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pin-k-ink · 5 months ago

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breaking point // hinata shoyo

tw ⇢ possessive!hinata, groping, obsessive behavior, semi-public fingering, cunnilingus, mating press, unprotected sex, dirty talk, mentioned masturbation, rough sex, squirting, fingering

wc ⇢ 4.4k

a/n: not proofread

"And here we have the star of today's match, Hinata Shoyo!"

Your bright voice immediately commanded Hinata's attention, shattering his previous conversation into irrelevance. As his eyes landed on you, he felt the breath still in his lungs.

'Good god, she's beautiful.'

The thought blossomed before he could stop it. You looked so perfectly poised and professional with your microphone raised, camera ready. But all Hinata could focus on was the elegant line of your jaw, the flushed hue across your cheeks, and the way your lips seemed to glisten invitingly.

Swallowing hard, he wrestled to regain his composure as you launched into the standard post-game questions about his performance. Hinata responded automatically while his gaze drifted lower, hungrily taking in the tantalizing glimpse of cleavage exposed by your blouse's neckline.

Get it together! He gave himself a mental shake, panic rising at his inability to tear his eyes away from your body. This was just a damn interview - he'd done hundreds, for god's sake! So why was he reacting like a hormonal teenager catching his first glimpse of undressed skin?

Maybe it was the way your skirt caressed the gentle swell of your hips as you shifted...or the soft, floral scent of your perfume that seemed to wrap around his senses in the most maddening way...

Inhaling deeply, Hinata dragged his wandering focus back to your lovely face, only to feel his attention immediately ensnared by your lips. They looked so incredibly soft and inviting as you spoke, he could barely track the meaning of your questions.

Without realizing it, Hinata found himself slowly drifting closer, drawn to you by some inexplicable gravitational pull. By the time your brows knit in confusion at his distracted responses, he was near enough to see the slight iridescent shimmer of your lip gloss...near enough to catch the lightest whisper of your shampoo's fragrance...

Fuck, get a grip! Hinata cursed inwardly, finally registering the wildly inappropriate hunger blazing through him like a fever. This was meant to be a professional interview, not his own personal peepshow!

And yet, he found himself utterly powerless to pull away from your enticing presence. His gaze flicked down to the gentle swell of your chest again as you inhaled, and he swore he could detect the barest hint of cleavage peeking from beneath the fabric.

"Is...everything alright, Hinata-san?" you asked with a small frown, no doubt perplexed by the dark look of unveiled yearning that had overcome his features.

Hinata's tongue instinctively swiped across his suddenly dry lips as his eyes locked on yours once more. Every fiber of his being screamed to close what little distance remained between your bodies and capture those perfect lips with his own. To satiate this maddening, inexplicable thirst you had instantly awakened within him.

But somehow, some small shred of self-restraint stopped the words from spilling out.

"Perfect," he husked instead, the gravelly timbre of his voice dripping with the undisguised want smoldering in his eyes. "Everything is...perfect."

After that first unsettling interview, you found yourself assigned to cover Hinata with increasing frequency. His star power was rapidly rising, and your segments with him always drew impressive views and engagement.

But each time you sat down with him, the charged tension seemed to ratchet higher.

During one post-game interview, Hinata casually rested his hand over yours on the microphone, his calloused fingers stroking your skin as he leaned in close to answer.

"That last set was a real nail-biter," he murmured, his intense gaze never leaving your face. "I love keeping the crowd on the edge of their seats, never knowing what I'll do next..."

You had to fight down a shiver at the double meaning layered beneath his words. Hinata's eyes sparked with mischief, clearly enjoying the effect he had on you.

Another time, as you wrapped up a courtside interview, Hinata unexpectedly pulled you into a quick hug. The gesture would look friendly and spontaneous to any onlookers...

But as he drew you against his chest, you felt his hand dip low to squeeze your ass, lightning-quick but unmistakable. Your gasp was muffled against his shoulder before he released you with a cheeky grin.

"Thanks for the great interview," he chirped brightly, as if he hadn't just groped you in front of thousands. "Always a pleasure!"

Then there was the interview after his Sports Illustrated cover was announced. Hinata kept you close as you spoke, his arm slung casually across your shoulders in a gesture that skirted the line of professionalism.

"It's such an honor," he said earnestly. "I couldn't have done it without the support of my biggest fans."

At that, his hand drifted down to toy with the ends of your hair, twirling the strands around his fingers in an unmistakably possessive gesture. To any viewers, it would look like an absent fidget.

But the heat in Hinata's gaze as it locked with yours made it clear - he was staking a subtle claim, right there on live television. You had to fight to keep your composure, even as your skin tingled beneath his touch.

As the months passed, Hinata grew bolder and bolder in his flirtations, always toeing the line while maintaining plausible deniability. Lingering touches, weighted words, heated stares that felt almost tangible in their intensity...

It was a dangerous game you were playing, trapped under the watchful eyes of the cameras. And part of you wondered how far Hinata would push before the tension finally snapped.

After a grueling five-set match, you found yourself waiting outside the locker room to snag a final quote from Hinata. The hallway was deserted, the rest of the press having already dispersed to make their deadlines.

You leaned against the wall, reviewing your notes, when the door suddenly swung open. Hinata emerged, his hair damp from the shower and his gym bag slung over one shoulder. He stopped short when he spotted you, a slow smile spreading across his face.

"Well, well," he murmured, sauntering closer. "If it isn't my favorite reporter. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

You straightened, trying to ignore the way your pulse jumped at his proximity. "Just hoping to get a quick quote about that final spike. It was a pretty spectacular finish."

Hinata hummed, stepping fully into your personal space until your back hit the wall. "Is that so?" he mused, bracing a hand beside your head. "And here I thought maybe you just wanted to get me alone."

Your breath caught at the blatant suggestion, your eyes widening. "I...no, that's not-"

"Not what?" Hinata interrupted, his voice dropping to a low rasp. "Not incredibly tempting? Because I've got to say..."

His free hand came up to toy with the press badge dangling from your neck, his knuckles grazing the sensitive skin above your collar.

"...the thought of getting you all to myself, away from the cameras? It's been driving me crazy for months."

You swallowed hard, your head swimming with his intoxicating nearness. This close, you could see the flecks of gold in his warm brown eyes, could count each individual eyelash framing his heated gaze.

"Hinata-san," you managed weakly, "we can't. I'm supposed to be interviewing you."

His lips quirked up in a wicked grin. "Then interview me," he purred, ducking his head until his mouth hovered a hair's breadth from your own. "Ask me how badly I've wanted to taste your lips. Ask me how many times I've imagined peeling that prim little skirt off you and finding out what you're wearing underneath. Ask me how often I've had to jerk off in the shower, thinking about your mouth on my cock..."

A shaky exhale escaped you, and Hinata's eyes darkened with triumph. He knew he had you cornered, in every sense of the word. His body caged you in, his breath fanning across your parted lips in a maddening caress.

"You have no idea," he rasped, his nose brushing yours in a ghosting almost-touch, "how crazy you make me. How hard it's been to keep my hands to myself every time we're together."

To punctuate his point, his hand released your badge to trail slowly down your arm, calluses catching on your sleek skin and igniting sparks in their wake. Your breathing grew ragged as his fingers skimmed across your hip, circling to the small of your back.

Then he was hauling you flush against him, the hard planes of his body searing into your softer curves. A needy sound caught in your throat at the feel of him, firm and unyielding, against your frame.

"Hinata-san," you gasped, but whatever protest you'd intended died on your lips as he pressed his forehead to yours, his eyes blazing with raw hunger.

"Tell me you want me," he commanded roughly, his voice gravelly with desire. "Tell me I'm not the only one losing my mind with how badly I need you."

You trembled in his hold, your heart hammering against your ribs as his words seemed to brand themselves into your skin. Every nerve ending felt electrified, raw and oversensitized where his body pressed against your own.

But even as your very soul cried out to give in, to surrender to the magnetic pull of him, your rational mind clung to the tattered shreds of reason.

"Hinata, we...we can't," you managed, your voice thin and thready to your own ears. "This is...it's not right."

His jaw clenched, a muscle ticking beneath the taut skin, but he didn't release you. If anything, his grip on your waist tightened, his fingers digging into the soft flesh possessively.

"Not right?" he echoed, a humorless laugh escaping him. "God, if you only knew how many nights I've laid awake, fantasizing about all the 'not right' things I want to do to you..."

His head dipped, his nose skimming along the column of your throat in a barely-there touch that had you shivering. You swore you could feel the heat of his lips hovering just above your racing pulse.

"I could take you right here," he rasped against your skin, his breath searing you like a brand. "Against this wall, until you're shaking and begging for me. Would you like that?"

A broken whimper escaped your lips, and you felt them curve in a wicked smile. "Yeah, you would," he purred darkly. "I bet you'd fall apart so sweetly on my cock, squeezing me like a vice as you come..."

Your head thumped back against the wall, eyes squeezing shut as his filthy words painted vivid pictures in your mind. It would be so easy to give in, to let him strip you bare and take you apart until you forgot your own name.

But the tattered remnants of your professionalism, already strained to the breaking point, wouldn't allow it.

"I can't," you whispered brokenly, hands fisting in his shirt as if to hold him at bay...or pull him closer, you weren't even sure anymore. "We can't do this, Hinata-san. Not...not like this."

For a long, endless moment, he remained motionless against you. You could practically hear the war raging within him, the primal need to claim you battling against the yoke of propriety.

Then, with a low, frustrated growl, he released you, stepping back just enough to sever the contact between your bodies. The sudden absence of his searing heat left you feeling bereft, unmoored, but you didn't dare reach for him again.

"This isn't over," he bit out, his tone dark with promise as his heated gaze raked over you. "Sooner or later, I'm going to have you. And when I do..."

He leaned in, his lips a hairsbreadth from your ear. "I'm going to ruin you for anyone else. You'll be mine, completely and utterly. Don't ever doubt that."

With those words searing into your very bones, he grabbed your jaw in a rough grip, capturing your lips in a hard, bruising kiss. His tongue swept into your mouth, claiming, conquering, and you were powerless to stop the whimper of need that fell from your lips.

Then he was gone. Turning on his heel and stalking away, leaving you weak-kneed and trembling in his wake. As you watched his broad shoulders disappear around the corner, one thing crystallized in your mind with startling certainty.

Hinata Shoyo was a man who worked hard to get what he wanted. And god help you, he wanted you.

The studio lights bore down on you as you sat beside Hinata, the camera crew adjusting the final settings before your joint interview. It was a big opportunity, a chance to discuss his recent accomplishments with a major sports network.

But all you could focus on was the heat of Hinata's thigh pressed against your own beneath the news desk.

"Thirty seconds!" the producer called out. You straightened your notes with hands that trembled imperceptibly, hyperaware of Hinata's solid presence mere inches away.

As the crew did their final checks, you felt a feather-light touch against your knee. Your breath hitched, gaze flying to Hinata's face, but he was staring straight ahead with an expression of perfect nonchalance.

Then his hand slid higher, fingers grazing the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. You barely suppressed a gasp, your entire body going rigid as he began to trace idle patterns against your flesh.

"Ten seconds!"

Hinata's touch grew bolder, his palm flattening against your thigh as it crept upward at a maddeningly slow pace. When his fingertips brushed the hem of your skirt, toying with the edge in a teasing caress, you thought you might combust on the spot.

"5, 4, 3, 2..."

You pasted on a bright smile as the camera light flashed red, signaling you were live. But even as you launched into your practiced introduction, you could feel Hinata's hand continuing its torturous exploration beneath the desk.

His fingers danced along the edge of your skirt, occasionally dipping just beneath the fabric to graze the lace edge of your panties. Each touch sent sparks of heat crackling through your veins, your focus splintering as you strained to maintain your composure.

Beside you, Hinata answered the questions smoothly, flashing his signature megawatt smile at the camera. But the hand on your thigh never ceased its maddening ministrations, slipping higher and higher until he was tracing the crease where your thigh met your hip.

You clenched your teeth as a shudder tried to rip through you, your hands white-knuckled. God, how were you supposed to concentrate with him touching you like this, live on national television?

But Hinata seemed utterly unaffected, bantering easily with the hosts even as his fingers crept to the apex of your thighs. When he boldly cupped your clothed pussy, barely stifling a groan at the damp heat he found there, you nearly bit through your lip trying to hold back a whimper.

"...wouldn't you agree?" the other host suddenly asked, turning to you with an expectant smile. Your heart lurched into your throat as you scrambled to recall what the question had even been.

"I...yes, absolutely," you managed, hoping your voice didn't sound as strained as it felt. "Hinata has certainly been a driving force behind the team's success this season."

Hinata's fingers pressed harder against your clit, the sudden friction nearly buckling your spine, and you had to disguise your choked gasp as a cough. Somehow, you maintained the semblance of poise, nodding as the host turned his attention back to the ace.

But beneath the table, the fingers between your thighs were a maddening pressure. He traced along the edge of your panties, then dipped below the lace to slide a thick digit along your folds.

"Shit," you breathed, barely above a whisper. You hoped the sound wouldn't pick up on camera.

Hinata smirked at you from the corner of his eye, clearly enjoying watching you come apart at his hand. With an agonizingly slow motion, he circled your entrance, spreading your slick wetness as you struggled not to squirm in your seat.

"Well, I couldn't do it without the support of my fans," Hinata interjected smoothly, shooting you a sly wink. "Especially my biggest fan right here."

You felt your cheeks flood with heat at the blatant innuendo, praying the camera would attribute your blush to the flattery. If only they knew just what Hinata was doing to you beneath the professional veneer...

The interview wrapped up shortly after, much to your relief. You maintained your smile as the hosts signed off, barely suppressing a shudder when Hinata gave your sensitive flesh a final, teasing squeeze before withdrawing his hand.

The second the camera light flicked off, you were shooting to your feet, your breath coming in shallow pants. Hinata rose more slowly, a knowing smirk playing about his lips as his dark eyes dragged over your disheveled form.

Heart pounding, you hurried into the dressing room, desperate to compose yourself after Hinata's bold touches during the interview. Your skin felt electrified, every nerve ending buzzing with barely suppressed need.

You braced your hands against the vanity, trying to slow your breathing. But then the click of the lock sounded behind you, and your pulse jumped into overdrive.

"You didn't think I was done with you, did you?" Hinata's voice was a low, dark rasp that sent shivers cascading down your spine.

You met his gaze in the mirror, your breath hitching at the raw, undisguised hunger burning in his eyes. He stalked towards you with predatory intent, his movements fluid and purposeful.

"Hinata," you managed weakly, your voice thin and thready. "We can't...not here..."

But he was already crowding into your space, his chest pressing against your back as his hands settled on your hips, firm and possessive.

"I can't wait anymore," he rasped, his breath hot against the shell of your ear. "I've held back for so long, but god, the way you respond to my touch..." His nose skimmed the column of your throat, making you shudder. "I need to feel you come apart for me."

Your eyes fluttered shut, a broken whimper escaping your lips. Every logical reason you shouldn't allow this, every professional boundary, seemed to evaporate like mist under the searing heat of his desire.

"Please," you whispered, the single word dripping with longing.

Hinata's hands tightened on your hips, a low groan rumbling through his chest. "Fuck, the things you do to me..."

Then his mouth was on your neck, your jaw, claiming each inch of skin with bruising intensity. One hand slid up your body to palm your breast through your blouse, calluses scraping your sensitive nipple and making you arch with a gasp.

"I'm going to take you apart," Hinata bit out against your skin, his voice tight with barely restrained need. "Gonna make you cum so hard you forget everything but my name."

Your head fell back against his shoulder, a moan spilling from your lips. You knew there would be no coming back from this, no way to pretend it never happened. But as Hinata turned you in his arms, his mouth slanting over yours in a searing kiss, you found you didn't care.

All you wanted was him.

Hinata hoisted you onto the vanity, his palms blazing a trail up the bare skin of your thighs as his tongue delved deeper. Your hands fisted in his hair, tugging hard enough to earn a groan of approval, and a wave of dizzying power flooded your senses.

He yanked your panties down your legs with such urgency, you swore you heard the lace tear. But before you could process, his hands were urging your thighs apart and his fingers were slipping through your soaked folds.

"So wet," he groaned, his fingers sinking into your heat and eliciting a sharp cry. "Is this all for me, baby?"

You whimpered a strangled affirmation, grinding desperately against his hand as he curled his fingers inside you. Your hands scrabbled at his shoulders, struggling to find purchase against the hard planes of muscle as he pumped his digits in a torturous rhythm.

"Shoyo," you whined, the plea falling from your lips without a second thought.

He growled, his eyes flashing dangerously at the use of his first name. His thumb flicked over your clit, drawing a strangled gasp from your throat, and you writhed beneath his touch.

"Say it again," he ordered, his free hand snaking up to fist in your hair and drag your gaze to his. The molten fire of his stare set your very soul alight.

"Please," you begged, no longer caring how wanton and desperate you sounded. "Shoyo, please!"

Hinata's teeth flashed in a wicked grin. Then his fingers were gone, and before you could mourn their absence, his head was dipping between your thighs.

The first swipe of his tongue had your spine bowing, a cry ripping from your throat. His grip on your hips was almost bruising as he feasted on your cunt, his tongue and lips and teeth working you into a frenzy. Your thighs clenched around his head, the heels of your stilettos digging into his broad shoulders. Pleasure crashed over you like waves, threatening to drown you, and still you couldn't get enough.

"Fuck, I could eat this sweet little pussy all day," Hinata groaned, the vibrations nearly sending you over the edge. "So fucking good."

His tongue speared into your core, and you shattered. The climax tore through you with the force of a freight train, your entire body convulsing with the intensity of it.

Your vision whited out, and for a moment, the only thing tethering you to earth was Hinata's hands. His tongue continued to work you through your orgasm, wringing every last drop of pleasure until you were shaking with overstimulation.

When the world finally came back into focus, you blinked blearily down at him. A fresh wave of heat washed through you as you took in the sight of him, lips glistening and pupils blown wide with desire.

"So pretty," he husked, dragging the back of his hand across his mouth in a gesture that should not have been so damn attractive.

But then he was hauling you closer to the edge of the vanity, and suddenly you were acutely aware of the hard length straining against the zipper of his dress pants. Your fingers itched to free him, to feel his bare cock heavy and thick in your hand.

Before you could act on the impulse, Hinata was shoving his pants down, his dick bobbing proudly against his stomach. You felt a fresh wave of wetness flood your core at the sight, anticipation and hunger thrumming in your veins.

"Tell me what you want," he rasped, the head of his cock teasing through your folds. You keened, your hips jerking up as you struggled to find the words.

"You," you managed, the desperation in your voice clear even to your own ears. "Shoyo, please..."

A groan ripped from his chest, the sound so feral, so animalistic, it should have frightened you. But instead, it sparked a fire low in your belly, a primal need to feel him buried deep inside you.

You kicked your heels off right as his hands gripped your thighs, spreading them wide and pinning them back against your chest. He notched the thick head of his cock against your dripping cunt, and then he was plunging into you.

Your mouth fell open in a silent scream, your hands scrambling for purchase against the vanity. God, the stretch was nearly overwhelming, but you were too far gone to care. Your walls clenched around him, your hips rising to meet his frantic thrusts.

"So tight," he bit out, his pace punishing as he pounded into you. "Shit, I'm not gonna last, baby. You feel too fucking good."

A sob fell from your lips, the pleasure bordering on painful as he drilled into you. The vanity slammed into the wall with each rough thrust, but you couldn't bring yourself to care about the racket. Not when you were so close to falling apart, his cock filling you so completely.

One hand left your thigh to rub furiously at your clit, the additional stimulation sending stars bursting behind your eyelids. Your cries grew louder, more urgent, and you distantly registered the possibility of someone overhearing. But the thought was gone as quickly as it appeared, lost in the haze of pleasure.

"Look at me," Hinata demanded, his voice rough with command. Your eyes snapped to his, and you nearly came on the spot at the unbridled hunger blazing in his dark gaze.

"You're mine," he rasped, the hand on your hip moving to squeeze your jaw. "Say it. Say you're mine."

"Yours," you gasped, the words a choked sob. "All yours, Shoyo!"

Hinata released your chin, his fingers returning to toy with your clit as he pounded into you. You could feel yourself hurtling towards the edge, the pressure building in your core until you were sure it would snap.

"Cum for me," he growled, his gaze locked with yours. "Wanna feel you fall apart around my cock."

Then his thumb and forefinger pinched your clit, and you shattered. White-hot pleasure ripped through your body, the shockwave sending aftershocks cascading through your limbs. Your walls clenched around him, the spasms almost violent as you squirted around his length.

"Holy fuck," Hinata groaned, his rhythm faltering as his own climax crested. He managed a handful of wild thrusts, burying himself to the hilt as he spilled inside you, coating your walls with his release.

He collapsed forward, bracing his forearms against the vanity. His forehead dropped against your shoulder, both of you gasping for air as you slowly drifted back down from the high.

Despite the fact that the vanity was now sticky with your combined releases, Hinata made no move to extricate himself from you. Instead, he nuzzled into your neck, pressing soft, lazy kisses to your flushed skin. His cock was surprisinglystill hard, the weight of him a grounding presence within you.

"Baby," he said after a moment, his lips quirking up in a smile against your collarbone, "think maybe I can convince you to leave work early today?"

A laugh bubbled up your throat, the joyful sound bright in the quiet room. "Why? So we can go home and continue this?"

"Mm, something like that," Hinata hummed, his grin widening. "And then you can help me celebrate my new Sports Illustrated cover by posing for me, naked, while I fuck you against every surface in my apartment."

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littlefreya · 6 months ago

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Neptune's Snare

Summary: She came to take revenge on the loathsome man who murdered her fiance, only to become his captive.

Read Chapter One

Pairing: AU!Pirate August Walker x Virgin OFC (for now 😏)

Word count: 3k

Warnings: 18+, minors DNI. Sexual themes, dark themes mentioned, historical inaccuracies, kidnapping, captivity, graphic descriptions of sex, intimidation, slow burn, sexual tension, foul language.

A/N: I was unsure whether I should do part 2, but @deandoesthingstome (💖) motivated me to do it, so I truely hope you will like it. Many thanks to @agniavateira, for beta'ing. I am no longer using my old tag list, but I will tag those who specifically asked to be tagged for this story via my new Writing Update Blog @littlefreyaslibrary.

Thanks for reading, and please reblog with a comment 🖤

Chapter Two

Hours had passed since the Captain left—hours of futile attempts to escape the cruelty of the heavy iron binds. By now, the ship was deep into the ocean, miles away from any harbour or piece of land. The notion that she’d been abducted by the most ruthless murderer known to authorities had only just begun to sink.

As hot tears stung at her cheeks, Lizette couldn’t help but chuckle at the stupidity that led her to this fate.

‘Did you really think that a foolish girl could succeed where great men had failed?’

If Lizette had dared be honest, she would admit she never thought that plan through, not that it mattered much anymore. Soon enough, she would be yet another shiny trinket in Blackbeard’s gaudy collection.

Exhausted from a fierce yet futile battle, she leaned her head back against the plush, gold-paneled wall. Her weary gaze drifted through the open window, where the dark skies and black seas merged into a desolate void. No light shone through tonight; the darkness has devoured the stars and the moon. Lizette felt as if she was drowning in it too, sinking into a thick, tar-like liquid. With each breath, the collar around her throat grew heavier, the iron pressing into her skin and dragging her deeper and deeper until everything faded to black.

When she blinked again, it was still night but the cabin was lit in deep shades of honey and amber. Her heart skipped—once for the iron still hanging from her neck and twice as her bleary eyes caught sight of a shadow by the edge of the big table.

It appeared that her host had returned.

Boots flung across the food-abundant table, the Captain sat back in his royal velvet chair. One hand cradled a silver chalice whilst the other toyed with the edge of his thick whiskers. Silver trays of food, wine, and books were splayed before him, surrounded by dozens of fat, wax-dripping candles. The flickering flame guttered upon his eyes, painting them bright red while he observed the girl intently.

The curiosity was mutual, at least to some extent. As loathsome as the pirate was, Lizette could not help but scrutinise. Never in her life did she see a man so crude and yet so regal at the same time, He looked like a washed-out king, holding himself to a higher status amongst the scum aboard his ship. Surrounding himself with fine art, books and scientific obscurities, one would assume that this low-life man was educated, or at least aspired to be. His appearance, too, was of some sort of false elegance, with his moustache carefully groomed and his hair neatly combed save for an errant curl that fell upon his tanned forehead. However, the white cotton shirt that hung partially unbuttoned and loose from his shoulders exposed him for what he truly was as it revealed a myriad of tattoos, scars, and coarse hair.

‘Nothing but a filthy scoundrel.’

“At last, sleeping beauty is awake.”

Lizette kept her tongue knotted. The blazes on her stare answered on her behalf.

August scoffed at the silent response. ‘Precious little thing,’ Had only she known how much he enjoyed obstinate women. The only thing that was better than bending a spitfire to his will was getting a nun to kneel before his cock.

A slight twitch tugged at his cheek; his smirk widening at the fond memory.

‘Ah, Mary… you sure pray hard.’

Letting go of his whiskers and the chalice in his grasp, the Captain reached for a loaf of bread and split it in half. Steam rose and coiled to the air. The scrumptious scent of the freshly baked goods quickly filled the room and wafted over Lizette in a tempting invitation. Absentminded, she suckled her bottom lip, almost able to taste the sweetness on her tongue.

The pirate held out one piece of the loaf, an unmistakably provoking grin lighting his face. “Would you dine with me, pet?”

Weakness unfurled through her, reminding Lizette that it must have been hours, if not an entire day, since she last ate. Her empty belly flipped and gurgled so loudly that the pirate could hear it even from where he sat. Joy immediately cascaded about his glance; the impish grin between his cheeks further stretched.

To his delightful surprise, the girl was a lot more stubborn than she appeared. Instead of begging, she offered a spiteful glare and turned her face away.

“I’d rather starve!”

“Suit yourself.” The Captain shrugged and bit on one of the pieces. Hums and moans sputtered from his mouth, all exaggerated to taunt his brazen prisoner. As he finished chewing, he sucked on each of his inked fingers.

“Got a name, pet?”

“What matter is that to you?” The girl spat.

August shrugged again and returned to the chalice, dragging it on the table's surface in circular motions. A deep-red whirlpool briefly formed in his drink. He stared at it indifferently as he retorted, “Matters not, pet. But since you’ll be spending some time here in my quarters, I will require a moniker to approach you by. Question is, would you rather I choose a name for you myself? It won’t be a nice one. I can promise you that.”

Keeping her eyes averted, the girl folded her knees and hugged them, a deep sigh sinking from her. She couldn’t even bring herself to imagine the horrendous name he would choose.

“My name is Lizette.”

A touch of dark delight kissed his face—as if he had heard the enchanting hymn of a siren. Thoughtful, he stopped stirring his drink to the sound of her name, licked his lips, lifted the chalice and pressed it to his lips. “Ah, yes, you are definitely a Lizzy.”

“It’s Lizette!” she vehemently corrected.

“Oh!” The pirate abruptly twirled his free hand in the air, his brows lifting in a sardonically submissive gesture. “Forgiveness! Mercy, milady!” That had earned him the attention he was hoping to receive, as finally, Lizette snapped to glare at him.

The pure ire on her face did nothing but feed his amusement.

With a slanted grin and his thumb brushing his whiskers, he eyed her back. It’s been a while since a girl piqued his fascination, and this one was indeed something else. Fear seeped from her like dewy nectar from a ripe fruit. The sheen of sweat clinging to her skin and the throbbing at the crook of her neck gave away her true emotions. Yet, she exuded the unyielding fury of a harpy, the shackles around her throat barely deterring her brazen spirit..

‘Bold little thing. As ferocious as the ship’s cat…’ August thought and then frowned, ‘Where is that ungodly creature, anyway? Haven’t seen it in a while.’

“Lady Lizette…” the correct moniker rolled smoothly on his tongue in an inherently sinister sweetness. “Are you always such a rude guest to your hosts?”

“Guest?!” Lizette seized the chain that held her collar to the wall and lifted it in front of him—a deep frown decorating her weary face.

“I am not a guest! I am a prisoner!”

“Ah! Ah!” The pirate lifted his inked index finger in an unbearably pretentious manner. "It was you who came aboard my ship willingly, and let us not forget—uninvited.”

Lizette felt a chill in her chest, the same chill she always sensed when getting an answer wrong in her Latin lessons. He was right, and there was more to it. Pirate or not, doesn't every man deserve respect in his own home?

That notion made her cheeks hot.

“And if I may…“ the pirate drawled huskily and shifted into his seat. Lizette’s eyes followed his movement with the wariness of a skittish cat. Initially bemused, she realised his hand had snaked below the table and was now fumbling with his waistband.

A deep, pulsating pang bloomed in her core as the primordial anxiety every maiden is doomed to suffer from awoke within her. Alarmed, she shook her head and blurted hoarsely, “Wait!”

The pirate paid her no mind; either he didn’t hear or didn’t care. Then, his hand sprang back sharply with a pistol in his grip—the same one he had confiscated from her merely a few hours before.

“Did you not attempt to murder me in my own home?”

With those words, he slammed the pistol on the table, the dull thud booming through the cabin wall and causing Lizette to jump with a start.

Sinking back to his red regal chair, August crossed his fingers together and pressed his lips together with the contempt of an authority figure. The many golden trinkets around his fingers chimed as they collided.

“Answer me, Pet.”

Lizette regarded the pistol carefully. The golden floral embellishments upon the handle sparked with the candle's light. For a fleeting moment, she wondered how fast she needed to be to grab the pistol and shoot him dead in his rotten heart. Instead, she simply nodded, much as she could with the heavy collar around her neck. The spots where the sharp edges grazed her flesh burnt as sweat dripped over the bruised skin.

“Dumb as your plan was, I do appreciate the gesture, las. It wouldn’t be the first time someone tried to murder me, but it’s definitely the first time it was a beautiful young lady. Was all of this because of a boy?” He challenged, crooking one eyebrow.

This time, Lizette did not hesitate to answer.

“You robbed me of my future!” She corrected, and though she tried to maintain a fierce demeanour, the quiver in her voice gave away the rageful grief.

Sympathy, sadly, was not in August’s books, especially not whilst being distracted by the way her breasts pressed against the confines of the corset with every fervorous breath. A small, almost inaudible groan left his lips. He wondered if she, indeed, was a virgin. Did he deny her of her wedding night? Were these lovely tits ever in the hands of a man before?

Surely, he would find out. One way or another.

With a glare still fixed on her cleavage, he grazed his dimpled chin and simply shrugged.

“Pirate.”

Lizette hissed in response. Defiant, she snapped her arms across her chest to hide her cleavage.

‘Pig.’

“So I robbed you of your future,” August continued, mimicking quotation marks with his long, inked fingers. “And thus, you thought you should rob me of mine?”

“And what future would that be? Murdering and whoring?” she muttered hatefully.

The pirate swatted a hand over his chest, giving her a fake, exaggerated pout. “Now that pains me, love.”

Lizette could sense the blood seeth beneath her skin. She was used to men belittling her, but never did she experience such sheer mockery and humiliation. Trembling, she yelled back, “Good! I wish you nothing but pain!”

“And so she continues to insult me in my own home.” August clicked his tongue and shook his head with sardonic disappointment. “You highborn ladies sure lack respect. ‘Funny thing is, no matter how uppity women like you act, they all want the same thing…” his voice slurred and deepened, coaxing a baffled look from the maiden who abruptly forgot her wrath and ate the bait.

“And what would that be?”

The pirate stood and calmly paced to the fore of the table, where he leaned against the edge to peer down at his prisoner. Lizette remained guarded. he was fairly far away yet close enough for his shadow to fall upon her face and for his manhood to be situated at the level of her mouth. She struggled to avoid staring at it directly, which only made that wretched smug smile light his face again.

“What you ladies truly want is to be violated by none other but us ‘lowlife scoundrels’,” August nibbled his bottom lip, a dry chuckle escaping him as more fond memories came to mind. “Truly, the lots of you are bored by the castrated virility of the poised gentlemen. All you fantasise about is to be fucked dirty like a whore by a brute who has no sense of propriety.”

The pirate held his fist before him and mimicked a slow pumping motion. Although Lizette did not quite understand it, his words alone were enough to leave her gravely unsettled.

“You are an animal,” she snarled, not realising that her nails were biting into her forearms as she clutched herself so protectively.

But that merely fueled him.

“Tell me, Pet, did your boy satisfy those dark desires before he left a delicious bonny lass like yourself all alone? Did he split open and plundered your sweet little cunt, ass, and mouth, or did he leave you wet and miserable?”

Heat crawled at Lizette’s cheeks, yet she wasn’t sure whether it was from outrage or shame. Never in her life had she even considered the possibilities he had suggested, and now those horrifying images poisoned her mind.

Amused by her obvious mortification, the pirate tilted his head impishly. “No? Not even a finger or a tongue?”

“Stop it!” She implored, her voice cracking.

Ignoring her plea, he clicked his tongue. “Aw, sweet, tender flower. That’s the problem, isn’t it? He left you all alone and uncharted—that lonesome seal, begging to be invaded. Well, milady, you didn’t have to threaten me with a pistol in that case. All you had to do was ask.”

The pirate reached for his bulge and squeezed it, much to Lizette’s dismay.

”Trust me, one night with me, and you’d forget you ever loved him.”

That was enough to send Lizette over the edge. Not thinking twice, she jerked to her feet, the chains around her rattling along a furious onslaught that sputtered from her mouth.

“Love?! What do you know about love? You are a monster! All you do is kill and rape! You are incapable of love, and I’d be damned if anyone could ever love you!”

All the candles in the cabin flickered with a sudden gust of wind as the pirate suddenly lunged forward. He moved so fast, too fast. Lizette hadn’t even had the chance to sway from his touch, and already he was upon her. Crude fingers dug deep into the hollows of her cheek, forcing her to face his terrorising stare.

“You think this is a game? You think you know anything about me, little girl? About what I’ve done!?”

It was not a question to be answered, and even so, Lizette couldn’t bring herself to speak; she was suffocating, drowning on the surface. All around her, the air stood dense with the scent of iron, wine, and musky sweat, whilst the weight of his body crushed as it clung to her.

Closer, deeper. Layers upon layers of silk and wool separated their skin from one another, and still, she sensed the curve and firmness of his robust figure. The woven map of muscles that adorned his torso and the flex each muscle made as he tensed were evident

But none of this came close to what she saw as he forced her to look into his eyesa wrathful maelstrom pregnant with sinister urges beyond her darkest fears. It felt as if it was trying to draw her into a deep sense of anger, and grief submerged her.

Dread began to spill into her veins. He was going to kill her.

Lizette sucked in a deep shuddering breath. She was not going to join her Edward. Not tonight.

“Let go of me!” She squealed and began to punch his shoulders repeatedly. It felt like hitting iron, every blow more painful than the other, yet she refused to stop.

Indeed, she was just like that sea monster of a cat.

Stoic as an icy sea breeze, the pirate tilted his head at the girl. Despite her desperate efforts, her battle did nothing but vex him. Quirking one eyebrow, he released his grip from her jaw and swiftly reached for her hands. Lizette did her best to evade, squirming erratically, but to no avail. With a swift single hand, he seized her wrists and pinned them above her head with a booming thud.

The girl gasped out with surrender, strands of her hair blowing back and forth upon her face as she heaved and panted exhaustingly. With his hand around her wrists and his body slightly bent to meet her height, he stood closer to her than any other man had before. So close that she could taste the wine and sea salt on his breath and study every freckle and every scar that marked his skin. He was nothing like her Edward, she thought; he was coarse and terrifying, and despite it all, she found him tragically beautiful.

She hated him for that.

“Listen to me now and listen carefully,” he finally spoke, tightening his grip around her wrists.

Liaette lifted her chin disdainfully; it took every ounce of self-restraint not to spit at his murderous, smug face.

“You’ve mistook my hospitality and playfulness for kindness, but let’s get this straight; I am not a good man. Upset me, and I will pluck that little flower between your thighs without blinking and then throw you to my crew once I have my fill.”

His words brought a stark shiver down her spine, yet it wasn’t just fear this time but something far more primordial. Between her trembling thighs, she sensed dewy wetness. A desperate gnawing need she had never known before. Trying to ease and brush it off, she squirmed and ground her thighs.

August’s brow rose with realisation, an immediate knowing grin spilling upon his malicious face. He leaned closer, his lips and whiskers brushing against her ear as he spoke.

“Seems like there won’t be much resistance from you, isn’t that so, pet? Soon, you’ll beg me to fuck y…”

His words were cut as warm saliva splattered on his cheek.

He shut his eyes momentarily, releasing a deep, exasperated grunt and then moved an inch away to fish a silk handkerchief from his pocket. Lizette watched proudly as he wiped his face.

The pirate, however, was not amused. Throwing away the handkerchief, he offered her a deadly frown. And then he leaned in, his mouth drawing voraciously closer to hers as if meaning to devour her.

“I warned you…”

“Captain.”

A low, sonorous call followed from the door, drawing both August and Lizette to turn their heads toward the uninvited guest.

Lizette blinked twice. The man in question was almost the spitting image of August, though his hair was wild with earthy curls and his beard fully grown, pointy, and tended with wax. Indifferent to the scene before him, he drew a pipe from his pockets and lit it with the flame of a candle that stood on a shelf near the door.

August regarded him with slight respect, yet not without annoyance:." What is it? I am busy.”

“I can see that,” the other pirate puffed out, grey lines of smoke following through his nostrils, “you are needed at the brig.”

“About?”

“Flint might finally speak.”

Eyes ablaze with sudden intrigue, August straightened to his fall height and drew a step back from the girl yet kept his grip around her wrists.

“I assume your methods worked, brother?” He crooked one eyebrow at the other pirate curiously.

‘Brother, of course,’ Lizette nearly chuckled. The men must have been twins, although she could tell the other sibling had far more grey in his untamed mane.

“My methods always work.” He answered with dry arrogance. “Finish her off later. This is more important.”

August lingered, his fingers brushing over his moustache as he contemplated what to do with his sweet little prisoner. The possibilities were endless, yet the more interesting ones would take some time, and with the trouble she gave him, he definitely wanted to give her what she deserved.

A deep, exasperated sigh left his lips. “A moment, Gus,” he requested, finally unhanding the girl.

The man, now known as Gus, bowed his head and threw Lizette a quick glance before disappearing into the darkness behind the door.

“It seems like I have some business to attend to, love. Shall we continue our little fun later?” August teased, slight annoyance still lingering at the tone of his voice.

Lizette did not answer. Rubbing her aching wrists, she watched him cautiously while he searched within his pockets. She wondered what new cruel method of torment he would inflict to her now.

To her surprise, it was a small silver key.

He lifted it to her face and offered her a razor-sharp stare." The water is close to freezing; sharks and eels are swimming within them, and every man upon my deck is probably plotting to use you as fuckhole since the moment you stepped onboard. I trust you won’t try anything stupid in my absence.”

“Like what?” Despite her physical and mental exhaustion, she dared to speak back, “Seduce one of your crew members to fornicate with me so he would betray and murder you?”

Her weariness must have brought out the worst in her because she would have never thought of such an inappropriate, vile thing. Then she realised it was him who, in less than a few hours, corrupted her soul.

August paused and contemplated for a moment as if this was an actual possibility he did not consider. However, he brushed it off with a burst of taunting laughter while proceeding to unlock the collar around her neck. “I wouldn’t recommend it, love. They all come with so many exotic afflictions on their cock s that no doctor has even heard of.”

As the iron was removed from her little neck, the girl rested her hands around it, massaging the cuts and bruises that formed beneath. It ached even worse as the chill air of the night pecked at the raw flesh.

The pirate waltzed toward the table, reclaiming the pistol in an obviously provoking manner. He sheathed it back at the front of his waistband and paced toward the door.

“I won’t be long, love,” he promised, and with that, he left and locked the door behind him.

Lizette listened carefully to the sound of his footsteps, counting them one by one until she could no longer hear him. And then, she began to search around the cabin for anything, anything that can be used as a weapon.

‘I will not be a pirate’s whore.’ She vowed to herself while absentmindedly grazing a palm over her cheeks where August had touched her.

#henry cavill #August walker #august walker x reader #august walker x ofc #august walker fanfiction #henry cavill x reader #neptune's snare series #au!august walker #pirate august walker #pirate henry cavill #gus march phillips #the ministry of ungentlemanly warfare #gus march phillips x reader #henry cavill fanfiction

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novaursa · 3 months ago

Text

The Last Dance

- Summary: The Dance of the Dragons is over. You and Aegon finally find peace.

- Paring: twin!sister reader/Aegon II Targaryen

- Note: reader is referred to as Y/N, is twin sister and wife to Aegon II, and is bonded with dragon called Starfyre. These events happen right after The Searing Flame. To read all of the chapters in chronological order, or more of my works, visit my blog. The list is pinned to the top.

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Word count: 5 119

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff

- A/N: This is the chapter that finalizes this series. That being said, there will be more twin!reader/Aegon II stories to fill the gaps.

The air is filled with the scent of salt and smoke as you stand on the balcony of Dragonstone, the sea churning below in restless waves. The horizon is cast in hues of deep purple and amber as dusk sets in, but your attention is wholly on the sky, where two golden streaks dart through the twilight. You feel Aegon’s presence beside you, a warmth against the cool stone at your back. His scarred arm is under your hand, his skin rough and uneven beneath your touch, a harsh reminder of Rook’s Rest and the countless betrayals that led you here.

Yet there’s still strength in him, a burning defiance that never faded even after all the wounds. You rest your head on his shoulder, feeling the tension in his muscles, the way he seems to hold his breath as he watches Sunfyre and Starfyre circle above. It’s not just the raw power of your dragons that grips him—no, this is something more primal. It's the joy of seeing them together again, as they were always meant to be: siblings, mates, war-dragons forged in the heat of fire and vengeance.

“There,” Aegon murmurs, his voice low, strained. He points to a shadow in the clouds—Grey Ghost. The wild dragon had stayed hidden for so long, slipping through the cracks of Dragonstone’s defenses, but not tonight. Sunfyre and Starfyre had scented him out, and now there would be no escape.

You tighten your grip on Aegon’s arm, feeling the thrill of it, a dark satisfaction blooming in your chest. The shadow resolves into a shape—a dirty, scarred creature with wings tattered from battles long lost. Grey Ghost is no match for your dragons, but he’s quick, darting between clouds, trying to outmaneuver the gleaming pair that pursue him.

Starfyre leads the chase, her silvery form a flash of brilliance in the twilight, her scales glimmering like starlight against the darkening sky. The alabaster undershine of her wings catches the last of the sun’s rays as she twists and turns, a deadly dance that lures Grey Ghost into false confidence. Her movements are elegant, fluid—every beat of her wings purposeful, calculated. The Star Dame, as you’ve come to call her in the intimacy of your thoughts, is a creature born of night and light, her presence both ethereal and deadly.

Sunfyre is close behind her, a shimmering blaze of gold that seems almost unnatural in its brilliance. The awkward bend in his healed wing does nothing to diminish his ferocity—if anything, it makes him all the more terrifying, a creature that defies the laws of nature, a king among dragons that should have been crippled but refused to be. His roar echoes across the sky, a sound of pure fury that reverberates through your chest, making your heart race.

“They hunt as one,” you whisper, awe lacing your words. You lift your head from Aegon’s shoulder to look up at him, catching the gleam of pride in his eyes. “It’s beautiful.”

Aegon’s mouth curves into a small, crooked smile, a hint of the man he was before the war marred him. “Beautiful, yes. But more than that—vengeance.” He says the last word with a bitterness that lingers in the air. Sunfyre and Starfyre had been denied their chance to fight side by side for too long, much like the two of you. But now, the skies belong to them again, as they should.

You don’t respond, letting the sight before you speak for itself. Starfyre suddenly plummets, diving at a steep angle that seems reckless until Grey Ghost veers, startled by her speed. It’s then that Sunfyre strikes, a burst of flame searing the air as he barrels into Grey Ghost from above, jaws snapping at the smaller dragon’s neck. Grey Ghost shrieks, a sound full of desperation as he tries to shake free, but Sunfyre holds on, his talons digging deep into flesh.

Starfyre swoops in, her silvery wings flaring as she joins the fray, her jaws clamping down on one of Grey Ghost’s wings. You watch as she tears through it with merciless precision, ripping membrane and bone with a single twist of her head. Blood sprays across the sky, dark and ominous, and Grey Ghost’s struggles grow frantic, but they’re futile. Starfyre and Sunfyre tear into him together, a dance of coordinated destruction that speaks of deep, intrinsic connection.

“Together, they’re unstoppable,” you breathe, unable to tear your gaze away. You feel Aegon’s fingers intertwine with yours, his grip tight and possessive. He’s watching them too, but you know he’s seeing more than just dragons tearing apart a weaker foe—he’s seeing the future, the strength you still hold, the power you’ll wield together to take back what was stolen from you.

When Grey Ghost finally falls, his body torn and mangled, he drops like a stone into the sea below. You both watch in silence as the waves claim him, dragging him under until he’s nothing more than a memory.

Starfyre and Sunfyre wheel in the air, circling each other before flying back towards the keep. The bond between them is palpable, a mirror of your own with Aegon. Sunfyre’s awkward wingbeat matches Aegon’s own struggles, while Starfyre’s radiant strength reflects the resilience you’ve both clung to, even in the face of loss. The dragons’ victory is your victory, and as they draw closer, you feel a sense of unity, of destiny.

Aegon turns to you then, his scarred face shadowed but his eyes burning with resolve. “We will reclaim what is ours, Y/N,” he says, his voice a quiet promise. “With our dragons, with our strength—we will not be broken.”

You meet his gaze, and there’s a fierce pride in your chest as you nod. “We are not broken, Aegon,” you reply softly, but with steel in your tone. “We are fire and blood.”

As the night closes in, the sky dark and filled with stars, you stand together in silence, hand in hand. Sunfyre and Starfyre land on the courtyard below, their golden and silver scales gleaming even in the dim light. They are kings and queens among dragons, just as you and Aegon are meant to be.

And as long as they soar, so will you.

The dread in the throne room is thick enough to choke on as you stand beside Aegon, your hand resting lightly on Daena’s shoulder while Baelon clutches the edge of your gown. The echo of footsteps and clinking chains resound through the stone chamber as Alfred Broome and his men drag the remnants of Rhaenyra’s forces into the hall. They are bruised, bloodied, and defeated—a pale reflection of the power Rhaenyra once held. Among them, her young son Aegon clings to her, his eyes wide with fear as he takes in the fearsome sight of the dragons looming in the distance outside, their golden and silver forms visible through the open arches.

Sunfyre and Starfyre wait like harbingers of death, gleaming in the twilight.

You feel Aegon’s arm tense beside you, a flicker of pain passing through him from his old wounds. But there’s more than just physical pain here—there’s a deep, simmering rage that’s been brewing since the moment Blood and Cheese ripped your family apart. You and Aegon have been waiting for this moment, dreaming of it in your darkest hours. And now, it’s finally here.

Rhaenyra is forced to her knees before you, her once-proud visage a mask of defiance even in chains. She looks older than you remember, her face gaunt and hollow, but her eyes still blaze with the stubborn arrogance that led her here. Her remaining Queensguard lie dead, slain by your forces as they tried to resist one last time. There is no one left to protect her.

You meet her gaze with cold satisfaction, leaning forward slightly as you speak, your voice sharp as a blade. “We have long awaited this moment, Rhaenyra. Ever since you sent those assassins to kill our sons—two innocent boys, slaughtered because of your ambition.”

Rhaenyra’s lips tremble, but she doesn’t back down. “My sons died as well, Y/N,” she retorts, her voice shaking with fury. “Jace, Luke, Viserys… you cannot know that pain.”

“You dare to compare?” Aegon’s voice cuts through the air like the crack of a whip, silencing her. He steps forward, the limp from his injury barely noticeable as his anger gives him strength. “This war began because you could never let go of our father’s lies. He promised you the throne, and you clung to that entitlement like a drowning woman clutches driftwood.”

Rhaenyra opens her mouth to speak, but Aegon doesn’t let her. “You speak of your lost sons as if their deaths were a justification for your madness, but it was your own hubris that led them to the grave. If you had shown even a hint of reason, none of this would have happened. Y/N and I never wanted the crown. We only wanted to love each other and grow old with our children. But the crown was pushed onto us—pushed by your ambition and vanity.”

Your heart twists as you think of the peaceful life you and Aegon could have had, far from the bloodshed, if only Rhaenyra had accepted the reality of your father’s death that relinquished her claims. But that was never an option for her, was it? Pride, ambition, and greed had consumed her until there was nothing left but this hollow shell of a queen.

Rhaenyra’s defiance cracks then, her eyes filling with desperation. “Please, Aegon—Y/N—my son—”

But Aegon’s gaze hardens. “It’s too late for pleas, Rhaenyra. Your choices have brought us to this point, and now they will swallow us all. Even your precious children.”

You see the flicker of fear in her eyes, the realization that there will be no mercy here. This is no place for mercy. This is retribution.

With a nod from Aegon, the great doors are opened, and Sunfyre’s golden form stalks into the throne room, his scales gleaming like molten gold in the torchlight. His eyes are locked on Rhaenyra, filled with a burning hunger that reflects the rage in Aegon’s heart. Starfyre follows him, her silvery wings brushing the stone walls as she moves with lethal grace, her pale blue undershine glowing like moonlight on water.

Rhaenyra tries to scramble back, pulling her son behind her, but she is chained, her movements futile. “No… please… not like this…”

The lords and ladies captured alongside her begin to cry out in terror as they realize what’s about to happen, but their voices are drowned out by the low, rumbling growl from Sunfyre. Aegon takes a step forward, his voice cold and resolute as he gives the command that seals his half-sister’s fate. “Dracarys.”

Sunfyre’s roar is deafening as flames erupt from his maw, engulfing Rhaenyra in a searing blaze. Her screams are short-lived, drowned in a cacophony of dragonfire and crackling flesh. Starfyre joins in, her breath cold and silver, mixing with Sunfyre’s golden flames in a mesmerizing yet horrifying display of raw power.

The smell of burning flesh and melting metal fills the air as the dragons tear into what remains of Rhaenyra, their jaws snapping and rending flesh. The lords and ladies bound beside her wail in despair, some of them collapsing to the floor as they are forced to watch the gruesome feast. Elinda Massey’s shrieks are especially piercing as she claws at her own eyes, unable to bear the sight.

But it isn’t over. Not yet.

Young Aegon, Rhaenyra’s last remaining son, stands paralyzed with terror, his small body trembling as he stares up at the dragons. You feel a pang of pity—he’s just a child, after all—but that pity is fleeting. This is the price of war, of ambition that knows no bounds. There can be no loose ends, no heirs to continue the cycle of bloodshed.

You turn your gaze away as Aegon gestures for the guards to push the boy toward the dragons. Sunfyre sniffs him, his nostrils flaring, but it’s Starfyre who moves first. She lowers her great head, her eyes glinting as she opens her jaws wide and snaps them shut around the child in one swift motion. There is no scream this time—just silence as she swallows him whole.

A hush falls over the throne room, broken only by the crackling of fire and the quiet sobbing of those left alive. Aegon turns to you, his expression unreadable, but you see the weariness in his eyes, the weight of everything that’s passed. “It’s done,” he says softly, and you feel the words settle like stones in your chest.

“Yes,” you whisper, your voice distant, “it’s done.”

The war may not be over, but this chapter has ended in blood and flame. You can only hope that, when the ashes settle, there will be something left to rebuild. Something more than this endless cycle of death.

But for now, all you can do is hold your children close and hope that the fire will fade, that peace will come in its wake—even if that peace is a fragile dream, trembling on the edge of a knife.

The sun is low in the sky as your carriage finally creaks to a halt outside the Red Keep. The city is cloaked in uneasy silence—no cheers greet your return, no banners wave in celebration. King’s Landing feels hollow, as if the ghosts of those lost in the war still linger in its streets. You step out first, the weight of the crown heavy on your brow. Aegon follows, his limp more pronounced after the long journey, yet he holds his head high, his expression a mask of stoic resolve. Your children, Daena and Baelon, cling close to you, their wide eyes taking in the somber scene as they disembark from the carriage.

Ahead of you, standing at the base of the steps leading up to the Red Keep, is your mother, Queen Alicent, her face drawn with lines of sorrow and weariness. Beside her is Helaena, her once-luminous eyes now dulled by grief and loss. They are the last remnants of your family, the survivors of a war that has cost you all more than you could have imagined.

Alicent's breath hitches when she sees you, her eyes scanning you and Aegon as if needing to assure herself that you are truly there, alive and whole. Tears glisten in her eyes, and she covers her mouth with trembling fingers as her composure shatters. “My children,” she whispers, and it is as though the weight of years collapses in those words—years of fear, of war, of loss. She hurries forward, her regal bearing breaking into a desperate, motherly rush as she throws her arms around you both, clutching you as if afraid you might vanish like so many others.

“Oh, my children,” she sobs, her voice cracking with emotion. “You’ve returned to me.”

Aegon wraps his arm around her, his scarred hand shaking as he holds his mother close. “We have, Mother,” he says softly, though there’s a hollowness to his tone. The joy that might have been there is tainted by the ghosts of those who aren’t here to share this moment. “But we return to ashes.”

Alicent pulls back slightly, looking at the both of you with tear-streaked cheeks. “I prayed for this day—prayed every night that you would survive, that you would come back to us.” Her eyes flit to the children—her grandchildren—and fresh tears spill over. “But at what cost? Daeron, Aemond—” Her voice breaks entirely, and she covers her face, unable to continue.

Aegon’s jaw tightens. You see the storm of guilt and grief flash across his features as he looks away, unable to meet her gaze. You reach out and grasp Alicent’s hand, squeezing it tightly as you fight to hold back your own tears. “We all bear the weight of those losses,” you say quietly. “But we are here now, and we are together. We must hold on to that, for their sake.” You glance down at Daena and Baelon, who watch their grandmother with wide eyes, not fully understanding the depth of the grief surrounding them.

Helaena, who has been standing silently, finally steps forward. Her movements are slow, almost ghostly, as if she is a shadow of the woman she once was. Her gaze lingers on Aegon for a long moment, searching his eyes, before drifting to you. “The dreams never lie,” she murmurs, her voice distant and laced with sorrow. “They all fade, in fire and blood.” Her words are eerie, a chilling echo of all that has transpired, but they carry a truth that cuts deep. Helaena’s prophecies have always carried an edge of tragedy, and now, you see the weight of them fully realized in her vacant stare.

Aegon steps toward her, gently taking her hands in his. “We’re still here, Helaena,” he says softly, though there is a break in his voice. “You, Y/N, me, Mother—we’re still here. We will rebuild, for their memory.”

She nods slowly, but you see no hope in her eyes, only resignation. “They dance no more,” she whispers, looking past you as if seeing something far beyond the physical realm.

Alicent wipes at her tears, her hands shaking as she does so. “Come inside, all of you,” she says, her voice thick with emotion. “You need rest, and there’s much to discuss. But first, let us be together as a family.”

You nod, though the word “family” feels strange on your tongue now. So much of it has been torn away—brothers, sisters, sons. Yet, you follow Alicent and Helaena up the steps, Aegon at your side, your children between you. Inside the Red Keep, the warmth of the hearth contrasts sharply with the chill that clings to your soul. The familiar halls seem both comforting and haunted, each shadow hiding memories of the past.

Alicent leads you to the council chamber, where a small, intimate table has been set, not for matters of state, but for a quiet meal. Servants flit about with anxious glances, aware of the tragedy that hangs in the air like a storm cloud. You all sit, and for a long moment, no one speaks. The silence is heavy, broken only by the crackle of the fire.

Aegon is the one who finally breaks it, lifting his cup. “To those we’ve lost,” he says, his voice hoarse, barely more than a whisper. “And to those who still remain.”

You lift your own cup, feeling the burn of unshed tears behind your eyes. “To those who remain,” you echo, and the words are a fragile hope, a thread of unity in a world torn apart by fire and blood.

As you drink, you feel a sense of finality settling over the room. The war is over. The Dance has ended. But you know, deep down, that the scars it has left—on your family, on your kingdom, on your very soul—will never truly heal.

The chamber is dimly lit by the soft glow of a few scattered candles, their flickering light casting something akin to ghots long forgotten on the walls. The room is familiar, yet it feels almost foreign after all the horrors you’ve endured—so much time lost to war and death, to bitterness and grief. But now, for the first time in what feels like ages, you’re alone with Aegon, away from the eyes of lords and courtiers, away from the weight of the crown and the ghosts of the past.

The door clicks shut behind you, sealing you both within the warmth of the chamber. Aegon pauses by the threshold, his hand still resting on the handle as he takes a deep breath, as if he’s trying to steady himself, to remember that he’s home. You watch him in the flickering candlelight, the lines of his face etched deeper from the burdens he’s carried, but he’s still the man you fell in love with, still the boy who smiled at you with mischief in his eyes.

He looks at you then, and the tension that’s been holding him rigid melts away. His gaze softens, filled with a longing that nearly breaks you. Without a word, he crosses the room and pulls you into his arms, burying his face in your hair as if he needs to feel you, to know you’re truly there. You wrap your arms around him, holding him tight, and for a moment, neither of you speak—there are no words for the relief, the overwhelming need to be close after so much time apart.

“I’ve missed this,” he murmurs into your hair, his voice rough and choked with emotion. “I’ve missed you. So much.”

You tilt your head back, meeting his gaze. His eyes are shadowed with pain and fatigue, but there’s a warmth there too, a flicker of the love that has always burned between you. “I never let myself forget,” you whisper, reaching up to trace the scar on his cheek, a mark from Rook’s Rest that he wears like a badge of survival. “Even in the darkest moments, I held onto us. I held onto you.”

Aegon’s hand comes up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing away a tear that slips free. “I don’t know how we did it,” he admits, his voice cracking. “But we’re here. We’ve made it through everything they threw at us, every nightmare. You were the light that kept me going, Y/N. You always have been.”

His words are like a balm to the ache in your heart, the wounds left by loss and betrayal. You lean into his touch, savoring the warmth of his palm against your skin, the familiarity of it. “We’ve lost so much,” you say softly, your voice trembling as memories of those you loved flash through your mind. “But we still have each other. As long as we have that, we can rebuild.”

Aegon’s lips quirk into a faint smile, though it’s tinged with sorrow. “You’re right. We still have each other. And I swear to you, Y/N, I’ll never let you go again. Never. We’ve been torn apart too many times, but that ends now. No more battles, no more wars. Just us.”

He bends down then, his forehead resting against yours as his hands cradle your face. “Promise me, Y/N,” he whispers, his breath warm against your lips. “Promise me we won’t let anything—or anyone—come between us ever again.”

You close the distance between you, capturing his lips in a kiss that’s tender but laced with a desperation that speaks of all the pain, the longing, the fear of losing one another. His hands slide to your waist, pulling you flush against him as he deepens the kiss, pouring everything he feels into it—his love, his regret, his need.

When you finally pull away, you’re both breathless, your heart pounding in your chest. “I promise,” you whisper against his lips. “No matter what comes, we face it as one. I won’t let you go either, Aegon. Not ever.”

The shadows in his eyes soften, replaced by a rare glimmer of peace as he rests his forehead against yours again. “Together, then. Always.”

The warmth between you grows as he slowly guides you toward the bed, the softness of the mattress beneath you a welcome comfort after all the cold, hard battles you’ve faced. He lays beside you, pulling you into his arms so that your bodies are entwined, your head resting against his chest as you listen to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. His fingers trail lazily through your hair, a touch that’s both soothing and intimate, grounding you in this moment.

You turn slightly in his embrace, pressing a kiss to the scarred skin of his chest, a reminder of how close you came to losing him. “You’re mine,” you murmur softly, your voice thick with emotion. “And I’m yours. No one will ever tear us apart again.”

His grip tightens around you, as if the very thought of losing you is unbearable. “I’ll spend the rest of my days proving that, Y/N,” he vows, his voice low and filled with a fierce protectiveness. “I’ll give you the peace we’ve been denied. We’ll raise our children, grow old together, just as we always dreamed.”

In the quiet of your shared chambers, there’s no need for crowns or titles, no need for anything but each other. The world outside is a distant memory as you close your eyes, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath your cheek, the warmth of his embrace wrapping around you like a protective shield. You let yourself drift in that moment, in the certainty that, no matter what comes, you and Aegon are what remains.

For now, there’s only peace, the kind you’ve fought so hard to find. And in the comfort of each other’s arms, you know that no matter how many battles you’ve fought, the war for your love is one you’ve already won.

From this moment, the histories diverge depending on which account one prefers to trust: the sober record of Grand Maester Orwyle, the poetic tales of Septon Eustace, or the salacious rumors spread by the fool Mushroom. Yet all agree on the most important details: the years following the Dance of the Dragons were marked not by further bloodshed, but by an unexpected peace.

The Golden Restoration

The reign of King Aegon II and Queen Y/N saw a return to stability in the realm, albeit built on a foundation of ash and charred bones. The devastation left by the war was undeniable, yet it was under their rule that the rebuilding of King's Landing began. With Dowager Queen Alicent and Princess Helaena ever at their sides, the royal family focused on mending what was broken, both in the capital and within their own hearts.

Many lords whispered that it was Y/N, the Silver Queen, who held the true power in those years. Aegon, scarred both inside and out by the horrors of the Dance, found solace and strength in his wife, who had proven herself his equal in fire and resolve. Together, they were inseparable. It was said that not a single important decision was made without their mutual consent, and that in private moments, they ruled as one, much like Sunfyre and Starfyre—mates in both life and flame.

Their children, Princess Daena and Prince Baelon, grew strong and healthy under the care of their parents and grandmother, Alicent. The two were doted upon, not merely as heirs but as symbols of the future—unbroken despite the tragedy that had marked their early years. As time passed, the bond between Daena and Baelon deepened, mirroring that of their parents. It was said that they were closer than most siblings, so close that when they were of age, they wed in the tradition of House Targaryen, cementing their bloodline and continuing the ancient customs of their house.

The Brood of Sunfyre and Starfyre

In the year 137 AC, three eggs were laid in the royal dragonpit—eggs said to be the offspring of Sunfyre and Starfyre, the twin flames that had seared Rhaenyra Targaryen from the earth. Two of these eggs hatched, producing dragons of extraordinary beauty: one with scales of pale gold streaked with silver, and the other shimmering with blue-tinged starlight. These dragons were gifted to Daena and Baelon on their wedding day, marking the start of a new generation of dragonlords, free from the taint of the Dance.

Yet even in this time of renewal, darkness lingered in the shadows. Helaena never recovered fully from the loss of her own children and her brother-husband, Aemond. She remained a distant figure, often lost in her dreams and visions. Some say she foresaw her own death, whispering of “faded light” and “withered roses” in her last days. When she passed away in her sleep in 139 AC, it was whispered by Mushroom that she had seen a final vision: a land where the dragons had turned to dust, and no kings ruled but the winds.

Dowager Queen Alicent outlived her daughter by a scant two years. Her grief had aged her beyond her years, and she spent her final days in prayer, seeking forgiveness for the bloodshed her ambitions had caused. In her final hours, she clutched the hands of Aegon and Y/N, begging them to remember the lesson learned in blood: that the pursuit of power, when unchecked, only breeds ruin. It was said that Y/N, ever compassionate, was the one who comforted Alicent in her last breath, whispering that peace had been found at last.

The Passing of the Dragon-King and Queen

The final years of Aegon and Y/N’s reign were marked by a quiet contentment. They ruled justly, often seen together in council or riding their dragons above the skies of King's Landing. The scars of war never fully faded, but together they created a realm that prospered. Yet even the most enduring fires must one day burn out.

In the year 151 AC, King Aegon II and Queen Y/N were found dead in their shared chambers, lying in each other's arms as if asleep. Some claim they had simply grown weary, their bodies giving out after years of bearing the weight of the crown. Others, more fanciful in their tales, whisper that they passed together in a moment of shared peace, their hearts giving out at the exact same instant. Mushroom claims that a vial of poison was found beside their bed, suggesting they chose to leave the world together, unwilling to face a life without the other.

When their bodies were discovered, Sunfyre and Starfyre howled in mourning, their roars shaking the very walls of the Red Keep. The dragons, who had never been separated, circled the skies together before landing side by side in the dragonpit, refusing to be parted. In a rare display of affection between beasts, they nuzzled one another and remained in that position until the end of their days.

The bodies of Aegon and Y/N were burned together on a single pyre, their ashes mingling in a final union. Their reign was remembered as the “Golden Twilight,” a time when, for a brief, shining moment, the Targaryens had found peace. But even in this, the seeds of future strife were sown—two children, two dragons, and the legacy of fire and blood that would never truly be quenched.

Thus ended the tale of King Aegon II and Queen Y/N, the last Targaryens to die in each other's arms, bound in life and in death by the fires they had endured and the love they refused to surrender.

#house of the dragon #hotd #hotd aegon #hotd x y/n #hotd x reader #hotd x you #hotd reader insert #aegon x reader #aegon ii x you #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon x you #aegon the second #aegon ii targaryen

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darklydeliciousdesires · 1 year ago

Text

Let the Neighbours Hear - A Rio/Reader Smut Short.

Bit of Rio smut? Why not!

Words - 474

Warnings - Smut below the cut, minors DNI!

“Mmm, god damnit, mama. Fuck, that pussy got me gripped so damn tight. Shit.”

His charm might be on the rougher side, but Rio is still the smoothest man you’ve ever bedded, his praise of you never anything short of golden toned, and the sight of him while he fucks you the most splendorous thing you’ve ever witnessed.

He’s all beautiful skin and lithe muscles, his body trickling with sweat, dark eyes burning black with the sparkle of stars as he stares down at you, each groan so deep, his rasp sounds like tumbling boulders. You have one leg laid flat, the other held against his chest, his cock pounding into your molten core, watching him slow as he brings his thumb to your mouth. “Open those pretty lips, baby doll.”

You oblige, sucking on his thumb, tongue flickering over the pad, Rio pulling it away, placing it at your clit and rubbing slow, firm circles. Your back arches, an elegant bow rising from the bed, his cock dragging sparks over your walls as you whimper. Every last inch of him glides back and forth slowly, thick, veiny hardness evoking tingles, your cunt fluttering around him.

“Yeah, darlin’. Gonna come for me, hmm? Gonna let my neighbours hear how much you love this big dick?”

“Mmmhmm,” you purr, nails raking his soaking chest. “But you gotta rail me really, really fucking hard.”

His eyebrow arches, his perfect lips upturning into a grin. “Oh, that’s what I gotta do, huh?”

He’s always so entertained when you give him your orders, his huge smile making you giggle softly, your fingers pinching at his nipples, dragging a growl from him. “Yeah, you do. Fuck me fast, until I scream. Now.”

“Demanding little princess.” Leaning down, his lips ghost your mouth, moving to kiss your neck, a tiny flicker of his tongue sending a jolt through you. “Alright. You asked for it.”

The upswing in pace is immediate and savage, Rio delivering his cock into your drenched core rapidly, watching your mouth fall open as you gasp and begin to cry out, hands fisting at the sheets as he pounds you with blazing determination.

“Yeah, baby girl wanted it rough, huh? Fuck, look at you take that pounding. Damn, mama. So fucking hot.” You can feel it creeping through your nerves, the light of a perfect dawn cresting over the horizon that is him, beams bursting forth as you shatter with a wail. He’s not far behind, pounding you keenly as he grits his teeth and comes with a guttural groan, his cock twitching within you as he fills you with cum.

“Hey!” The shout is coupled with a thumping from the apartment above. “Fucking keep it down!”

Resting his head between your breasts, he begins to laugh, looking up at you. “Think my neighbours heard just fine.”

#rio good girls #rio good girls fanfiction #manny montana fanfiction #rio x reader #manny montana x reader #rio good girls smut #manny montana smut #manny montana fanfic #manny montana fic #rio good girls fanfic #rio good girls fic

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justporo · 10 months ago

Text

Bedroom Hymns

A still empty new home somwhere in the Upper City of Baldur's Gate. Nothing but a big mattress on the floor of your bedroom where Astarion and you have spent some days already, mostly naked, just indulging in whatever you want - and each other of course, whenever the flames started blazing. This time a spark is ignited when Astarion sees how his old shirt looks on you, how well it suits you. (NSFW)

PART 2 | MASTERLIST | AO3

Author's Note: This is... just dirty smut. I have been thinking about writing this for literal months. But I'm happy I did because when Tav describes how she's become more confident? That's me just describing how I feel about writing smut. And yes, there will be a second part - with even more. Happy 2k followers, my dear horny gremlins!

Pairing: Astarion/Fem!Tav (You) Warnings: explicit sexual content, oral sex (female receiving), premature orgasm, light dom/sub dynamic (if you squint but really they're both just taking the piss out of each other) Wordcount: 4,5k ~~~

A lot of things in your life had gone wrong - more than you could possibly ever count. Sometimes you had even wondered how you had even survived this far. In the last couple of months you had asked yourself that question quite a lot actually.

But then some things had gone very right. Often without you even knowing what was in store for you beforehand.

As you laid on your side on a single thick plush mattress in a massive room with deep red silk tapestries on the wall and polished wooden floors, high ceilings adorned with a shimmering and glittering chandelier in your newly acquired home in Baldur’s Gate, you realised that this was one of those things that had gone terribly right.

But all this wasn't even the best. The best thing that had - quite frankly - ever happened to you was lying right next to you: almost completely naked, only partly covered by some blankets and sheets, just as you were, and at the moment lecturing you on the importance of a coherent design concerning furniture, decor and colours. Long, elegant fingers waved around, gesticulating while full, soft lips kept moving, often smiling - occasionally allowing sharp fangs to be seen beneath - and red eyes began to glow whenever their gaze fell on you.

A small lantern was bathing the large and tall room in some cosy orange light - barely reaching the far corners of the room. It was almost reminiscent of all the nights you had spent in camp with nothing but the moon, stars and a crackling campfire for light. The mattress though was easily an impressive upgrade from your tattered bedrolls despite it being the only piece of furnishing the two of you currently owned.

You had stopped paying attention a fair while ago while Astarion kept waving his arms around, looking from you - softly nodding in agreement without hearing the words - to the ceiling and around the empty room. His curls were delightfully messed up and unorderly, making him look even more handsome for how at ease he was. And the easy smile that didn't seem to leave his lips these days, took quite a lot of those torturous years right off his face.

Your heart fluttered every time he looked over at you, with his bright red eyes sparkling at you and his smile involuntarily growing even broader.

And you saw the rest too: how he elegantly gesticulated with those skilled hands, how the muscles in his arms and chest flexed as he couldn't be bothered to keep still for just a second, the room never silent as long as he was there. You had fallen into easy, natural companionship with each other - as if you’d known each other for centuries already.

What choices you had made to end up right here, right now, you didn’t know. But you surely wouldn’t have changed a thing if this was to be the glorious result.

“Wouldn't you agree, my heart?” Astarion asked you, halting his ongoing infodump. He was looking at you. And by the way one of his eyebrows was raised critically he must have noticed your lapse in attention.

But in your defence, the way his lower abdomen disappeared in the sheets he had carelessly wrapped around his hips - at a very low point - would have distracted just about anyone. The way the lines of his muscles defined his lower body. Especially those two converging lines, starting at his slender hips, then going lower, leading to his…

Astarion cleared his throat. You'd been distracted yet again.

“Darling, you have all the time in the world for staring, you don't need to get it done all at once.”

“I like being a step or two ahead though, love.”

The vampire scoffed and crossed his arms over his chest in annoyance. You saw how it made his muscles contract just a tad and you bit your lip unconsciously.

“I know, darling, you're so diligent. But my eyes are up here, my sweet,” he answered. You heard the vicious teasing in his tone.

You ripped your gaze from his delectable torso and let it wander to his equally delectable face. He was grinning wolfishly at you, one eyebrow twitching up playfully. And now you couldn't help but blush a little. He often had that effect on you.

Astarion simply liked being looked at, and you - well - liked looking at him. But in his defence, he was also very good at reversing the roles, making you flustered whenever he couldn’t tear his eyes from you in return as if undressing you and having you right then and there in his mind even when you were in public. With the way he stared at you now, eyes slowly becoming half-lidded, you also had a fair idea where his mind was going right now.

Your vampire slowly turned to lay on his side, propping up his head on his arm, mirroring your pose exactly. A few of his curls were falling into his face when he slowly leaned forward, his smile already telling you what he was about. Some rustling you heard made you aware that the sheets around his hips were moving when he did. Your eyes flicked downward.

A small involuntary gasp left your lips when you noticed that the fabric had slipped even lower, the man now even more precariously covered than before. Your thoughts immediately took a tumble and stopped being coherent.

Astarion clicked his tongue, his free hand grabbed your chin firmly and made you look at him once more: “Love, we really need to talk about the fact how you lose the ability to focus so quickly.” The wolfish grin was back and he even leaned in a little bit closer still, causing the sheets to slide down just a bit more. A desperate noise caught deep in your throat.

You coughed.

“In my defence, Astarion, you’re almost completely naked”, you whispered as his smirking lips hovered over yours.

“So are you, darling, but you don’t see me losing focus, do you?” Astarion replied, his voice dropping low until it was merely more than a rumble. His crimson eyes took their time as they wandered over every single one of your elegant curves. His tongue darted out to wet his lips unconsciously while with his eyes he devoured your naked body outlining against the dark of the room with the help of warm lantern light sharply illuminating the details of your form.

You swallowed and felt some pressure forming between your legs. The kind you had felt relentlessly almost all the time since you had fallen onto this single piece of furnishing you had bought so far for your new home.

By now it must have been a couple of days of the two of you just hanging out barely clothed in your new almost empty bedroom - just the huge mattress on the floor. And once you had fallen onto it, you hadn’t seen any sense in getting up again. Everything you needed was right there with you.

You had talked even more in the last couple of days than you had ever before. You had taken each other whenever lust had overcome you. And you had just allowed the exhaustion of months and months of fights, adventures and not knowing if you would live to see another sunrise to slowly leave both your bodies. Just sinking into the soft bedding, knowing you could let yourself fall fully with each other around, relaxing and recovering.

Well, you almost didn’t leave the makeshift bed. Only when some carnal urges, that Astarion very unfortunately couldn’t fulfil all by himself, were reminding you that you were still just a mortal did you get up and snuck out of the room. Always coming back to Astarion dramatically claiming he'd barely survived without your attention when you fell back into his arms on return.

Unfortunately you felt some of those urges creeping up on you this very moment, as Astarion was leaning in, about to initiate what surely would become another mind bending tumble in the sheets. But this would have to wait - at least for a few moments now.

And also he could get his ego knocked down a bit for being all too cocky just a few moments ago.

When the vampire was about to close his eyes to kiss you, you rolled back. And with that movement grabbed the blanket that was covering you and threw it at Astarion’s expectant face. As you heard him hiss you slid off the mattress with a cackle and grabbed the first piece of clothing you saw before you quickly, with bare feet, ran to slip out of the bedroom. The vampire ripped the blanket off his face, got to his knees and tried to grab you before you could leave his den but you were just as quick as him.

You heard Astarion curse under his breath but you were already closing the door behind you. The last thing the vampire saw of you, was how you had pulled on his old shirt and how it didn’t fully cover your butt as you slipped out the door, leaving barely anything to his vivid imagination.

Astarion cursed you under his breath and remained kneeling there, a martyr forced to give up his everything (temporarily). At least the view could have been worse. Thinking about how you had looked in his shirt immediately sent a jolt between his legs, making his length throb with need for you as he sat there and mourned the temporary loss of his lover. Only his imaginative mind kept him company until you came back.

When you returned shortly after you had brought a bottle of wine and two chalices (only bought yesterday on a whim) to make up for your rash departure. You slowly opened the door with your bare foot since both your hands were full and found Astarion exactly as you left him.

He was kneeling on the mattress still, the sheets draped over his thighs almost artfully, only barely covering him now. His hands were placed palm up on his wide spread legs, almost as if he was in prayer. And fitting with this was his bowed head, eyes closed, his ruffled curls covering part of his beautiful face.

Ethereal was the only word you could think of at that moment. Astarion looked like the statue of a forgotten god with how he knelt there: every single detail crafted to perfection. The light of the lantern illuminated every line of his naked body, giving the illusion of being carved out of immaculate marble capturing every single one of his sharp lines that worked so well in contrast to your softer ones.

And for some reason it seemed this unreal looking being had chosen to come down from his place among all other divine powers to bow down at your feet. And more even: he had devoted himself to you, body and soul, for the rest of his immortal days to lavishly praise you with all he had to offer.

You gasped as you took him in. Almost not being able to believe how you had gotten so lucky.

The vampire’s head snapped up when he heard the soft, low sound. The illusion of a statue, forever held captive in stone in perfect but lifeless detail, was broken. But the actual thing was so much better anyways. Astarion’s crimson eyes glinted at you in the low light, his body flexed, stone becoming liquid, while you slowly closed the door behind you again.

The vampire eyed you, drinking in the view of you wearing his shirt now being allowed more than just a glimpse: the sleeves sliding down your arms and bunching up around the elbows, the way the fabric spanned over your hips and thighs.

But mostly the vampire was mesmerised by how your breasts outlined against this old shirt of his: part of them obscured by the ruffles, but especially their peaks - hardened by the cold air - were clearly visible to him and made Astarion lose his focus for once. Seeing you this way immediately made lust rise up within him way more than any fantasy could, causing his length between his legs to twitch and slowly harden.

Feeling the tension in the room shift remarkably, you slowly stepped closer to your makeshift bed again. You saw desire light up the vampire’s eyes as he kept gazing upon you. His lips had parted and his expression spoke of nothing but hunger for you as he couldn’t get enough of the view of you wearing his clothes.

Maybe he wasn’t so much a heavenly being that had descended to you but something out of the most fiercely burning part of the hells, ready to drag you down with him and never let you leave again. You swallowed and felt how the vampire’s heated gaze alone made you feel a little hazy.

Had you known it was this easy to turn the table on Astarion in his own little game, you would have done this much earlier. And oh, what irony that while you could barely form a coherent thought once the vampire was naked before you, for him it was you putting on his old, almost threadbare camp shirt that seemingly made the pale elf forget everything else but how good it looked on you. And what it meant to him: that you were his.

The intensity on his face as he kept staring at you without moving was almost predator like and made you rub your thighs together in a desperate attempt to control the beginning pulses between your legs. But the damage was already done. And as if emboldened by the vampire’s attention you felt your hardening nipples rub against the fabric of Astarion’s shirt, pronouncing them even more and making you overly aware of them.

“Come here, darling,” the pale elf asked of you, lazily stretching out an arm towards you. All you could do in response was helplessly wave the bottle of wine and the chalices around, because some pragmatic part in your brain was still working and telling you that your hands were still full.

Astarion frowned slightly at you, annoyed by the delay in you obeying his demand.

“Put it down and then come here,” he ordered in a brisker tone now, you saw his gaze darkening as he almost growled at you.

And of course you followed his demand. There was nothing more you wanted actually as you looked down upon your nearly naked lover before you - demanding you join him again in your bed.

Hastily, you placed down the bottle and the cups and then moved over to Astarion. He was stretching out his arms to you, motioning to you to come sit on his lap.

You didn’t hesitate, but you didn’t rush either now. You placed one on one of his thighs, causing the fabric of his shirt to ride up your thigh so much that you were sure that he must be able to see your swelling core from his position. Immediately one of his hands slid up your pointed foot and over your shin, around to your calf, squeezing the muscle lightly, before it went on to the sensitive underside of your bare thigh.

And of course his eyes were immediately drawn to you bared before him, almost hypnotised and making a grunt catch in his throat at the sight of what you had to offer him. His crimson gaze found yours, his brows drawn together. You stayed like this in a moment of perfect stillness as you kept looking at each other, knowing that you’d be doomed to be each other’s continuous downfall. Then Astarion bit his lips, one canine catching on his bottom lip, his gaze falling back to what lay beneath your legs.

This alone was getting you so worked up that you let your head roll back and allowed a small but desperate moan to leave your lips. Astarion laughed softly at that, his fingers digging into the soft flesh. You moaned again and enjoyed the content humming you earned in response to your openly shown pleasure.

Months ago you would have been way too hesitant to act like this - not directly ashamed but surely too shy to really express yourself, to fully indulge. But Astarion had surely made your confidence rise to unknown heights with the way he always praised you, how he hungered for you and always made it known how much he desired you. And with teaching and showing you what pleasures he could let you have if only you trusted him. And you had done that from the beginning, your belief in him stronger than better judgement.

So there you were, spreading yourself to your lover, while you could observe his cock beginning to twitch below the thin sheets. This with how the corners of his mouth curled up into an almost feral grin was more than enough proof that you’d been doing it right, that he’d taught you well.

It made you feel powerful, knowing how you could make him lust for you. And it heightened your own pleasure knowing how easily you could turn him on.

“Darling,” Astarion mumbled, the tip of his tongue running over his bottom lip as you saw him basically salivating at the sight of you becoming a drenched mess for him, “would you mind coming just a little bit closer?” His gaze flicked from your core to you and then back down. He was eager and insatiable.

“Say please?”

His gaze snapped to yours, eyes narrowed while you grinned, both of you remembering a specific moment months ago when you had teased him just like that. And just like back then he would make you regret it later.

He rolled his head around, loosened his shoulders with an annoyed, dramatic sight.

“Please”, he basically purred when his head came back around.

Oh sure, if he was nice like that, you would come closer. You gave him a pleased smile and withdrew your leg from his, making Astarion’s unwilling hand drop to his thigh while he criticised the loss with a disgruntled groan. But you moved quickly to make up for it.

You stepped on the mattress, already incredibly close to him and enjoyed how attentively he stared up at you, patiently awaiting you now. It was almost fooling you how obediently he had been so far, how he waited for you. But seeing the mischievous sparkle in his ruby eyes and his signature smirk play on his lips told you that he was only playing coy until he had you where he wanted you.

Still you drew out the moment, enjoying your moment of having the upper hand. You let one hand enter his already dishevelled hair and began caressing his scalp with slow circles of your fingertips.

“You’re such a good, patient boy today, Astarion,” you teased him sweetly as you watched his eyes roll back from your soft, sensual caress. One eyebrow twitched at your praise. You knew he liked being praised. But then his gaze snapped back and his hands shot around your legs and pulled you in close against him by grabbing your butt.

You yelped and almost lost balance. Your hands searched for hold on his naked shoulders and the vampire had you firmly in his grasp. His splayed fingers squeezing your buttcheeks, half-covered by the shirt. He pressed his face between your legs. His long, straight nose almost already reached the swelling, sensitive bud there.

A helpless whimper escaped you and Astarion lifted his face again.

“Not so feisty now, are we? Don’t make me become impatient with you, sweetheart,” he told you in a mocking tone, pursing his lips, enjoying the view of you above him and emphasising his point with a firm slap on your butt. You merely gasped in response. Your mind was still trying to catch up.

“Now, move!”, he commanded with another low growl and wasted no time by moving one of your thighs to lift up your leg and placing it on his shoulder. You were balancing on one leg now. But your vampire was holding you securely, both hands on your ass again and pulling you as close as possible.

The fabric had already bunched up over your spread thigh now but you saw the unspoken command in Astarion’s narrowed eyes as he positioned you on himself and you lifted the shirt higher with one hand while letting the other enter his hair again.

And then Astarion wasted no more precious time and pressed his face between your legs again - now with no more fabric getting in his way. The tip of his tongue immediately and effortlessly found your pulsating clit and began working on it while his hands squeezed your butt deliciously.

Without hesitation he pressed his open mouth to your heated core, sucking on it and his tongue circling over and around the sensitive peak there, sending a million little lightning jolts through your body that quickly became stronger, conjuring a thunderstorm.

You moaned loudly now, not being able to control any of it anymore. Your hand formed a fist in his hair, nails scratching his scalp, which he answered with a pleased growl and pressing his tongue even harder against your clit.

He drove you up that mountain so quickly and violently you began seeing stars already while he kept pleasuring you with his eager mouth. The way he sucked on you, let his tongue slide between your folds and inside of you, having you almost fully climb onto his face, and the way you felt even his fangs graze you ever so lightly at your most sensitive part made you quickly lose all control.

Somewhere in the back of your mind clouded with boundless lust you were thankful that he held you so firmly it hurt, because your legs were both shaking uncontrollably the longer and fiercer he kept going. With glazed over eyes you allowed yourself to look down and enjoy the view of your lover devouring you as if he had been only put on this plane of existence to please you in this way. It amplified the pressure you felt building up in your lower body tenfold.

You neared the edge at breakneck speed. And your body was desperate for release, knowing the orgasm would be vicious. But there was something else you wanted. Instinctively you knew that he himself must be aching. You didn’t need to see his massive erection straining the sheets around his hips and the telltale wet spot at its peak to know that it was there - and to know that you wanted to feel him inside of you.

“Astarion,” you groaned breathlessly and used the rest of your control to pull on his hair. But you achieved nothing, merely making him almost purr from the exquisite pain you inflicted by pulling on his hair. He slapped your ass again. So hard you knew it would leave his handprint on your delicate skin this time. That and the sting from it made you bite your lip to barely stifle another desperate moan.

And then the last of your ability to form a simple coherent thought crumbled, the sheer, primal lust inside you taking over when Astarion changed the pace to some slow, hard movements with the tip of his tongue directly over your swollen clit. You gave in to it.

It was inevitable anyway. Only a few more flicks of the vampire’s skilled tongue and you were falling, your cunt throbbing violently despite nothing to clench around.

Your hand was tugging hard on Astarion’s hair again, making him growl. Your face was contorted in overpowering pleasure as the stars you had seen before blew up to a whole firmament and made you lose your vision for a moment from how bright everything had become. Breathless, almost soundless noises left your wide open mouth as you scattered into a million pieces. And only Astarion’s firm arms around you made sure they would all stick together again once you would come down from your own galaxy again.

The vampire kept going for a few more swipes, pushing you just a tad further before it became fully unbearable and then withdrew to enjoy the fruits of his labour, your wetness coating his lips and chin. He absent-mindedly lapped it up as well as possible while he kept watching you writhe from the ecstasy he had provided you with.

When you had come back down enough from the high again to feel your own body, you slowly let your head fall forward again. Your legs felt weak and wobbly just as the rest of your body. You looked at your eager lover, who was licking up some of you from his lips still. Astarion looked mightily pleased with himself.

“That’s what you get for making me impatient, love,” he simply said and grinned haughtily, cocking his head as if he hadn’t just given you one of the most violent orgasms you had ever experienced - and hadn’t even allowed you to lay down for it.

He softly eased your leg off his shoulder but held you securely still to make sure you didn’t topple over. You softly tugged on his curls now and kept looking at him while still trying to catch your breath. The vampire placed soft kisses down the front of your shivering thighs after you had let the shirt drop again, his hands were carefully massaging your behind and the back of your thighs.

“Shame though,” you let out between gasps of air, “I would have loved to feel you inside of me.” You said it while you eyed his erect dick between his spread legs. The sight alone enough to get some pressure back up in your lower abdomen - despite your core still lazily throbbing from your last orgasm.

That made Astarion’s head snap back up again, his eyes sparkling at you as if asking how you still dared to talk back to him after what he had just made you experience. Then he closed his eyes and softly shook his head while his smirk turned wicked.

“Oh sweet darling,” he began and opened his eyes slowly to look at you from under his brows. His eyes were dark and the tip of his tongue darted out to lick over his lips focus wholly on you. The smirk grew even broader until you saw his fangs glint in the low lantern light.

His gaze was piercing, and his hands were once more squeezing your butt until it hurt pleasantly, plugging a whimper from you. You asked yourself if it had been clever to provoke a vampire who must be burning up with pleasure by now and aching for his own release judging by how you saw his erection twitch forcefully between his legs even with the fabric of the sheet covering it.

“What made you think I was even close to being done with you, my heart?”

PART 2

Taglist (DM if you want to be added please): @spacebarbarianweird @sunfire-ancunin @tragedybunny @dependsonthedream @tallymonster @magazzne @micropoe10 @aoirohi @my-bunny-prince @lumienyx @fayeriess @darlingxdragon @hereliesblackdragon @ayselluna @ajokeformur-ray @i-cant-get-into-my-other-account @rikuyrk06

#astarion #baldur's gate 3 #astarion ancunin #fanfiction #astarion x tav #bg3 spoilers #baldur's gate iii #baldurs gate #astarion x mc #astarion x oc #astarion x you #astarion x reader #bg3

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elegantsplendour · 2 years ago

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Once Upon A Time, A Dragon Met a Swan

Summary: After the Greens have won the war and Aegon’s passing, Aemond is crowned king. You, a high born lady he fell in love with during the Dance when he served as Prince Regent, became his queen. Years after your marriage, you’re still in love with each other as ever. One day, you discover age had a surprise for you.

Contains / warnings: fluff, king! Aemond, queen! Reader, smut, pregnancy, brink of death, happy ending

Comments and reblogs are always appreciated 💌

Masterlist

Taglist: @marvelescvpe @theroyaldixon @buglyberry @aemondx

Word count: 2k

Amidst the grand feast held in honor of your first born son Rhaegar's nomination as heir, the King and Queen of Seven Kingdoms adorned themselves in opulent attire, captivating all eyes. You wore a gown that sparkled with the brilliance of a thousand stars, its black and white hues revealing the elegance of your bare shoulders. Aemond's robe, a tapestry of red and black, was meticulously embroidered with golden thread, each stitch a testament to the Targaryen dynasty's resplendent might, emblazoned with the three-headed dragon.

As the solemn ceremony unfolded, the weight of destiny hung in the air, but it was the magnetic pull between you and Aemond that whispered a more primal truth. With each step on the dance floor, a current of enthralling energy surged through your veins, igniting a passionate flame that only grew stronger as the night wore on.

As the final notes reverberated through the hall, Aemond drew you into an embrace that spoke of a deep longing. His voice, low and husky, caressed your ear, "I need you tonight, my queen," A sly grin curved on your lips as his plea awakened a burning ache inside you.

The mighty Aemond Targaryen, pleading for your touch.

Not that the king and queen were not intimate in the privacy in their chambers.

Whispers have it that the queen has an insatiable appetite for her king.

You leaned close, the warmth of your breath grazing the skin of his neck, "There hasn't been a night when I haven't yearned for you," you teased, "Your Grace."

The air crackled with anticipation as Aemond caught his breath, captivated by your formality. Leaning his head against yours, he murmured, "You are insatiable as ever, my queen." A seductive glimmer sparkled in your eyes as you whispered back, "Then chase me to our chamber, my king." Leaving him burning with desire, you gracefully slipped away from his grasp, your sway like a seductive siren's call.

As the grand feast approached its final moments, Aemond hurried to your chamber, his heart pounding with a mix of longing and urgency. There, he found you standing near the balcony, the moon casting a gentle glow upon your exposed back. Slowly, he closed the distance between you, his hands encircling your waist as his lips found the tender skin of your neck. A smile curled your lips, radiant with adoration and a hunger that mirrored his own. "Is that a wrinkle, Aemond?" you playfully remarked, planting a soft, teasing kiss where the mark of time would be.

Aemond cupped your cheeks, his deep chuckle resonating through the room. "Unfortunately, I lack the immunity to aging that you possess, my love," he confessed. Undeterred, you drew him into a fierce kiss, the intensity of your love blazing like a wildfire. "Nonsense," you purred against his lips, the fire in your eyes mirroring the heat between you. "Your Valyrian blood grants you such… an eternal grace."

With a surge of passion, Aemond's hand ripped away the fabric of your gown, leaving you gasping in delightful surprise. He swept you into his arms, carrying you to the bed with a mix of tenderness and urgency. His kisses trailed a scorching path down your body, igniting every nerve with searing pleasure. "Fear not, my love," he assured, his voice laced with raw desire. "Age brings with it a wealth of experience." As his lips traced down your neck, your breasts, your belly, and eventually down your core, your lips quivered with restrained moans as you pleaded, "Aemond, seal my lips with yours, otherwise I’ll lose control!”

You heard a barely audible chuckle before an overwhelming pleasure incited a loud moan, “Gods, Aemond.” His tongue worked expertly between your folds, his movements demanding yet tender.

“Beg for me, my love. I will give you what you want and more.”

“I want you inside me,” implored as you arched your back, showing him shamelessly how your body longed for him.

“Hmm,” Your king lifted his head, his good eye and sapphire piercing through you with amusement, “Here I thought my insatiable queen preferred some more torment.”

You left out a gasp as his rough movements transformed into a series of soft kisses around your most intimate parts but never really reached there.

His strong arms held your thighs in place as your body trembled and squirmed under his magic.

“Your Grace, please,” this time, your voice laced no more with desperation, but seductively while feigning innocence, “Spoil your poor queen.”

With a satisfied grin on his face, he hovers over you while giving a tight squeeze on your buttocks, “Is that what you want, love? To be so thoroughly ravished that you can’t even walk tomorrow?”

“No,” you breathe, uttering each word clearly,“I want you to make me unable to sit tomorrow.”

With that, Aemond finally crashes your lips, muffling your desperate moans as he thrusts into you forcefully.

Hands pinned by his muscular arms above your head, all you can think of is the sinful slapping of your skins, his growls amidst the mind-blowing pleasure crashing your core.

As Aemond felt your walls convulse, he grinned, “Let it out, my love. Let them hear you. Let King’s Landing know that the blood of the dragon runs hot.”

With a loud cry, you reached your peak together.

As he collapsed on your body, you didn’t waste a second to roll yourself on top of him, tantalizing him with your gentle yet teasing kisses.

Bathed in the exhaustion of love-making, he held you in his arms. Silence reigned over the bed chamber, the moon light casting an ethereal glow on both of you.

“I am the happiest Targaryen ever lived,”he pressed a kiss on your forehead, “If not the only one, thanks to you, my love. Before we met, I never thought a life like this was possible. With my father’s negligence and the Dance, I convinced myself that power was my only way out. For a time, I felt I was beyond redemption,” he confessed, hands tracing your jawline.

You held him tighter, cupping his cheeks, “Aemond, you are not like that anymore. You are strong. You have become a man your father never was, a man Aegon never was,” your unwavering gaze full of conviction, “You carry people, you carry the realm, our children, you carry me.”

He planted a kiss on your cheek with a contented sigh, “You are my life.”

After a peaceful silence, Aemond hovered on you again with a mischievous glint, “Ready for round two, my queen?”

You burst in laughter, “And here you said I was the insatiable one.”

The next morning, Aemond and you, hands tangled together, sneaked into the garden with a book in hand; the fresh moments before the Small Council’s meeting have become your morning ritual, reminding you both of the liveliness of your younger days.

Your children, unknown to you, gossiped while observing you from a distance. Baelon, the most mischievous of them all, rolled his eyes and whispered, “I am glad that our parents still behave like two newlyweds, but I simply wish that they would make their methods of maintaining their youth…” he paused in suspense, “Less audible.”

Elaena giggled uncontrollably. Even Rhaegar, the ever dutiful and serious son, couldn’t help but to chuckle, “It has been a long time since the realm has seen the king and queen so fiercely in love and devoted to each other.”

Just as the siblings giggled in secret, they heard a loud thud.

“Y/N !” Aemond screamed as you fell on the ground, “Call the maesters!” He picked you up and rushed to their chamber. As the royal family gathered nervously at the bedside, the maester turned around, smiling, “Congratulations, Your Grace, the queen is with child, again.” Aemond’s eye opened in surprise and joy but quickly it was quickly replaced by concern, “Is her health strong enough for delivering another child? I do not wish to risk her life, ever.”

The maester nodded, “Her Grace’s condition is impeccable for pregnancy. It is a rare thing for a woman her age.”

Relief washed over Aemond’s face as he traced your unconscious features. Elaena, fascinated by Aemond’s devoted gaze, whispered to Rhaegar, “If my future lord husband doesn’t look at me the way father looks at mother, I don’t want him.”

Rhaegar smiled, his eyes shimmering, causing Elaena's cheeks to flush. "I have absolute faith in you, my dear," he whispered.

Ten moons went by as fast as a wheel, but your labour was not nearly as easy as the maesters had described. You screamed in agony as the maesters informed Aemond regretfully, “Your Grace, Her Grace most likely may not survive, but there might be a way for the child to survive.” Aemond's eye blazed with fury, understanding the implications behind their words, "What you speak of borders on treason! I want her, the queen. If she dies, I will have every one of your heads."

The children trembled at their father ‘s roar, they had never seen him so much in despair and anger. their innocent hearts shattered by the sight of his despair and anger. They wept, clinging to one another, seeking solace in their shared fear and sorrow.

Aemond gripped your hands, tears falling down like a torrential downpour, “Fight for me, love. You are my life. It’s all my fault, I should’ve given you the tea…. ” You manage a painful smile , “It’s not your fault, Aemond. I… I had a wonderful life. You are… you and our children are at far the best thing that has ever happened to me. I’ve never believed in destiny before, but… this is my time.”

Aemond held your hands desperately, “No, don’t you dare leave me, y/n! Don’t condemn me to an eternity of misery.”

In that moment of agony and farewell, the door to the chamber was forcefully opened.

“Rhaegar, you’re here,” You sobbed, the staggering pain muffling your words, “I thought… I thought you were at Highgarden visiting your betrothed.”

Rhaegar clasped your hands, his gaze fixed on you, “Mother, I have faith in you. Fight for us, please.”

Your boy, your first born, has grown into a fierce warrior, future protector of the realm. As you locked eyes with his violet gaze, a rush of distant memories flooded your mind, intertwining with the present moment.

The Dance had just concluded with a realm ruled by ashes, uncertainty and the Targaryen line shattered.

Where was the Prince Regent?

Pentos, in the arms of his beloved lady.

Amidst the blood-red dawn, a dragon and a swan sought refuge from violence and destruction, swirling on the shore of the Narrow Sea. Their laughter and love filled the air as if no one else existed in the world, with only the gods as witnesses to the passion of their love. Under the watchful eyes of the Seven, their bodies entwined, sealing their destiny until the end of time.

It was at that moment your first little dragon, Rhaegar, came to you.

Clinging onto the most cherished memory of your life and clenching your fists in the sheets, you let out a primal scream that seemed to reverberate through the entire Keep, pushing with a ferocity that defied your destiny, your determination burning like a flame refusing to be extinguished.

Your husband clutched you in his arms, his body seemed like an anchor to your life. Aemond gritted teeth as yours sank into his skin, his shoulder bearing the imprint of your bite, almost drawing blood. He longed to share your pain to shoulder the burden in your stead.

In a miraculous moment, you gave birth to a fragile little infant daughter. Tears streamed down your face like a river. You laid on the labour bed, trembling with both relief and agony, cried like a child while Aemond held you with all his might, “Aemond, it hurts.”

“It’s over, love. You’re so strong, so brave. I love you. I love you beyond everything,” his confession quivered, a testament of close call of losing you.

Shortly after, you drifted to slumber out of exhaustion.

Centuries later, in a scroll of healing account kept in the Citadel, the miraculous birth of Princess Daenyra Targaryen and survival of the Queen Y/N, wife of King Aemond Targaryen I, defied all reason, a baffling enigma to Westeros' maesters. Defying all signs of demise, love and hope emerged victorious even against the gods’ will.

Bedroom scene imagine

(From 1:45 makes me🤤🥰🤭）

“And a lust for life,

Keeps us alive.”

“And if I only could

I'd make a deal with God

And I'd get Him to swap our places.”

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seiwas · 3 months ago

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here for your game!! i am kindly asking for megumi and royal au!! 💗 hope you’re doing well sel!!

cici!! thanks for playing with me 🥺 this was so fun to think about! i hope you’re doing well too 🥺

megumi + royal au

megumi was born to be your knight, and yuuji your prince.

at least, that was what was intended.

your mothers had all grown together in a town south of where she eventually married into. your mother and yuuji’s had both married into royalty, while megumi’s remained in the noble high class.

every summer, your families would gather on an island east of the southern sea—a place your mothers had spent their blazing summers in as maidens. it was where they could be free, without the watching eyes of their tutors from the academy.

it was where megumi’s mother had met his father, and where they eventually fell in love, then married. megumi was born in the winter, but you are certain that if he were born in the summer, his first breath would have been the crisp air of the southern sea.

the island is your second home, a place where you, megumi, and yuuji grew up together. afternoon tag games in fields of cosmos, and stargazing at night, just at the hilltop overlooking the island’s coast. it holds every memory you keep close to your chest.

you lost your first tooth there when you slammed face-first into yuuji’s back after finally catching up to him in your game of chase. yuuji ran straight back to the summer house to call for your mother, but megumi remained right there beside you, crouched low with his arm stretched out to your lips. he’d pulled his sleeves all the way down for it, offering up the fabric for you to bite into to stop the bleeding in the meantime.

memories of summer remind you of yuuji’s bright eyes, like the sun, constantly beckoning you and megumi for a day of adventure. they remind you of megumi’s, a deep blue-green that takes on light like the stars. a depth hidden in constellations; to this day, they still make you curious, and you still find yourself lost in them more times than you would admit.

you were a formidable trio, your bond unbreakable the same way your mothers’ was. a relationship grown in fondness but predestined all the same. you had an inkling early on that you and yuuji were to be paired at some point of your lives.

and you love him, yes. it is impossible not to, in some way. but you do not love him like that—for you, it has always been megumi.

since training for knighthood in your kingdom, and being orphaned from a tragic accident that killed both his parents, megumi has been by your side, his life sworn to yours.

he watches you quietly and carefully, standing close to you when you go into town. his body is but your human shield, though you know it is out of more than just his obligation when he remains on edge, even for paper cuts and needle pricks from sewing his or yuuji’s latest handkerchiefs.

megumi has a steady resolve and an even steadier hand; he would occasionally teach you the essentials of holding a knife, though you know combat training is far from what any of your tutors would want you to be doing on a sunday night.

“for your letters, and other things,” he’d penned on the note attached to his gift for your 16th birthday.

a thin, dainty thing. sharp at the tip with elegant vines at its base. a letter opener.

you do not receive as many letters as you send off, he knows that much. the only letters you write are for him and yuuji, but even those are different in nature; yuuji’s often come in elegant envelopes, wax-sealed with his family crest. megumi’s, however, are on papers torn in haste, folded to be slipped discreetly into his pockets, or to be slid right underneath his door.

‘and other things’ he had said, and you are certain he means ‘for your protection, when i cannot be there’. it fits perfectly into the palm of your hand and is light enough for you to carry wherever you go. he has given you enough lessons for you to know how to use it when you need to.

marriage is a topic you have yet to fully speak to your parents about. they have never imposed it on you, knowing full well there is no rush, especially when your father is not so particular about political alliances. but ever since you were young, you have always known it was predestined to be yuuji.

but again, that was what was intended.

during the tail end of your 17th spring, the gojo family put out a hunt. the royal family only comprised the lone gojo king, his own parents now retired and out of the political scene—and he needed an heir.

to your surprise, the king himself appeared on your family’s doorstep, carefully assessing all the boys in your household.

then, his blue eyes landed right next to you, to the boy who has always been right by your side; the boy who has sworn his life to yours by knighthood.

“you,” the gojo king points.

your megumi.

you freeze, gripping the letter opener behind you. you don’t know how to feel; you can’t tell if this is a good thing or not.

would he have to leave?

the gojo kingdom is further up north, and surely megumi cannot reign as its prince if he is away from it.

megumi looks at the king, then at you.

what do you do?

#this got waaaay longer than i intended 😭😭😭😭😭#HAJEKELSNKENDKDJDN I HOPE U ENJOY CICI !!!!#this was so fun honestly 🥺🥺🥺#i didnt realise i was writing this for so long until my fingers started to cramp from holding my phone 😭#megumi x reader #megumi #jjk #ask #rep #ask game answered #cielo.💫#aimfor-theheart #shotorus.workbook

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beautifulterriblequeen · 7 months ago

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TDP S6 poster!!!

let's see what we've got in this one! omgomgomg

this won't make a lot of sense, I'm just gushing

First impressions: there is a LOT of magic going on in this poster, and most of it seems to be Moon magic, which Aaravos is casting from his cool book.

There are moon moths everywhere!

Ethari's lotuses are everywhere too!

Some of them are breaking. Some of them have vivid colors coming from them. They could be from the differently colored crystals they all have.

There are also a large number of spirits in the picture!

There's also a red colored spirit, uh oh:

Is this one looking at the white one, do they see each other?

Aaravos has a full moon behind him, and his cube has a blazing moon rune on it. I'm not sure how many other moon themes this poster can hold, are we missing any?

Of interest, there's a thematic similarity to the key art we got of Rayla jumping into the Moon Nexus, where the lower left was dark and creepy with lost spirit arms and the upper right was lighter with the arms of her family reaching for her. In this art, those corners are again the darkest and lightest:

And then there's the man himself. His eyes are glowing bright with magic, he's got his bling on. And it's hard to be certain since we can't see his chest well but it's likely that his star is lit, as it gets when he casts magic.

Okay let's take a quick peek at what is actually happening in this poster. Aaravos is casting magic from the book. It's pouring out of the cool crescent-moon portal thingy there and swirling around.

eta: it's actually connecting the rune cube to the book, but I'm not sure which way the connection is flowing. But he seems to have plugged the cube in, and it is called the Key of Aaravos. Is this book the thing of great power that gets unlocked in Xadia?

And behind him, across the top of the art, you can see something else: a weaving of thick white strands.

What is he actually doing? Is he weaving them, or unweaving them? Is he just releasing three elves from their coins? This looks way more powerful - and destructive - than that. Is he releasing all the spirits ever? Why are there so many spirits in this picture?? Where are they from? Are they also trapped? Were they crossed over? Is he breaking the whole duality of life and death?

Aaravos wouldn't bother casting a measly little spell just to free three elves from coins just because Callum asks him to, not when he could flex stylishly and get something he also wants out of the deal.

Remember when he helped Viren get past Lux Aurea? He didn't have to kill Khessa and poison the Sunforge to help Viren reach Zym. But his method got the caterpillar a burst of primal magic so it could start growing, it stopped the Sunfire forces from retaliating, it gave him some form of payback on Aditi's bloodline, and it stopped the Sunfire elves from being able to use the Sunforge on anyone else corrupted with dark magic. Plus it netted him Pharos and made Viren trust him even more. It was indeed elegant and efficient.

So he's probably doing something on that level again here. Sure, Callum may have given him an opening to help Rayla's family out. But Aaravos will stop when Aaravos decides to stop, and not before. If Callum makes a deal to free three souls that he can't get out of their coins on his own, then Aaravos can definitely work with that.

But he thinks bigger. If Callum wants three souls freed, that's easy enough. But why stop at three? It's so inefficient. Maybe he attacks the Moon Nexus next, and makes it volcano out all the souls it's ever held and looses them on the world in some kind of spirit plague. Job still done, deal met, requirements satisfied. And while the mortals scramble to deal with his mess, he just does whatever he has planned next. All the better that he did something so big that no one can step away from cleaning it up to try to stop him!

Anyway. Art gives me thoughts. Very excited about this poster and its moontastic implications for S6!

#tdp #tdp spoilers #tdp s6 spoilers #tdp poster #tdp s6 poster #aaravos #moon themes are gonna be very big this season

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raayllum · 6 months ago

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The Celestial Elves & Aaravos' Plans

Going into s6, there's been two big questions at the forefront of my mind: what can we expect from the Celestial elves, and what exactly is Aaravos' plan?

I've speculated briefly on the former, so I want to clarify further what I mean when I say the latter.

Aaravos' plans, seemingly, have at least two pretty clear steps, if you will:

To be freed from his pearl prison

To get revenge on the Startouch elves for his banishment / some other wound

This was as much spelled out to us in TDP's short story, Patience, before S4's release:

I have not seen the stars in centuries. But when I see them again—when the stars are forced to look upon me, their dark brother—they will know how I have waited. And when everything they have built lies shattered, I will savor their fall from the sky. For I have been patient.

I don't think Aaravos has much of a plan beyond revenge, as the Cycle is thematically and literally unsustainable in comparison to rebuilding and the Narrative of Love. What would be left for him, after all, besides seeing his 'family' (and Xadia) suffer further for what they've done to him? And I'm not here to say that there's a secret third step or anything (though there might be).

What I want to talk about is Aaravos' Plan timeline in regards to getting what he wants.

We know that around 1,000 years ago, humans were exiled from Xadia for dark magic use. It isn't clear if Aaravos was banished before or after this event, but given that Ziard saying "one of the Great Ones" doesn't seem to immediately give away Aaravos' identity, there seem to have been a few still kicking around, although this contradicts the Midnight Star poem, which clearly indicates the Stars leaving ("Elarion, unworthy whelp, / Wept as the stars turned black the sky, / They donned their masks / They turned their backs, / And left Elarion to die") and then humans receiving dark magic ("‘till the last star / Reached from afar / His touch: a blaze, a gift, a spark / [...] Elarion, black-eyed child, / her twisted roots spread deep and far, / The humans’ might").

It is possible, of course, that the Startouch elves could've left but hadn't actually expelled / cut contact with Aaravos directly, but that gets even dicier timeline wise.

Either way, to stay on topic: there's roughly a 700-1000 years, if not more, between Aaravos' banishment from the First Elves and achieving his final aims (which we'll likely see the beginning of in late S6).

Why?

Why does this period of time in between Banishment and Revenge exist? If Aaravos is so powerful...

Even after [Zubeia] and Avizandum allied ourselves with the other Archdragons, we could not risk a direct confrontation. We had to beat Aaravos as his own game. [...] We had to conspire and plot, and deceive this deceiver so that at the exact right moment, he would lower his guard, and we could imprison him forever.

then what could've possibly existed that he couldn't just take outright? Why even make nice with the Archdragons at all, and not stay focused on using his human mages in the west? And what, why, was he using them in the first place pre-imprisonment?

A young human girl uncovered a great secret of history. A dangerous deceiver was revealed: it was one of the Great Ones, the Startouch elf, Aaravos. For a thousand years, Aaravos had been pulling invisible strings like a puppet master. Every great crisis the world faced had seemed the work of some ingenious and powerful leader, but in each case, it was secretly Aaravos, whispering in their ear.

Now, of course Aaravos just could be a sadistic bastard who enjoys messing with people (and I'm sure there's spades of that) as well as ideas of being "elegant and efficient" in that why take things by force when you can convince other people to do stuff (and take the fall) for you. But in my mind, there's one main reason to maintain secrecy around people you're trying to use or convince: you want to maintain their trust, and you want their trust because you want their Knowledge.

Additionally, the more I've thought about it, the more sure I am that Aaravos was ingredient collecting for Something before his imprisonment (300 years ago, and still a thousand years at least into his grand plan). We see two powerful figures disappear close together — Luna Tenebris, who "mysteriously died" and Queen Aditi, who vanished — and we already know Aaravos "swallowed" the latter.

We know from Viren and Claudia that dragons, particularly archdragons, are incredibly powerful. Zym, just as a baby and with the staff as a conduit, would've been enough for Viren to "transcend his moral form" and presumably let Aaravos out of the mirror permanently by... taking over Viren's body, maybe? The details are fuzzy, but the intentions and initial endgame stage (freedom) was probably plain.

Moreover, if Aaravos did need a Powerful Sun Object and a powerful Archdragon (moon? sky?) Object to get things underway, it'd also explain the choice to go to Lux Aurea to get the Sun staff and corrupt it, as that choice inadvertently led to another 'downfall' (if he and Viren hadn't gotten the staff, their army probably would've had enough time to take the Storm Spire before the dragons even arrived; they were only held off so long because the Sunfire elves were there).

Like before, with Aditi, there's also a potentially powerful Sun source in both the sun seed itself and in Sol Regem, particularly if either or both become corrupted. Zym still exists as a possible source of energy to exploit, and there could be something Moon wise with Luna Tenebris' unsuitable heir or even Rayla.

I'm also not going to pretend to have definitive answers. That said, given that everyone else has been on a perpetual chase for knowledge throughout arc S4 and S5 ("I don't even know if she's alive" / "How do you know?" / "Having knowledge isn't the same as knowing it" / "If Akiyu knows helped make it, then she must know where it is" / "To love is simply to know this...") it wouldn't surprise me if the Mystery of Aaravos is about him, yes, but also one he's been trying to 'solve' all this time.

And on the one hand, this has also already been sort of true, given that despite his powers, Aaravos genuinely seems to 1) have no clue of where he was imprisoned or 2) in what (the pearl). The idea that his powers and foresight as a Fallen Startouch elf weren't extended far enough for him to be able to go back to the 'Heavens' whenever he wanted, that the Startouch elves are somewhere currently beyond his reach... That would kind of track and explain the 1,200-1,000 year interim and Why it's taken him so long to figure certain stuff out.

If he doesn't need Objects (which might play into the lack of coercion or construction, perhaps?) or at least not entirely, then Knowledge of something he's missing may be partially the clue needed to go back Home and wreck shit up. Not needing objects per se could also explain why things that may be useful to him — like the Nova Blade, if he wants to kill his own kind; or potentially the cube (but who knows) — weren't confiscated as it were before his permanent Fall to earth.

This is where we get to the Celestial Elves.

The Celestial Elves, in spite of being a late stage addition to TDP's lore in comparison to most other elements, have always felt very purposeful. As laid out in my post above, there's some very particular choices made about them that seem Obviously intentional in a way that say, other design choices regarding the elves aren't necessarily.

For example, original concept of Aaravos featured him bald, in robes, and blindfolded, but were scrapped for being "too obvious" / on the nose, leading to a very different final design. While blindfolds in TDP don't have much of a negative association largely thanks to Lady Justice and Harrow, the idea of not being able to see clearly (hi Viren!) is absolutely a motif the series returns to over and over until it reaches fruition: "I finally see the truth."

As mentioned in my linked post, the fact that all the Celestial elves are Skywing elves feels intentional as well. Sky (freedom) in the series is the opposite to Star ('destiny') if we're just going by primals and not looping in dark magic. The choice to make the Celestial elves Skywing specifically, when they could've been any kind of elf or even a grouping of different kinds of elves living together (which we haven't seen before) is probably because their understanding of the Sky arcanum and the concept of Star magic is going to be radically different than Callum's; I wouldn't be surprised if they've partially turned their back on the idea of "nothing is pre-determined" by instead saying everything is, which is his ongoing worst fear with the possession plot line.

Then there's the fact that they are devoted to Stars, and Startouch elves have had (as far as we know) little to no contact with anyone since they all left a thousand plus years ago... except for Aaravos, who would have an interest in the Nova Blade at the very least (and maybe the Corona of the Heavens belonged to him, too). The way they're called "an ancient sect" of Skywing elves is also not a point in their favour given that outside of Ancient Draconic, everything else that's been labelled that way has been negative ("the relic staff" / "the cube is an ancient relic" / "wounds from an ancient and disturbing practice" / "Infantis sanguine. It's one of the old spells").

Furthermore, the true sight serum Viren poured in his eyes in 2x02 is also what inspired the bulk of today's thinking meta, as the season two novelization states:

He held the last of an unusual liquid that he had inherited from Kpp'Ar. The liquid was a rare serum that the Oracles of Ophidia were said to have used long before the fall of Elarion in order to see through the illusions of the world. They would harvest venom from the fangs of eyeless vipers; and it was said that the venom had to be extracted on a moonless night. All it took was a single stray beam of moonlight to taint the serum and bring out its most dangerous qualities. Instead of clearing one's illusions, a dose of tainted serum would drive a person into a permanent, irrevocable madness.

Oracles are fortune tellers, which is already very Star arcanum-y adjacent. Ophidian is derived from the Grecian root for snake, which is very dark magic-y accordingly. We know that the Oracles were ancient if they predate Elarion, and we don't know whether they were humans, elves, or both. The fact that this lore is 1) here and 2) connected to Kpp'Ar, who it seems Viren likewise 'inherited' the staff from AND who had a perfect twin box that matched the one Aaravos has in his mirror... None of it bodes well, and I think there's reasonable speculation that the Oracles had some connection to a Startouch elf at least, once upon a time, and possibly ties to the Celestial elves as well.

All of this to say is that whatever the Celestial Elves stance on Aaravos is will inform their practical role in the story, yes, but will also inform what he's been Waiting patiently for all this time, I think.

If the Celestial elves are largely against Aaravos, then them hiding themselves and hiding these powerful and dangerous objects makes sense; cloaking themselves from him would take time and effort and if he's not willing to go back to 'Heaven' without being able to kill people, then maybe he's been waiting all this time to locate the Nova Blade (which Callum is now taking him directly to; great!) or one of the quasar diamonds is his missing piece, or whatever.

This would give me more pause as 1) said info was found in like one afternoon of searching in the Great Bookery, which Aaravos presumably would've had access to and 2) the Starscraper is probably the Star Nexus if there is still one, so I'd imagine Startouch elves would know where it is. That said, Callum and Zubeia never made the mirror connection (Callum had no reason to think it was stolen, and Zubeia had no reason to think that if Viren still had it Callum wouldn't have noticed upon inheriting the mage study right away, so wires got crossed) so who knows. Sometimes story's gotta story so reality's gotta bend a bit!

If Aaravos has been looking for information and/or an object outside of the Starscraper's walls (a spell? the cube?) then the Celestial elves pivoting to being a more antagonistic force makes more sense to me. If they have no reason to hide from him, then they have significantly less reason to be narratively Opposed to him. That doesn't necessarily mean they're exclusively evil or anything (though they could be!), but I could see internal fracturing and having our one named Celestial elf, Astrid, be a contrarian force for good as things go to shit (much like how Ethari is our one Silvergrove villager because he breaks the Ghosting spell, or we spend more time with N'than because he's willing to go against drake rider traditions).

We know regardless of anything else Callum and Rayla can't just waltz in and have everything they want immediately handed to them on a silver platter without a hitch, so at best there might be a trial or two to pass (which speaks to some ambiguity about the danger Aaravos poses) and at worst, they might lure the two in with a false offer of help and security / trials only to actually just rip the floor out from under them.

Conclusion sort of

The good news is that by the end of S6 we will probably know most of these answers, excitedly enough! Given that the Merciful One has their stardust quote to Aaravos in 6x01, and that 6x09 is called Stardust, Aaravos referencing that line while he gets some of his vengeance would track accordingly (especially because know he says it at one point, thanks to the first teaser trailer).

Additionally, it's likely that since the end of S6 is the most 11th hour "worst possible things ever are happening" moment, Aaravos getting to have some of his revenge is I think a fair expectation to close out the season, and give us lots of high stakes for S7. Whatever he's been patient over, his waiting will finally be over, and the apocalypse of sorts will start, for the Stars that he's finally strong enough to 1) return to and 2) wreck havoc upon but also for everyone else, too.

But yeah - this was definitely a more rambling meta than most and I hope it got you thinking! It's hard to believe that in under two months we'll have answers to some of these questions we've been asking for so long, and I can't wait to find out what they are!

#tdp #the dragon prince #predictions #analysis series #analysis #worldbuilding #celestial elves #tdp aaravos #aaravos #pre series #deep lore dive #tdp meta

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solkatt-arts · 8 months ago

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Introducing some of my nextgen ponies! I made them back in 2018 and these were drawn back in 2022. Newer art is in progress ^^

Turning Gear: Inventor with some impressive magical abilities. He is intelligent but the most awkward guy you'll ever meet. He is curious and together with Time Twister he often get into trouble. Starlight has tried and failed to tame his bird's nest of a mane but to no avail.

Classic Remix: A radio host on the shyer side. She feels safe sitting behind a mic but is more withdrawn in public. She likes to dye her mane to add a splash of color to her otherwise gray appearance. Remix has a great singing voice but is too shy to sing for a crowd. She got her cm for specializing on remixing classical music, something she came to love due to her moms' frequent collabs. She shares her music on her radio show.

Lightshow: Expert at creating light shows with her magic. She works as a light “technician” of sorts on live performances. Lately she has been helping Honeycrisp Melody out on her tour. Lightshow is enthusiastic, determined and competitive. One of her favorite things to do is play hoofball with her best friend Fastlegs.

Fastlegs: Sports coach for foals of all ages. Advocates for inclusion and love to teach. He lost his left wing to cancer and had a hard time coming to terms with his new life being flightless. He is the kindest most genuine stallion around. To feel more at ease Fastlegs moved to Ponyville to be closer to his best friend Lightshow and get away from all the expectations he felt back in Cloudsdale.

Honeycrisp Melody: Country singer with a heart of gold. She is a true Apple and loves to help around the farm whenever she can. She is optimistic, excitable and social. She loves to brawl with her cousin Candid Apple and guest star on Classic Remix's radio show. Melody is rather short and unlike most Apples, not as sturdy in her build. She inherited her pegasi traits from Rara's side of the family.

Blazing Hooves: Dedicated firefighter. He is highly empathic and takes his job very seriously. Blaze can be somewhat of a party pooper due to his dedication but his baby sister can usually make him ease up a bit. He wanted to become a firefighter as a colt after his family home burned down and his sister lost one of her legs in the fire.

Time Twister: Time traveler…?👀 She is sassy and confident, as well as dramatic and a smartass. She loves to create just enough of a chaos to stay entertained in her day to day life. One of her favorite pastimes is giving magical items to Gear to tinker with. The occasional explosion is the highlight of her day.

Princess Theory: An elegant and dutiful draconequus with a knack for getting into wacky situations. She loves to pull pranks and be generally annoying. Theory has a pretty dark sense of humor but just like her father she is very charming in her ways. Her parents have passed some impressive magical abilities down to her but her favorite trick is to teleport. She has ADHD.

Candid Apple: Works on Apple Acres. He is talkative, kind, family orientated and has a severe sweet tooth. Candid loves to bake apple treats when he isn’t working the land. His favorite cousin is Melody whom he grew up with on the farm.

Zerina: Librarian for the royal family. She is kind of messy and forgetful outside of work but she's incredibly sweet. She’s humble and generous. Zerina is autistic and her special interest is Equestrian history. Due to her expertise she got the job as the head librarian in the royal library where she can study all the archived materials as she pleases. She is a close friend of princess Theory whom happens to be neurodivergent herself.

Rockslide Pie: Rodeo performer. He is clumsy, silly and tends to fumble on his words. He is bold in his performances.. There is nothing he likes more than to entertain and make others laugh, something he got to discover through his aunty Pinkie.

Not pictured:

Snow Quartz: Artist specializing on ice sculptures. She is the younger sister of Blazing Hooves but unlike her big brother she is calm and relaxed most of the time. She is spontaneous and easygoing. She's witty around her brother and likes to joke with him (on his expense). Her missing leg doesn’t bother her at all.

#my little pony #mlp #mlp art #mlp fim #mlp g4 #mlp oc #mlp next gen #next gen oc #next gen ocs

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prismaticpichu · 2 months ago

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Oo how about “you’re safe now” with Sephiroth and any of agz? Whether that is true or not is up to you >:)

OOOOOOH, STAR!! That is a juicy one!!! :000 >:3cc Thank you so much for the delicious start!!! 💕

Sephiroth didn’t need to glance up to know it was Angeal who stalked into his office that evening, the exhausted huff and heavy slam of the door telling him all that he needed to know.

“...Long training session?” Sephiroth grunted, green eyes never straying from the document in front of him, his pen never halting in its elegant glide across the paper.

He heard Angeal plunk onto the couch. “Very long,” he corrected, and Sephiroth could see him sweep a sweat-sheeted layer of hair back from the corner of his eye. “I’m telling you... that boy, he drains me. Really drains me.”

Sephiroth scoffed, unsurprised. “Did I not warn you that a student would be a waste of your energy?”

“Gee... Thanks, Sephiroth.”

The man’s scoff hardened into a grunt. “I’m only being factual. If you had to take a protégée under your wing, I’m still baffled as to why you needed one of such... high demand.”

“High demand?” Angeal parroted, leaning back against the sofa. “What is he, a pet?”

“Mmn. I not the one who gave him the moniker, ‘puppy.’“

“Heh, well, it’s true.” Angeal’s lips curled into a smirk. “That kid’s got more energy than the average chihuahuas. And he’s clumsy like one, too. You know he broke three training swords by swinging too hard today?”

“Again...” Sephiroth scoffed, “why are you so devoted to this student?”

He was not expecting such a long swath of silence to pass after that. It was as if the words had struck something in his friend, strumming a tender cord that Sephiroth didn’t know to be so raw, leaving the man appearing extremely distant. Thoughtful. Wistful. For several beats, Angeal didn’t say a word, his gaze drifting over to the large, panoramic window behind him, scanning over the sprawling, bustling terrain of the cityscape below.

And when he did finally speak again, some noticeable time later, he seemingly wanted to redirect the subject entirely.

“...I need to ask you a favor, Sephiroth,” he said.

Grateful for the break in silence, Sephiroth continued to scrawl. “What?”

“...Can you look at me, at least? I’m serious.”

Something of a sigh escaped Sephiroth’s lips as he lifted his gaze from his paperwork, blinking a couple times to ease the strain, green eyes drifting across the office to lock with the sage, mako-fueled indigo of his friend’s.

He was almost taken aback by just how stern the man’s countenance really was.

“...If anything happens to me,” Angeal started, grimly, taking their connected gaze as permission to speak, “I need you to take care of Zack... alright?”

Sharp, blazing jolts of surprise coursed through Sephiroth’s body, stunned by both his friend’s direct words and the deeper implications. “W... what?” was all he could manage to say, the emerald eyes briefly widening before narrowing to slits, a pulse of concern hammering dreadfully in his heart. “Why would something happen to you?”

Angeal didn’t seem at all fazed by the question, the l prospect. “Life’s unpredictable... isn’t it? Who knows what might happen tomorrow.”

“Angeal—” Sephiroth started, unable to stifle the full extent of his panic. How... how could he even say such a thing? Genesis hadn’t even been gone for a week, and now Angeal was trying to insinuate something might happen to him as well? Something that might... take him away too...?! His lips curled into a snarl, defensive. “Why would you...—”

“Hey, relax.” Angeal put his palms up in a gesture of peace, comfort. “I’m not going anywhere.”—There was a flicker im his eyes as he said this, a spark that Sephiroth just couldn’t decipher—”I simply... worry about Zack sometimes. That’s all. I’m afraid he’ll get himself really tangled up without someone watching out for him. He’s a good kid, though, Sephiroth.:; Probably the kindest soul in all of SOLDIER. And really good with a sword, too.”

Sephiroth raised a brow. Skilled with a sword...? Heh. Most younger SOLDIERs preferred guns—much easier to handle, more practical, quicker to kill... It did take a certain courage to wield a blade, a certain character...

Still—

Sephiroth’s eyes returned to slits, throat rumbling in protest. “I don’t care.” he shook his head, tempted to reabsorb himself in his paperwork, the feline needles drifting back to his pen and document. “I have no desire to adopt a student.”

Angeal rubbed a kink in his neck. “...It was only a hypothetical, Sephiroth.”

“It doesn’t matter,” the man grunted. “I do not want the responsibility thrust upon me. Ask somebody else.”

Angeal remained silent for a moment. “...Like who, Sephiroth? Tell me.”

“Gene—” Sephiroth began, instinctively, before reality clamped down on his tongue in a cold, jagged vice, swallowing the rest of the name instead as a bitter silence dogged, one that loomed over the two SOLDIERs, breathing into and thickening the air around them like pollution.

“Exactly,” Angeal said after a few moments, quietly. “You’re the only one who I could really turn to, Sephiroth. The only one who be able to truly protect nim.”

Sephiroth’s gaze fell to the floor.

“Sephiroth...” Angeal sighed, pleading. “I need to know that there will be someone looking out for him. Please... I’m asking as a friend.”

Sephiroth grunted. “...And how would we ever get along?”

There was a beat, and Angeal cracked a small, wan smile. “...Don’t worry about that,” he chuckled. “I didn’t just call him Pup for the energy alone: he grows on you, you know? He worms his way into your heart.”

Heh, right... Sephiroth rapped his fingers against the arm of the chair. “...And who says I’m equipped to a student?”

Angeal shrugged, the tired smile still present. “I think you could use it. Both of you. Zack could likely benefit from someone a little tougher, and, you, well...” He thought for a moment. “I think Zack would be able to see what I see in you, friend. What... we both saw in you.” His smile faltered a little as he added this, another indecipherable flicker in his mako-fueled eyes. “In any case... I wouldn’t expect you to become best friends. I’m not asking that. Hell, I’d be rather shocked if you did. I’m only asking for someone who will look after the kid. Someone who I can trust, and someone who I know will...”—his eyes softened, swallowing thickly—”keep my friend safe...”

The silver bangs spilled over Sephiroth’s visage as he dipped his chin.

“Sephiroth... please.”

He never did give him an answer before Angeal’s phone rang, and the man raced out of his office in search of Zack.

The conversation never arose again.

—————

Green eyes fluttered open in the present, still sitting upright on his best friend’s couch, still cloaked in the sleepy darkness that had initially lulled him to sleep. Flickering lights from the television still puddled on his face, still buzzing with some late-night program that was left on... And that weight—the warm, sturdy weight pressing against his shoulder...

Sleepily, Sephiroth turned his head aside, and he couldn’t say he was surprised to find Zack sound asleep against him, a tranquil smile playing on his lips as he exhaled soft, rhythmic breaths into his coat, the light from the TV illuminating his sleepy visage, his scar, the thready cowlick that drooped endearingly over his nose...

Smiling softly, Sephiroth reached out, gently ruffling the feathery nest of spikes.

Zack’s own smile softened under his touch.

“…You’re safe with me. I promise.”

#ffvii #sephiroth #angeal hewley #crisis core #ff7 #pichu writing #zack fair #asks #ty!!#prompts #hurt/comf #I suppose it’s an ambiguous ending :3c #not really lol bc everyone here knows I don’t allow Nibelheim to happen but dhdhhdhdhd #plz imagine whatever you want to! xD

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estellan0vella · 5 months ago

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Nothing Is Ever Truly Perfect - Megumi Fushiguro AU Word Count: 4.8K Content Warnings: Death Masterlist for Eras AU

The wind catches your hair as you step onto the deck of the RMS Titanic. It's a cold April day in 1912, and the grandeur of the ship is breathtaking. You can hardly believe that you and your fiancé, Megumi Fushiguro, are about to embark on a journey across the Atlantic.

Megumi, ever stoic and composed, walks beside you, his dark hair tousled by the breeze. The two of you are dressed in your finest clothes, befitting second-class passengers, and your heart swells with excitement and anticipation.

"Are you ready for this adventure?" you ask, squeezing his hand gently.

Megumi looks at you, his usual serious expression softening just a bit. "As long as you're with me, I'm ready for anything," he replies, his deep voice a soothing presence amidst the bustle of boarding passengers.

The two of you make your way to your cabin, admiring the ship's opulence as you pass through the grand halls. The polished wood panelling, intricate mouldings, and gleaming brass fixtures make you feel as though you've stepped into a palace.

The second-class accommodations are more than you could have hoped for, with their own level of luxury and comfort. Plush carpets underfoot and a charming porthole window looking out to the endless ocean add to the enchantment. You can't help but feel a sense of pride and privilege to be on this historic voyage.

Once you've settled in, you spend the first day exploring the ship. You and Megumi dine in the elegant second-class dining room, where the chandeliers cast a warm glow over tables set with crisp white linens and gleaming silverware. The food is exquisite, and you savour each meal, from the hearty soups to the delicate pastries.

"This beef is so tender," you say, cutting into your dinner. "I've never had anything like it."

Megumi nods in agreement, taking a sip of wine. "They certainly know how to treat their passengers," he remarks, his eyes glinting with appreciation.

You spend long hours on the deck, watching the endless expanse of the ocean. The waves shimmer under the sunlight, and you feel a sense of freedom and adventure that you've never experienced before.

You meet other passengers, forming fleeting but warm friendships. There's Margaret, a lively woman with a contagious laugh, and Thomas, a gentleman with a passion for storytelling. Evenings are filled with lively conversations and shared laughter, making the journey feel even more magical.

"Did you hear about the captain's dinner?" Margaret asks one afternoon, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "It's supposed to be quite the affair!"

"I did," you reply, glancing at Megumi. "Maybe we should attend."

Megumi smiles slightly, his eyes softening as he looks at you. "If it makes you happy, then we will," he says.

One evening, as the sun sets in a blaze of orange and pink, you find yourselves alone on the deck. The sea is calm, and the Titanic glides smoothly through the water. Megumi wraps his arm around your shoulders, pulling you close. The chill of the evening air is no match for the warmth of his embrace.

"This is perfect," you say softly, leaning your head against his shoulder. The sky above is a canvas of colours, and the first stars are beginning to twinkle.

"It is," he agrees, his voice a low murmur in your ear. "But remember, nothing is ever truly perfect."

You smile at his pragmatism, knowing it's part of what you love about him. "Still, let's enjoy this moment," you say, looking up at the stars beginning to twinkle in the twilight sky.

He presses a gentle kiss to your forehead. "I'm grateful for every moment with you," he whispers. "Whether they're perfect or not."

You look up at him, your heart swelling with love. "I feel the same way," you say, your voice barely above a whisper. "This voyage... it's like a dream."

"A beautiful dream," Megumi agrees, his hand gently stroking your hair.

You both fall silent, lost in the beauty of the moment. The ship's band plays softly in the distance, the notes of a waltz drifting through the evening air. The Titanic's lights cast a golden glow across the deck, reflecting off the calm waters below.

"We should dance," you suggest suddenly, looking up at Megumi with a playful smile.

He raises an eyebrow, a rare smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Here? Now?"

"Why not?" you reply, standing and taking his hand. "Let's make this moment even more special."

Megumi stands, pulling you into his arms. You move together slowly, swaying to the distant music. The world around you fades away, leaving just the two of you, together in this perfect moment.

"I love you," you whisper, resting your head against his chest.

"I love you too," he replies, his voice filled with warmth. "More than words can say."

The next night, after another delightful dinner in the second-class dining room, you and Megumi decide to explore parts of the ship you haven't yet ventured into. Megumi has heard from one of the other passengers that the third-class quarters often host lively parties, full of music, dancing, and laughter. With curiosity piqued, you both agree to check it out.

As you make your way down the ship, the air grows warmer and the hum of conversation and laughter becomes more pronounced. The narrow corridors are filled with a different kind of energy compared to the more formal atmosphere of the upper decks. You can feel the excitement building inside you. Finally, you reach the third-class common area, where a vibrant party is already in full swing.

The room is packed with people dancing, clapping, and enjoying themselves to the rhythm of a spirited band. The band is playing a lively jig, and the atmosphere is infectious. The musicians, dressed in simple clothes, seem to be pouring their hearts into the performance. The fiddle, accordion, and bodhrán create a joyous cacophony that fills the room.

"Shall we join them?" you ask, looking up at Megumi with a grin.

He smiles back, the rare twinkle of mischief in his eyes. "I suppose we must," he says, taking your hand and leading you onto the makeshift dance floor.

The moment you step into the throng, you're swept up in the energy of the dance. People of all ages and backgrounds are moving together, their faces flushed with happiness and exertion. You and Megumi fall into step with the others, twirling and laughing as the music guides your movements.

The steps are simple and easy to follow, and soon you find yourselves caught up in the fun. You laugh as you spin and twirl, your skirts flying around you, and Megumi's normally composed face breaks into a broad smile.

"Isn't this wonderful?" you shout over the music, feeling a rush of exhilaration.

"It's incredible!" Megumi responds, his voice filled with genuine joy. "I never knew such a world existed on this ship."

As you continue to dance, you notice a young girl watching you with wide eyes. You smile at her and extend your hand. She hesitates for a moment, then takes it, and you bring her into the dance, discovering her name is Cara. Her giggles are infectious, and soon others are joining in, creating a circle around you. The camaraderie is palpable, and for a moment, you feel as if you've known these people all your life.

After a while, you both retreat to the sidelines to catch your breath. A friendly woman with rosy cheeks and a hearty laugh offers you each a drink—a hearty ale that warms you from the inside out. You take a long sip, savouring the earthy flavour.

"This is wonderful," you say, raising your voice to be heard over the music. "I'm so glad we came."

Megumi nods, his eyes alight with enjoyment. "It's a different world down here," he agrees. "There's a raw energy that's quite captivating."

You watch as the dancers continue to whirl and spin, their joy palpable. "It's like they're celebrating life itself," you muse, feeling a deep sense of appreciation for this unexpected experience.

An older man with a twinkle in his eye approaches you both, his face lined with years of laughter. "First time in the third class, eh?" he asks, his accent thick and melodic.

You nod, smiling. "Yes, it's our first time. We didn't know what we were missing."

"Well, you're always welcome here," he says warmly. "It's the heart of the ship, where everyone's equal and life's simple pleasures are celebrated."

As the night goes on, the music shifts to a slower, more intimate tune. Couples pair off, and Megumi pulls you close once again. "Shall we?" he asks softly, his voice gentle.

You nod, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. "I'd love to."

You sway together, the world around you fading into the background. His arms are strong and steady around you, and you rest your head against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart.

"I don't think I've ever seen you so relaxed," you tease gently, looking up at him with a smile.

He chuckles softly, a sound that vibrates through his chest. "You have a way of bringing that out in me," he admits. "I can't help but feel at ease when I'm with you."

You dance like that for what feels like hours, wrapped up in each other's presence. The third-class party continues around you, a blur of happy faces and lively music. It's a night filled with laughter, love, and a sense of camaraderie with strangers who, for this brief moment, feel like friends.

When the evening finally winds down, you and Megumi make your way back to your cabin, your steps slow and unhurried. The memory of the night's festivities lingers in your mind, a bright spot in the journey.

As you close the door behind you, Megumi pulls you into a tender embrace. "Thank you for tonight," he whispers, his breath warm against your ear. "It was... unforgettable."

You smile up at him, your heart full. "Every moment with you is unforgettable," you reply, leaning up to kiss him softly.

With a shared sense of contentment, you both settle into bed, the gentle rocking of the ship lulling you to sleep. In the safety of each other's arms, you drift off, dreaming of the adventures still to come on this incredible voyage.

The next morning, you and Megumi wake up to the soft light of dawn filtering through the porthole window. The excitement of the previous night's adventure still lingers, and you can't help but smile as you think about the lively dance and the warm camaraderie you experienced.

After a leisurely breakfast in the second-class dining room, you decide to spend the day on the deck, enjoying the fresh sea air and the beauty of the ocean. The ship is bustling with activity as passengers go about their day, but you and Megumi find a quiet spot near the railing, where you can watch the world go by in peaceful contentment.

Megumi leans against the railing, his eyes scanning the horizon. "It's amazing how vast the ocean is," he says, his voice thoughtful. "It makes you feel so small, doesn't it?"

You nod, slipping your hand into his. "It does. But it's also a reminder of how much there is to explore and experience."

He smiles, squeezing your hand gently. "I'm glad we're experiencing it together."

As you stand there, a group of third-class passengers wanders over, their faces bright with curiosity and friendliness. One of them, a young boy with tousled hair and a mischievous grin, runs up to you.

"Hello!" he says cheerfully. "What are you looking at?"

You smile down at him. "Just enjoying the view. It's beautiful, isn't it?"

The boy nods enthusiastically. "It is! My name's Timmy. What's yours?"

"I'm Y/N, and this is my fiancé, Megumi," you reply, introducing yourselves.

Timmy's eyes widen with interest. "Fiancé? That means you're getting married, right?"

You nod, chuckling at his enthusiasm. "That's right."

As you chat with Timmy, more third-class passengers join you. There's a young couple named Rose and Jack, who are travelling to America to start a new life, and an elderly man named Mr. O'Leary, who shares stories of his adventurous youth. The group quickly falls into easy conversation, the barriers of class melting away in the shared experience of the voyage.

"Is it true that the second-class dining room has chandeliers?" Rose asks, her eyes wide with wonder.

You nod, smiling. "Yes, it does. It's very elegant. But I think the real charm of this ship lies in the people we meet and the experiences we share."

Jack nods in agreement. "That's true. We've met so many wonderful people on this journey. It feels like we're all part of one big family."

As the day goes on, you and Megumi spend time getting to know your new friends. You share stories and laughter, and the deck becomes a place of warmth and camaraderie. Timmy, ever energetic, challenges Megumi to a game of tag, and soon you're all running around, the sound of laughter filling the air.

After a while, you all gather by the railing, watching the waves shimmer under the sunlight. Mr. O'Leary pulls out a small harmonica and begins to play a cheerful tune. The music adds a magical touch to the moment, and you find yourself swaying to the rhythm, Megumi's arm wrapped around your waist.

"This is what life should be like," you say softly, resting your head against Megumi's shoulder. "Full of joy and connection."

He nods, his eyes reflecting the happiness he feels. "I couldn't agree more."

As the sun begins to set, casting a golden glow over the ocean, you all sit down together, sharing a simple meal brought up from the third-class galley. The food is humble but delicious, and the company makes it a feast.

Rose smiles at you, her eyes shining with gratitude. "Thank you for spending the day with us. It's been wonderful."

You reach across the table, taking her hand. "The pleasure was all ours. We're so glad to have met you."

As the evening turns to night, you and Megumi walk to the front of the ship, hand in hand. The air is crisp and cool, and the stars begin to twinkle in the darkening sky. The bow of the Titanic stretches out before you, a perfect spot to take in the majesty of the ocean and the endless horizon.

You walk up to the railings with Megumi right behind you. He gently places his hands on your waist, guiding you closer to the edge. The wind catches your hair, and you close your eyes for a moment, savouring the sensation of freedom.

With a gentle yet firm touch, Megumi helps you step up onto the lower railing, making sure you feel secure. You spread your arms wide, feeling the wind rush past you, the ocean stretching out endlessly before your eyes. Megumi's strong arms wrap around you from behind, holding you steady and close.

"I'm flying, Megumi!" you exclaim, your voice filled with joy and wonder as you giggle.

He chuckles softly, his breath warm against your ear. "You look beautiful," he whispers, his words filled with affection and admiration.

The world around you seems to disappear as you lose yourself in the moment. The ship's movement beneath your feet, the sound of the waves, and the endless sky all come together in a symphony of sensations. You feel an exhilarating sense of freedom as if you could truly soar above the ocean.

Megumi's embrace tightens slightly, grounding you in the safety of his presence. "This is incredible," he murmurs, his voice a low, comforting hum.

You both stay like that for a while, lost in the magic of the moment. The ship sails steadily onward, cutting through the water with grace and power. The night is filled with the soft sounds of the ocean and the gentle hum of the Titanic's engines, creating a serene and peaceful backdrop to your shared experience.

Eventually, you lower your arms, turning in Megumi's embrace to face him. He lifts you from the railing and spins with you still in his arms, making you laugh. The carefree sound of your laughter fills the night air, mingling with the distant music and the whispers of the sea.

"Put me down, Megumi!" you exclaim between giggles, though part of you never wants this moment to end.

He finally sets you down gently, but his hands remain at your waist, holding you close. The moonlight casts a soft glow over his features, and you can see the genuine happiness in his eyes.

"I love seeing you this happy," he says, his voice filled with warmth. "Your laughter is the most beautiful sound."

You smile up at him, feeling your heart swell with love. "I'm happy because I'm with you," you reply, your voice tender. "These moments we share... they mean everything to me."

Megumi leans down, brushing a soft kiss against your lips. It's a gentle, tender kiss, filled with all the emotions words can't fully capture. When he pulls back, he rests his forehead against yours, both of you breathing in the same rhythm.

"We'll have to remember this forever," you say, resting your head against his chest.

"We will," Megumi agrees, his hand gently stroking your hair. "This is a moment I'll cherish for the rest of my life."

It's late on the night of April 14th when you're jolted awake by a sudden shudder that runs through the ship. The cabin, once so cosy and secure, now feels strangely ominous. Megumi shoots up beside you, his instincts alert. He looks at you, concern etched on his face, his usually calm demeanour replaced with a tense urgency.

"Did you feel that?" he asks, his voice low but steady.

You nod, fear creeping into your heart. The tranquillity of the evening has been shattered, replaced by an unsettling sense of foreboding. "What do you think it was?"

"I'm not sure," he says, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and getting to his feet. "But we should get dressed and find out."

You quickly pull on your clothes, your hands shaking uncontrollably. The thin fabric of your dress feels almost like a fragile shield against the unknown. Megumi remains calm, his presence a source of strength for you. He helps tie the corset of your dress with steady hands, his touch grounding you in the moment before you both pull on your coats.

"Stay close to me," he whispers, his eyes locking onto yours with a mixture of determination and concern. "We'll face whatever this is together."

Once you're both dressed, you leave your cabin and join the throngs of passengers making their way to the upper decks. The narrow corridors are crowded with people in various states of undress and distress, their faces pale with fear and confusion.

Children cry, clutching their mothers' skirts, and men whisper anxiously among themselves. The atmosphere is tense as you reach the boat deck. You overhear snippets of conversations – something about an iceberg, the ship being damaged. The air is filled with a mixture of disbelief and rising panic. Crew members are trying to maintain order, but the sense of urgency is palpable.

"Don't let go of me," Megumi says, holding your hand tightly as you navigate through the crowd. His grip is firm, a silent promise that he will not let you go.

The lifeboats are being lowered, and it becomes clear that there aren't enough for everyone. The stark reality of the situation hits you like a physical blow, your heart pounding as you realize the gravity of the crisis.

Desperate voices rise above the chaos, pleading for a place in the lifeboats. The officers, their faces set with grim determination, are prioritizing women and children. The crowd around the lifeboats is frantic, people pushing and pleading, their voices blending into a cacophony of desperation.

"Get in," Megumi urges you, his voice strained but resolute. "You have to survive."

You shake your head vehemently, tears streaming down your face. The thought of leaving him behind is unbearable. "No, I won't leave you," you insist, your voice breaking with emotion.

"Please," he pleads, his usually calm eyes now filled with desperation. "You have to survive. For both of us."

"I can't," you whisper, clutching his hand even tighter. "Not without you."

Megumi pulls you into a fierce embrace, his arms wrapping around you as if he could shield you from the nightmare unfolding around you. "I love you," he says, his voice thick with emotion, his lips brushing against your forehead in a tender gesture.

"I love you too," you reply, your voice trembling. Your tears soak into his shirt, but you don't care. In that moment, the world around you fades, and all that matters is the man holding you, the love that binds you together.

The ship continues to shudder, a groan of metal and a distant, haunting wail adding to the cacophony of human fear. The cold night air bites through your clothing, each breath coming out in visible puffs as the temperature plummets. You can see your breath mingling with the frantic exhalations of those around you, a mist of desperation hanging in the air.

"Look," Megumi says softly, pulling away just enough to nod towards a lifeboat being lowered nearby. "There's still time. You need to go."

You shake your head again, more adamantly this time, as if the sheer force of your refusal could change the dire reality. "I can't, Megumi. Not without you."

The ship lurches, tilting ever so slightly more towards the dark abyss of the ocean. The tilt makes it clear that time is running out. Megumi's grip tightens on your hand, his eyes searching yours, pleading without words.

"Please," he says again, more forcefully. "For me."

A stern-looking officer approaches, his face hard with the weight of the night's duty. "Women and children first," he commands, his voice a bark that cuts through the noise.

Megumi steps forward, still holding your hand. "She needs to get in," he tells the officer, his voice steady despite the chaos around him. "Please, sir. Let her in."

The officer looks at you, then back at Megumi, and nods curtly. "Hurry."

Megumi turns to you, his expression a mixture of love and urgency. "Go. Now."

"No, there are still children on the deck," you shake your head, glancing at the officer. "I'm not taking what spaces could be theirs, I'm staying."

"What?!" Megumi looks at you and you smile at him but he can see the fear in your eyes.

"I'm not leaving you, Megumi Fushiguro," you whisper. "I suppose we will be dying together."

Tears well up in Megumi's eyes, and he pulls you into another fierce embrace. "You're incredible," he whispers, his voice choked with emotion. "But we have to try to save others. Let's find those children."

You nod, a sense of purpose grounding you amid the chaos. Together, you move through the frantic crowd, scanning for any unaccompanied children. The ship continues to tilt, the groaning of the metal and the distant cries of the panicked passengers creating an eerie soundtrack to your desperate search.

You spot a young boy, no older than seven, standing alone and crying. Megumi quickly scoops him up, murmuring reassurances. "We've got you, little one," he says gently. "We're going to get you to safety."

As you continue to search, you find a little girl, the one from the third-class party, Cara, clutching a ragged doll, her eyes wide with fear. You take her hand, squeezing it gently. "It's going to be okay," you say, hoping your voice conveys more confidence than you feel.

With the children in tow, you make your way back to the lifeboats. The officer's stern expression softens slightly when he sees the children. "Get them in," he says, waving you forward.

You help the children into the lifeboat, ensuring they are safely seated before turning to Megumi. "Are you sure?" he asks, his eyes searching yours one last time.

You nod, resolute. "We'll find more. We can't give up."

He squeezes your hand, then turns to the officer. "We'll find more children. Save as many as you can."

The officer nods, respect in his eyes. "Good luck."

You and Megumi turn back to the crowd, your hearts pounding with fear but also with a renewed sense of purpose. As the lifeboat descends, you glance back, catching a final glimpse of the children's frightened faces, but there is a glimmer of hope in their eyes now.

Hand in hand, you navigate the chaos, each step a testament to your love and courage. You push through the throngs of desperate people, calling out for any unaccompanied children. The deck tilts further, the cold wind biting at your skin, but you press on, determined.

You find another small group of children huddled together near a railing. Megumi and you quickly gather them, your voices soothing as you urge them to follow. The ship's groans grow louder, the sense of urgency intensifying.

As you approach the lifeboats again, you see fewer and fewer spaces remaining. The officer spots you and waves you forward once more. "Hurry, there isn't much time left."

You usher the children into the lifeboat, and Megumi turns to you, his eyes filled with gratitude and pride. "We did it," he says softly.

"One more trip," you reply, your voice steady despite the terror threatening to overwhelm you. "Let's find as many as we can."

Together, you make your way back into the chaos, your hearts unified in purpose. The ship tilts even more dramatically, the frigid water now lapping at the lower decks. The cries of the passengers grow more desperate, but you and Megumi press on, determined to save every life you can.

In the final moments, you find another child, a toddler, screaming his lungs out. Megumi gently picks up the child, his eyes meeting yours with a silent vow to protect. As you make your way back to the lifeboats for the last time, you realize that every second counts.

The officer, seeing you approach with the child, urgently beckons you forward. "This is it, the last lifeboat."

You hand the child to the officer, who places him in the lifeboat before beginning to lower it into the water. The deck beneath your feet shudders violently, a clear indication that the ship's end is near as screams fill the air.

Megumi turns to you, his eyes filled with a mix of sorrow and love. "We've done all we can."

"Now we await our fate," you murmur, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead.

The ship's groaning grows louder, a terrible, haunting sound that resonates deep within your bones. The angle of the deck becomes steeper, making it harder to stand. Megumi pulls you close, wrapping his arms around you in a protective embrace.

"Do you take me as your husband?" Megumi rushes out, looking down at you.

"Yes," you whisper, tears streaming down your face. "I take you as my husband, now and forever."

Megumi's eyes glisten with tears as he holds you tighter. "And I take you as my wife," he says, his voice filled with unwavering resolve. "I vow to love you, to protect you, for as long as we live."

The ship lurches again, a violent shudder that nearly knocks you off your feet. But Megumi's grip on you is firm, anchoring you in place.

"In sickness and in health," you continue, your voice steady despite the quaking deck beneath you. "For richer or poorer, in joy and sorrow. Until death do us part."

Megumi's hand cups your cheek, his touch warm and reassuring. "And even after that, we shall love each other for eternity," he finishes, his voice breaking with emotion before he presses his lips to yours and you respond with fervour.

The ship's groans grow deafening, the end drawing ever nearer. Yet, in this moment, you find solace in your shared vows, a testament to your unbreakable bond.

"I love you," you say, your voice barely audible above the din.

"And I love you," Megumi replies, his eyes locked onto yours, his love shining through the fear.

The deck tilts sharply, the freezing water rushing up around your legs. Panic surges around you, but you remain focused on Megumi, his presence a beacon of warmth and love in the icy chaos. He pulls you closer, wrapping his arms around you as if he can shield you from the inevitable.

"We'll be together," he whispers, his voice trembling but resolute. "No matter what."

You nod, resting your forehead against his, finding strength in his unwavering gaze. The water rises swiftly, engulfing you both in its frigid grip. You shiver uncontrollably, but Megumi's embrace provides a small measure of comfort against the biting cold.

As the Titanic's bow dips beneath the waves, you cling to each other, your hearts pounding in unison. The cries of the other passengers fade into the background, replaced by the roaring of the sea and the creaking of the ship's metal. Your breath mingles with the icy mist, every exhale a visible testament to your determination to face this together.

Megumi's lips find yours again, a desperate, passionate kiss that speaks of love, fear, and an unspoken promise to remain together even in the face of death. You kiss him back with equal intensity, pouring all your love and strength into that final, shared moment.

The water surges around you, a powerful force that pulls you from the deck and into the dark, cold depths. You hold on to Megumi with all your might, refusing to let go, and he grips you just as tightly. Your love is a lifeline, a beacon in the darkness, guiding you as you sink beneath the waves. Your lips refuse to part from each other's as the icy water envelops you both.

The freezing cold bites at your skin, a numbing, relentless force that saps the strength from your limbs. Yet, even as the frigid water surrounds you, the warmth of Megumi's embrace remains, a comforting reminder of the love that binds you.

In the inky darkness, you feel his heart beating against yours, a steady rhythm that matches your own. It is a reminder that you are not alone, even in these final, terrifying moments. The pressure of the water pushes you deeper, but you remain locked together, a single entity facing the abyss.

Your lungs burn for air, but you focus on the feel of Megumi's lips against yours, the taste of saltwater mingling with the bittersweetness of your shared kiss. The world around you fades, the cold and the dark becoming secondary to the profound connection you share.

As the last vestiges of light from the surface disappear, you feel a strange sense of calm wash over you. The panic and fear give way to acceptance, a quiet resignation to your fate. In Megumi's eyes, you see the same acceptance, a mutual understanding that you have faced this together, and that is enough.

You cling to each other until the very end, your bodies entwined as the icy depths claim you. The love you share is a beacon, a light that shines brightly even in the darkest of times. It is a testament to the strength of the human spirit, the enduring power of love.

And as the cold overtakes you, you find peace in Megumi's arms, knowing that you faced the end together, your love a shining beacon that will endure, even in the depths of the ocean.

The teacher looks at the faces of her high school students, their expressions ranging from boredom to invested interest.

"Now I know you all want to see Leonardo DiCaprio and Kate Winslet," she says with a teasing tone in her voice, eliciting a few chuckles. "But I want to discuss the real people on the Titanic and to do that, I reached out to a survivor. She was only a child when the Titanic sank, and she's here to tell us her story. So I want you all to be respectful and kind, okay? Her name is Cara."

As the teacher finishes her introduction, the classroom falls into a hushed silence, filled with a mixture of anticipation and reverence. The students shift in their seats, their eyes wide with curiosity as they wait for Cara to speak.

Cara, now an elderly woman with silver hair and gentle eyes, stands at the front of the classroom, a faint smile playing at the corners of her lips. She takes a deep breath, her voice soft but steady as she begins to recount her memories of that fateful night.

"I was just a little girl," Cara starts, her voice carrying the weight of a lifetime of memories. "My family was travelling in third class, and we were settling into bed. But then there was this sudden jolt, like the ship had hit something."

The students lean forward, hanging on every word as Cara describes the chaos and confusion that followed. She speaks of the fear and uncertainty, the overwhelming sense of loss as the Titanic slipped beneath the waves.

"I got separated from my family," Cara says, reaching into her bag and pulling out a ragged doll. "This is the only thing I had to comfort me until they came."

"Who?" a student asks.

"A young couple, second-class passengers, engaged to be married," Cara says with a small smile. "The woman, Y/N, gave up her seat on a lifeboat, and together she and Megumi, her fiancé, saved eight children. I'd met them two nights prior; they attended a party we had in third class."

"What were they like?" another student asks, their voice tinged with curiosity.

"They were lovely," Cara replies, her eyes lighting up with the memory. "They invited me to dance with them. They adored each other. I reached out to their family to extend my condolences and gratitude when I realized what they'd done. Megumi's father sent me a picture of them."

Cara pulls the picture out of her bag and allows the class to pass it around. A young couple stands in the picture, smiling at each other as if the camera wasn't even there.

"They look so happy," a student murmurs, examining the photo closely.

"Someone who was rescued from the water spoke about them," Cara says. "Said they got married before they died. They said their vows to one another before the ship sank. Vowing to love each other for eternity."

"Were they ever recovered?" another student asks, their voice soft with reverence.

Cara nods, her smile tinged with sadness. "They were found holding onto each other, their limbs frozen around each other. I think they were buried that way."

The classroom falls silent, the weight of Cara's words sinking in. The students exchange solemn glances as they contemplate the profound love that bound the couple together until the very end and even after that.

"Did they have any children?" another student ventures to ask.

Cara's smile softens, though sadness lingers in her eyes. "No, they never had the chance," she replies gently. "But in their final moments, they ensured the safety of the children on board, offering them a chance at life. Offering me a chance at life, one which I lived to the fullest in their honour. Every night, I pray to them and thank them for their kindness even in the face of death. I look at my children who now bear their names and remember how they wouldn't exist without them. At my grandchildren"

"They sound like they were really brave," A girl says and Cara nods.

"Once I was old enough and had the money, I managed to secure a marriage certificate for them. Dated for April 14th, 1912," Cara says. "I have it framed and there's copies framed in the museums for the Titanic"

The students are silent for a moment, absorbing Cara's words. The teacher, sensing the depth of emotion in the room, gently prompts, "Cara, could you tell us more about how you honoured their memory through your children and grandchildren?"

Cara nods, her eyes shining with a mixture of pride and sadness. "Of course. When I had my first child, I named her Y/N, after the woman who gave up her seat on the lifeboat for me. My second child, a boy, I named Megumi, after her brave fiancé. And now, I have grandchildren who intend to give their children their names as middle names. Every time I look at them, I see a part of the couple who saved my life. It's a way to keep their memory alive."

A boy in the back raises his hand. "Cara, what do you tell your grandchildren about Y/N and Megumi?"

Cara's smile widens, the wrinkles around her eyes deepening with warmth. "I tell them that Y/N and Megumi were two of the bravest people I've ever known. That they showed me what true love and sacrifice look like. I tell them the story of the Titanic and how, even in the face of unimaginable fear, they thought of others before themselves. They made sure that children like me had a chance at life, even if it meant giving up their own."

Another student, her voice soft and respectful, asks, "Do you still stay in touch with their families?"

Cara nods. "Yes, I do. We've kept in touch over the years, and we've become like an extended family. It's a bond that was forged out of tragedy, but it's a very strong one."

The teacher interjects, her voice filled with admiration. "Cara, your story is truly inspiring. It's a powerful reminder of the impact that kindness and bravery can have, even in the darkest of times."

Cara looks around the classroom, her eyes meeting each student's gaze. "Thank you all for listening. I hope you remember Y/N and Megumi not just as names in a history book, but as real people who made a real difference. They taught me that even in the face of great fear, we can choose to act with love and courage. And I hope their story inspires you to do the same."

A student raises her hand. "Do you ever visit the Titanic museums?"

Cara nods. "I do, whenever I can. I feel a deep connection to those places. Seeing their marriage certificate framed on the wall, knowing that their love and sacrifice are being honoured, means a lot to me. It's a way for me to feel close to them, to thank them for the life they gave me."

The classroom falls silent again, the weight of Cara's words sinking in. The teacher thanks Cara for her time and her powerful story. As the students begin to file out of the classroom, many of them stop to shake Cara's hand, their faces filled with gratitude and respect.

As the last student leaves, Cara turns to the teacher. "Thank you for inviting me. It's important that these stories are told so that the bravery and kindness of people like Y/N and Megumi are never forgotten."

The teacher nods, her eyes misty. "Thank you, Cara. You've given us all a gift today."

Cara smiles, a mix of sadness and contentment in her expression. "It's the least I can do to honour their memory. They may be gone, but their legacy lives on in every life they touched, including mine."

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