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toji-bunny-girl · 16 days

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bartender toji fucking the living daylights out of us after a nasty breakup ? also have a nice day

ON THE H★USE !!

#𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐀𝐆 ⟢ bartender!Toji Fushiguro x fem!reader #𝑺𝒀𝑵𝑶𝑷𝑺𝑰𝑺 ⟢ riding the hot bartender after a break up is the least expected thing you’ll ever think of #𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 ⟢ alcohol, pet names, foreplay, fingering, teasing, grinding, pre-cum, no protection, creampie, car sex, nipple play, squirting, size difference, big dick toji papa, alpha toji with xxxxxxxxl dick, multiple orgasm, one-sided drunk sex (?), power play, I’m so lazy to do tags, who even reads content warnings tbh #𝑾𝑶𝑹𝑫 𝑪𝑶𝑼𝑵𝑻 ⟢ 4k #𝑨/𝑵 ⟢ don’t let this flop guys I spent way too much time on this when I should be studying for my exam 😭

“Plus, he literally had to beg me to act like I was cummin’ when he stuck his sorry excuse of a dick in me!” your eyelids hung heavily over your eyes as you exclaimed, brows shooting down in a frown. “Get a load of that guy, am I right?”

“He doesn’t pay for your stuff, and he can’t fuck good?!” Toji teasingly mirrored your tone as he manoeuvre behind the bar, uniform taut from the way he natchly flexed his arms; the bottles clinking as he worked deftly to craft out the beverage you ordered. “What a man.”

It has been 2 hours since you’ve been rambling on about your ex-boyfriend, and the ravenette felt like he’d known this stranger for years—all of his secrets and traits aired into his ears. Albeit, it was getting a bit boring, with the same repeated stories tumbling out of your voluble mouth. But still, he enjoyed chuckling at your adorable insobriety, fuelled by drunken mania.

“Here you go, princess,” a small tug lifted the ends of his scarred lips when your eyes patently glimmered at the newly served alcohol. “It’s the last I can give you, we’re closing…” Toji’s eyes momentarily flickered to his watch, “in 7 minutes.”

“Oh, okay!” you deliriously yawped, downing the beverage into your liqueur-brimmed system before handing him your card, which you aimlessly threw at him, not even lucid of your motions. “Just swipe it.”

Toji simply brushed it off, taking it towards the other side of the counter. He's used to unintentional antics like yours, as long as the tab was paid off he has no problem with them.

15,900 yen.

The digits flashed past his eyes like stars, igniting a luminous glint in his dark emerald orbs. Hell, was it a sum to casually splurge on at some mid-high bar? He’s got a pretty girl with probably an equally pretty amount of personality in her wallet, sprawled on the bar top wailing about her broken heart.

Oh, how he would love to play saviour.

“Here, princess. Time to go home,” he tapped your card onto the counter after the successful transaction. His gruff voice was low as you drifted further from your haywired consciousness and towards a delicious drowse. You didn’t move when he neared your face, attempting to marshal up your scattered coherence by calling into your ear.

Toji sighed as he leaned back onto his feet, and crossed his bulky arms, pondering the ways to get you out of the otherwise empty bar.

It was 12:58 am and the other inebriated customers had gone out by themselves or with their friends dragging them along. Except for you, softly snoring on the sticky counter.

His coworker shrugged at him when the ravennette glanced at the shorter male for help. “Just get her out of here. I’ll clean up the rest, and you owe me this one,” always so kind—how Toji wished he could smooch that man right then.

“Thanks, man,” Toji’s eyes curved in moon crescents, before settling his sight onto your dozed frame. His finger pressed against your temple, and your head lolled to the side in suit of a light push; a trail of drool slipping past your plump lips. You were completely and utterly out of it, huh?

Grasping onto your arm, the male lightly shook you awake, the warmth from his calloused palm stimulating your nerves vivified. “Hey, Mr. Bartender…” you had an uneven smile on your crooked lips, sleepiness bubbling into the air with every laggard blink as you breathily chuckled. “Are you gonna bring me home?”

“I don’t know about that, princess,” his tone was syrupy sweet and it licked the ends of your lips upwards into a velvety grin. “But we gotta go now. Come on,” Toji’s hands came to yours, gently pulling you off of the bar stool. You followed after his guide, slipping your card into your pocket before frisking behind him like a lamb to the door.

The burly male turned to his wrist after the door swung close in the wake of your exit, checking his watch; it read 1:04 am. The train station is closed and it’s going to kill his conscience if he leaves you by the streets like he always does with intoxicated male customers. He has no idea where you stay anyway—best to call a friend of yours to take you home.

“(Y/N)?”

A grating, vexatious voice called. The two of you swivelled your gaze to the source to find your cheating, insipid creature of an ex with an arm thrown over some chick’s shoulders, chortling at the unstable mess you were. Your eyes were puffy and tumid from the hours of crying slash ranting session, and you were anything but lucid from the way you looked.

How fucking lucky.

“What you got going on here? Getting kicked out of a bar?” your ex taunted, nearing his face to yours as you narrowed your eyes at him.

“Y-You…as—”

“Have the lady some of her space, buddy,” Toji’s authoritative voice prevailed over yours as he pushed the male away, rendering him to helplessly stumble backward into a fall. The woman in his arm hid her giggle with a gasp before helping his fuming ass up, his face beet red from his ignominious tumble.

“Who are you?” he barked, eyelids flying open to show the hidden whites and teeth bared in belligerence.

“A man who can make her cum, without begging her to fake it,” the woman burst into a half-concealed snicker when the ravennette broke the air with his unanticipated words. Your face grew to be saturated with ardent red, from both the intoxicant that coursed through your veins and the sentence you thought you had heard.

“I call it bullshit,” your ex spat with his upper lip pulled up in disrelish. There’s a flash of humiliation in his glare—he knew Toji seemed better than him and it killed him to know you’ve got suitors who are way out of his league.

“It’s true,” you tapped Toji’s metallically stiff chest with a twisted, satisfied smirk on your rat-arsed face. “He toootally didn’t just stick his dick in me and call it a day, y’know?”

“Fucking whore.”

“What d’ya say?!” you screeched, ready to pounce on the asshole. “I sent you to the ER once, and I’ll do it again!”

“Alright, that’s enough, princess,” Toji tenaciously held onto your arm, and you’re stuck by him even without him using much strength. “We don’t want you dirtying your hands, do we?”

A nasty shove met the male’s chest, knocking the air out of his lungs when he hit the ground. It was merely a fraction of Toji’s force, and it already had the male choking to breathe on the ground.

“Speak to her like that again, and it’s not going to be just a push,” you could hear the rise of a dour, serrated threat in his tone, and it begot the asshole to cower back in trepidation.

Pussy, Toji grimace. Albeit he was no saint himself but he absolutely despises the ilk of guys your ex filtered into—boisterous and a bully to women, yet nothing but a trifling mutt in front of men.

A tug of his arm, and your limbs wrapped around his wretched him out of his state of visceral contempt. “Take me home!” you ineptly exclaimed, a gruntled grin on your adorable, roguish face.

Briefly riveting his baleful gaze onto the splayed male on the bitumen, Toji steered you uphill towards the parking lot as you clumsily tottered aside him.

The encounter with the small-dick fucker sure rendered him more understanding of your evening of outburst. Plus, for you to be cheated on that piece of work was truly the icing on the cake. “Poor you, huh?”

“Forget ‘bout him! You were so cool I almost cummed right there and then,” you teasingly giggled as you peered at him through your heavy eyelids.

Fuck—it’s no good for you to be saying that with that look on your face.

His eyes rest ahead the road as you soon come to near the bright red C8 Corvette the woman he’s estranged with had previously gifted him, the car standing out amongst the parked vehicles like a sore thumb.

Your eyes scintillated in awe when the car luridly flashed and beeped in the night, “That’s yours?!” you cried aloud, frisking all the way to the car, before stumbling over thin air and nearly jolting forward into a fall. Luckily, Toji was quick enough to catch you by your arm, saving your knee a painful event of bloody excoriation. “Oopsie daisie.”

Cute, Toji chortled.

Jumping into the vehicle, the potent roar of the engine cut through the midnight air after you’ve settled neatly in the passenger seat, the only thing missing was the safety belt that was supposed to secure your form. Reaching to your side, Toji’s hand briefly brushed over your exposed thigh, the hem of your short dress riding up to merely cover your panty.

A soft, almost inaudible noise fled your lips, and his eyes laid on your face, the faint, intimate gold beam from the street lamp illuminating your glowing features. Your orbs were luminous through the dark, and it roused an innate lasciviousness that lay dormant in his core.

The liquor that flowed through your blood vessels had not quelled through the lapse of time, but it did not take away your clarity to feel the tension that electrified the air molecules into sweltering magnetism. And gosh do you want to snatch the constriction in the atmosphere and tear it through your canines.

“Touch me,” you whispered, so soft and vulnerable Toji could seemingly snap you in half with just a touch.

“You’re drunk, princess,” he reminded, yet he remained unshifted over your smaller frame, his hand merely a molecule from your tempting flesh that sang for his warmth.

“No,” you were firm. Something in you purled, bubbling a heavy, demanding need to have him devour you. “I want you,” your breath was hot, scorchingly so; airy and desperate.

“You want me?” his hand fell to your wrist, grasping your soft skin under his heavy hold, and guiding you over to his seat, straddling his lap. His gaze cut through your eyes, daubing pressure against your jumbled nerves, his intensity threatened to slice through the silky jugular of your vulnerability. And you nearly moaned under his eyes.

You gingerly nodded at him, and you thought the knit between your brows was enough to speak for your neediness.

His grip on your wrist tightened a fraction before you missed the heat radiating from his palm. “Careful, princess. You might regret this,” he had paved a way out, it’s a leave it or fuck it situation served beneath your fingertip—and all the atoms in your body leaped into the growling blaze in the abyss residing in his essence.

“Please,” your voice was barely a note above a mumble, yet the weight of your single word mitigated any marshalled resistance in him.

His hands slid up your thighs, inching under your dress, sending tingles to your throbbing core. The intensity that radiated from him ceased to waver as he leaned against your neck, brushing against your skin as you gulped. Dark, ashen clouds drew above the emerald forest of his before he spoke, almost threateningly against your throat, “I want you to remember every single detail of this in the morning.”

With a breathless nod, you had swung the floodgates of your amenability open to his guttural thirst. The heavy, rapacious waves of your desires crash into superposition. You were the fuel and he was the fire, together the air detonated into space.

His wet lips met yours in a whim, sucking onto your flesh until it stung, greedily tasting every crook and cranny of your wet cavern with the bumps of his tongue. You moaned into his mouth as your hands flew to clutch onto his head, deepening the kiss to reach his insides while his rough fingers sank into the plump flesh of your ass.

Your lips burned with his saliva, and his tongue fluttered with yours. The atmosphere felt all-consuming, gripping onto your throat and restricting the air from flushing down your windpipe. Yet, your core pulsed between your thighs, an excited blaze slowly roaring into something bigger than you could handle.

Your chest rose and fell in a quick tempo when you snatched your lips away from his, grasping as much air as you could within a second before you dove right into him. Albeit your sight was hazy, you caught sight of the luminous flush that panned over his cheeks.

Pretty, pretty. You chanted in your head as your hands slid down to his clothes, clumsily popping the buttons off of the garment that kept the warmth of his skin away from your touch. You want him, you want him.

Your fingers nearly melted when they met his hot, sinewy chest, and Toji’s teeth sank a little too hard into your bottom lip when you teased his nipples under your touch, innervating them hard with every flick. The salient bulge in his pants rolled against your folds, merely separated by an annoying piece of your underwear, and your moans jumbled into each other’s mouths

“Fuck, princess. You’re driving me crazy,” Toji breathily groaned when your sloppy lips sundered apart, a hot string of mixed saliva connecting your swollen, red lips together. His large hands lifted your ass up into the air as he palmed them, the warmth from him sending a snuggly sensation through your body. “It’s no fun when only you get to tease.”

Your eyes playfully gleamed, before the light shot out of the crater of your orbs—his finger pressed against your sodden panty, damp with arousal. The tingles shyly reached through your belly as he rubbed your hardening bud, and your body shuddered against his.

“You’re not playing fair,” he murmured against your jaw, leaving trails of bruised kisses down your jugular. His hand left your heat just as the high came close to your clutch, leaving you with nothing but the lingering cold touches of his.

With a defeated sigh, you ground your knee against his growing hardness, your finger shyly rubbing against the clothed tip of the constrained mount, the spot slowly growing dark from amativeness.

Toji sunk deeper into the headrest as you touched him, his exposed chest ceaselessly rising and falling. His breath hitched in his throat when you twirled his sensitive nipple between your fingers; your heated exhales warming the side of his neck as his grip almost painfully firmed onto the fat of your ass.

You didn’t allow his peaking orgasm to come through, forcing yourself off of his sore, throbbing erection, and your teeth bared into a dirty smile. “I am playing fair.”

“You want to test me, princess?” he chuckled, the bassy timbre of his scratching the knot of an itch inside your ears. A gasp leaped out of your throat as your body jolted forward, his seat clicked backward to its maximum taut, “I’ll make you cry for more.”

You found your back nestled in his stead, your thighs spread open with his calloused hand slipping down your supple flesh. His fingers tapped nearer and nearer to your heat, before slipping off your soiled panty.

“So fuckin’ wet,” Toji sucked an inhale through his teeth as he leered at your dripping sex—thick, rough thumb fluttering friction on your clit once again. Your eyelids flitted shut as you softly moaned against the air, the smell of your arousal filled the confinement of the car; the scent nearly making him growl when it panged hard against his nostrils.

You watched as Toji slipped a thick finger into your velvety folds, feeling it trodding past your walls. Your heat snugly enveloped him as he filled your inside with another digit, his two fingers pressing, and running themselves over your slick cunny. “Gotta stretch you good for me, princess.”

Your back inched into the seat with a contented sigh, enjoying the build-up of ticklish pressure stacking up your tummy. Toji was ridiculously dexterous with his fingers—deftly stroking your cunt, and quick to find the spot in you that innervated your pure senses with a ting.

“S-Shit—” your body was subservient to his touches; your spine curved into an arch, your toes curled tight and your fingernails dug into the flesh of his arm. “M’feel so good. Toji—fuck,” it was as if his fingers were gilded in Eros’ heavenly blessing, the godly grace spilling into your pleasure. Tears began prickling at the sides of your eyes from how hard you were squeezing them, your flailing legs kicking against the dashboard of his car.

“So pretty when you cry,” Toji groaned under his breath, his damp restraints painfully throbbing from the way your squelching walls tightened around his fingers—oh, how he fucking wish it was his cock in you right there and then.

His touches were singing your walls into melting squirts of drool, pearls of arousal weeping between your thighs in the wake of his careful strokes. Never were you touched in such a way, and you felt like balling from how good it felt. “M’ close! M’gonna cum! Oh my gosh—!”

“Come on. Cum for me, princess,” you could hear his smirk in his voice as pleasure kissed your senses, fluttering through your electrified nerves and sending a jolt of tingles all over your body. Your mouth was lax open into an ‘o’, nails marking his skin as they sank deeper into his arm, and your walls tightly spasmed with a wave of rough euphoria cracking your bones weak. You fucking came from his mere fingers.

Your eyes bat open with your lips sundered from your pants, your face ardently glowing from your subduing high. “Fuck…” your wet thighs quivered from the sheer force of your orgasm, and you blinked in disbelief.

Over 2 decades of living and it was the first time cumming from a real man, not your fingers nor toys. But the brawny, sex-dripped male slipping your dress off of your spent body.

You almost fell in love.

Pushing him down the driver’s seat, you crawled over Toji’s firm thighs, running your finger from his chest to his muscle-packed abdomen, then down to the wristband. You were flickering to take charge, and he sank down to your guidance, rough palms resting on your hips.

Your dress was off, divulging the bare curves of your body, sweat-glazed skin iridescent under the moonbeam and your sex-flushed features were begging for him. You look so, fucking, perfect that he had to bite down the need to ruin you on the spot.

His hips impatiently thrust upwards into your sticky cunt, grinding his pack against you, urgency in his essence demanding your heat. “Don’t keep me waiting now,” he purred, with a silent warning tagging behind his words.

Your fingers tugged the waistband of his pants along with his briefs, a drive in you matching his pacing hastiness. His shaft sprang out of its painful confinement, and your eyes nearly popped out from the sheer look of his cock.

He was oozing with sticky pre-cum from his angry, red tip, throbbing veins ran from the base of his length to the curved head—the size of him bigger than any you’ve seen. The smell of his masculine essence hit your senses and a new pool of arousal began drawing in your tummy, your pussy walls squeezing in empty neediness.

“There’s no backing out now, princess,” Toji’s fingers firmly gripped onto your ass, lifting you over his cock, hovering.

“Who said I’m backing out?” you gulped, before lowering yourself down, his fat cockhead kissing your pussy lips before your hips greedily sank down his length, oblivious to the crackle of tingles it would send to your nerves.

“Careful there,” he teased with a chuckle as you let out an instinctual gasp from the way his girth stretched past your velvety walls, the slick sound of your arousal-dripped cunt, and his heavy shaft bubbled into the air, and scorched your cheeks red.

“M-My gosh…” you cried as your hazy gaze fell to the bulge jutting from the inside of your tummy, your walls taut with his heavy cock buried inside you. “I’m s’full, Toji.”

“Mhm,” he cooed, brushing his hands over the sides of your smooth thighs. “But you gotta start moving, baby.”

Gingerly, you lift your hips up before slowly inching them down his length. Your walls clenched as your sex rubbed friction, and you could feel every pulsing vein of his just as he could feel your fluttering warmth.

“Feel good, princess?” Toji asked breathily, your head faintly nodded, but there was a hint of a dubious glint in your fallen gaze, your knees lifting and sinking your weight.

“I need your help…” your voice cracked in disappointment as you paused, tears of frustration edging by your eyes. You couldn’t seem to grasp a steady pace no matter how long you painfully rode.

“What d’ya say?”

Your orbs looked as though they were melting off of your sweat-glazed skin, blinks of fervourish plea clawing from your drunken gaze into his. “Please, Toji,” your voice hitched, and you’re humping his pelvis. “Please…I want to feel good.”

Aww. How fucking adorable.

You yelped when you felt yourself being raised and slammed down his cock, your folds burning with every stretch of your walls. And it feels so good. “Y-Yes…” your eyes closed shut, fingers scrambling to grip his locks. “T-Toji—mhaa!”

“You’re so fuckin’ cute screaming my name,” the curve of his tip perfectly kissed your g-spot with each piston of his hips, and every time the twitching head of his meat met your gummy part, it sent a flash of electricity up your spine.

“S-Sho good—” you slurred through your words, weighed head lolling idly to every thrust of his fat cock.

“No one can get you dripping off their cock like this, huh?”

“Mmh—yes!” the space between your brows was crumpled into a tensed frown, your hips bouncing up and down his thick girth with his hands guiding your pace. “I love it! I love your cock!”

Toji let out a low groan when you cried, bucking himself deeper into your sloppy mess of a cunt and kissing the surface of your cervix. “Fuck—I love an honest girl.”

Your muscles nearly melted off of your bones as he continued to fucked himself deeper than you’ve ever felt, reaching the parts you didn’t know could be touched and your features dropped with his touches on your deep intimacy. A fierce sear of heat burned through your tingling womb, and it threatened to consume your body whole. “M’ cummin’! Toji—!”

“I know, I know, let it out f’me. Come on,” he grunted, keeping his grip firm on your arms as he fucked himself hard and deep into you. He could feel your squelching cunny clench, so tight as for the purpose of milking him on the spot. “Keep bouncin’ on my cock, yeah?”

“Nngh—No more!” you squealed. “N-No—” his thumb drew between your shaking thighs and greedily swiped over your blushing clit. Your fingernails sank into your palms as you gripped for dear sanity, his cock continuously violating your fluttering spots until they grew sore.

“I can make you feel better, princess,” he mumbled tinglingly against your neck, sinking his teeth down your flesh to hold back a shaky moan. His pleasure was inching to fly to release, and your tight clutch onto his shaft was nothing but a catalytic lure.

“S’ hurts—please!” your babbles were almost indecipherable as he rammed into your sore cunt, his fingers digging into your soft flesh holding onto you tenaciously; pushing you right to the edge of oblivion as he clung onto his nearing release.

“Cum f’me again, baby?”

“M’can’t! Still sensitive—!” you cried before another orgasm shot through your core. You felt as if you were sent up into the ether, stars teeming through your body as the waves of pleasure sent you on a vertigo ride. Your gasps dragged through your lips, your eyelids hung heavily over your bleary eyes, with tears slipping down your hot cheeks.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck—M’close too, baby,” Toji swore through his bared teeth, his cock painfully twitching as thick semen surged through his tip—his hips rolled as your cunt squeezed his remaining sanity, popping them like fireworks before they burst into nothingness.

Your essence squirted out of your tensed cunny, shooting with his mixed cum that dripped down his belly. Your breaths shaky and hot with heightened senses, your sticky sex pulsing in overstimulation.

Exhausted, you fell prostrated on top of his hard muscle-built body, head undulating with the ups and downs of his heaving chest. And slowly, your cognisance drifted back into your mind, the aftermath of everything—the alcohol and the sex, pummelled into you like a heavy truck. Unforgivingly so.

“Toji…I really feel like pukin—”

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reflectionswithbella · 1 year

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EMERALD

#Emerald #Gemstones #Green #Beryl #High #Value #Hard #Core #Gentle #Luminous #Glow #Gemstone.

The Crystals, Of the, Green Beryl, Known, As EMERALD, Showcases, The High Value, Infused, Within, Our Essence, Metamorphic, In Nature, With a Hard Core, Utilising Heat, To Produce, A Gentle, luminous Glow, Unchangeable with age, Like a Gemstone.

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#Beryl #Crystals #Discovery #Emerald #Essence #Gemstone #Glow #Green #Life #Luminous #Treasures #Understanding #Uplifitng #Value

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oepionie · 2 years

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— "HIS COMPLETE DEVOTION" malleus draconia

SYNOPSIS: "Don't touch me! I have a lover!" - After accidentally getting hit in the head with a powerful spell, Malleus is left delirious and confused. You try to help him but he doesn't seem to recognize you.

Character/s: Malleus Draconia x GN! Reader

Tags: Fluff, Established relationship, Malleus is a loyal dragon, Reader is part of the gargoyle appreciation club, Mentions of nausea, He keeps a locket of you aww

A/N: This prompt/idea was requested by a friend!

WordCount: 800+ | 💌Masterlist | PART II HERE

Green lightning began to strike and forsake the grey sky. Every student on campus could hear the wind howling through the thick dripping rain, a sinking feeling of dread permanating through the atmosphere.

The aged concrete walls shook from a shrill scream, the anguished cry echoing out through the hundred chambers in the castle.

"YOUNG MASTER!" Sebek drove his fingers into his scalp, screaming as thick tears dribbled down his flushed face. From his reaction, you'd think he was the one who got hurt instead.

Lilia tutted and carefully inspected Malleus' head. The young prince was laying on the ground writhing in pain. Lillia pressed his thumb against the dragon's temple, examining the Fae's reaction.

Sebek and Silver surrounded the two, ensuring that no one could get past them. Malleus was in a vulnerable state right now, he had to be protected at all costs.

"The spell was quite powerful however it's not serious. Other than some temporary mental confusion, he should be fine." Lilia muttered, helping Malleus stand up. The young prince stumbled around for a bit, almost as if he was intoxicated.

"Malleus!" You threw the doors to the dorm open, running over to the group. It's only when you got closer did you notice your lover's spinning eyes, glazed over as he blinks at the blank concrete floors. Worried out of your mind, you rushed over to him.

"Tsunotarou! I heard what happened…are you okay?" The fae appeared a little puzzled. You stood before him and he fixed his gaze on you, confused and...disgusted?

With a hint of hesitance, you reached your hands up to cup his cheeks. Only to gasp when Malleus glowered and grasped onto your wrists, ripping your hands off of his face.

Silence fell over the room as he dropped his grip on your arms, allowing them to hang limply by your sides. Everyone gawked at Malleus as if he had just grown two heads.

Malleus? Malleus rejected your affection? The Malleus who waits outside your dorm an hour before classes just to walk you to school? The Malleus who once caused a week-long storm just because he couldn't sit next to you in class? Your Malleus?

You felt your heart sink. They say drunk words were sober thoughts. Did Malleus secretly despise you?

"Listen here-" Malleus snarled, his unfocused eyes flashing a luminous emerald green. The radiance and illumination hypnotizes you for a while. A kaleidoscope of green and blue swirling around the gems that were his eyes.

"No matter how alluring you look-you can't tempt me. I-" Malleus lurched forward, nearly falling over. You ran to catch him but he pushed you away, stepping back blindly. He raised a finger at you. "I-I already have a lover!"

"Yes-That's…me?" You blinked, confused out of your mind.

Malleus only scoffs at you, shakily taking a few steps towards the entrance. It was clear that his head still shook and ached from the spell's blow. Sebek was quick to stop him, holding Malleus steady. "Young Master! Where are you going?!"

"To my-my treasure. My darling prefect." Malleus slurred, leaning against Sebek for support. He continued his rambling. "It's Thursday- We have a club meeting."

"Tsuno-I mean-Malleus, today is Tuesday." You piped up, pressing a hand against his back. With shaky legs, he pushed Sebek off and turned to glare at you.

"Silence. It is not."

Lilia laughs hysterically, doubling over and grabbing onto his knees. Oh, this was comedy gold for him. Shaking his head at his father, Silver strode up to Malleus and placed his hand on the young prince's shoulder.

"Malleus, you're still delirious. Why don't you sit down."

Both Silver and Sebek started to guide the woozy fae onto the couch. You followed suit, taking a pillow and placing it under his head. He turned to face you, his head spinning, a loopy snarl and glare on his face.

"I...I already told you- I have a lover." He groans into his hands, nausea washing over him like waves.

The fae begins frantically rummaging through his pocket. He yanks out a little locket in the form of a heart, holding it up for you to look at. He hands it to you with an arrogant smirk on his face.

"See?"

"O-Oh?"Gently taking it into your hands, you flipped the metal cover over to see a picture of you inside.

It was a photo from your very first anniversary. You were wearing a flower crown made with roses Malleus grew himself, it was one of the many gifts he gave you that day.

Though only your head and neck could be seen in the picture since his coat had almost completely engulfed you. It was a chilly day and Malleus graciously lent you his coat after you had forgotten to wear one.

You stared at the photo fondly, shutting it close before handing the necklace back to the fae.

"Your partner must be lovely." You whisper softly and Malleus sighs, lolling his head back to stare at the ceiling lovingly.

"Oh. They are much more than that."

PART II | Likes and Reblogs are greatly appreciated and really motivating on my end!

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movie-robotnik-positivity · 9 months

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Thing we learned from the Twitter Takeover

-Shadow's favorite flower is latanas.

-Eggman's favorite creation is Sage. Other than that, the Egg Salamander from Sonic Rush.

-Knuckles glides by "bending the wind".

-The green chaos emerald tastes like sour apple according to Knuckles and Eggman.

-The chaos powers from Superstars are unique to the Starfall Islands and can't be used outside of it.

-Eggman sleeps on short intervals of twelve minutes.

-Knuckles brought Rouge flowers.

-Tarot reading is Amy's hyperfixation.

-Eggman stopped wearing his yellow cape because of "The Incredibles".

-Amy doesn't wear inhibitor rings but can shatter the earth with a swing of her hammer.

-Shadow and Knuckles sometimes stare at the trees of Luminous Forest for hours.

-Tails is afraid of thunderstorms because before he met Sonic he had no home and often slept outside.

-Eggman cries when receiving a compliment

-Sonic respects Shadow, so does everyone else.

-Knuckles has very low self-esteem

-Eggman suffers from seasonal depression

#sonic twitter takeover #sonic the hedgehog #posting this early because I gotta go to bed #hope they dont post a big one while I'm gone

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chigirisprincess · 2 months

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⠀ ︶︶　 ˚ ᡴꪫ Don't Bring me to Tears

— Ajax

⊹ Details. 18+ minors dni, gn!afab!reader, reader is traveller but not lumine, reader is plus size, reader has long hair, friends to lovers, love confessions, kissing, first time together, fingering (reader receiving), oral sex (reader receiving), unprotected sex, creampie, lovey dovey sex, teasing, and banter. ⊹ Run time. 4.3k ⊹ Note. I found this in my drafts from 2022 and decided to polish it up for his birthday! I thought I had posted it! Silly me, I hope you enjoy <3 Happy birthday Ajax!

❝Tensions grow between you and the harbinger you inadvertently befriended as you invite him into your teapot for the first time, your home.❞

It’s quiet, that is the first thing Ajax notices when he enters the teapot, the second is a strange bird-like creature that perks up at your presence, perched at the entrance of the mansion you called home. It sits large and out of place amongst the swaying palm trees and salty ocean breeze, much too big for one person to call home but he supposed you were not alone, not really. There was Tubby the teapot spirit whom he’d learn the name of in passing, and Paimon your travelling companion, and whoever else you decided should be so lucky to become acquainted with your private dwellings. Surely he hadn’t been the first and he likely would not be the last.

“For an adventurer, you sure have a knack for design,” he says while idly skimming his fingertips across one of the many bookshelves in your home. He’s poked around more than he should, pulling out books and touching whatever he could get his hands on, “If I didn’t know any better I might question your merits.”

“It’s all thanks to Tubby.”

You seem to take no offence to his gross implications, rather curling up in front of the large fireplace that is sat in the centre of the room. Despite the fresh summer air and bright beaming sun, the fire crackles loudly within the office the two of you found your way into. It isn’t uncomfortably hot nor does it seem out of place. The warmth is pleasant as is the smile you sport, reminding him of home.

“And a bit of Adepti magic,” you mutter as you sprawl out on the floor. The plush emerald green carpet swishes with your movement, comfortable looking. Ajax can’t help but want to sink to the ground with you, but he remains, opting to stand across the room, “I don’t think I could have pulled all this off by myself.”

Tearing his gaze away from you, Ajax inspects the photographs scattered along the wall, there's a collection from the city of freedom; Mondstadt, well worn and frayed around the edges but they’re still hung with pride, even some from Liyue with traces of him in the background. He felt out of place standing amongst your precious memories of people who helped guide you on your travels. Guilt bubbles up in his chest, he didn’t understand why you’d bring him here when all he ever seemed to do is bring trouble wherever he travels. The pictures which captured the time before, before he betrayed you before he dared to sink the city of contracts. There was no joy to be found in that memory and yet you asked him for assistance once more, a desperate plea for someone of his standing to help find you a way back to the faraway land you hailed from.

“You helped save not one but two great nations, I wouldn’t sell myself short if I were you, comrade.”

Your nose crinkled up at the word, “I saved one of them from you,” it's a joke, you’re making a joke but he doesn’t laugh. He shouldn’t laugh, it was a failed mission and reflected poorly on him. The other harbingers already looked down upon him and this was just another reason to shun him, “Though you are forgetting Inazuma so if anyone is selling me short, it’s you.”

His body seizes up, his shoulders and jaw tense.

Ajax often boasted how great he was, how skillful he was with a myriad of weapons, and how powerful he became once being given a vision but in all his time with you, he had not given you praise. At least, not one that didn’t in some way insinuating that you were still the slightest bit inferior to him. He wondered, did you take his words to heart? A part of him felt regret though he couldn’t help but be prideful of himself. There truly was no one in the world like he, still, Ajax valued your strength and company even if his manner of expression was odd.

“Thank you for inviting me in but I’m afraid I must be going now.”

“You’ve only just got here!” You frown, stumbling forward on your knees to get closer to him, “You can’t leave now,” your eyes grown round and wobbly as something, perhaps insecurity or doubt flashes amongst them, “You once told me if given the chance you’d walk away from the Fatui and travel across Tevyat with me so why now when I’ve offered you a place free of responsibility are you trying to leave.”

It all tumbles out faster than you intend for it to, slapping your hands over your mouth to bottle up any lingering words that might jump out.

Ajax runs his fingers through his hair, ruffling his copper locks, “When I said that stuff, well I forgot myself,” he says, his lips curling up with distaste, “I’m kind of a bad guy and you know this,” sighing, he shakes his head, “You don’t want my company, it’ll only slow you down.”

“If I cared about any of that, do you truly think I’d have tried to make a connection with you?”

Patting the floor beside you, you give Ajax your best pleading eyes so rather than run away, maybe he’d talk to you. So he sits, all arms and legs, lanky. His jacket opened even further to expose more of his stomach, his vision clinking against his belt.

“I’ve never had friends before, not really.”

It’s true.

His fellow harbingers were his coworkers and nothing more, close relationships in his line of work were nonexistent. At fourteen he left home, he’d changed and no one wanted him. Friends weren’t hard to come by for someone like him.

“There's a first time for everything,” you say turning back to the fire, “And you have me and Zhongli, kind of, and Xinyan too.”

Ajax frowns, there’s something more he wants to say but he can’t. It’d be cruel, unnecessary so he lets it sit in his mind. He doesn’t have friends in the way you do, no one who’d have his back through thick and thin. Ajax doesn't expect you to be that for him, and he isn’t sure he wants you to.

“Maybe.”

He doesn’t want to just be your friend.

The thought strikes him when he finds himself admiring the wistful look in your eyes. A friend didn’t admire their friends, or that’s what he thought, Ajax couldn’t be sure what friends were supposed to do with one another. It made him feel pathetic. He was in his twenties, the youngest person to ever become a harbinger, adept in all forms of battles sans the bow, he still needed to work on that, and yet he didn’t know what this thing between you and he was.

We’re friends supposed to want to kiss their friend?

“Don’t sell yourself short, there’s a lot to like once you get past the exterior,” you smile to yourself, twisting the fur of the rug between your fingers, “There’s a lot that I like.”

“There is?”

The admission draws him closer, like a magnet desperate to cling to the nearest surface.

You nod your head, your bottom lip catching between your teeth, “Oh yeah, lots,” it doesn’t feel like a joke when you say it and his heart dares to jump in his chest, “For starters, you’re a good cook.”

“Oh yeah?”

You nod with a laugh.

“What else?” Ajax needs to hear more, he can’t live without hearing more praise from you, “Do you think I have dashing good looks? Or perhaps do you admire my exceptional battle stance?”

He regrets those words as soon as they leave him, but he’s lacking something, something that stopped him from making an ass out of himself in front of you.

With your finger pressed to your chin, you pretend to be lost in thought. His words don’t bother you nor does his demeanour, “Of course I do,” surprisingly, there’s no hint of sarcasm, “But actually, I was thinking that the things I like about you are far greater than the things that scare me about you.”

There’s a hint of bashful embarrassment behind your voice, coating your words and leaving you covered in a heat far more powerful than the dwindling fire before you. It doesn’t disappoint him though, it excites him, the knowledge that the good outweighs the bad, that you see him and not the masquerade of the man who presented himself to you so long ago.

“I don’t scare you?”

Ajax inches closer, strangely embolden to close the space he put between the two of you out of fear. It’s comfortable in the air between you, he isn’t afraid to breathe it in and share it. He never thought you were delicate, he knew you could handle yourself— you’d slain your fair share of dragons, he just wondered if he’d do something wrong. A stray comment could crush someone like a flower beneath the heavy sole of a foot. Ajax could be cruel even if he didn’t intend to.

“No.”

He wants to laugh, his own parents could not handle him. Though, in his younger days fresh out of the Abyss, he’d admit he was a tad more unrestrained. Either way, Ajax has always been a handful, his lust for chaos and bloodshed not exactly the trademark for a hero or even a likeable man. If it wasn’t fear that his presence caused, it was discomfort, even disdain.

“Though, I suppose that those are my personal feelings blindsiding me.”

It catches him off guard, the notion that you harbour personal feelings for him, “Care to elaborate?”

That’s all he can muster up, a cool few words.

“Well,” you start, nervously picking at the, “I simply mean that I’m able to look past all the things you’ve done and see the person underneath.”

“And your feelings? They are…?”

“Childe-“

“Ajax,” he mutters, turning his head to the side, “My name is Ajax.”

With a slight nod you sputter, “Ajax, let’s not,” his true name on your lips is perhaps the most satisfying thing he’s ever experienced, “Let’s just enjoy each other’s company.”

He feels the need to push, prod, and poke until you break and ‘fess up to whatever it is you’re keeping from him.

Ajax inches closer, his hands settling on either side of you. Dull blue eyes bore into yours, leaning in so close his breath fans across your face. He can smell the faint aroma of glaze lilies and apples. You’d taste of them, he’s sure of it, he caught you snacking on them just before you roped him into visiting your abode.

“I don’t think I can do that, not until you’re honest with me.”

Pressing your hand to his chest, you laugh, “You’re terrible,” it’s without malice though he notices how your breath catches ever so slightly, “Being so presumptuous and demanding when I wouldn’t dare to do the same.”

He raises a brow at you but doesn’t falter.

“I’ve taken notice,” you grit, “Of the way you stare when you think I’m paying no mind,” there's a moment of pause that overtakes you but you press your lips firmly in a line, “So let’s just forget feelings and complicated emotions and just enjoy a moment of peace.”

Something comes over him, a surge of adrenaline or maybe it was desperation; whatever it was, it filled him with the overwhelming need to kiss you. So he did, cupping your cheeks with a depraved fever, all the air in his lungs disappearing the moment your lips met his. They’re slightly chapped, warm as is the rest of your face, whether from your own flushed skin or the roaring fire dwindling away behind you. The small squeak you let out dies on your tongue, your tensed body melting into his grasp, your own two hands taking hold of his shoulders, twisting the fabric of his coat between your fingers. Ajax nearly collapses into you, inching himself as close as he possibly can to you.

Pulling away from him, your head hangs low between your two bodies. “Ajax,” you pant, furling his coat in your fists, “That is the exact opposite of what I said.”

“I want you.”

The admission is truthful, it weighed so heavily on his chest that just uttering those three words filled him with such relief. So, he said it again, mumbling against your lips and he desperately curled against you. Sighing into his mouth, you melted against him, your own desperation dwarfing whatever lingering apprehension you may have had. He wasn’t any ordinary member of the Fatui and you knew him well enough to know when he was being genuine.

It felt immensely better to succumb to the calling of your heart than to deny yourself the wealth of bliss that lay ahead.

The fire crackles to life, growing so hot that the clothing you wear is unbearable.

“Do you want me, too?” Ajax asks, his lips chapped and crackled, though slick with saliva, “Because, I’ve been thinking about this for so long … Dreaming of it.”

His eyes, however brilliant of a blue had always looked so pallid and devoid of life, blazed with something startling as he peered at you through his lashes.

“I don’t think I could go on if this is all I could have of you.”

You suck in a sharp breath, your eyes flickering between his face and the carpet. His words sent butterflies fluttering amongst your rib cage, your stomach growing heavy and twisted as his gaze seared holes into your skin. Wisps of copper-coloured hair brush against your forehead, his breath hot on your face as he rests his head on yours.

“Shut up,” you mutter, tossing aside the caution you used as an excuse to push away whatever it is that you felt for him, “Shut up and kiss me, Ajax.”

Ajax laughed against your lips, his entire body practically vibrating with need and something scarily close to desire. He’s never desired much, not in the way one ought to and he’s never desired another person. The closest thing he could compare to such an overwhelming desire was his drive, it was so powerful it too often overshadowed his morals. Sometimes he wished he never felt any emotion like that but now, he didn’t. It only took a split second for him to press against you, his lips greedily claiming yours and his hands finding your body.

And he kissed you for all the times he thought of kissing you, desperately praying to the Tsaritza and even Celestia that none of this was some sort of cruel mirage, that you were really there, your fingers toying with his hair, his name hot on your lips when he pressed his hands against your rib cage, giving your torso a small squeeze to remind him that you really were there.

“There anything else I can do for you?” He mutters against your mouth, nipping at your bottom lip when you chuckle, “Because I’d do anything for you.”

Your heart feels like it’s about to leap straight from your chest and splatter out onto the floor before you. The apples of your cheeks grew warm as blood blotted the surface of your skin– he was just so cute, it made you melt.

“You’re eager, I like that.”

Tightly gripping the lapel of his jacket you couldn’t stop the laughter that bubbled in your chest.

“I prefer perfectionist.”

Ajax grins, a bit smug and you know he enjoys the way you playfully roll his eyes. It was true, he was a perfectionist. He could fight with just about any weapon you threw at him like he’d been using it for years and he was enough of a masochist to use a bow and arrow every day until he mastered it. You wondered what that might mean for you– if he’d be good– if he knew what he was doing. He had to have been because a pit had begun to form in your stomach and your breath grew laboured as his teeth grazed against the supple skin of your neck.

Plucking the Fatui mask off the side of his head you hum, “Gonna show me what that means?” you ask, a gasp cutting you off as he pulls your shirt off you.

“You’re beautiful,” is all he says, his mouth working down your body with a flurry of sloppy, open-mouthed kisses in tow. His teeth and bottom lip drag against the smooth expanse of your chest and down to your belly. The blunt edge of his teeth digs into the fat of your hip as he takes a playful bite, threading your fingers into his hair and you roughly tug them, “Ouch!”

“That’s what you get!” You chuckle, pouting down at him, “If I see teeth marks you’re gonna be in big trouble!”

Ajax rolls the waistband of your bottoms further down your hips and your thighs. You kick your legs out to aid in his undressing, chuckling to yourself at the garish display that unfolds before you as he slowly peels off your socks. The weight of his gaze on your near-naked body doesn’t feel as heavy as you thought it should. Your shoulders ease and the pinpricks of nerves that spark off your skin roll into waves of excitement.

Your adventures and escapades while thrilling had long since worn your spirit; the feel of his calloused hands and chapped lips on your body gave your spirit new life.

For too long you danced around the adoration you felt for Ajax, afraid of all the labyrinthine complexities that shrouded him like an endless smog. It might have been love, you realise this now that you’ve dove head first into the pool of desire that too often filled your thoughts. Ajax filled up your life in a similar way, slinking between the nooks and crannies, popping up when you least expected it. A Fatui Harbinger wasn’t much of a travelling companion, not by any conventional standards, they were much too busy to be anything more than a passing ship in the night.

But even so, Ajax has always been a man of his word.

When he confessed to you that there was nothing more he longed for than to be your travelling companion, he did everything in his power to bring that wish to live. You had thought him foolish, said as much to his face and yet here the two of you were together in the one place you could call home in Teyvat. Years of late-night chatter and heated exchanges coming to fruition. It left your skin tingling, heat bubbling across the surface as you watched him take in the sight of you.

Now as he cups your cheeks, you’re starting to regret not allowing him entry into your sacred space sooner.

“Can I tell you how stunning you are, or are you going to pull my hair again?”

The cheeky smile he sports does little to disguise his flushed cheeks or the way his eyes remain widened and glued to your bare figure.

“You can say it,” you say in a small, bashful voice.

“You are absolutely breathtaking.”

There’s adoration in his eyes, it pools so strongly in his irises that you have to turn away. Your skin burns pleasantly with want. But his raw emotion makes you shy.

“Thank you, Ajax,” you whisper, ducking your head down.

His calloused fingers graze your chin in an instant, tipping your head upward until your gaze meets his, “Can I touch you?” He murmurs with such sincerity it makes you whimper, “Please?”

“Yes,” you pant, your eyes lidded.

Ajax tentatively drags his other hand down the length of your spine before settling between your thighs. Gently, he strokes your pelvis, his fingers lost amongst the thatch of curls that leads him to your cunt. Your hips twitch eagerly as he brushes against your clit.

“There,” you whisper, “Touch me there, Ajax.”

He nods, his mouth slightly agape, a moan slipping out. Your sensitive sex can hardly handle how he circles his fingers around your clit even for a moment before he dips into your hole to collect some of your arousal on his digits.

You sigh lowly, digging your fingers into the meat of his muscular shoulders, your head daring to tip back. His thumb keeps your head firmly in place as he darts between watching your expression unfold upon your visage and your needy cunt. Your slick folds swallow up his hand as he languidly strokes you, taking note of what you seem to enjoy. Blood prickles around your nails. His freckled skin breaks and bleeds from your rough treatment but it makes Ajax moan even louder. You keen at his obscene sounds, your own mixing in. You can see his cock straining through his slacks, the grey fabric dampening.

“Please,” you whimper, pressing your bottom lip between your teeth, “Keep touching me like that … I’m going to-”

“Can I kiss you? I want to kiss you down there?” Ajax asks needily, his skin flushed a pinky hue and gleaming with sweat.

“Please, please, please.”

Your back is pressed flat against the floor before Ajax has settled between your thighs. His chapped lips leave balmy kisses between your breasts, down the expanse of your round tummy, and amongst your pubes. You shiver when his hot breath fans against your wet cunt, your clit twitching in anticipation. Your fingers find his way into his tousled locks with ease, the blunt edge of your nails scraping against his scalp as he drags his tongue through your folds.

“You taste like heaven,” he groans, wrapping his arms around your thighs, “I swear to you that I’m not exaggerating.”

A giggle bubbles up in your throat, “I already like you, there's no need to flatter,” you joke, drawing in a sharp breath when he sucks on your clit, “Archons above… Please do that again.”

Ajax obliges you, obedient like a dog but twice as loyal. Your pleasure is his sole focus as he lavishes your pussy with licks and kisses, his grip bruising but evidently filled with tender devotion. You come undone on his tongue with dizzying ease. Your head swirls and swims in search of purchase and reprieve but leaves you stranded as your vision spots. The only thing that keeps you grounded in reality is the burn of his skin on yours.

Your cunt gushes and wets your thighs, and his chin but Ajax doesn’t seem to mind. He’s too eager to have his lips on yours again. You taste yourself on him and it fills you with a turbulent pool of lava. His erection pressed against your pussy, eliciting a moan that you swallow.

“I want you inside of me.”

“Yeah?” Ajax preens into your mouth.

You nod your head before you’re able to form words, “Yes,” you pant, “Now.”

His belt clicks and clunks haphazardly as he rushes to undress himself. You watch with a small smile and laugh. His eagerness made your stomach flutter and your heart jump. Your rib cage rattled with each new summersault. You wondered if he could hear it.

The sight of his flushed, dripping cock makes your cunt clench and twitch with need. A sharp breath passes between the two of you as he drags the fat, engorged head between your folds to gather your arousal. The wooden floorboards creak as you claw at them, your chest heaving with haggard breaths.

“I’ll go slow,” Ajax promises, tenderly caressing your cheek.

A muffled noise of agreement passes through you and reaches his ears, but in all honesty you didn’t much mind if he didn’t.

His cock stretches you out deliciously, slowly filling you to the brim. Ajax braces himself on the ground, his arms caging you in. Your hands wrap around his wrists, your thumbs pressing against this pulse point. His blood pumps erratically through his veins. Your heart matches his and that thrills you to no end.

Ajax presses his forehead against yours when he’s fully sheathed inside of you, his chest flush with yours.

“Are you okay, Ajax?”

He hums, his chest rumbling, “Yes,” he whispers, his nose brushing against yours, “But if I move … I’ll finish.”

He doesn't want to finish.

Something about that pleases you.

“It’s okay,” you assure, “It’s okay if you do because we can do this again.”

“Yeah?”

His hips rock into yours, his cock slowly rubbing against your snug, slick walls. The head of his cock stretches out your entrance before Ajax slides him back inside of you. Your breath trembles and you shake with need. You can feel him twitching inside of you.

“Yeah.”

Ajax nuzzles his nose into the side of your neck, his sweat damp hair tickling your cheek, “Fuck, I love you.”

Ajax’s hips stutter as he thrusts languidly into you, his pace inconsistent as he contemplates savouring you and indulging in his own ravenous appetite.

“I love you too,” tears prickle at your eyes as you’re overcome with emotion.

Warmth spreads throughout your cunt as he spills his spend in you with a final thrust. Throwing your hands over his shoulders, you burrow your face into his shoulder, hiding away your expression. You’re sure he can feel it pressed against his skin but you placate yourself with the knowledge that he can’t see you unravel before him. Though, you wet him with your tears that spill past your lash line.

Your heart pangs, with sadness, with adoration, with contentment. The current sweeps you up, your consciousness lost amongst your emotions. You loved him. You well and truly loved him, Ajax. Not even his status as a Harbinger could change that. And, you weren’t sure you wanted it to.

networks: @interstellar-inn @houseofsolisoccasum

#ajax x reader #childe x reader #tartaglia x reader #tartaglia smut #childe smut #ajax smut #genshin smut #genshin x reader #gi smut #gi x reader #genshin impact smut #genshin impact x reader

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seattlesellie · 1 year

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knight!ellie x princess!reader drabble. ♡🗡️🕯️

an: since i’m thinking of writing a full fic of knight ellie x princess reader i wanted to know what you guys think ! let me know if i should turn this into something way longer. just a lil peak of the themes of a longer fic 💗

cw: mature themes, reader is a little lonely, tension.

the moon is so bright, so big, so white, luminous, it reflects in her emerald eyes and renders them almost mystical, bordering on the verge of the unreal. one couldn't help but wonder if she herself was not entirely real, a specter of dreams made flesh. do you recall those distant days of childhood? just eight years old, insisting that your imaginary friend — aurora, was right by your side? you clung to her like a lifeline. you'd shed tears as your mother, the reigning queen, denied the request for an extra place setting, an empty plate reserved for aurora alone. how you fell asleep bawling, tasting salt on your tongue, bitter and sickening, feeling as if you were drowning in your sleep, the specter of aurora growing gaunt and wretched, as though starved for existence.

how you woke up plagued by guilt, tormented by a high fever and a stubborn eye infection, crying and screaming for your imaginary best friend. and how from that day on, the castle fell empty. you wandered around, through those regal halls like a specter, floating like a brittle ghost, nodding politely when a maid curtsied in reverence, offering a feeble smile to the steward as he addressed you as his cherished princess.

you filled your duties, all your royal obligations, attended to your classes, spoke only when spoken to by your parents, ignored when another royal called you a “loony” when catching you in the midst of a conversation with several alabaster rabbits.

you formed a connection with the world around you, a bond that ran far deeper than what met the eye, and now one knew.

you rub on your eyelids with the back of your hand, and blink in dismay — oh, you’ve been mistaken, she is real, and her abdomen rises and falls with each breath, the clang of her armor a testament to her existence, to your sanity. her eyelids flutter, and her throat subtly moves as she swallows. a strand of her auburn hair sways in the wind too, but sweet aurora’s hair also danced in the breeze, so who knows.

sometimes it all is simply too blurry.

for now, you choose to believe.

the grass tickles your bare toes, you don’t laugh.

“hate being a princess” you mutter with a sigh, tilting your head to the side — her side, to see if perhaps she vanished like the rest of them, yet finding her there.

her role as a knight is dictated with silence in your presence, a mere executor of commands from your father with a duty to bow in submission, so she doesn’t respond. all she has to do is be your protector, keep you safe and guarded, make sure you won’t try and run once more.

she’s also not supposed to help you with your clandestine escapades from the castle, she’s not supposed to lay in the tall royal gardens ridiculously green grass with the princess, to allow the opulent and delicate fabric of her dress to gently brush against the barest portion of her knee. yet — she allows it.

she’s not supposed to help you pick flowers and greet you good morning, she was supposed to be unyielding as stone, almost ephemeral yet ever-present.

and now your ankle shifted to rest gently against hers, and she didn’t even nudge you.

“i despise it” you repeat. you try and voice your frustration but it comes off as too soft. ellie typically abhorred anything soft. she’d rather sleep on a hard mattress than a plush one, favored stomping over floating.

and yet you seem to be an exception.

you seem to be an exception for lots of things.

and ellie doesn’t respond. she blinks at the full moon and it blinks back at her.

“do you like being a knight?”

you think you may have heard a breathy chuckle. you’re unsure, you sigh.

“ellie?”

and she never told you her name. you figured it out by yourself.

then she begins, pink tongue folding and moistening her lower lip. “i like being your knight”, she blinks thrice, in a hurry — like she said something wrong, as though she feared she might have offended anyone else whose knight she was not. she takes a deep breath, for some reason it's shaky.

“i like, i- need, to protect the kingdom. it’s my duty. for the sake of your father, the people, you — you know that, my princess”

and usually you’d cringe when addressed with that title. you voiced it already — that title isn’t you, you don’t want it, it felt like a burdensome label imposed or cursed upon your birth, but for some reason, when she says it ; “my princess” it feels like her “my”, is the one that holds the power to cloud your mind. and that’s why you don’t argue that it isn’t your name, because she calls you as hers, and oh how bad you want to be hers.

you overheard the conversations among the other young royals, who spoke in hushed tones about "crushes." you eves dropped and furrowed your brows intently when they talked about the charming sable boy, a dark haired prince from a faraway land, an adviser. they described the feeling of having a crush as if they were “falling”, “giddy”, “thrilled”, “like riding a horse, really really fast”

and it never really happened to you, albeit you really did try. you just accepted it, you’d be crush-less forever, forced to marry a crush-less prince, forced to live a crush-less life.

then you met knight ellie.

it happened when she removed her bascinet, when she casually tossed her tousled auburn locks from side to side, when she smiled that sly smirk then immediately wiped it off and glued her gaze to the stone wall. it was in the way her eyes met yours, her all but graceful bow, and the sound of her armored knee meeting the ground, when she chuckled after winning the battle of who would be the princesses knight. how cocky she looked as her arm was raised in triumph, only to transform into humble grace when officially declared the winner.

but it wasn't a feeling akin to falling; it was more like crashing down. you also didn’t feel giddy, you felt nauseous and tight everywhere, you weren’t thrilled you were petrified, and you didn’t ride a horse really fast — it was more like being thrown off the horse and crashing onto the ground, nose-first.

so it didn’t feel like crushing, it felt like something else. and you really had to go to the washroom.

“you don’t… owe anything to the kingdom, or to my father” you murmur.

she really doesn’t. it got her family starved, killed. “i do” she lies, swallowing thickly. “also, i really don’t need protection” then you lie, rolling your eyes with a huff.

she'd call you a brat if she wasn't your knight, and if she knew for certain that you wouldn't go running to your father after being offended.

“i should run away” you muse, idly toying with the hem of your dress. ellie sees the bare flesh of your thigh and she feels like maybe she shall run away as well. then her breath hitches down her throat, and she really hates it because this isn't the first time. perhaps she's sick, a throat infection. it's getting very hard to breathe.

t'must be the armor, the decides.

then she decided it's not.

it's simply the cold night air. definitely not your naked thigh, or your hunger to be free, or the way your dress flows with the wind, or the way your eyelashes flutter and your fingertips tap tap tap on your plushy lips.

“should i fetch the horse then, my princess? which one d'ya want, charlie... or buster, maybe. he's a strong one” ellie croons then swallows a chuckle.

she’s also not supposed to joke with you. or to stare at your thigh, or to let you place your head on her armored chest.

“yes” you reply like she’s serious.

then a cloud veils the once-bright moon, and your knight clears her throat.

“i should take you to your room, freedom warrior, s’getting late”

“you shall take me to the forest to pick some blackberries, knight”

ellie chuckles and argues back. “i shall not”

“disobeying a royal?” you say with a wink.

you might actually be the death of her.

#ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #ellie x reader #ellie williams smut #ellie williams fanfiction #ellie williams x you #knight!ellie #ellie williams fluff

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luvkuvi · 1 year

Text

15 – catching up !

What's so good about him ?!

Scaramouche x reader smau series

synopsis — Your ex boyfriend kuni is in a band called 5wirl and they're pretty well known considering him and his bandmates are still in college but you still hated his guts on how he ended things with you back then in highschool the day before graduation. So whats the best course of action in this situation? make a hate account of him of course.

prev || masterlist || next

Putting your phone down you prepared yourself for the first day of the foundation day festival. You sighed preparing to go out to campus. It's already noon and Lumine left early to prepare and help Ayaka.

On your way to campus seeing the colorful booths and tons of students make you calm down for a while. Surely you won't run into him? you were nervous seeing him after what 2 years? You would think you moved on but the wounds are still here and a ton of "what ifs" and many unanswered questions. To distract your thoughts you already took your phone from your pocket to calm your nerves.

You giggle at Heizou's tweet "Hey this just looks like–" you were cut off by suddenly bumping into someone "My apologies! Are you alright?" you reached for the stranger's hand about to thank them "Hey it's alright! thank y–heizou ?" Your eyes lit up seeing familiar emerald green eyes. As he lift you off the ground he gave you his charismatic smile. "Y/N! well, it's always great to see an old friend." You giggled at him, he didn't change, and sure texting him as "Scarass" His way of texting didn't change but seeing him in front of him as "y/n" and seeing him still being like himself back then in high school feels nice.

"Yeah…I was just about to head in" You pointed to the cafe, the same cafe he tweeted out. "Let's catch up! my treat" He head over to the door opening it for you "You go in first~" You only kept smiling at his gestures "Still a gentleman I see~" He only chuckled back nodding. While heizou is browsing the menu you already said your usual after all this is your favorite cafe on campus. "I take it you go here a lot?" he said before just ordering a frappe. You nodded "This is my favorite place actually!" "I see"

After receiving your orders you began talking by the window telling each other what happened over the years. "Can you believe it! your old buddy is going to be famous" You laughed at his claim "Oh please if you told me in the past that heizou from math class is gonna be a famous drummer I would be laughing my ass off" He gave you a pout before taking a sip of his drink… "Snarky as always y/n" He sighed "Why did we ever stop hanging out ?"

You bit your lip, you cut off contact with 5wirl after your messy breakup. Heizou noticed your sudden uneasiness in his question. You placed your hand over his and smiled "Don't worry im fine now and yes it is because of him". Heizou nodded "Im glad you're doing better, we actually clowned him for being stupid" You giggled at his rant about them just teasing scara. Talking about him made you uneasy at first especially since you imagined the same violet hair in the distance…its probably nothing.

Notes: First written chapters YESSS and was it just just your imagination...?hehe find out next chap!

Taglist!(closed): @sakiimeo @sagegreenthinks @evsolostheuniverse @ozzierenato @mechanicalbeat1 @bananasquash @admiringfish @yuraasia @wolfe02 @msameikanevaeh @yukiipc @magica-ren @r0ttenhearts @vvyeislazzy @yuumaofc @klanxii @darthvada @the-ghost-0f-t0m0 @yoyo-yui @deluluangel @katsumikumo @thenightsflower @lazy-sanns @sukunasrealgf @4thnocturne @danhenglovebot @sketcheeee @fumichannorakuen @featuredtofu @mine-lu @karma-gisa @amyena @onmywaytoteyvat @fujimoribaby @eliqusgenma @buubbbbly @reekapeeka @elernity @323jelly @kunikissr @miko1ly @feverish-dove @zuunotsane @pomeiu @yxcade @kascar-chronicle @supercoolusernameomg @otomegame-oneshots @cookieofwishes @swivy123 (bold usernames means i couldn't tag you :<) 1/2

#whats so good about him?!#scaramouche x you #scaramouche #genshin impact scaramouche #scaramouche x y/n #scaramouche smau #scaramouche x reader #genshin imapct #genshin impact scara #genshin scaramouche x reader #genshin scaramouche

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krispycreamcake · 4 months

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Diabolik lovers x reader (various)

Guys don't bully me this is my first post istg i'll bomb your family

A symphony of explosions ruptured through the sky as the angels above blew their mighty vessels of war. Forks of lightning licked through the heavens, warning those near and far of the impending eruption soon to blast their ear drums. The cascading shower hydrated the manor's old stone walls, grasping at whatever cracks they could get into, only to slip away from the house's embrace at the last second. The moon nor its many luminous companions could be seen as their everlasting beauty was hidden behind storm clouds. A whirlwind soon picked up, shaking the trees like a damned mad woman, soon to be lobotomized. Amidst all this eternal chaos however, was a girl simply trying to survive. She was just dropped off at a glorious mansion that ironically, seemed to hold a sort of deathly allure to it, despite it being right out of a romance novel. She was currently sitting on a royal blue sofa of the finest quality, a strange and perplexed looking man with spectacles adorned the couch opposite her. He had raven black and white ombre hair. Regardless of their contrasting colours, it seemed to take well on him. He gave off a sophisticated but yet also suffocating aura that seemed to envelop the entire room. He looked at you in a bit of a shock after hearing your story, no matter how hard he tried to remain stoic, the words you spoke completely baffled him.

"Would you please further elaborate on what you mean by 'caretaker'?" The man asked, the words barely leaving his tongue.

"Well uhm, like I said, I'll be staying here until an heir to the Sakamaki name is made and then I'll be their caretaker. Mr. Karlheinz specified that he'd prefer I raise the child because well.... He didn't technically state WHY I'm supposed to basically mother your child, besides I-I mean you seem perfectly capable! It's just that, well that's what I was sent here to do". You said, trying to explain your task as quickly as possible. You couldn't pinpoint why, but an urge to leave planted itself in your gut and you felt the need to end this interaction as soon as possible.

The man stayed silent for a second before humming out an acknowledgement to your statement. The air was tense as he stood up and spoke.

"Well then, I'm not sure why we weren't aware of something like this, however, let me be the first to greet you to the Sakamaki manor y/n." Just as he said that, a young man with a head of scorching flames entered. His appearance was tattered and unruly. A pant leg was up, while the other remained down, his shirt wasn't fully buttoned and his tie was worn tied around his neck like some sort of odd fashion statement. As soon as his emerald eyes locked onto yours, a smirk creeped its way onto his face.

"Oi Reiji, you didn't say nothin about us having a guest over." The boy spoke, his voice gnarled and sharp.

"I was unaware of her arrival, that man apparently sent us a.....babysitter." Reiji sighed at the end, his imminent frustration growing.

"Uh no no- it's not like that! I'm just here to take care of your child..well future child. I didn't know you had a brother though, Reiji.." You piped in, your brows knitting in a slight confusion as you weren't informed of Karl having more than one son. You originally thought that his son and daughter-in-law were too busy to take care of a child, so that's why you agreed to this whole thing. But now that you were thinking about it, where exactly was the girl? Your thoughts were interrupted as the ruby haired boy let out a mocking snort.

"You mean to tell me that the old man didn't mention there being six of us? pfft- hah!" The boy spoke. Your heart almost plummeted into your ass as your mind slowly processed his words. Six??? There were six of them?

"Yes I'll have to agree with Ayato. It's odd that man didn't mention there's six of us." Reiji said as he fixed his glasses. "Well in that case, it seems an introduction should be made as soon as possible." As he finished speaking, a slight gush of wind hit you from all different angles. Suddenly four more men appeared out of what seemed to be thin air. They watched you coldly despite them all seeming to have different personalities. Silently judging you...no- not judging, but instead sizing you up. You've been in this situation enough times to know what men's stares mean, and these men wanted nothing good. The boy with purple hair spoke first.

"Teddy- what do you think of our new plaything? Doesn't she look lovely? I wonder what she tastes like, certainly not as good as Yui, but I'd still like to try." For the third time tonight you felt like you could scream. He wasn't being serious was he? This has to be some sort of persona, why would he even say that?? You inched behind Reiji, hoping the man could provide some form of shelter.

"Tsk. Go on and introduce yourself, or do I need to do that for you as well? Hiding behind me like a coward, slinking away the minute things seem to get too troublesome for you....honestly I have no idea why you were selected to come here in the first place. What does that man even see in you?" Reiji said with a scoff, his cold words leaving a shiver down your spine and a dent in your self esteem. You felt embarrassed as you sheepishly crawled away from Reiji to introduce yourself.

Once formalities were finally over with a few weird remark here and there, you were shown to your room. It was quite large, but you expected nothing less after seeing the size of the mansion. Truthfully, you were hoping to have a nice room this entire time. A dome glass ceiling sat right in the middle of the room, illuminating it with a blueish hue. The positioning of the bed was a bit odd, yet it captivated those who were to occupy in the residence. It was a circular bed that was laid with golden satin sheets and a marble platform which held up the delicate mattress. It stood right under the dome which would serve for lovely stargazing. There were many fine intricacies and details done to the bed's platform which made it seem much more compelling than a regular bed. The room was oddly laden with bookshelves and hanging plants. This seemed to soften up the room's regality and tone it down for someone of a more modern time. But you admitted that you wouldn't of mind sleeping in a princess like bedroom. Once you were done unpacking, you made your way downstairs since no one would be up at this hour. Instead, you were met with all brothers and a young blonde. She was delicately beautiful like a rose garden after a storm. You could feel her personality seep through from her meek behaviour. You did wonder though, who'd be the father if there were six of them? But before you could ponder the situation anymore, you noticed they were all in uniform despite it being night. You do recall that Karl mentioned they kept a bit of a peculiar schedule, but even so, is this really what he meant? School at night? You supposed it wasn't too weird for people of such high status to be so busy during the day that they'd have to go to school at night. But even so, how could a human possibly function like this? They'd all be braindead zombies by now, strange was definitely one of the many words to describe this lot.

"As we were late to know of your arrival, we hadn't planned for you to be joining us. Since you lack proper attire, you'll be staying back tonight." Reiji spoke almost exasperatedly. You almost felt a bit scared to stay in such an usual place by yourself. Reiji caught the look on your face and clicked his tongue.

"You truly think we'd let you stay here by yourself? One of us is going to remain here with you until the others are back." Reiji said bluntly. Who was it that was going to babysit you while they were away? Maybe this was your chance to learn more about your new housemates. Your eyes scanned the room, looking for your possible sitter. Then, in an instant you both made eye contact. Both orbs absorbed in each other as the others in the room seemed to be nothing more than an afterthought.

Ok so this is just part one of the series I'm planning. I'll let you guys vote on who it was that caught the reader's attention. TY for reading this btw :( I've been obsessed with this franchise since I was 11 so I'm insane currently.

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inthedayswhenlandswerefew · 7 months

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Napoleonville [Chapter 8: The New House]

Series Summary: The year is 1988. The town is Napoleonville, Louisiana. You are a small business owner in need of some stress relief. Aemond is a stranger with a taste for domination. But as his secrets are revealed, this casual arrangement becomes something more volatile than either of you could have ever imagined.

Chapter Warnings: Language, references to sexual content (18+ readers only), dom/sub dynamics, smoking, infidelity, kids, parenthood, historical topics like violence and discrimination, Cakes with Christabel, angst?? Who am I kidding. Angst!!!!!!

Word Count: 5.9k.

Link to chapter list (and all my writing): HERE.

Taglist: @marvelescvpe @toodlesxcuddles @era127 @at-a-rax-ia @0eessirk8 @arcielee @dd122004dd @humanpurposes @taredhunter @tinykryptonitewerewolf @partnerincrime0 @dr-aegon @persephonerinyes @namelesslosers @burningcoffeetimetravel-fics @gemini-mama @daenysx @chattylurker @moonlightfoxx @huramuna @britt-mf @myspotofcraziness @padfooteyes @targaryenbarbie @trifoliumviridi @joliettes @darkenchantress @florent1s @babyblue711 @minttea07 @libroparaiso @bluerskiees @herfantasyworldd @elizarbelll @urmomsgirlfriend1 @fudge13 @strangersunghoon @wickedfrsgrl

Only 2 chapters left!!! 🥰🧁

“I have no idea what he’s thinking,” Christabel tells Alicent, a low furtive murmur around nibbles of a cinnamon French toast cupcake. They are both sitting at the kitchen counter as you scuttle around wiping down burners and handles and knobs, trying not to listen in, unable to help yourself. At the table, Amir is frosting a Lady Baltimore cake and chatting with Criston, who has eaten no less than three miniature cherry pies in the past fifteen minutes. Amir keeps casting you wide-eyed, flummoxed glances. He means: Can you believe these people? No, you can’t.

Alicent sips the glass of sweet tea you poured for her and gazes vaguely around the room. “Oh, you know how Aemond is, dear. He works so hard. He’s so consumed by the Lake Verret project.”

“But shouldn’t he talk to me?” Christabel’s large blue eyes are luminous, persistent.

“Don’t be ridiculous, darling. Of course he talks to you.”

“Sure,” Christabel says, frowning. “He talks to me about the weather and the garden and the koi in the fish pond. He asks if I listen to Dire Straights or AC/DC. Nothing of consequence, nothing revealing. And he never touches me. Alright, fine, there’s a hand on my shoulder or my waist once in a while, for a moment. There are quick, courteous kisses. But that’s all. And he’s so…so…” She struggles to decide on a word. “Formal!”

“Have you tried the cannoli cupcake yet?” Alicent asks, sliding the plate towards Christabel. “It’s just divine. I absolutely adore it.”

“When we’re apart he says he misses me, but he hardly ever calls. He tells me that he loves me, but only if I say it first.”

“He’s marrying you!” Alicent declares as she restlessly twists her assortment of glittering rings, gold and diamonds and emeralds. “What more is there to say, dear?”

“Surely there must be something,” Christabel mumbles. She obediently samples the cannoli cupcake, carving away a tiny sliver with her fork. “Oh, that is wonderful, isn’t it?”

“I think it’s my favorite one yet.”

They have twelve flavors to choose from, some familiar and some new: vanilla bean and triple chocolate of course, the classics, and then also cannoli, cinnamon French toast, carrot, red velvet, Boston cream pie, apple cobbler, peanut butter and grape jelly, Neapolitan, Louisiana crunch, and hummingbird. Christabel surveys the selection and then looks to where you are vigorously scrubbing an already clean stovetop. “Aemond mentioned something about banana bread cupcakes. Do you have one of those we could try?”

And again, you are amazed by how much he remembers: the very first cupcake from the very first night. “Um…I’m not sure, actually. Amir, didn’t we make a batch earlier this week? Are there any still on the table?”

Amir checks the cake plates, lifting glass covers, until he locates a single remaining banana bread cupcake for your customers. He ferries it to the kitchen counter with great ceremony. “Everyone raves about this flavor! And it’s so quintessentially southern. Perfect for a Louisiana wedding.” You give him a miserable, deadened stare and he offers a millisecond smirk of commiseration. What else can we do? Amir means. And you think: Nothing.

Christabel samples the cupcake, an infinitesimal morsel speared on the very tip of her fork. You recall how Aemond tasted like sugar and honey and cinnamon when he kissed you on the night you met, rough, dominating, irresistible, without the aching weight of disappointments or betrayals. If time was a cobweb you could rip and walk through, you’d be back in that May dusk in an instant, you’d live there forever and never leave.

“That’s it.” Christabel grins as she licks cream cheese frosting from her full, pink lips. “This one. I want a banana bread cake.”

“Mmm,” Alicent agrees, taking a bite. “It has so many dimensions! Sweet with just a touch of salt, light and fluffy but with a certain substantial, rustic quality, don’t you think? It’s the cinnamon, perhaps.”

You make a note on your yellow legal pad—a reminder you don’t need—so you can avoid Christabel’s benign, guileless gaze. “Is there a design you’d like for the frosting?”

“Wildflowers.”

Amir emits a startled gasp before he can swallow it back down. You look up at Christabel. “I’m sorry, what was that?”

“Just like the vanilla bean cake you made for the engagement party.” She draws blossoms in the air with her fingers, whimsical like a fairytale. “There was white icing and then all these gorgeous flowers in a dozen different colors. You could do that for a wedding cake, couldn’t you?”

“Of course.” And then you amend: “Well, Amir can. He’s our Picasso.”

“You’ll need something for the rehearsal dinner too, dear,” Alicent tells Christabel. Then she turns to you, tugging anxiously at one of her auburn ringlets. “You’re the expert, love. What would you recommend to impress upon our guests all the history and mystique of the Deep South?”

Your mind is blank, your thoughts gnarled up with visions of Christabel meeting Aemond at the end of an aisle. Amir sees this and he saves you.

“A Napoleon cake,” he announces with his best salesman enthusiasm, powerful enough to sweep everyone else along with him.

Alicent claps her hands, elated. “Oh, just like the town!”

“It has layers of puff pastry and rich custard cream, very French, very elegant and sophisticated, but also a nod to Napoleonville. And we can add a cherry jam to make it more romantic, if you like.”

“Doesn’t that just sound heavenly, darling?”

“Does Aemond like cherries?” Christabel asks Alicent. You know he does, but you don’t say anything.

“I think so. We’ll ask him tonight to be sure.” Alicent is opening her clutch purse to get the cash to pay you; she is eager to have this errand finished, you believe. “And can you put wildflowers on top of the Napoleon cake as well?”

“You can have the Declaration of Independence written on it if that is your heart’s desire,” Amir says, then steals a glimpse of you. You’re jotting the order down and then tracing over your own letters again and again.

“That’s the color scheme,” Christabel says a bit dreamily, forever woolgathering. “Wildflowers. And I think you suggested it at the engagement party,” she tells you, appreciative. In your recollection, it was less of a suggestion than a confession of what you once dared to hope for. “Everything has to have wildflowers. Even the dress.”

Alicent groans. “Oh, Christabel, not this again.”

“I don’t know why you’re being so resistant, those dresses were spectacular.”

“Whoever heard of a multicolored wedding dress?” Alicent asks you, Amir, Criston. “It’s absurd. The bride always wears pure white, everyone knows that. It’s tradition! It’s dignified!”

“Well now I get to solicit opinions too.” Christabel reaches into her own purse—a quilted shoulder bag, light blue with red roses and a label reading Souleiado stitched inside—and produces several polaroid photographs. She gives them to you; they are all of her posing in different wedding dresses, stylish white gowns freckled with wildflowers like splashes of paint. “All anyone can talk about is what I should wear, what the guests will expect, what they will chatter about when they gossip afterwards,” Christabel tells you. And in her vast, shimmering eyes you can detect no resentment or slyness, only quiet desperation. “But you’re a real person. So be honest with me, because there’s only one thing I really care about. Will my husband think I look ravishing in any of them?”

“These theatrics,” Alicent sighs to herself, lighting a Marlboro cigarette. Again, she is peering aimlessly around the kitchen. Amir fidgets with the dogwood flower in his hair as he watches you wearily. Criston compulsively eats another miniature cherry pie.

You study the polaroid photos. Each one feels like a split lip, a fractured rib, the shredding elephantine pressure of a contraction. You wait to speak until you’re sure your voice won’t break. “They’re all stunning. But this one…” You place one picture on top of the pile. “This dress was made for you. Just look at your face. Glowing like a lightning bug.”

“Thank you,” Christabel says, beaming, immensely grateful, and she takes the photos back. She seems pacified. “You’re married, aren’t you?”

“I was, yes. Briefly. Not very happily, I must admit. But it was worth it to get my daughter.”

She smiles. There’s no uneasiness; she doesn’t shy away from displays of human frailty. “I’d like a few daughters one day. We could all dress up together and style each other’s hair.”

“I wouldn’t count on it. If I tried that, I’d get my hands chewed off.”

Christabel laughs. She wears a casual blue t-shirt, blue gingham capri trousers, and white flat pumps. Her eyeshadow is a sparkling gold, her mascara flaking onto the apples of her cheeks. She is still marveling at you with those aquamarine eyes when Alicent pulls a list out of her clutch and grudgingly crosses off items with a black ballpoint pen.

“So we’ve got a wedding cake, a rehearsal dinner cake, a dress, a venue, flowers, photographers…I still need to call about hair and makeup…and we need to pick out candles…”

“Where are you getting married?” you ask Christabel.

“The most unique, picturesque, atmospheric place in the entire state of Louisiana, I’m sure of it.”

“We took a drive to visit that church you mentioned,” Alicent says to you. “And it was absolutely perfect. None of our guest will have ever seen anything like it. And it’s so historic! Over 150 years old! The Chapel of Saint Honoratus of Amiens.”

Amir squeals, a distressed mewing that he stifles with a feigned cough into his elbow. You stand shellshocked for a few seconds before managing a generic encouragement: “Really! Wow! Amazing! Great!”

Now Christabel is rather melancholy again. She scrutinizes her engagement ring, a large teardrop emerald with a gold band. Her voice is low, like she’s talking to herself. “I just wish…I don’t know. That we had more time together before the wedding, I suppose. Then I think I’d feel like I had more of a handle on things. It’s all been such a whirlwind, such a shock. A good shock, but still. We hardly know each other.”

Alicent prompts her: “You care for Aemond, don’t you, dear?”

“I’m in awe of him,” Christabel replies, a little dazed, a little defenseless. “He’s so clever and gallant. He’s the most inspiring man I’ve ever known. And the scar…it gives him quite a roguish look, doesn’t it? Like a Bond villain. It’s not a detriment in the least.”

“Yes, yes,” Alicent says impatiently, like she’s waiting for the conversation to be over. “Then there’s nothing more to worry about. You care for him, he cares for you, and you’ll have the honeymoon to get better acquainted. Criston, would you go outside and start the Lexus, please?” He dutifully departs.

Honeymoon. Your stomach lurches, the sea in a storm. You can see Aemond’s hands on Christabel’s face, in her hair, skating up her bare thighs. You can hear him moaning her name.

“We’re going to Greece,” Christabel informs you, thinking she’s being polite. “Athens, Mykonos, Santorini, and Corfu. Have you ever been?”

I’ve never been anywhere. But instead you say, forcing a smile: “Not yet.”

When Christabel, Alicent, and Criston have gone, you look to Amir. Your blood has turned to cement: cold, heavy, immobile, trapped. “You realize she’s getting my wedding, right? The one I always wanted. The wildflowers. The candles. The chapel.”

“And she’ll even be taking your favorite dick home at the end of the night.”

You cover your face with both hands and shake your head, trying to clear it, to drive out mirages of someone else’s oasis. This can’t be real. I can’t handle it, I can’t survive it.

Amir pushes his tortoiseshell glasses up the bridge of his nose and says, gently now: “If we’re catering dessert, we’ll have to go to the wedding. The rehearsal dinner too.”

“Why would they want that? How can they not see how insanely awkward and wrong this is?”

He shrugs. “They probably think it’s normal. Wasn’t Camilla at Charles and Diana’s wedding?”

“If one more person tries to talk to me about Camilla Parker Bowles, I’m going to feed myself to the gator.”

“You’ll have to come to terms with it or you’ll have to end it. Those are the only options.”

“Yeah.” And it’s not just about me. It’s Cadi’s life too.

Amir sits down at the kitchen table, crosses one leg over the other, kicks his foot nervously. He rests an elbow on the tabletop and his chin on the knuckles of his left hand. “I hate to give you more bad news.”

You already know what he’s going to say. You’ve been dreading it for months. “You have enough money saved for San Franscisco.”

“I do.”

You exhale, your shoulders collapsing, tapping your fingertips against the counter. The air conditioner whirrs; the cicadas shriek in the trees outside. The house is hushed and still. Cadi is away at horse camp. Each day you receive a postcard in the mail that you assume the employees forced her to write at gunpoint. “When are you leaving?”

“The end of July. I’ll wait until after the wedding, once all the dust has settled. But I can’t wait any longer than that.”

“I want you to be happy,” you say. “I really do. But I’m going to miss you so much. You’ve been my best friend for a decade. You’re the closest thing I’ve ever had to a partner in life.”

Amir smiles faintly. “Come over here.”

When you sit beside him, he takes your hands in his; and you remember how he visited you in the hospital after Cadi was born, carrying a bouquet of wildflowers he picked himself and a Tupperware container full of crawfish pistolettes. He had been just a casual friend before you found out you were pregnant, one of a group, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t keep him at an arm’s length. Amir was different, and not in a way that you fully understood or accepted yet. But he was the only friend who had no judgment for you when you told him you were pregnant, who cared about how you felt, who wanted to be a part of whatever would happen next. He was the only one who stayed.

“I’ve never had a boyfriend,” Amir tells you. “I’ve never even been on a date, not once. I’ve never been in love. I’ve never had sex that wasn’t a one night stand in a New Orleans club or the back seat of my Ford Escort because those were the only places we had to go. And I’m starting to believe that people like me can’t have more than that. So I have to go someplace where I can have more, where I will have more. I don’t want love to be something that only other people get to experience. I don’t want to be afraid of leaving my house after dark or wake up every day wondering if someone has broken a window out of my car again. I have to go. There’s no future for me here. If I stay in Napoleonville, this place will kill me, one way or the other.”

Okay, you think. I can let him go. After everything he’s done for me, this is how I can be the friend that he deserves in return. “You should leave, Amir,” you say, tears stinging in your eyes. “I hear you, I understand you. I just wish I could go with you.”

“No, don’t cry, don’t cry! This isn’t the end. I’ll fly back to visit, you know that. Grandma’s still here, you and Cadi are here. And you can visit me too. Maybe you’ll even settle down on the West Coast someday. Eight more years and you’re free.”

You try to imagine your life then: Cadi headed off to college—and she will go to college, you’ve already decided that—and your tether to Willis weakened, closer to 40 years old than 30, Aemond and Christabel nearing their anniversary. How many children will they have by then? Three? Four? And the Lake Verret project will be well-established and no longer in need of so much of Aemond’s attention, and the house they call The Last Desire will sit empty on the lakeshore, warm draughts breathing through it like blood in veins. “I wouldn’t know how to exist anywhere else.”

“You’d learn,” Amir says confidently. “Now, have you ever made a Napoleon cake before?”

“I don’t think so. Not that I can remember.” You consider this. “My mom might have a recipe lying around somewhere. I’ll call and ask her.”

“Yes, do that,” Amir agrees. “If she doesn’t, I’ll try to dig one up at the library. We’ll want to have a few practice runs before the rehearsal dinner. Gotta impress the Rockefellers and their soulless millionaire ilk. Unless you were planning to have a homicidal meltdown and make the custard out of antifreeze or something.”

You chuckle. “No. Probably not.”

“It would be difficult to blame you.” And he turns on the little pink Panasonic radio: Alone by Heart.

~~~~~~~~~~

In a spacious corner booth of the Olive Garden in Gonzales, Aemond is talking about Lake Verret as you pick at your Tour of Italy and Frank Sinatra pipes through the speakers. You could swear they have the same three songs playing on a loop: Fly Me To The Moon, My Way, Luck Be A Lady, back to outer space again.

“But by total coincidence, Daeron has been researching desalination techniques for his latest article. Apparently there are ways to try to mitigate the damage and reduce the brackishness of the water, so we’re going to be—”

Abruptly, you ask: “Where does Christabel think you are right now?”

Aemond’s forehead crinkles, his fork hovers above his plate of herb-grilled salmon. He’s wearing a black t-shirt and his Marlboro jacket, jeans, Adidas sneakers. “Why do you care?”

“She’s getting the wedding I always wanted, did you even notice? She’s getting married at the Chapel of Saint Honoratus of Amiens in Belle River. She’s getting wildflowers and flickering candles.” And she’s getting you too.

“Okay,” Aemond says slowly. “I’m not involved in any of that.”

“I think you are, actually, because you’re kind of the groom.”

“But I don’t do the wedding planning,” he insists. “I have no idea what Christabel has arranged. My job is to be there on the day in a suit and that’s just about the extent of the real estate it takes up in my brain.”

“She’s never mentioned any of that to you? Not once? You’d swear on your life?”

He sets down his fork with a clang and stares fixedly at you. Your waitress glances over from several tables away where she is refilling a couple’s sweet tea glasses. “What do you want me to say? I’m sorry you had good ideas and other people liked them. It fucking sucks that you didn’t get the wedding you wanted when you were seventeen. But that wasn’t my fault. I didn’t know you yet, and you didn’t know me. You can’t blame me for what Willis or anyone else did.”

“But it’s not fair,” you choke out, sounding weak and juvenile, and you hate it but you can’t stop. “I understand that you’re marrying her, I get that, but she can’t have everything.”

“Look…” Aemond laces his hands together on top of the table, and his voice softens. “Even if Christabel didn’t exist, even if you were from my world, even if you were a duchess or a socialite or the daughter of the president of the United States of America, I still couldn’t marry you.”

You scoff; it’s despicable. “Because of Cadi?”

“No,” Aemond says, like that’s preposterous, like he’d never consider her to be a liability. “Because I have to have heirs.”

“Fuck you,” you hiss with vitriol that stuns him. Now the waitress is gawking. “You’re going to manipulate Christabel into walking down that aisle and then immediately get her pregnant?”

“Why are you mad at me?! I’m listening to you, I’m respecting you! You don’t want to have any more children of your own, fine, completely reasonable, I would never ask you to have a baby and go through all of that again for the sake of the Targaryen dynasty, but somebody has to!”

“You really don’t understand why I would empathize with a teenage girl trying to raise a child when she’s lonely and exhausted and confused about why the man she married isn’t turning out to be who she expected?”

Aemond shakes his head like it’s not a valid comparison. “She wants this.”

“She doesn’t know what it is. She doesn’t understand what she’s signing up for.”

“Everyone from a family like mine goes through this,” Aemond says. “My grandparents did, my mum and dad did, Aegon did, even bloody Charles and Diana did, and now it’s my turn. There are growing pains, but people adjust and it all works out eventually. Christabel will learn to manage her expectations, and once the children are born she can find happiness wherever and with whoever she wants to.”

“But you’ll be with her,” you forced out, voice fracturing, and at first Aemond doesn’t grasp what you mean. “You’ll…you’ll sleep with her. You’ll touch her, you’ll kiss her, you’ll do everything with her.”

“Surely you, as someone who called up a stranger from a personal ad in the Bayou Journal, comprehends that sex can be a solely physical act under the right circumstances.”

“So what, you’ll fuck me and then go home to her? Or you’ll fuck her and come home to me? And I’m supposed to live like that?”

“Yes,” he says, like it’s simple, like it’s easy.

You gaze morosely out of the restaurant window. In the distance is a Dollar General, a Burger King, the Kmart where you had to buy your own engagement ring.

“Do you want me to tell Christabel to change the wedding?”

“No.”

“Because if I tell her to pick a new venue, new flowers, new cakes, whatever, she’ll do it.”

“No. She likes her wedding. I can’t take that away from her. She thinks I’m her friend.”

“Cupcake,” Aemond says, tenderly now. You turn back to him. “I don’t want to fight with you. I’m going to be gone for a while, four or five days. I have to fly to Norway and inspect some of the offshore rigs we have up there.”

“In the North Sea?” you ask, alarmed. “Isn’t that dangerous?”

“I mean, it’s oil drilling. It’s one of the most deadly professions in the world. But that’s how we built our fortune, our legacy. I’ve survived before, I’m sure I will again. If you need anything while I’m gone, you can call the house. Criston knows that you’re to be taken care of.”

“No one else can go to Norway instead of you?”

“I have to go.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s my responsibility.”

“Because Viserys told you to?”

“They amount to the same thing.”

“I don’t think you should listen to him.”

“I have to go,” Aemond says again. He takes out his wallet and lays $30 on the table. “But there’s something I need to show you first.”

As Aemond’s red Audi Quattro barrels down Route 70 southbound towards Napoleonville, you say very little to each other. Once you were strangers, and the words flowed easily and your bodies intertwined with effortless need, and now you have known each other for nearly two months and shared days and nights and confessions and yet every ghost filled up the space between you until it was a splinter, a gap, a gulf, a chasm. You miss the person he was when he showed up on your sloping, creaking porch steps back in May. You miss the person you were before you found out about Christabel.

A Men At Work song comes on the car radio, and it takes you a moment to figure out which one. It’s Down Under, a bewildering hit from 1981. “I never understood this song,” you say, staring through the open window as a jungle of southern live oaks, dogwoods, and cypresses rolls by. Rivulets of opaque, slow-moving bayou water snake through the wild green. Pelicans flap their wings in the pink-golden dusk sky. “What’s a head full of zombie? What’s a Vegemite sandwich?”

Aemond laughs, a smoldering Marlboro Red nestled in his left hand. You wonder if once he’s married he’ll wear a gold band on his ring finger, if he’ll take it off when he cheats with you. “Cupcake, it’s obviously about Australia.”

“What?”

“Down Under? As in, literally below the rest of us in the Southern Hemisphere? Head full of zombie means they’ve been smoking weed. Vegemite is a kind of yeast spread they put on sandwiches. I’ve had it, it’s disgusting. The whole song is in Australian slang. Everyone knows it’s about Australia.”

I didn’t. You look out your window again. Aemond takes note and swiftly backpedals.

“But I mean, I can see how an American wouldn’t know that. No big deal, okay? To anyone in the Commonwealth, Australia is like our fuckup sibling. It’s our Aegon. But you guys probably don’t really learn about Australia in school. So…yeah. It’s probably not as obvious as I assumed.”

“Maybe I missed that lesson,” you say. Maybe I missed that year.

In a brand new neighborhood just outside the town center of Napoleonville, Aemond parks in the paved driveway of a ranch house on a three or four acre lot. The yard is bordered by a white masonry fence with chicken wire around the base to keep snakes and gators out. There are a few dogwood and bay laurel trees, and one monstrous southern live oak that’s probably two hundred years old. Aemond cuts the Audi Quattro’s engine and steps out into the twilight.

“Aemond? What are we doing here?”

“Follow me.”

“Why?”

He walks around to your side of the car, opens the door, and leans down to grab your face with his right hand, his fingers hooked around the curve of your jaw. Instantly, there is a bolt down your spine: hunger, warmth, weakness, momentum that is thoughtless like falling from a great height. “Follow me,” he repeats, grinning mischievously. “Right now.”

Aemond has a key that unlocks the front door. Inside is rose pink carpeting and mauve walls, a sunken conversation pit, popcorn ceilings, mini blinds on the windows, closet doors covered with mirrors. You can see your face reflected in them, puzzled.

“This is the living room, clearly,” Aemond says as he continues briskly through the house. As an afterthought, he kicks off his Adidas sneakers so he doesn’t track any dirt inside. You do the same, sliding off your cheap flats from Kmart. He points down a hallway. “There are two guest bedrooms down there, and then a big one at the other end of the house with its own private bath. Here’s the kitchen…” He leads you through it, mint green with pristine black and white tiles on the floor. “And over there is the dining room.” It’s a kind, golden yellow like dawn or sunset.

“Aemond, what—?”

“Bedroom next,” he interrupts, hurrying you along.

At the end of the hall, he opens a door to reveal a sprawling chamber. It is blue like his bedroom in the Targaryen mansion, but not a deep, vivid sapphire color; it is a pale blue like prairie flax or a clear midday sky. The carpet is lush and soft. There are mirrors on the ceiling.

“Those are optional,” Aemond clarifies, pointing upwards. “But personally, I like them.”

“Aemond, whose house is this?”

“It’s yours,” he says.

“It’s what?!”

“Well, technically, it isn’t yours quite yet,” he admits. “I bought it in cash, it will close in a week or two. At that point I’ll sell it to you for $1—the same price as one of your cupcakes, incidentally—and then it will officially be your house. And it doesn’t even have a sinking foundation or any alligators. Imagine the possibilities.”

“But…but…”

“Cadi’s bedroom is green, like the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. I’ve been told the yard is big enough for one horse, or two very small horses. Ponies, I guess.”

“You cannot buy me a house,” you say, aghast.

“I think I already did.” He holds out the key to you, resting in his palm among lines of prophesy.

You are paralyzed; it takes you forever to find your words. “Aemond, I’ll never be able to repay you.”

“You don’t owe me anything. It’s a gift, not a trade,” he says, the key still lying in his outstretched hand. “Every cent I spend on you, every second I spend with you, is solely because I want to do it and for no other reason. There’s no obligation. There’s no quid pro quo. And that’s what I feel like you don’t understand. I have no logical reason to keep you in my life, absolutely none, aside from the fact that I want you to be here. And I want that with everything I’m made of. I never stop wanting it. So let me help you. Take the key. Take the house.”

His right eye is on you, imploring, commanding. At last, you lift the key from his palm. Studying it like the cryptic letter of a foreign language, you murmur: “You shouldn’t have done this.”

Aemond rakes his fingers through your hair, tilts your face up towards his, skims his lips feather-lightly from your cheekbone down to your lips—though he doesn’t kiss you, only ghosts his flesh over yours, a taste, a taunt—and then up to the curl of your ear. His whispered voice is colored with wicked scarlet desire. “You don’t tell me what to do. I tell you what to do.”

If he yanked off your t-shirt you would let him. If he unzipped your denim shorts and slipped his artful fingers inside them he would find panties soaked through for him. You would let him do anything he wanted to you, here in this glass-fragile liminality before he becomes Christabel’s in law, in body, in inked and inerasable history. But it would not be because you want to, not because you feel ready in your bones, not because you trust him again. It would only be because you could not bring yourself to resist.

Aemond reads this on your face; he stops before you have to tell him to.

~~~~~~~~~~

On July 1st, Cascade Stables is swarming with parents as they descend upon the property to collect their children and meet the horses they’ve spent the past week with. There is a stereo somewhere blaring Your Love by The Outfield; apparently, this does not disturb the horses. You find Cadi beside the stall of a very tall, willowy beast, ears upright and alert, one bulging eye onyx and the other a striking icy blue. Its coat is white with a splattering of rust-colored stains. Even its mane and tail are comprised of alternating strands, dark, light, earth, clouds, cocoa powder, granulated sugar.

“His name is Patches,” Cadi tells you proudly as she pets the leviathan’s velvety muzzle. “He has a wall eye. And he’s a real handful and usually they only allow the experienced campers to ride him, but they let me try and he listened so well I got to keep him all week!”

“Wow, that’s incredible! Good job! Did you learn a lot about how to take care of him?”

“Yeah. They taught me how to feed Patches and clean his hooves and put a saddle on him. And how to hit him with a hairbrush when he tries to bite me.”

Your eyebrows shoot up. “Right. Okay.”

“Can we buy him? He’s for sale. Probably because of all the biting.”

“Who, Patches?” You definitely cannot afford to board a horse; and then you remember the new house. “I’ll think about it.”

Cadi peeks around you. “Daddy isn’t here too?”

“No, honey, I’m sorry. He had to work. But he really wanted to see the horses and he is looking forward to hearing all about your adventures.” This is a lie—Willis seems only dimly aware of the concept of a horse camp, and he is staunchly incurious by nature—but a compassionate one.

Cadi accepts the explanation readily enough. “Alright. Is Aemond your boyfriend yet?”

“Um.” You thread the horse’s forelock through your fingers to buy yourself time. It seems unwise to try to deceive her again; Cadi will learn about Christabel sooner or later. “No, we’re still just friends.” You pause. She watches you, knowing there’s more. “Actually, he’s getting married this month.”

“What?!” Cadi is shocked, but she’s outraged too. “To who?!”

“To a nice lady named Christabel. And I’m sure they’ll be very happy together.” Another lie. And you think for the first time: If I settle for being Aemond’s mistress, if I let it tear me to pieces…what am I teaching Cadi?

Your daughter doesn’t say anything for a long time. She pets Patches’ speckled face, her own expression tense and thoughtful, lines and worries that should be far beyond her age. At last she says quietly: “Is it because of me?”

You are mystified. “What, honey?”

“Is the reason why you and Aemond can’t get married because of me?”

There is a flash of crimson wrath in your skull—protective, animalistic, wronged on her behalf—but no one to direct it at. “No. No, absolutely not. Why would you say that?”

Cadi shrugs, and you recognize it as her self-preservation, faux-flippant shrug. “I don’t know. One time I heard Michelle’s mom talking about how no decent man wants to deal with some other guy’s kids. And that’s me when I’m at your house. Another guy’s kid.”

Oh, fuck you, Janet. “No,” you say again. “Aemond likes you a lot, Cadi. He cares about you.” He picked out a house that could accommodate a horse for you. “You’re the opposite of a problem. He actually likes me more because of you, I think.”

“Okay.” And she’s relieved, although she’s trying not to show it. “Then why is he marrying someone else?”

“Well…it’s complicated.”

“Complicated how?”

Where the hell do I start? “Aemond and I are very different people,” you tell Cadi. “And we want different things out of life. We like to spend time together, but that doesn’t mean that we’d be able to share our whole lives…homes, careers, values, everything. His family has a lot of expectations of him that I don’t feel right supporting, but Aemond wants to respect their rules. And, you know. He’s a robber baron.”

“But he doesn’t talk about Jade Dragon Energy or oil around me. He talks about history.”

You sigh, watching dust motes swirl through the hot, sunlit stable air, listening to horses nicker and huff. “I know, honey.”

“I don’t even think he wants to be a robber baron. I think he wants to be something else.”

“Like what?” you ask, picking stray bits of yellow straw out of her short, disheveled hair. And remarkably, Cadi tolerates this.

“I don’t know, just…just…” She battles with the words, then finds one she likes. “Free, I guess. Just free.”

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen #aemond x you #aemond #aemond x reader #aemond x y/n #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen x y/n

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ryutaria · 1 year

Text

Tears and Hearts

Synopsis: With Al Haitham by (Y/N)'s side, she would never have to navigate parenthood all alone...Not when his daughter loved his comfort...

Word Count: 3.5k+

Tags: alhaitham x f! reader, comfort, postpartum depression, sfw, Acting Grand Sage Al Haitham, married life, domestic comfort, a teeny tiny CyoNari, father! Al Haitham, parenthood.

A/N: Comfort because we need it.

A prevalent serenity prevailed over the city as the stars twinkled in the distant skies, faint balls of luminance enchanting to the onlookers' eyes. Darkness had engulfed the world just a few hours ago: rendering the mortal beings to seek solace in the street lamps and artificial mechanisms of luminance invented by the research scholars a long time ago. However, as the sands of the hourglass trickled down the ampule, the city dwellers began to retire to their own residences rendering the streets isolated albeit a few birds who could only hoot freely when the world was at peace yet again.

This was only a natural routine for the world, the moon chased the sun yet they never met unless the eclipse aligned them. However, (Y/N) found her calmness in these small things. The little things in everyday life that are taken for granted by so many... and appreciated by only a few. These things seldom mattered for researchers and scholars of the Akademiya, but as a decorated Professor of Rtawahist Darshan, (Y/N) understood the difference between living and surviving... existence. Moving away from the windowsill of her husband's study, her eyes trailed towards the clock on the mantelpiece: a pretty little vintage clock in the form of an hourglass.

12:17 - read the clock.

(Y/N) smiled as she remembered Kaveh who had gifted it on her second anniversary

"It's so pretty Kaveh!" (Y/N0 exclaimed as she hugged the piece closer to her heart much to the dismay of her husband.

"I got it from one of my expeditions in the desert you know. It -"

"It's just a time tracker (Y/N)." And there goes her husband, the ever logical and very rational Al Haitham as he huffed at Kaveh.

And that was the beginning of another teenage quarrel between the two and she couldn't help but giggle. Time sure flied... Here she was now: Married to Al Haitham for five years as she wore the Nagadus emerald studded platinum loop proudly on her ring finger. Recently there had been another addition to their household, a miniature Al Haitham although a girl child who had turned two months old just a week ago. Another reason why she couldn't resume her scholarly duties yet for the newborn needed attention and care and even when Al Haitham had insisted to help she had told him not to worry for (Y/N) was confident she could handle their little one alone.

"But aşkım I could help" Al Haitham said as he tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear tracing her cheek.

"I'll be fine 'Haitham..." (Y/N) called endearingly as she slowly engulfed his larger hands in her much smaller ones.

However, little by little, all the chores were making her stressed and anxious, the post partum depression in full effect. (Y/N) had been a good mother of course but all the tiredness of household chores and looking after the newborn who wouldn't calm down unless Al Haitham held her was making her all the more agitated. If he was busy or not available she would have to resort to talking to her about Al Haitham's adventures and past shenanigans. Another reason why she was awake in the dead of the night when all the citizens of Sumeru had hit the hay for the day...

The postpartum depression only further added onto her stress for her hormones wouldn't remain stable no matter how much she tried. (Y/N) had asked Tighnari for the medicinal herbs to control them of course but...

"Only if it's very urgent okay, or I am telling Al Haitham what you've been doing" Tighnari scolded, his ears twitching in frustration as he thrusted the herbs in her hand. "They're harmful in the long run you know" he added, concern clear in his eyes.

"Thank you 'Nari... I'll tell him eventually..."

"You said that last time too" Cyno peeked up behind Tighnari, bed hair and a cup of coffee in his hand. This made (Y/N)'s and Tighnari's eyes widen as he quickly turned away from his lover to glare at (Y/N).

"You were WHAT?!" And (Y/N) giggled awkwardly as she sighed.

"That's it! I'm telling the sage what his wife has been doing behind his back!" Tighnari said marching towards his home before (Y/N) grabbed his arm.

With empty promises and white lies she still managed to convince the Chief Forest Ranger to keep his lips sealed, glaring at Cyno when he wasn't looking. The Mahamatra who had been quietly observing the exchange from behind lover slowly giggled as he started to move inside before-

"Only THIS time! You hear me? And WHERE DO YOU THINK YOU ARE GOING HUH? YOU DARE GIVE OFF HERBS JUST BECAUSE I TAUGHT YOU ?!" and Cyno was quick to retreat inside the house with Tighnari hot on his heels.

And (Y/N) was sighed in relief as she made her way towards her home praying to the Archons that her daughter would still be asleep at Nilou's.

However, she wouldn't tell this to Al Haitham for (Y/N) knew how taxing his life had recently become. What with the overthrowing of Azar, the restoration of Lesser Lord Kusanali and Al Haitham being promoted to the rank of Acting Grand Sage was already hectic enough for him. Nilou was only aware how many evenings, (Y/N) had broken down and cried on her visits to the Haitham household.

"Just tell him (Y/N), it would be much better that way " the red-head consoled (Y/N) as she stroked her hair to comfort her.

(Y/N) pulled away a little as she shook her head in the negative, wiping away her tears as she hiccupped a little.

"Can't" she chocked. "Can't add onto his stress Nilou" and she broke down again as her friend hugged her again - closely as her shoulders shook with her hiccups. "Don't...wanna...be...burdensome"

And Nilou felt defeated. Only then she wished that her dearest friend would break down in front Al Haitham just so he could know what she was going through. Al Haitham needed to know this no matter how carefully (Y/N) hid the stress behind her eyes.

She slowly made her way to the nursery to find her daughter asleep and she sighed in relief. Maybe she wouldn't need the herbs anymore, after all she had run out of supplies just a day ago. The little emerald on her daughter's chest glimmered in the moonlight as she breathed in peace and that was enough solace for (Y/N), unaware of the turmoil that was waiting to erupt again.

Al Haitham had come home just two hours ago, his voice devoid of any life as he greeted her and she knew that the Acting Grand Sage was tired. She took the off-coat off his tired shoulders as he slowly entered the kitchen for she insisted him not to go to bed on an empty stomach.

"It's not healthy 'Haitham..." she had called as she kissed his cheek lovingly. Nevertheless, she felt a little guilty on the inside, for what she was doing wasn't healthy either..."Just a little, yeah?" and he had leaned further into her touch as he nuzzled his nose in her palm.

"Only if you feed me, aşkım..." and she smiled as he told her how tiring it was to be the Grand Sage.

"Acting Grand Sage" he had corrected (Y/N) and she laughed as she fed him another bite of the meat stew. And then he had retired to bed, too tired to turn off the lamps and she had sighed before kissing him 'Good Night' as she put out the light.

(Y/N) had just gotten done with all the chores: the laundry, the dishes - a little crying as she hurried off to feed their daughter- putting out clothes in the backyard for she had faith they would be dry by the morning (It had been a little windy all day),dusting through Al Haitham's study: a weekend ritual for it was Friday. After admiring the night view from the window in her husband's study she had walked to the nursery to make sure her daughter was still asleep, sighing in relief for she still was... breathing in calmness with her (E/C) eyes closed and her ashen-hair splayed across the cot.

And now that (Y/N) was thinking of a warm bath to wash off the sweat and dust from her body, her eyes widened as they darted to the cot. Her daughter had stirred awake, throwing another teary tantrum as she quickly reached for her daughter in the cot for she knew Al Haitham was a light sleeper and she wouldn't wish to disturb his peace.

Taking the child in her arms, (Y/N) gently cooed at her, cradling her by the window as she pointed at the stars and moons and little trinkets in the nursery. And slowly (Y/N) started narrating the incident when Al Haitham had forgotten his keys at her home.

"Uncle Kaveh hadn't come home and your father had to sit at the - Aww sweetie, no~~"

The wailing started again as the child's eyes teared up and (Y/N) rocked her a little in her arms praying to the Archons for her to quieten down. And before she knew tears started pricking her own eyes...

Al Haitham could hear the little noises in his household, washing away his sleep as he yawned. Turning to his left he frowned when he was greeted by the cold pillows. "(Y/N)?" he called getting up to sit as he yawned and stretched his arms. Turquoise eyes followed the window and he realized that it was the middle of the night. He could see a faint glow in their bedroom and he realized that (Y/N) must be in the nursery.

The ashen-haired male sighed yet again as he got down from the bed. It had now become a nightly routine for him to wake up in the middle of the night to find (Y/N) in the nursery and when he had asked why she hadn't been sleeping early enough she would lie through her teeth and he frowned again for he didn't know why.

"What do you mean? I just woke up 'Haitham" she had told him a few days ago and Al Haitham could clearly see her lying. When on further coaxing (Y/N) repeated the same thing, he left the topic for he didn't want to agitate the young mother any further, their daughter asleep in his arms. He could see how tired she looked and he wondered if (Y/N) had been taking care of her basic needs. Dark circles decorated (Y/N)'s face as she leaned on the windowsill, her body looking frail and he knew she had lost weight, the stress piling up on her. Skipped lunches and late night dinners proof enough for him.

Al Haitham didn't want to coax out a confession for he had already been warned about postpartum depression and thought that she would eventually talk to him...at her own pace...

Nevertheless, here he was yet again awake by the small noises of his crying daughter and he followed into the nursery. However the sight that greeted him was all the confession he needed.

Tears streamed down (Y/N)'s face as she sobbed and hiccupped while cradling the newborn, occasionally wiping her eyes as she cradled and pleaded to their daughter.

"Please sweetie...j-just th-this time please..." she begged as she rocked the infant further, a choked sob flying past her lips.

Al Haitham's eyes widened as he hurried towards his family, taking his daughter in his right arm as he held (Y/N) close to his chest with his left, a zephyr passing by as his daughter and wife cried into his arms and chest. Slowly he rocked their daughter in the stillness of the night, (Y/N)'s chocked sobs echoing through the household as his stroked her hair gently.

Soon enough, the baby was asleep in her father's arms and gently Al Haitham placed her in the cot before taking (Y/N) in his arms as fresh tears flooded her vision yet again

"H-'Haitham..." she whispered as she cried into his arms, pushing her face further into his chest.

"I know aşkım... I know" he placed a kiss on her forehead as his fingers stroked through her (H/C) tresses. Sighing and thanking the Archons that his wife had finally broken down or else she would have never let him know how stressful this was becoming for her.

(Y/N) sobbed quietly all the while Al Haitham held her and when she whispered a small 'I'm sorry', the male frowned as he slowly coaxed her to him.

"I-I couldn't calm h-her and...you wok-"

"No (Y/N)..." He cooed as he held her cheeks, kissing her forehead in reassurance yet again. (Y/N) still sobbed feeling guilty, regret clear in her (E/C) orbs and he hated seeing her tears.

"I knew all along..." and when her eyes widened he told her all about the small nursery he had custom made near his office just so they could be together while he worked at the Akademiya.

"I was the 'Gem of Haravatat' (Y/N), didn't you think I'd notice?" he said as he wiped her tears away with gentle touches. "Semiotics has a lingering psychology to it too... I was just waiting for you to come in terms with your emotions..." and she sighed into his arms yet again, leaning onto his chest as he continued to tell her how he would be on leave for the next few days and when he resumed his duties he would be taking them along to the Akademiya, the arrangements for them customized by Faruzan herself for she was too tired of Nilou complaining to her about his wife's trauma and stubbornness all the time she went to the Grand Bazaar.

And (Y/N) wondered how all the love in her heart was never enough for her husband.

Kissing his daughter for the last time that night, he walked out of the nursery, (Y/N) fast asleep against his chest as he carried her to their room for a good night's rest.

He smiled as he tucked her in before slipping under sheets as he held (Y/N) in his arms that night after a long time. And Al Haitham's world was at peace yet again... The whispers of the winds were the last things he heard before he drifted to a peaceful sleep, his aşkım in his arms.

@teapartyspilled

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