmerized, his gaze flicking between your face and your body, as if he can’t decide where to focus.

"Can… I touch?" he asks, his fingers twitching with anticipation.

You nod, your heart racing. Slowly, his fingers brush against your inner thigh, cool and soft at first. His fingertips graze your entrance, and you let out a small gasp as a jolt of pleasure courses through you.

He pauses, glancing up at you with concern. “Hurt?”

You shake your head quickly, breathless. "No, no… that feels good," you assure him, your voice a little shaky. "But… if you keep touching me like that, I’ll get more… aroused." The honest answer makes your face flush even more.

Rafayel seems both intrigued and flustered by your response. Rafayel watches you closely, his fingers still resting gently against your slick entrance. He looks down, his breath catching as he feels the wetness coating his fingers. You can see his chest rising and falling as if he's trying to keep control of himself.

He glances back up at you. "Can I… touch more?"

The question takes you by surprise. This isn’t just curiosity or playful exploration anymore—this is crossing into something more intimate. You look at him, your breath catching in your throat. There’s a need that’s been growing inside him for so long—one he’s kept carefully in check, unsure if he could ask, unsure if this moment would ever come.

You feel a rush of warmth flood through you at the realization, and with a soft, shaky breath, you nod, guiding his hand a little higher. "Touch me… here," you whisper, your voice barely audible as you place his fingers on the sensitive nub just above your entrance. "This is… very sensitive. If you touch it the right way, it’ll feel incredible."

Rafayel’s breath hitches as his fingers move under your guidance. His touch is light at first, but as he watches your reaction—how your body tenses with pleasure—he grows bolder, circling the sensitive spot with slow, deliberate movements.

The sensations are overwhelming, sending waves of pleasure crashing through you with every stroke of his fingers. Your hips instinctively move, seeking more of his touch, and you can’t help the soft moans that escape your lips. Rafayel’s eyes are locked on you now, his breath coming faster, his arousal clear in the way his body tenses.

"Yes," you gasp, your hands gripping the fabric of your dress as you struggle to hold back the rising tide of pleasure. "Just like that…"

Your body is trembling now, shaky gasps leaving your lips, each stroke pulling you closer to the edge. He watches you intently, eyes wide with fascination. He’s studying every reaction, every sound you make. Your fingers dig into the sand, gripping tightly as the pressure builds inside you, a tight coil ready to snap. His touch is gentle but insistent, the perfect rhythm against your most sensitive spot, and it doesn’t take long before you feel that wave approaching. Your hips buck against his hand, and the pleasure becomes too much, too overwhelming to resist.

“Rafayel -” you moan, your voice shaky. Everything seems to blur as the intense pleasure crashes over you in waves, your thighs trembling, your back arching helplessly as you come. Rafayel watches in awe, mesmerized by the way your body reacts to his touch, his hand still gently moving over your clit, prolonging your release as you ride out every last wave of pleasure. Your chest heaves, breathless, the sensation so intense you can barely focus, your body still twitching from the aftershocks. But as the pleasure subsides, his curiosity hasn’t. His fingers, still slick from your release, hover near your entrance, and he glances up at you. His fingers brush against your wetness, lingering just on the edge.

“What… if I…” he trails off.

You’re still catching your breath, your body sensitive, but you manage a nod, giving him permission. He moves slowly, his fingers slipping inside you, cautiously exploring. His finger slides into you easily, your entrance wet from your orgasm, and you let out a soft gasp as he pushes deeper. When he adds a second finger, stretching you just a little more, a shiver runs down your spine, the fullness making you moan softly. His eyes flick up to yours again, watching your face for any sign of discomfort, but all he finds is more of that same pleasure, your hips gently rocking against his hand, guiding him.

And then, as he curls his fingers inside you, searching, he finds it—the spongy spot deep within that makes your body jolt with pleasure. You react immediately, a gasp escaping your lips as he presses against it.

“There,” you gasp, your voice breathless and needy. “Right there…”

Rafayel’s eyes light up, his fingers moving with more confidence now, curling and stroking that sensitive spot inside you. The pleasure is overwhelming, a different kind of ecstasy that makes you arch into his touch, your walls tightening around his fingers. Each movement makes your moans grow louder, more desperate.

Without warning, he leans down, his mouth hovering just above your clit. Then he presses his lips to the sensitive nub. The shock of his warm mouth against you makes you cry out, your hips jerking against him as the pleasure intensifies tenfold. His tongue flicks out, tasting you, and when he hears your moan, he repeats the motion. Your hands instinctively tangle in his hair, guiding him as his tongue moves over your clit, licking and sucking in perfect rhythm with the motion of his fingers inside you. The combination is almost too much, the sensations making you dizzy, your body on the verge of losing control.

Rafayel seems affected by your reactions, his own breathing heavy now, his face flushed. He’s learning fast, his fingers curling just right inside you, hitting that sensitive spot over and over, while his mouth works your clit with growing skill. Your hips move desperately against him, seeking more of the pleasure he’s giving you, unable to stop yourself.

And then, you feel it—the tight coil inside you, about to snap again, but this time it’s different. The pleasure so intense it’s almost unbearable. You can feel your muscles clenching around his fingers, wet sounds filling the air as your body responds to him.

“I can’t… I’m going to…” you gasp, but before you can finish, your orgasm crashes over you, more powerful than anything you’ve ever felt before, your body convulsing, your hips bucking wildly against his hand and mouth. A sudden gush of wetness escapes you, your release splashing against his fingers, your muscles spasm with the force of it.

Rafayel freezes for a moment, startled by the intensity of your release, but he doesn’t pull away. His fingers stay inside you, his mouth still working your clit as you ride out the most intense orgasm of your life.

As your release finally subsides, you collapse back against the sand, panting and spent, your body still tingling. Rafayel pulls back, his fingers slipping from your entrance, wet with your release. He looks up at you, awe and a hint of pride in his eyes, as if he can hardly believe what he’s just made you feel.

When you catch the sight of Rafayel’s face, glistening with the remnants of your release, a shy smile tugs at your lips. You reach out, brushing your thumb gently across his cheek, wiping away the wetness. Both of you share a soft, breathy chuckle. Rafayel, his gaze lingering on your lips, leans down slowly. His breath fans across your skin, and then, with a soft press, his lips meet yours. It’s gentle at first, but the moment your lips connect, something shifts. The kiss deepens, grows more urgent, as though all the pent-up desire comes to the surface.

Your hands tangle in his hair, pulling him closer, needing more of him. His lips move against yours, his tongue teasing yours, and you feel the weight of his body pressing against you. His tail shifts in the sand, positioning himself between your legs, his hardened member brushing against your thigh. The contact makes you moan into the kiss, and you both know where this is headed. It feels natural, like this is where you were always meant to end up, like the bond between you has been building toward this moment. Rafayel’s gaze locks onto yours, checking for any sign of hesitation. But all you offer him is a small nod, your body aching to feel him inside you.

He begins to push forward, slow and careful, the head of his throbbing member pressing against your wetness. You can feel the stretch as he starts to ease into you, your body accommodating his size. The sensation is intense, your walls fluttering around him as he gradually sinks deeper. His eyes never leave yours, his brow furrowed in concentration, his mouth slightly parted.

“You… okay?” he asks softly, his voice strained with the effort of holding back.

“Yes,” you gasp, your body trembling. “Don’t stop.”

Encouraged, Rafayel moves deeper. Rolling his hips, each thrust pushes him further, until he’s fully within you, his body pressed flush against yours. He stills for a moment, savoring the warmth of your body wrapped around him. His hand moves down to where your bodies are joined, his thumb finding your clit, pressing against it in slow circles. You moan, your hips instinctively bucking against his, the stimulation pushing you closer and closer to the edge again.

Every thrust brings him deeper, hitting that sweet spot inside you, and you can’t hold back any longer. Your orgasm crashes over you, more powerful than the last. Your walls clench tightly around him, drawing him deeper, and you cry out his name. Your entire body shudders with the force of your release. The feeling of you pulsing around him pushes Rafayel over the edge. His thrusts become erratic, his breath ragged. With a deep groan, he buries himself inside you, his body shaking as his own orgasm overtakes him.

As the last hints of pleasure fade from your bodies, the night air settles around you, cool and soothing against your flushed skin. Rafayel’s body remains pressed against yours, his chest rising and falling in rhythm with your own as he holds you close. Your legs are still tangled with his tail, the beautiful texture of his scales brushing against your thighs, grounding you in this moment.

Rafayel presses a tender kiss to your temple. His lips trail down to your cheek, then to the corner of your mouth, and you turn your head, meeting him in a soft, languid kiss. Neither of you speaks for a long moment, simply resting in the aftermath. Rafayel shifts slightly, easing out of you carefully, and you can’t help but shiver at the loss of connection. He watches your face for any sign of discomfort, but all you offer him is a lazy smile.

A faint blush lingers on his cheeks, and his lips curve into a small, sheepish smile. "You not hurt?"

You laugh softly, shaking your head. "No," you reply, your voice gentle. "Not at all. That was… wonderful."

He exhales in relief and chuckles softly. "Good."

You move to rest your head against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. He wraps an arm around you, pulling you closer, as if he can’t bear to let go just yet.

Then, after a few moments, you both start to chuckle, the sound light and easy. "I… didn’t think this would happen," you admit with a smile. "Not like this. Not tonight."

Rafayel hums in agreement. "You… so different. So... human," he adds with a playful smirk, but his tone softens. "And yet…"

You smile, lifting your head slightly to meet his gaze, finishing for him. "And yet, it feels right." Rafayel’s lips curve into a slow, gentle smile, and he leans down, his breath warm against your skin as he presses a soft kiss to your forehead. "Yes," he whispers. "It… feels right."

For a long time, you simply lie there together, wrapped in each other’s arms, your bodies warm and comfortable against the cool night air. Rafayel’s fingers continue to caress your skin, his touch tender and slow.

"Stay close," he whispers after a while, his voice barely audible, as if he’s speaking to himself, as if the thought of distance—any distance—is unbearable. His arms tighten around you, his embrace full of warmth and need.

You smile against his chest, nuzzling closer. "I’m not going anywhere," you murmur back. And you mean it. Whatever comes next, you’ll face it together.

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