#except watering the garden thoughts

[pickled-flowers]

Lysandre sketch for Mermay :)

[makedamnsvre]

recently ive been getting really sick of my neighbors i wish that i had a bunch of money so that i could buy up their houses and only let people i live live near me

[faaun]

.

[jamiebluewind]

All this tells me is that one day I will be tried as a war criminal

The thought of scientists dropping plants 60 times and comparing their reactions to when you shake them is hilarious

[dilfsfordinner]

honeymoon- nanami kento x wife!reader

a/n- in preparation for this week’s episode, this is my ode to my husband

warnings- fem!reader, unprotected sex, praise, missionary pos, mating press, belly bulge, nanami has a big d, implied breeding kink, fluffff

—————————————————————————

Nanami Kento had been dreaming of a vacation. Somewhere with sand and palm trees, warm weather, the ocean, you. Now it would take a lot for him to admit this because he’s not a dreamer, per se, especially with his strict work ethic, but the amount of times he had to catch himself during a shift from drifting off in a fantasy about sleeping in or relaxing on the beach, you could say he had started to reflect his child-like self.

Except every single one of those dreams could not rival the feeling of experiencing his honeymoon with you. He’d gotten what he wanted. A private villa, surrounded by greenery with a whole rainbow of colors blessing the space. Red, orange, pink, and especially white flowers would pop out from the dense leaves of the tropical garden that was essentially your front yard, their sweet perfume just light enough to not be too overbearing. The villa was perched in a cluster of palms, the white-sand beaches of the Caribbean literally at your disposal by a pathway from your bedroom, its wood-lined trail leading down to a private oceanside cove of sand and the most vivid aquamarine water you’d ever seen.

It had been five days since the two of you had arrived at your little oasis, 120 hours of complete and utter relaxation accompanied by sheer happiness. You could barely contain your excitement for the trip when he’d announced the surprise destination a month before your wedding, and that giddiness you were once feeling was multiplied tenfold. Kento Nanami was finally your husband. The man you had fallen for was now tied to you legally and emotionally, the two of you matching with the golden bands placed upon your fingers, yours just a tad bit more extravagant with the stone you had dreamt of forged perfectly into the smooth metal.

Your favorite gift you had received though was once again from your husband. It had been given on the day of your wedding, a little white, bow-tied box placed in your hands before the reception. Upon opening it, you were met with a pretty bracelet, a twisted chain of pure platinum so uniformly perfect, you knew your husband had picked it. Your favorite part however, was the tiny charm hanging from the chain, a cursive “k” inscribed into the precious material, a clear sign of your newly wed’s hand in the purchase. “I’m yours now,” he had whispered into your hair, kissing away a stray tear from your cheek before helping you clasp the delicate chain around your wrist.

For days you had thanked him any way you could for his kindness, the two new additions he’d gifted so beautifully thoughtful, gifts that certainly garnered a lot of attention, especially when it came to some.. exerting activities.

It was like the atmosphere had turned you two into animals, your bodies sore from the endless (sorry for lack of a better word), fucking, the tension so thick you could feel it heavy in your chest, the warm, salty breeze flowing through the mesh, white curtains of your bedroom doing nothing to help calm your lustful state.

It was nearly dusk and your current session had started about an hour ago, any and every position you could think of already tried, your body turned and flipped a multitude of times before you were placed on your back again, thighs pushed up against your chest, your legs falling over your husband’s broad shoulders.

Your throat was dry from the fountain of moans constantly spilling from your mouth, Nanami’s name starting to sound like an imaginary word from the amount of times you’d choked out the syllables. Don’t be too embarrassed though because he was just as knocked as you, his skin flush from exertion, sweat dampening his blonde locks, and his usually cool tone of voice had turned desperate, your own name a slurred grumble or groan every time he felt you clench around him.

Your silky, white nightgown had been discarded long ago, the little scrap of fabric on the floor reminding you of what had started this escapade in the first place. The memory of Nanami’s eyes darkening when you’d emerged for bedtime had your stomach tightening and eyes squeezing shut. You’d known him for who knows how long and he still managed to make you feel like a horny teenager with just one look.

“My perfect wife,” he panted into your neck, heavy cock nudging your deepest parts, you could feel him in your belly, could even see him in your belly, the area below your navel molding just slightly into the shape of his cock every time he would push into you.

Your skin was glowing from the last remnants of sunlight reaching through the gauzey curtains, the ocean waves gentle as they crashed along the shore, wrapping you in a cocoon of pure passion, the current moment so perfect and loving, one of Nanami’s hands snaking into your palm to ground you, the other resting beside your head as he kissed the tender curve of your neck.

He was a warm lover. Caring, romantic, a listener. Someone who focuses on giving instead of stealing pleasure. That’s why it was so easy to give him your trust, to open yourself up to him emotionally, and physically. Someone who easily outshined anyone when it came to choosing who to share your remaining years with.

Your ring fingers clinked together when he pushed into you with a particularly needy thrust, the golden bands once again twining as his fingers curled over your own in a firm lock. “Only yours,” you whimpered out, voice almost breaking from your very vulnerable position, your chest compromised as your legs were propped up, the backs of your thighs fitting against his chest, folding over his shoulders at the knees.

Not only did your words drive him crazy, but the little jingle he would hear every time his hips connected with your own had his eyebrows knitting with some primal need to actually make you his. The bracelet he’d gifted you had ended up clasped around your delicate ankle, the silver charm glinting his initial in the low lights, every little reflection catching his peripheral, spurring him on. You had done it on purpose. You had known he would have you folded sooner or later and you knew how much he loved to mark you, that piece of jewelry a literal signing of his name on you.

Your mouths latched onto each other, hurried kisses ending in heavy breaths against each other’s face or neck, eventually your foreheads being the place of rest as he continued to fuck you with every ounce of energy in his body.

“-love you, s’much,” you murmured, voice lilting with the rising pleasure in your core, his thick length prodding every ridge you had to offer, that spongey spot of nerves catching his head with every pass, eliciting a gasp from your lips, Nanami’s jaw clenching as he held himself back from completely plowing into you, your approaching climax drawing a rush of liquid from your twitching cunt, trickling onto his thighs.

“I love you,” he kissed you this time, his strong hand fisting the sheets beside your head, the other still clutching onto your hand as he knocked the breath from your lungs, his cock feeling like a full-blown spear impaling you, the only thing keeping you sane being his mouth on you, and the sweet-nothings groaned from his lips.

***

It was dark by the time you two had truly finished with each other, your body curled up in Nanami’s lap as he lounged with you on the large chairs placed outside the curtains of your bedroom, the moonlight bouncing off the waves as they continued their trek across the shore.

His nimble fingers traced gentle shapes on your back, your upper body covered by his blue shirt, dwarfing your form in a pool of fabric, Nanami modeling your “half-nakedness” with only a pair of boxers, his strong legs visible to your very sleepy, but eager eyes.

Some type of tropical, cricket creature hummed a pretty song, coaxing your eyelids to flutter, your body sinking further into your husband’s hold, your cheek nestled gently against the soft curves of his collarbone, his heartbeat steady in your ear.

Taking note of your drifting consciousness, Nanami smiled down at your curled up form, fingers slowly letting up on their brief massage session to brace his hold. “Let’s get you to bed,” he murmured, kissing the top of your hair with such tenderness you almost agreed to get up and listen, but he was just so warm and cozy.

Pretending to not hear him, you put on your best sleeping face, mouth opening slightly to really pull it off, the tiniest of snores leaving you in a very convincing manner. Silence followed your antics before a rumble vibrated from the chest of the man you lied on, a soft laugh leaving him as he took in your ‘sleeping state’, a laugh that had your lips twitching, a smile almost breaking out on your face.

“What a shame.. the Mrs. has fallen asleep on me,” he sighed, voice filled with faux sorrow, and when he relaxed back into the chair, you thought the victory was yours, nuzzling back against his chest to comfortably relax again. That was.. before your world was turned upside down, a yelp echoing from your throat as Nanami hoisted you over his shoulder, your bottom cradled by his large hand as he smiled that stupid smile of his and trekked back into the bedroom, all fatigue gone from the two of you, replaced with the teasing air of aching want.

——————————————————————————

[yanderefarm]

Can I request Emil catching one of his maids flirting with us

yandere king emil

cw;; violence, stalking, yandere stuff, manipulation

im gonna post this bc i don't think its bad per-say but i don't know if it fits exactly what you wanted. if you're not satisfied feel free to send your request again!!

i don't really imagine this as the reader being oblivious but more like looking past all the obvious red flags because they thought they had a friend who could understand them better than the other people around them including emil.

also im a whore for rofan manhwa bullshit. please check off "cartoonishly evil maid/noble woman minor love rival" on your bingo cards.

usually emil wouldn't feel threatened by the lower class, obviously you wouldn't be interested in them. except you are.

he notices it first when she comes into your shared bedroom in the morning. she's not the usual maid and the way she goes about pouring the morning tea is atrocious, probably because her eyes are glued to your half dressed body. you smile at her and thank her even though she spilled some of your tea with her gawking. when emil mentions dismissing her for her unacceptable behavior you just brush it off saying she was just nervous.

apparently that day the normal maid was sick. and she's still sick a week later. you're currently in the garden trying your hand at some embroidery but you're not very good at it. emil watches from his office window as that maid comes up and offers to help you. you are too excited to accept her help, can't you see she just wants something from you? he finds himself hoping she accidentally pricks you with the needle so he can have a good excuse to kill her. she didn't.

then there's the bath incident. usually he likes taking baths together but you wanted to be alone. that would be fine if he hadn't just watched that annoying maid slip into the bath room. he finds himself following her. the bath room is full of steam as you soak in the hot water making it hard for emil to see anything exactly. but he'd recognize your relaxed form anywhere. the maid steps through the thick steam and asks if you want her to apply some new oils to your hair. its something she found at a market and its supposed to be relaxing lavender. its technically her job to do these tasks so emil can only watch in frustrated silence as she gets to run her fingers through your hair. you smell like her for the rest of the night and god it makes him angry.

every time he sees you with her his stomach twists in anger. he can't be angry with you, you're a kind person and you've proven it time and time again. but this maid. she doesn't deserve your kindness, she doesn't deserve to gently touch your arm, she doesn't deserve to laugh with you. he's asked you what you think of her and you tell him it's so nice to have a friend and how apparently she was born in your home kingdom before moving here. it makes him want to kill her even more. but he holds back because you're just so happy.

finally she goes too far. you're outside excitedly talking to her about a new book you read. you showed him that one too but he didn't share your excitement for the story. not like she was. he wanted to run over there, to run her through with his sword. but he couldn't stop it. he watched helplessly as she touched your arm again and with a blushing face she shyly confessed her feelings. he watched her try to kiss you. he watched the way your face changed from shock to horror. your eyes darted around until they landed on him, you always knew he was nearby if you needed him.

apparently she'd lied about being from your home country to get closer to you. apparently she'd learned your native tongue at another job and used it to manipulate you. apparently she heard a rumor that you would take concubines and she saw it as her chance to climb the ranks. emil was standing behind her, his blade through her chest and his eyes dark with anger. you stood there with tears in your eyes looking at him with so much hurt.

emil isn't lenient with maids that flirt with you anymore. they get a warning from the head maid and if they continue the behavior then emil reserves the right to punish as he sees fit. its not always violent, sometimes he just sentences them to jail for 10 years.

[deadghosy]

How would (Separate) Hazbin hotel (Demons &Angel) react to a green thumb gardener whose elegant, classy and attractive and she went to hell by mistake but it was a happy one (She's not completely weak as she has her plant to protect her and everything)

HAZBIN HOTEL X GARDENER! READER

prompt: a common mistake made demons and angels swoon over a gardener who just wants to take care of her/his plants

cw! Sir Pentious is alive for this so he can witness your beauty in flowers💗

note! I listened to Lana Del Rey while making this lol.

HELL

You didn’t know you were supposed to be in heaven as you started your own flower shop. It was the biggest know hell flower store with actual flowers.

You were practically poison ivy, but more kind and definitely calmer. Hell, even some of your regulars call you poison ivy. Mostly because if people touch you metaphorically the wrong way, then you technically show them a harsher side of you. Literally, a plant impaled a sinner trying to rob your store. 

What you didn’t except to get friends or even people interested into you as you just have a normal as shop you dreamed of before dying.

“Welcome to my flower shop, what can I help you with?” You said with a soft smile as a flower vine is watering other flowers in the background. Some imps, sinners, and hell borns go all the way to just see you and your flowers.

I can see you wearing a flower crown or just flowers in your hair. Like dead ass giving rapunzel. Possibly so, your alive flowers and vines had made that for you as you worked.

You most definitely wear those cute gardening outfits like overalls or those dresses if you prefer one of them or both.

See this is what I can imagine, I can imagine the whole damn hotel having a flower competition and you show up with a big ass plant with a neat pink bow on it 😭. You definitely had a smile as you drank tea with a secret smirk.

I can see you visiting the hotel Charlie has as she invited you to do some flower decor for a reopening of the hotel.

Imagine how pissed you were when a couple of sinners came in to make your shop look like shit. But you wasn’t gonna stand for it as you raised your hand grabbing the sinners by their necks with vines. “If you want flowers, I wouldn’t mind making you a funeral for you to have some.” You said with venom as the sinner practically shitted themselves as they were thrown out the windows of your shop.

A sinner had thrown a Molotov cocktail once in your shop all because he thought it was weird to have a “girly” flower shop in hell. As the fire spreads in your shop, you sighed having plant vines cover you in a big ball as one of the vine slither to find the culprit. After finding the culprit, you forced them to clean your shop since killing someone for such a petty crime like that in your opinion isn’t worth killing. You can always make a new shop and fix it.

Vaggie most definitely knows you as you hooked her up with flowers that Charlie might like. You told her Charlie seems like a simple girl would just like roses since they represent romance. And basically it was Vaggie and Charlie’s date night. And it was a success.

Angel dust loves how you don’t judge him for who he is by his work. But he definitely loves how you two gossip over some tea, well he drinks while you drink tea or water. You are like an older sister/brother figure to him. He loves resting in your bean bag you have in the back, he could just come in and and lay down straight.

I headcannon your whole palette to be like green, pink, yellow and white. Literally just spring ass colors to seem classy with your flower shop.

I can imagine you having the personality of applejack but more of a flower and gardening person as gardener! Reader were most definitely born in the south. Like I can imagine reader to be a mix of applejack, rarity, fluttershy but 100% of applejack’s honesty and a lot of Rarity’s elegance.

Niffty adores you! Literally she goes in your store to rant about she wants the hotel to smell fresh and ready. And you hook a sista up with how you give her scented plug in. She immediately starts worshipping you like Alastor which makes Alastor raise a brow seeing a shine of you in her room and drawings of you.

Charlie immediately loves how vaggie and angel ador you and find you as a loyal friend. She would love to have you at the hotel as a resident. She could even beg Alastor or her dad to make a flower shop for you to even stay longer by briding. She would also try to become your friend for her to succeed.

Sir Pentious went to your store to apologize again to Alastor as he felt that Alastor didn’t forgave him. He was scared you weren’t a kind “sinner” that only had a flower shop to scam people for their money. But when you spoke with kindness and care towards the snake demon. He felt calm in your presence, to the point when he got his flowers. He gave you one which made you smile at him and put it in your hair. He blushed and ran off.

The egg boiz love too appear in your store as their boss, penthouse is very nervous to talk to such an attractive person like you. You welcome the eggz to your humble store as you give them flowers to give back to the hotel staffs.

Angel and Cherri most definitely asked you to give them flowers to match their personality. You gave them both a Carnation flower which you thought was good for their personality. Or even a Lilly.

Husk kept seeing the crew leave the hotel to see them come back with flowers. He grumble confused at why they kept getting flowers. That is until he asked Charlie, and Charlie ranted about what a beauty and how kind you are. Husk raised a brow thinking you were putting up an act, so he went to see you. Let’s just say he got a rose coming back with a soft smile and a purr.

The Vee’s heard about you, Vox heard about you first and looked you up to see you are a popular florist and gardener with the power of Chlorokinesis. The power to mentally and physically control flowers. Vox smirked hearing about your 5 star rating shop. If it was that high ranked with people commenting it on yelp saying you were the best business to be at. You definitely got his attention at most.

Lucifer went to your store for some flowers to give to his daughter, and when he heard how amazing your store was. He went to se it himself. He definitely felt your pure spirit making him stumble into confusion on why you weren’t in heaven already. But he got his flowers and felt with a cup of tea you gave him. He shortly came back at the end of the day to give you his own flowers as he smiled with a snake smile and left leaving a note that says, “you’re welcome to come stay at the hotel! :)”

Alastor finally decided to meet you after hearing all the good things you did for the hotel and for the staff. He must say he was jealous how you won their hearts so damn quickly. He went to your store to see what’s all the fuss about and got hit with a lavender scent in his nose. He covered it as he wasn’t use to such sweet smell in hell as it’s filled with fire and blood. And there you were sitting there with a smile as warm plate of teas sat by you. You welcomed him as he made chat with you to find your heart pure with gold. He also left with a rose and a genuine smile.

I imagine how sweet you get your own flowers by regulars and your friends at the hotel as they love your passion about plants.

Headcannon on Gardner! Reader to be a Lana Del Rey fan as the song to match her/him is “born to die” 💗🦆

Vox was obviously the first Vee to meet you face to face as he had researched you so many times on the internet to get any scoop of you to only end up with an empty hand. So he decided to see you in person and smile with a charming one to see you greet him with a smile and show him the recommended flowers for loved one and family. He was not into the flowers as he watched the plant vines in the back work like hands. He smirks trying to use his hypnosis, but failed greatly as a flower in a vase covered his sighting of you. Thanks to your plant vines.

Velvette was the second one to come to your store as she was not impressed at how “boring and plain” it was in your shop. She was snarky about the decor and gave you tips on how to make it “pop” in here. You just smiled, and with a snap of your fingers, the decor changed to a more fashionable flower place. It made the female Vee almost drop her jaw and composure. But she can’t let some flower store shock her. So she left with one last snarky comment under her breath.

Valentino definitely came in last to see what was up with your whole popularity of your “business” of flowers as he was so busy working his porn industry. So when he walked in yo see you reaching for some flower seeds to get for a customer. He grabbed your waist, wanting to seem flirty only for it to backfire as a vine punches him away from you. You already knew who this bastard was, and you weren’t gonna let him get you like how he got angel. So during his entire visit at your shop, you made it a living hell. Literally.

I can see the Vee’s coming back every weekday to try and get you to be their little flower pet, but you ain’t buying it. 😘

You most definitely have a vine hammock in the corner of your store as you just sit there and nap during your breaks.

Imagine how cool and sweet you are to the imp and hell born children that come to visit your store for father day and mother day. Hell, even valentines days

I can headcannon that gardener! Reader has once in their hell life down there had to drag out a rude Karen ass bitch by their hair. You fuck with their plants, you fuck with them.

Imagine how chill you are just sipping tea as your plants and vines attack some dude trying to steal your sunflower seeds. Yeah, no one gets out without being traumatized by plants 😍

You came into the hotel once and immediately got love bombed by everyone. But not in a manipulate way, they just appreciate how amazing you are to people even the staff at most. They go as far to throw you a “welcoming” party 💗

Lucifer had most definitely sent ducks with mini flower crowns and a Gardner duck to you as he finds you very elegant and beautiful in your own way. He even accidentally tries to court you with his wings when he leans against at the front desk of your store staring into your eyes.

HEAVEN

Adam had eventually was sent to take you back into heaven as sera realized her mistake. You willingly went with Adam who smirked at your sweet smile and took you up by your hand. Like, let’s say whatever happened in the hell section didn’t happen as you just had a bad time in hell itself.

St. Peter immediately greets you, making feel welcome to your new home. He even baked you cookies with a smiley face. He tries to make chit chat with you when he isn’t on duty getting people into the gates. He literally visits your workplace in the flower store you own, bringing cookies, making sure you are okay. Hell-, I meannn heaven gods..he must be a househusband cause GYATT DAMN this man is making sure you are well and healthy in heaven’s care. 💗💗

Sera most definitely have showed you around heaven with a please smile to see a Gardner. You would’ve been great for the Garden of Eden, is what she says in her head as you smile at the trees and potted plants around. You even showed the seraphim your powers, and she must say that she was pleased and made you a gardener around heaven and even your own garden shop and house.

Emily most definitely tries to go visit you everyday to try and find flowers that match you so you can be surprise when she buys you flowers herself. You and Emily definitely have a sibling relationship at most because of how she looks up to you in a gardening way as she also wants to impress you by making her own garden and green house. She also makes sure you take breaks as she wants to help with the customers as you take a break in the back. Your friendship with her is so wholesome and lovely.

Adam likes how classy you are, you don’t even cuss him out when you are angry at him. You just put your hand in his face and walk away. Sassy, but classy enough to not curse someone the fuck out. Yeah sure that might’ve turned him on a bit at how hot and “bitchy” that was of you. Cause no one has ever rejected the “Dickmaster”. So it was his duty to make you his friend…sorta😨. But it’s all fun and games at how you guys are like frenemies at most since Adam actually can’t stand you, but still flirts at how attractive and kind you are. Hell even strong minded.

The angels absolutely love coming in your store! They find every single plant and flower you made incredible. You practically almost run out of business when it’s Valentine’s Day, Mother’s Day, and Father’s Day. But you can’t complain when they leave so much heaven bucks for you to get more plant seeds and such. The angels also love how pure of gold your heart is as you even give some off free for the heaven borns and winners.

Big headcannon on how your Gardner outfit in heaven, the palette is a soft green and pink pastel. But Adam and Sera had thought about you wearing a gold, white, and blue type of Gardner outfit. They want you to stay pure and mighty.

OOOH IMAGINE HAVING CUTE ASS WHITE GLOVES 😭😭 LIKE THEY HAVE THOSE STITCHED IN GOLD THREADS AND LIKE THEY ARE SO CUTE AND COMFY INSIDEEE💗💗

Since i headcannon that Gardner! Reader to be a damn Lana Del Rey fan, their song that matches them in heaven is “young and beautiful.” As you are young and beautiful and mostly, you’re in heaven.

Literally imagine Adam just shows up to just degrade you, but it doesn’t work as you just sit there reading your daily newspaper or on your phone to just see plant and gardening instagram from earth and heaven. Adam pouts or even scoffs before taking your phone and acting like a fussy cat wanting attention.

You really don’t give a fuck about Adam but he definitely gives a fuck about you.

The angels sometimes ships you with Adam, but they also ship you with st.peter at how he is basically the house husband and you are the girl boss who works their ass off😭

Lute and Adam are definitely the type to be those teens who visit their local market..dead ass when they are free they just come to your store and just start “window shopping”…but really they just either want to mess with you or actually know about your day.

I can see you literally just chilling, and Adam busts open the store door that has that jingle bell on it so harsh and all he says is. “Wassup bitch!” With his usual grin and a soda cup as you just groan annoyed.

St.peter literally tried to work beside you ok his days off to just see how “calming” your job is. Until rush hour comes😭 that’s when hell itself unleashes with people wanting to grab any scented flower candles and flowers for theirselves. Have mercy on Peter’s soul that he doesn’t get grabbed and clawed all because he said that the last product was in the back. 😭😭

Imagine how cute your damn angel wings must be. Cause I imagine them to be some god damn fairy wings to match a beautiful aesthetic with your flower and gardening store.

I headcannon you actually had thrown Adam like how vaggie thrown the staff like in the episode of “scramble eggs.”

lol I can see you just slapping Adam with your plant vine because of one misogynist joke he made. He had the most whip lashed mark on his face. He stopped making those fücking jokes like that as he just flinches as a vine comes near him. “WALK HIM LIKE A DOGGG!!” 😘😍

Sera loves gaining flowers from you as the angelic guards bring them in as she is doing her work.

Emily also feels the same way as she smiles and makes the guard send you flowers as well for a thank you. 💗🥺 please give this sweet baby a note back saying you appreciate her damn note so much..

Imagine having a whole tea and cookie station by your front desk where people pay. Like they get a nice drink and a snack in case they were hungry and thirsty from their trip to here. 😘☀️ you care about your customers and regulars deeply.

St. Peter had one time mistook the glass doors to be opened and fell back so dramatically onto his ass, he might as well confirm himself as dead 💀

Emily most definitely actually tried to grow a plant or flower to show you how much she learnt from you, only for the damn thing to fail. She wanted to cry and shrivel up in disappointment, but you taught her and help fixed her mistake on what she did at most.

Lute most definitely acts better without Adam, of course she could act better with Adam. It’s just that Adam is her home dog, and she is Adam’s homegirl. So of course they are besties. So with Adam not interfering with you and lute talking one on one for the first time. You two get quite long to the point she grabs your hands and smile. Leaving with a flower you gave her.

Your plants just causally changing into the liked flower of the customer or regular due to your plant magic on sensing what flowers they like supposedly💗

Headcannon on how short you are. Literally you are shorter than lute to Adam and Emily. It’s really funny but to you, it’s annoying asf since Adam picks you up like a stray cat found at the front porch ready to be taken in.

Emily and sera would have tea time with you definitely. Or coffee if they prefer. You don’t gossip of course but just lift each other up and talk about hanging out later in the days or weeks later. Heck even the day later maybe if Emily is very eager.

Lute most definitely had thrown flowers in your face as she isn’t use to showing affection towards a person she actually admires. Yeah she admires Adam, as a boss and best friend. But there is something about you that makes her stumble on her words.

You had to actually stay home once, forced by sera who got told by Adam you were overworking yourself. Adam and sera hated it as sera showed go to your job looking serious. Forcing you to stay in bed until you had a good sleep for the week.

Imagine just gardener! Reader literally accidentally making Adam spit out a four leaf clover as they were saying a spell in Latin to have four leaf clovers for St. Patrick’s day.

I headcannon Adam sometimes tries to court you with his wings, and you are confused as hell as you aren’t use to being courted by some fucking feathers.

I can see you having a potted plant pet beside you. It was practically a sapling as it smiled with heaven magic and told positive affirmations to waking customers. It’s so fuckin adorable

I imagine you just sleeping as your overworked at your store and Adam comes in pissed off you didn’t come home. So he literally picks you up over his shoulder and walks Home. He has the damn key to your house but he decides to just go to his house and lay you on his bed as he sleeps on the couch grumbling.

St.Peter, after that little incident with him walking into a glass door. This mofo literally puts his hands out towards any glass door 😭 like a little kid being traumatized after a glass maze. It’s so funny but so sad.

A young heaven born had brought you back a freaking flower crown in your most favorite flowers and you were so amazed. You gave the small little angel a flower crown of their own.

The visits are always welcomed to your store as Adam brings you his own set of flowers to try to impress you. 💗 you snickered seeing the note that says, “i hope you like it..bitch. *middle finger drawing* I heard this plant was your favorite.” Sweet, but sour ass motherfuker. 😭😭

[sun-kissy]

Hi i was wondering if you could do a poly wolfstar fic with a fem reader where she feels left out of the relationship because they start to drifting apart which then leads to them breaking up. But then Sirius and Remus realises what they did wrong but reader just doesnt want to because shes scared they'll leave her out again.💗

hi angel! thank you for the request ♡

meant to be | poly!wolfstar

part 1 | part 2

tw: angst

poly!wolfstar x reader

You lean against the doorway, quietly observing them. Something you always seem to be doing these days. Your eyes rake over Sirius, with his legs propped up on one arm of the couch while his head lies in Remus’ lap.

Sirius laughs, and the smile Remus gives him while he strokes his hair is so full of love. It makes you wonder if Remus thought he personally strung up all the stars in the sky or something.

You try not to let it get to you but it does anyway, that same stinging sensation in your chest, as though someone had pierced your heart.

It felt silly to feel as hurt as you did. The boys were so hopelessly in love, it was endearing. They had claimed to love you the same way too just a few weeks ago. When they first proclaimed their love, it felt surreal. Perfect. But now, it felt like a chore.

Not to you, never to you. Loving them would never feel like a chore to you, you were sure of that. But what if they felt that way? What if you were just an experiment gone wrong?

Maybe you were just overthinking the whole thing. Or maybe this relationship was a mistake.

Sirius and Remus perfectly complemented each other already, it was like Remus was a container and Sirius was water. And you were the lid that just never fit right. Remus was calm, peaceful, loving. Sirius was fun, snarky, and full of affection.

What were you? Just a random girl who had the fortune of stumbling across the lovely couple.

They hadn’t done anything in particular to upset you, they never would. But it was the way they instinctively walked closer together, their fingers interlaced. The way they glanced at each other, having silent conversations you would never understand. How they seemed to know everything about the other, from every inch of his skin to every thought in his head.

It was like they could see colours you couldn’t see, speak a language you didn’t understand.

You told yourself it was fine, they had just known each other longer. They stayed in the same dorm room and took the same classes, of course they were bound to be closer.

But wasn’t that exactly the problem? Their lives were inexplicably intertwined, and it felt like you were trying to wedge yourself in. It left you feeling like the side character in your own story.

You heard your name and snapped out of your daze, blinking as you find Sirius grinning stupidly at you from where he lazed on the sofa. His expression softens when your eyes meet his. “Love, come over here! We’ve been looking for you all day.”

That was a lie, your brain screamed at you. You spotted them chatting in lessons, eating together at the Great Hall, taking a walk in the garden. They were not looking for you, it was a lie.

Remus smiles softly, beckoning you over. You will yourself to move, to go sit with your boyfriends, but it’s like your legs have turned to stone.

You silently stand there, watching them. You try to muster a smile or open your mouth to say something. But nothing comes out except for a quiet wrangled sort of noise.

Remus looks at you strangely. Sirius frowns, his eyebrows creasing. He pushes his palms down on the couch, elbows buckling as he sits up a bit. “Y/N, baby? Why don’t you come on over?”

You watch Remus gently move his fingers to Sirius’ forehead to smoothen the lines between his eyebrows, and him turning around to give the sandy-haired boy a lovesick smile. That simple action causes the last ounce of willpower in you to break.

You clench your fists to stop your hands from trembling as you suck in a deep breath, feeling the ache in your chest start to grow. Was it jealousy? Anger? Hurt?

Sirius seemed ready to move to your side right that moment, looking utterly confused as to what was wrong. But Remus kept his hand wrapped around Sirius’ bicep, a silent order to let you be.

“Angel,” Remus breathes quietly. You visibly flinch at the term of endearment, not missing the flash of hurt across his face which he quickly replaced with his usual stoicism.

Your heart was thudding so loudly you wondered if the boys could hear it. You swallow the lump in your throat, stuck between wanting to burn the bridges between you or to walk across them.

“I…” your voice comes out scratchy as you try to explain yourself. You clear your throat, watching Sirius’s frown deepen and Remus bite his lip anxiously.

“I don’t think I want to,” you say quietly, feeling your heart sink to your stomach. You knew Remus would understand, always the perceptive one. It was obvious in the way his eyes widened and his grip on Sirius loosened.

But Sirius just tilts his head, looking at you quizzically. “Okay…? You can sit on the other couch then. You can sit anywhere you want to, love.”

You wince, glancing at Remus for help. But he’s looking at you with that sad look on his face now, the one he only wears when he sees Sirius crying after receiving a letter from home, or when you show up at Hogwarts after the holidays with bruises all over. Did it really hurt him that much?

A sigh escapes you as you decide to try to be gentle with it. That’s the least you could do, after the boys had so generously let you in on their already perfect relationship. You suck in a shaky breath, mustering the courage to croak out the words.

“It’s not about the couch, Siri. I… I mean this,” you mutter, gesturing between the three of you. Immediately, your head ducks down, scared of what you’ll find if you look back up at them.

An uncomfortable silence is cast over the room, the kind that makes your skin crawl. A beat of quietness passes before you find the strength to raise your head, peeking at the boys. Sirius looks cracked open, his face a picture of anguish.

“What?” he rasps out. Remus’ features are tight with something that looks like grief, his hand ghosting over Sirius’ ankle to provide the little comfort he can.

The croakiness of his voice makes your heart feel like it’s being cleaved in two. But you knew you had to do this. For your sake, and for theirs.

“I can’t do this anymore,” you mumble in a rush, eager to get it out and not have to endure watching them in pain for too long. Sirius stays silent, his lips pursed so tight you think he might burst into tears.

“Why?” Remus asks quietly, gaze still trained onto yours as he rubs circles onto Sirius’ ankle comfortingly. “I… I don’t fit in. You guys are perfect for each other. But I just don’t fit in,” you admit, feeling guilt clawing at you. “This just isn’t working,”

“We’ll make it work,” Sirius says immediately, and the sincerity in his voice almost makes you want to concede. But you know that’s not possible. “Just… just tell us what we’re doing wrong, we’ll fix it. I swear.”

Remus nods slowly, looking at you expectantly. The hope on their faces make you feel like the worst person in the world as you give them all you have to offer - a small shake of your head.

“But love,” Sirius murmurs, his voice cracking. “Why… what… where did we mess up?”

“It wasn’t you guys,” you say immediately, even though it was. You just can’t bear to see the pain etched on the black-haired boy’s face. “It’s just not meant to be. We’re better off as friends.”

“But we love you,” Remus speaks up quietly. Sirius nods earnestly.

“I can’t,” you say, relieved that your voice comes out evenly. It’s a miracle with how hard you’re fighting to hold back tears. “I can’t do this. The both of you are always together, and I'm not blaming you for it. It’s in your nature to be together-”

“It’s in your nature to be with us too, dove,” Sirius says, the anguish in his voice leaving to make way for pure sadness.

“It’s not,” your voice coming out as a pathetic sob. “I’m not like you guys. I’m not fun, I don’t take the same classes, I don’t ever get what you mean. We’re just not right for each other.”

You think you can see something break in Remus when you utter that last sentence. Sirius bites down on his quivering lip and wraps his arms around himself, as though physically restraining himself from pulling you into a hug.

This isn’t the first time they’ve ignored what you said, isn’t the first time they didn’t respond. It happened on a daily basis, for Merlin’s sake. But this is the only time it hurt as much as it did right now.

You glance at them one last time, heart breaking at their pained expressions. But none of them say a word as you turn around and leave the room, letting you go all too easily.

Perhaps you were just not meant to be.

[ohwaitimthewriter]

The Memory Keeper

Chapter 1 : List.

Pairing : Noa x human reader

Warning : A bit of mourning. Otherwise, all clear for this one!

Summarize (please I'm so bad at writing these!): A woman, allowed to live as long as the virus keeps running through her body, living on autopilot for 260 years, is going to see her life takes a new turn, finding hope in something that might come to put an end to her wandering.

Words : 3.2k

A/N : It has been a long time since I've written something and it feels pretty good to get back at it with this story! I hope you'll like it and do not hesitate to share your thoughts or like/reblog, it's always appreciated! As English isn't my native language, I'm sorry if you find mistakes or weird wording in there, let me know if you find some and I'll be glad to correct them!

Enjoy your reading 😊

The Memory Keeper masterlist.

It wasn't going to be a difficult day. The list was ready, the tasks the same as the day before and the day after. You had to go to the river: catch a fish, fill the flasks with fresh water, bathe… You had to get on your horse and on the way back, stop at the 16th tree on the right, get off, walk 30 steps and fill the bag with blackberries. You had to avoid the brambles and avoid tripping over the prominent root. Get back on the horse and ride home.

Prepare the fish: remove the head and tail, the skin, gut it and remove the bones, light a fire to cook it. Yes, evolution had done many things, but it must have missed the episode where it was necessary to improve the human digestive system. So the fish still had to be cooked.

The garden had to be tended. Over the years, it had evolved too. It had been a long time in the making. A vegetable garden, tomatoes, green beans and, you couldn't quite remember how, artichokes had found their place too. An apple tree was easy to grow. It took time, but it was easy. And then there was this little gem you'd stumbled upon one day: a rosebush. It was an important one. You had to take care of it too.

You always had to do something.

Your hands knew what to do and how to do it. Your legs took you where you needed to go, and at that particular moment, they had led you to your horse. You had to remove his saddle and bridle, check his hooves and remove any stones that might have got stuck on them. Run your hand over his belly to loosen the skin compressed by the girth. And don't forget to give him a drink. When it came to eating, he found everything on his own, except perhaps an apple, which you gave him from time to time to thank him for his help. He knew how to ask, too. In fact, he huffed and gave you a nudge.

Okay, an apple.

He followed you to the apple tree and you climbed onto his back. You could reach the branches, but it was always difficult to keep your balance. Especially when your right hip wasn't working properly. And you sighed. It really wasn't convenient.

You had to go on with the list, what was next?

“ Hearing my voice at least once and speaking so I don't forget.”

This was important. You had to remember how to speak. The world had forgotten, but you must not. You had no right to forget.

“Say something new.”

And you looked around.

“It's cloudy today.”

Which meant rain wasn't far off. Your horse was now grazing beside you.

“You should take shelter.”

You smile, you'd said one more sentence today. Your horse's ears twitched as if to say “I do what I want” and you shrugged. After all, he was the one to decide. But you didn't want to get wet in the rain. You patted his neck and went off to find shelter in your wooden hut.

You've lived here for a long time. A very long time. So long that you no longer needed a torch to light up the big room when night fell or when the clouds darkened the place. You knew exactly where the shaky table was, the armchair with its deformed, hollowed-out seat and even the little plastic pot you kept forgetting to put back on the table to avoid getting your feet caught in it. And despite the years, you never tripped over it.

You were right to come home. You'd just had time to put the water flasks and the cooked fish on the table when a torrent of water hit the floor. The end of the list would have to wait. The timing was perfect, as your stomach signaled that it was time to fill up, and the smell of the wood-fired fish made your mouth water.

Settling back in your armchair, you ate the fish, watching the rain fall against the hut's only window. Eating with your hands was no longer as disturbing as it had been at first. There were a lot of memories that had slipped away over time, but you almost smiled when you thought back to the embarrassment you'd felt the first time you'd had to eat like that. If you'd known back then where you'd end up…

A sigh.

Drops tumbled against the window and some seemed to challenge themselves to get to the bottom first. They were following the path traced by others before them, but obviously not all roads were good ones to take. Some raindrops went straight down, others tried to cut off their opponents' path, and still others weaved in and out to create their own path. Then a raindrop caught your eye. It seemed the most likely to win the mad race. It glided and slalomed proudly until it landed delicately on your windowsill, blending in with its sisters who had landed there before it.

You turned your eyes to the last piece of fish, which you brought to your mouth.

You took one last look out the window, and that's when you caught sight of it.

A shadow.

A shadow had just moved past your window. The rain kept on pounding against it and you could see the trees in the distance stirring in the wind, and you were sure you saw the shadow moving, quickly to the right, but the shadow was gone. There were only raindrops, only the wind, and you could even hear the dull roar of an incipient thunderstorm.

A deep breath. You had to.

Then a sigh.

The rain and wind must have played a trick on you. If the storm picked up, you definitely wouldn't be able to finish your outdoor to-do list. But that didn't matter, there was still plenty to do inside.

First you had to tidy up. Keeping the interior clean and tidy was important, so you couldn't leave the water bottles on the table. You grabbed them and stepped over the little plastic pot that stood between the table and what you could call a kitchen. At least, that's what you would have called this part of the hut back in the day, because there was only a broken sink and a cupboard without a door. You passed the front door and it rattled against the latch in the wind. You had managed to install a branch across the door, allowing you to keep it closed in bad weather. However, as it didn't close very well, the wind always managed to rattle it between the branch and the latch. But you got used to the noise. So you walked past the shaky door to put the water bottles in the cupboard, and when you heard a suspicious rustling sound, you jumped, staring at the door.

You frowned at the unusual sound. You had been holding your breath, but the wind suddenly whistled through the doorframe, which was sorely lacking in hermetic seals. So you breathed out, taking a calmer breath. The wind. Mother Nature was definitely testing your nerves tonight.

Well, you still had to change your clothes. Night was coming on and you couldn't possibly sleep in your day clothes. You stepped over the little plastic pot again and made your way to the wooden chest beside the fireplace to find a t-shirt and a pair of jogging shorts with a hole in the left knee. Maybe one day you'd find a stray piece of fabric while walking through the forest, so you could mend it. But you hadn't yet got to the list asking you to explore the surrounding area.

There were 7 lists divided into 4 sections, themselves arranged in 12 categories. It was your way of keeping track of time. You no longer counted the days, let alone the years; you'd long since lost the very notion of time. But to grow crops, harvest the fruits of the forest and simply follow nature's millimetric events and be able to anticipate them, you needed a reference point. The lists, though mostly identical, were that reference point. Hanging on the wall with pieces of wood you'd carved yourself, they determined your days and the things you had to do.

You didn't really know when or how you'd started making these lists. But judging by the ink, half washed away by the years - some of the lists had even gone back to being blank - it must have been a long time ago.

You put the current day's list back in its place. Tomorrow, you'd have to complete it while carrying out the next one. But there was one more thing you needed to do indoors before settling into your armchair for the night. One last important thing.

From the chest, you took out a picture frame. The corners were worn, the wood had crumbled and you had to handle it carefully to avoid getting splinters in your hands. You set the frame down on the floor by the fireplace, knelt in front of it and reached into the jar on your right to pick a rose petal, which you placed carefully in the right-hand corner of the frame.

You struggled to swallow.

That's where it always got complicated.

Once again, you reached into the jar and pulled out 7 petals. You always needed 7 petals. You placed 6 of them in a circle on the dry twigs in the fireplace and began humming a song whose words you'd long since forgotten. But you remembered the feeling. You felt a lump in your throat, and you often wondered how you managed to keep the song going.

You hummed, and on the last petal, with the help of a needle, you delicately traced his initials. You had to be careful not to press too hard, you shouldn't pierce the petal, just brush against it enough to see, if you concentrated hard enough, the outline of the letter you were drawing. You also had to blink a few times to see clearly what you were doing. It was important to get it right. Once you'd written the letter on the petal, you laid it at the center of the circle.

It was always at this moment that your hands shook. You needed a moment. Just a bit of time.

You had to wipe your hands over your eyes, the most important thing was to handle the two flints on the floor with care. Your hands had to be steady, not shaking. You interrupted the song to get your breathing under control.

Inhale.

Breathe out.

Grab the flints.

Inhale.

Exhale.

A sharp stroke.

The clatter of the stone threw sparks onto the pile of twigs and a flame sprang up. You started humming again as the fire slowly consumed the wood until it reached the petals of the circle.

A tear.

The fire continued to progress and you stared desperately at the petal in the center, quickly ridding yourself of the tears that were blurring your vision. The flame touched the edge of the petal and you watched the letter “C” burn away and disappear into the ashes.

The flame faded as the twigs gradually disappeared and, once gone, you slipped the petal on the frame back into its jar.

Now you had to put the frame away. Your fingers brushed the edge of the picture inside of it. Despite the years, you had managed, by some miracle, to keep the photograph almost undamaged. At least, sufficiently intact that you could still distinguish the shape of an ape in the center of the picture, despite the cracks.

He was a force of nature. You had taken this photo on a December day, you still knew because you could still discern the white flakes clinging to his dark fur. Back then, you loved taking pictures.

What did they call you again?

The memory keeper.

Even after all this time, it still made you smile. You gently squeezed the frame between your fingers, keeping it balanced on the knees you'd just tucked in towards you. This way, he was a little closer to you.

You made an extra effort to remember the day. He was standing high enough to see everyone around him. He must have been talking about something important; he always had that powerful, soul-piercing stare when he was saying something important. But he always looked…

“Grumpy.”

You concluded your thought in a whisper that knotted your throat. Grumpy. You almost expected to hear him growl, his ego bruised, every time you reminded him that he was sometimes a little too grumpy. “Grumpy because a lot on my shoulders,” he'd snap back at you. “No, grumpy because you're old” you'd always reply, your eyes always playful. And you were the only one who could say such a thing, with the only result being an amused snore coming from him.

And you felt yourself take a deep breath. Of all the pictures you'd taken, this was the last one you had left. You had to put the frame back in the chest, so your fingers tightened even more around the wood. Your head tilted slightly forward, closing your eyes as the wood touched your forehead.

Tonight was difficult.

You took another deep breath, and before the knot in your throat hurt too much, you straightened up and went to put the frame in the chest.

“Caesar, tonight is really difficult,” you whispered, watching the shadow of the lid close over the frame.

------------

It had been a restless night. When your eyes opened the next morning, they felt heavy and swollen, and you found yourself rubbing your eyes to try and make the heaviness go away.

Today, there was much to do. After changing from your night clothes to your day ones, you removed the branch blocking the door and let the sun shine in, warming your skin. The fresh early-morning air caressed your skin and you took a few seconds to smell the distinctive light scent that follows a thunderstorm.

No sooner had you taken a few steps forward than your feet bumped into something hard, causing you to lose your balance. In a fraction of a second, you found yourself on your butt on the ground, a stabbing pain in your right hip that had failed to move to stop you from falling.

“Ouch!” was the only thing that slipped out of your mouth.

You straightened up slightly, remaining seated in the grass, to see what had caused your fall and a pile of apples laid exactly under the wobbly small porch that covered your front door.

God, what a dummy not to have put that away last night. You thought to yourself, looking down at your hands full of dirt. You'd have to go to the river to clean it up, and now you'd just have to take your night clothes with you because you'd also have to wash the ones you were wearing-the mud from the storm must have dirtied your current clothes.

A pile of apples. You thought as you rubbed your hands together.

A pile of apples. You glanced at your right hip. Pfft, if you'd made Caesar break it to put it back in its place, you'd never have fallen today. In fact, you'd have avoided more than one fall.

All because of a misplaced pile of apples.

A pile of misplaced apples.

And like a light bulb switching on, your gaze suddenly fell on those apples that actually had nothing to do there. You hadn't gathered them the day before.

Then you heard it. A muffled purr came gently from behind you. Surely you should have turned around, stood up and dealt with it, but you'd found yourself rooted to the spot, eyes glued to those apples, waiting as an orangutan appeared in your field of vision.

And you refused to look at him, your hands balled into fists to keep them from shaking. You weren't afraid. No. But for some obscure reason, your brain had simply decided to freeze.

The orangutan once again let out a rumble, softer this time, and held out his hand to you.

“I'll help.”

His voice made you blink several times. You did your best to snap out of your stupor, but this time your eyes agreed to look at him, and the orangutan seemed delighted.

Just one more moment. It took another second, just one, to see your hand slip into his and before you knew it, you were back on your feet.

“Raka, we must go.”

The second voice surprised you a little. It sounded familiar and your eyes fell on a chimpanzee, a little further away, who had just finished saddling a horse. You frowned, your horse? You were trying to determine whether it was really yours, but the distance didn't allow you to be sure. There was only one way to find out.

So you whistled.

The horse shook its head and the chimpanzee didn't have time to grab the reins before your horse galloped off to meet you. They were going to take your horse… in exchange for a stack of apples?

You grabbed the reins and stroked the horse's neck as he snorted. He chewed the bit and blew heavily through his nostrils.

For a fraction of a second, you forgot about the two large apes who, from the sounds they were making, weren't particularly happy to have lost a chance of obtaining a second means of locomotion: in your peripheral vision, you could see another horse quietly grazing.

Your hands still knew what to do, and it didn't take you long to remove the bridle and bit from your horse's mouth.

“He doesn't like it.” you said simply.

And only silence answered you, so you showed the bridle to the two apes.

“The bit, he doesn't like it, he's not used to it.”

Your answer didn't seem to convince them. They stared at you, dumbstruck, and if you paid close enough attention, you could almost see their mouths hanging wide open. And that left you bewildered. What didn't they understand? You'd heard them talking, so that certainly wasn't the problem.

“You can't take my horse.” You went on, starting to remove the saddle.

It was becoming increasingly obvious that they were staring at you as if you'd just landed from the sky.

“If you want a horse, there's a wild herd to the south, past the river.” And you pointed in the right direction.

They remained silent as tombs, but the chimpanzee followed the direction you pointed with his eyes.

“Just be careful, the group's stallion isn't very friendly.” You thought it important to tell him.

Your gaze fell back on them and the orangutan, Raka, if you'd heard correctly, hadn't moved a muscle. The chimpanzee, on the other hand, was staring at you thoughtfully, as if he was trying to put together a puzzle with a missing piece. He then moved towards you inquisitively, perhaps, confused?

“Echo, speak?”

It was certainly the most surprising sentence you'd ever heard in your life.

[wyvernest]

tú eres mi vida

( part 1) (next part)

pairing: miguel o'hara x wife!reader

warnings: a lot of fluff, suggestiveness, foreplay?

summary: with the opportunity of a surprise, miguel makes the most of your honeymoon

He walked away from the hammock with you, hanging over his shoulder, ass in the air, making sure to keep a large hand over it, both to conceal you from wandering eyes and to grope at the plump flesh every now and then.

All you're seeing is the beaten path through the shore's sand and the junction between the beach and the hotel's green gardens. He skips the alley leading to your room, your eyes widening in amusement. You know he's good with directions, as long as you're talking about the spider-verse. Otherwise, in the blissful comfort of your honeymoon, you may have caught him further away from the stoic, attentive leader he's gotten used to being.

"Miguel, baby, you missed it. It's that way." you giggle lightly, tapping his lower back, careful enough not to make him feel bad. The last thing you want to do is blow off his mood.

"I know." His tone is confident, teasing. Your chuckles are silenced abruptly at the reply, utter perplexity taking over you. All the places and facilities around the resort flash through your head one by one, none fitting for what you were intending to do. And you haven't discussed love-making in seawater yet, either.

"Where are we going then?" you inquire, after throughout accession of all possibilities.

"Paciencia, cariño. It's a surprise." He reveals, full of pride and excitement, voice lowered and playful. You shiver, gripping into his waist to support your upper body and look around, scanning for said surprise.

He gets to the entrance of the private beach, still not stopping. With a sudden jump, he hops on the pier, your weight secure over his shoulder. You can't deny the wetness gathering in your panties at the thought of how effortlessly he carries you around, showing everyone that you're his, and most importantly, that he's about to make the most of it.

You watch the waves crashing softly against the darkened wood of the pier, clear and cold. You feel the breeze blow up over your bare thighs, shivering. He runs a hand over the exposed skin, up underneath the fabric of your flimsy skirt, stopping shy of the small mound of your cunt. You squirm slightly, needing his touch up higher, but he retracts his wandering hand and tightens his grip over you.

Finally, he reaches the water bungalows. Small huts connected by piers in a web-like distribution. Your eyes fixate on the king-size bed sheltered by wooden walls on all sides, except for the one facing the sea. Open and free, white curtains flowed by the bed frames, carried on the wind's wings like sails on a ship.

His knees hit the bed before he lays you down on the soft, clean, white mattress, his back facing the open view. You shift under his shadow, scurrying back towards the bed frame, watching him crawl over to you, slow and methodical.

He grabs your ankles faster than the time it would’ve taken you to escape and rile him up further, pulling you under him so that he’s straddling your hips, holding you in place. You lift yourself on your elbows, attempting to move your legs out of the cage, gazing up at him.

“What d’you think?” He asks, toying with the elastic of your skirt.

“I’ve never been happier.”

You drop your head back down on the bed, having stopped fighting the impossible hold he’s forced you in, between his muscular thighs. He smiles sweetly, satisfied with himself.

“It’s been almost impossible to find one of these available. But now that I have you here,”, he bends down, an inch away from your face. His hot breath fans your mouth, and you take it all in, the scent of him, the fresh bedding, the sea breeze. Your eyelids fall heavy, and he closes the gap between you, kissing you slowly, unhurriedly, like you have all eternity to spend together in paradise, and you’re just getting started. And maybe that’s exactly what it is.

You taste his lips, strawberry sweet and ever loving, feeling your eyes roll back at the sensation. He cups your face with one hand, holding you from fainting, and you let him lead. You feel his body move against yours, yearning to be closer and closer. His happy trail rubs onto your stomach, skin to skin. Every ridge of his defined abdomen pushes down onto you, chest rising and falling with each breath.

Struggling to keep up with the kiss, you sense his hands drift lower, to your waist, and you flinch ever so slightly, muscle memory kicking in. You mentally pray that he won’t–

And he does. He resumes his earlier attack, tickling you and abusing all the sensitive and funny spots he knows so well.

You scream through the uncontrollable laughter, fragments of his name that he otherwise hears in a different context, but which he adores nonetheless. His grip loosens momentarily, and you slip away like a cobra in desert sand. Before you can manage to get up and make a run for it, he grabs onto your skirt, his talons ripping through the material, leaving you in your shirt and panties. You protest, but he’s quick to drag you back on the bed. He laughs wholeheartedly, pinning you to the white sheets. You’re more than certain that the racket can be heard from miles away, but you couldn’t care less.

In an attempt to shield yourself, you bring your arms to your sides, tears already rolling down your eyes as you’re running out of breath and energy. He stops, and squeezes his thighs around your waist. You’re not leaving.

As he gathers the white sheets, pulling them over you both, you try to ignore the weight of his half-hard cock that’s now resting on your midriff. Or not.

You run your hands up his burly thighs, over his hip bone and up his abdomen, feeling the muscles ripple with his movements. He gives you a knowing look, bringing the sheet over his head, trapping you in a semi-transparent cocoon.

“Who’s gonna see us? The fish?”, you manage to say, feeling the remnants of an explosive giggle kick back in right after you’ve calmed down.

“I’m not taking any chances. There are speedboats.” he mumbles, as he adjusts above you.

“They’re not allowed so close to the-” he cuts off the rest of the sentence, slamming his lips onto your once again, and just like earlier, he has you melting in his arms in no time. It’s almost embarrassing how he manages to surf you through emotions so quickly and effortlessly, but you blame it on the beauty of being utterly and irrevocably in love. His lips move against yours with expert ease and precision, stopping every now and then to breathe, barely breaking away, as your exhales mix together in desperation and fascination.

You wrap your arms around his neck, your legs around his waist, basking in the heat of his body radiating down on you. A groan reverberates in his chest at the action, resulting in him moaning in your mouth.

You continue to make out in the cool shade of the bungalow, sheltered from the blazing July sun, and every second you feel like it’s the first time again, butterflies in your stomach, heart about to burst.

When he finally parts from you, chest heaving, eyes half lidded, you feel as if you’ve been cut from a lifeline. He moves to your flushed cheeks, the kisses are open-mouthed and slow.

“Te amo. Tu eres mi alma”, he kisses below your temple, “mi corazón-”, he moves to your jaw and right below it, “-mi vida.”

He licks at your neck, kissing the sensitive skin with insistence, pressing himself closer to you.

“Y siempre lo serás.”

link to part one!

translations:

paciencia - patience

tú eres mi alma - you are my soul

y siempre lo serás - and always will be

a/n: ill do a part 3 i actually love this whole honeymoon idea:) i hope its at the very least a bit original with the bungalow and all that

ALSO if you're a native latin spanish speaker please correct me im here to learn and write him as well as i can<3

+thank you everyone for the AMAZING feedback ive received for the first part!! i really hope you like this one and the next just as much

taglist:

@cooch1ecruncher @nvkdjnvjkd @tsukkie-daisuke @noahspector

(it won't let me tag everyone, sorry if i missed you)

[xxnghtclls]

Pond and Poetry

True Form Sukuna x Reader

Permission Universe ❤️

Rating: Mature

Wordcount: 1,358

Fluff! Flirt and a little bit of dirty talk… Soft Sukuna all the way tho.

Summary: Sukuna meets you in the garden, while you’re busy playing with Kois. And then you flirt. Just flirt. I got some Permission feels recently so I couldn’t resist to write this.

—

Warm sun on your skin and green grass beneath your figure, as you lay in front of the pond. Spring is here, the air is not cold and not warm, perfectly balanced by cold breezes and the warmth of the sun. Cherry blossoms start to bloom and small little wild flowers poke their head out of the ground.

Colourful Kois are swimming quietly in circles. Back and forth and left and right.

And you watch them with a thoughtful smile on your face, while you let the sun warm your figure. The sight reminds you of the time, when you and Ak-

When you were watching the Kois together.

The kimono you’re wearing is heating up with each minute, coating you comfortably. Supporting your head on your right hand, you reach with your left one into the cold water.

Your finger dips in, an attempt to touch one of those big fishes, that sometimes disappear beneath the reflection of the sun.

However, this reflection is interrupted, as suddenly your tall King steps onto the bridge next to the pond. Without greeting him and now having a better look at the Kois, you manage to brush your skin against the smooth surface of their scales. Your eyes light up and you smile.

“Got you.” you whisper quietly, as you see the outlines of familiar spiky hair and a huge figure imprint a shadow on the water.

You blink and finally look up to your right, seeing Sukuna’s gentle eyes looking down at you, his head being propped up on his right upper arm, just like yours. He’s wearing his Hakama pants and black cloak, while he leans against the balustrade of the bridge. He cocks his eyebrow at you.

“Childish brat.” he teases, flashing his teeth into a smirk. You huff, before you stick your tongue out at him.

“Let me.” you mutter, before you turn back to the Kois, as you keep twirling your finger in the water.

He huffs at your response, as he keeps watching you.

“Join me.” you continue almost inaudible, as you wiggle up your feet and swing them back and forth.

No response.

Except a pull on your heart. And you know what’s up.

You sigh, before you retrieve your hand from the water and tap with your palm on the spot next to you.

Two times.

Tap.Tap.

“Come.” you say softly, still not looking at him.

And you can feel his eyes boring into your figure and how his shit eating grin eats you up, before you hear him shift. Sukuna’s naked feet move over the wooden bridge, then through the fresh grass, until they come to a halt at the spot you pat on with your hand.

Don’t look at him.

One of his hand brushes against your moving left ankle, before you feel his foot gently push against your hip.

You ignore him.

He huffs again.

Unbothered, you dip your finger back into the water.

Another attempt of touching those colourful scales.

With a soft breeze, you finally feel him crouching down next to you.

More.

He takes a strand of your hair, fiddling it between his fingers. You quietly retrieve your finger from the water again and reach behind you.

“Closer, my Love.” you mumble softly, as you get a hold of his cloak and pull. One, two times.

And you can feel his grin again. You know he’s just watching you, waiting with what you’re coming up next.

It’s amusing to him. Actually... for the both of you.

To your surprise however, he leans down. His teeth find the shell of your ear for a moment, before he lays down to your left, on his stomach, just like you.

“They’re your gift for me after all.” you say with a satisfied grin on your face, still not looking at him.

As long as he’s this mute, giggling hunk of a man, you would rather admire the fish... And you know it’s a lie.

You have to force yourself to keep looking at those Kois, because you can’t get enough of him. Still.

After all this time.

Because you are his and he is yours. For now and all eternity.

“What now?” he whispers quietly in your ear, his pretty nose presses against the side of your head, taking in the scent of you and your hair.

“You’ll get a kiss if you can touch one of them.” you nudge your head to the pond, before turning your head to finally look at him.

His expression slackens and his lip rises into a mix of a sneer and pout, before he rolls over onto his back and closes his eyes. It makes you snort.

But, you catch yourself, trying to suppress a laughter.

Behave.

You lean over and with the index finger of your right hand, you give him a poke on his bottom lip.

“A kiss on your lips then.” you say cheekily, as if you just upgraded your offer significantly, while you watch how the shadows of the trees and the light of the sun dance with each other upon his facial features.

He blinks his crimson orbs open, still holding his unamused expression, as he grabs your right wrist.

Too much?

You inhale.

“A kiss on my lips then?” a new offer, using a mature voice this time.

A pause.

And a breeze, while he contemplates your new offer. You watch Sukuna’s hair move from the breeze, before his lip twitches. He pulls you closer. Close enough, to let his lips slightly brush over yours.

“A kiss on your lips it is.” he breathes. “And a kiss on your cheeks. And...”

“And?” you raise your eyebrows at him.

“...the sound of your thighs.” he concludes, brushing his nose against yours. “And how they mute my ears.”

Oh.

Heat rushes to the cheeks in your face and to the lips between your legs.

Heartache.

“Maybe you should write poetry.” you cock your head to the side, trying to act over your embarrassment and arousal.

“Maybe I should.” Sukuna smirks quietly in response, as his eyes pierce through you.

God.

You chew on your lip, as you lean back into your previous position and turn back to watch the fish in the water.

“There.” you dip your left finger back into the cold, as you watch him in the corner of your eyes, how he rolls back over on his stomach, leaving the black cloak laying in the grass.

Sukuna reaches for the water too, but his finger brushes over your hand first.

So gentle. So slow.

His touch feels electrifying, sending a feeling of home and love through your whole body.

Those fingers that killed many men and women and children. Those fingers that did such cruelty.

So soft against your skin. You focus and watch his hand closely.

And your heart starts racing.

His index finger follows the line of your hand, along your own finger and finally dips into the water as well. Sukuna’s hand stays resting upon yours, as you both slowly circle your fingers in the water.

It almost drives you insane.

The Kois keep dancing around your limbs, coming closer, swimming away again.

Sukuna quietly guides your hand closer to one of them. A gentle vibration flows through your hand and you notice how the fish grows slower in its movement.

Careful.

Your fingers brush against the scales. In unity. Along the whole length of the fish. “Got you.” he whispers against your hair, sending shivers through your whole body.

Sukuna then guides your whole hand underwater and turns it upside down, making it able for you to even hold the Koi for a few seconds, until it swims away again.

Your eyes light up again, as your heart is beating in your chest. And Sukuna pulls on it.

“Use me as your canvas.” you whisper, your voice almost trembling, wetness rising between your thighs, before you look back at him and his eyes falls to your lips.

“I will.” he stares and you stare back at his wrinkly eyes, before he leans closer. “Gonna write my poetry all over your body.”

—

lmk if you want to read how Sukuna’s poetry looks like ✌️

[prythianpages]

Very Demure | ACOTAR x Witch Reader

━━━━━━•───⋅☽𖤐☾⋅───•━━━━━

[season of the witch masterlist]

warnings: none

a/n: The aftermath of the "very mindful, very cutesy, very demure" trend from tiktok. These are drabbles and include Az, Cas & Eris. But Az's is probably the longest at 1K words and no longer a drabble lol, Cas's is 700 and Eris's is 850.

moon divider by @tsunami-of-tears <3

━━━━━━•───⋅☽𖤐☾⋅───•━━━━━

Azriel x Green Witch

The scent of earth and herbs filled the air as you approached your patch of snapdragons, their vibrant green stems standing tall but flowerless. Kneeling beside them, you set down the small, ceramic watering can filled to the brim with moon water and reach out to touch the leaves, your fingers trailing over them as delicately as the breeze. 

“Good morning, my little ones,” you murmured. "How are you feeling today?"

Your garden came to life, the plants surrounding you swaying slightly in response. All, except for the shy yet stubborn snapdragons.

You frowned. 

“The soil is rich and I’ve kept the pests at bay. I’ve planted you where the sun is bright and the air is cool. Very thoughtful of me, isn’t it?”

The snapdragons still did not respond.

With a sigh, you began to water them. Snapdragons were native to Autumn and thrived during the cooler months. From what you read, these flowers had a personality of their own and despite being named after the brazen beasts that soared in the skies, they were demure.

You knew it would be difficult to get them to bloom here in the Night Court but as the Autumn season approached, you were determined to grow them yourself. Their seeds could be used to make healing oils and if the stubborn flowers favored you, they would gift you with their small but mighty fire breath that you could use to make a warming potion.

“See how I’m not overwatering you? Very mindful.” You continued, setting the watering can back down, using the oldest trick in the book. Like calls to like and if you could show the flowers that you could be like them, perhaps they’d bless you by blossoming. 

“I’m not doing too much. Very demure."

You smiled fondly at them, knowing they were listening. "I understand that a beauty like yours cannot be rushed. But know that I am waiting to see your colors, to feel the warmth you bring.”

As if finally acknowledging your presence, one snapdragon in particular—a tiny bud, the smallest of them all—quivered ever so slightly. You leaned closer, your heart swelling with hope when a shadow came over you.

You rose to your feet, brushing at the dirt on your skirts as you turned around. The corners of your mouth curved upward, your heart fluttering with that familiar, gentle tug deep within your chest—the unmistakable pull of his presence.

“Azriel.” You greeted as his familiar form emerged from the shadows.

His wings shuddered, his shadows dispersing like ink in water, revealing him before they settled at his feet. As always, a few of the inky tendrils reached out to you, caressing your skin with their smooth, cool touch. One, more daring than the others, wrapped itself around your arm and nestled there, refusing to let go.

“Looks like someone missed me.” You laughed.

“I missed you more.” Azriel grinned, taking a step forward.

He reached out, his hand brushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his touch lingering against your cheek. You gasped at the chill of his skin, your brows knitting together in concern as you clasped his hand between your own. “Cauldron above, you’re freezing!”

You reached for his other hand, gathering both of his scarred hands into your warm grasp. The rough texture of his skin contrasted sharply with the softness of your touch, and your heart ached at the thought of him enduring such cold, worried it’d bring him more pain.

“I’m used to it,” Azriel murmured, his tone dismissive as he shrugged off your concern. “Illyria’s temperatures have always been brutal.”

But you couldn’t shake the worry. Azriel tried to pull his hands away, but you held on tighter, green magic swirling around his fingers, gently massaging the ridged scars. His right wing twitched under your fussing, and you brought his hands to your lips, pressing soft kisses to the backs of each one. 

Your lips against his skin felt like a soothing balm, and he could feel warmth spreading from his hands up to his neck, making his breath hitch.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be able to brew a potion that will keep you warm at all times soon.”

“It’s okay, don’t trouble yourself. I can handle a little cold every now and then,” he replied, trying to downplay the discomfort, but you frowned up at him.

“Just because you can doesn’t mean you should.”

You released his hands, the warmth of your magic still wrapped around him. The idea of a warming potion was tempting, but Azriel knew how overwhelmed you were with requests from other fae in need. He could wait—there were others who needed you more. Yet, when he looked into your eyes, filled with such fierce affection and determination, he knew he wouldn’t win this argument.

Azriel’s arms wrapped around you, pulling you close as he pressed a kiss to your forehead. “That’s very thoughtful of you,” he murmured.

You grinned up at him, your eyes sparkling. “Very demure.”

“What?” He asked, puzzled by your teasing tone.

Before you could respond, a gentle breeze brushed past, drawing your attention back to the patch of snapdragons. Azriel followed your gaze, his hazel eyes curious. The small bud that had been trembling moments before began to unfurl, its petals peeling back like layers of silk. Your breath caught in your throat as the snapdragon revealed itself in all its glory—a vibrant bloom of deep crimson, its edges kissed with gold.

"There you are," you breathed, your voice filled with wonder. "Oh, you are magnificent."

The bloom seemed to bask in your praise, its petals resembling a dragon’s mouth opening wide. A small cloud of smoke puffed from the center, followed by a gentle hiss, and then, with a tiny roar, the snapdragon emitted a small burst of fire. Instinctively, Azriel’s arms tightened around you, but you placed a calming hand on his chest.

“I knew you could do it,” you said to the flower, your heart swelling with pride and joy.

Cassian x Love Witch

Cassian dropped his toast, eyes widening as you walked into the kitchen, humming softly to yourself. The tune was light, almost suspiciously nonchalant, but it was your outfit that truly caught him off guard. He swallowed the food in his mouth, clearing his throat as he tried to process what he was seeing. 

“What are you wearing?”

“Good morning to you too,” you replied with a sweet smile, leaning in to kiss his cheek before gliding past him to the steaming cup of coffee waiting for you.

Cassian blinked, still in disbelief. “What are you wearing?” he repeated.  Your usual vibrant pinks were replaced by muted tones—dark navy pants, a soft beige top, and matching flats. The only hint of pink was in the pearl earrings dangling from your ears, and even those were a subtle shade, almost blending in.

Cassian could count on one hand the number of times you’d worn anything other than your signature bright pinks. One of them being your wedding day, where you wore a beautiful white dress but even then, your platform heels were a bold hot pink.

“Clothes.” You answered simply, leaning against the kitchen counter to face him.

“I see that…,” Cassian exhaled, blinking as if trying to wake from a strange dream. But this was real, and it was slightly unsettling. “But why?”

You raised an eyebrow, a playful glint in your eyes as you sipped your coffee. “Are you asking me why I’m wearing clothes?”

“Sweetheart, you know exactly what I’m asking.”

You sighed, the lightheartedness fading from your eyes as you wrapped your arms around yourself, a gesture that sent a ripple of unease through him. “I’m going to try and be a little more… demure.”

“What?”

“Try and be a little more demure.” You repeated.

“Demure,” Cassian chuckled. At the sight of your lips curving down into a frown, all amusement drained from Cassian’s face and his heart tightened. “Oh, you were serious?”

When you remained silent, Cassian stood, concern replacing his earlier confusion. He closed the distance between you, his large hand gently lifting your chin, coaxing your gaze to meet his. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you replied honestly, though there was a hint of uncertainty in your voice. “It’s just… I overheard some fae at Rita’s talking about this trend. To not do too much, to be more subtle, to be demure.”

Cassian’s brow furrowed as he studied you, a small, tender smile forming on his lips. “Sweetheart, you are anything but demure.”

Your glare was immediate, but it was more a pout than anything, and Cassian couldn’t help the fondness that swelled in his chest. “I can be anything I want to be,” you retorted.

“Yes,” he agreed, his thumb caressing your cheek in a way that sent a shiver of warmth down your spine. “But I just want you to be you.”

His words hung in the air, a gentle reminder of the love he had for the vibrant, unapologetically you. When you didn’t respond, Cassian leaned in, pressing a kiss to your cheek, his lips lingering as if willing you to let go of whatever doubt had crept into your heart. 

Slowly, a smile tugged at the corners of your lips, and with it, the glamour over your clothes faded away. Gone were the muted colors, replaced by the vivid shades of pink that Cassian adored—the colors that were as much a part of you as your laughter and your light.

Because when have you ever given in to trends? You, who shone like a beacon of color in a world that could be so gray, had always embraced who you were without hesitation. The opinions of others rarely fazed you, but sometimes, even you needed a reminder and Cassian was more than glad to do it for you.

“There she is,” he murmured, giving your cheek another kiss before pulling you into his arms. “My bright, shining star.”

You melted into his embrace, a contented sigh escaping your lips as your hands trailed up his back, reveling in the solid strength beneath his shirt. “Your hugs are the best,” you whispered, nuzzling into his warmth.

"They are?"

His arms tightened around you, the familiar scent of him wrapping around you like a comforting blanket.

“Mm, you feel so strong. Makes me feel so…demure.”

Eris x Chaos Witch

The kitchen was nearly empty, the scent of cooked herbs and roasted meats still lingering in the air. The flickering candlelight cast long shadows on the stone walls, making the space feel both vast and suffocating. The cooks had long since retired, and only a few servants remained, their weary faces reflecting the strain of another long day in the Forest House.

The High Lord was away, leaving the Lady of Autumn and her sons that lived here to tend to. The noble lords and advisors who usually filled these halls were absent tonight, choosing to attend dinner only when Beron himself was present or if they were invited by Eris. It should have made the evening easier to endure, but one sharp comment from Reed had nearly shattered the delicate guise you'd worked so hard to maintain.

You felt Eris’s presence before he even crossed the threshold. A strange sensation creeping up your ribcage–like a warning. 

Your knuckles turned white as you gripped the marble edge of the counter, the cold stone grounding you. A deep breath—one that burned your lungs—did little to quell the storm raging within. The servants, sensing the tension crackling in the air, quickly scattered, their hurried footsteps echoing off the walls.

His eyes, usually gleaming with mischief, were now sharp and assessing. He was close now, the heat of his body a reminder of the power he wielded—not just over flame, but over this entire court and perhaps, even over you…

Your heart pounded in your chest, threatening to stir the darkness that lived inside you awake. That sinister and wicked side of you. The one that nearly slipped when Reed–

“That wasn’t very demure of you.”

Eris's tone was light and teasing, but beneath it lay a dark edge. 

Demure. 

The very epitome of the Autumn Court, reserved specifically for the fae females. A female was meant to be modest and reserved. Gentle and feminine. Quiet and docile. Dressed in muted Autumn colored dresses that left little to no skin exposed, allowing one to blend within backgrounds. 

Never drawing attention to herself.

It was what you forced yourself to be. A demure, young fae that worked in the kitchens of the great Autumn estate, serving the dignified and vehement Vanserras. More like vain Vanserras…

But tonight, the quiet, demure, and soft-spoken facade nearly cracked, allowing the fierce, raging beast that lurked within to claw its way to the surface.

Eris was angry and he had every right to be. The weight of your secret hung heavily between you, a volatile force that threatened to consume everything if unleashed. However, you’d be damned if you’d let him know you were ever in agreement.

“The depth of my concern could not be further shallowed.” You replied sharply with a glare.

Eris took another step forward, gaze dropping briefly before lifting back up to meet yours. His lips curled up into a sneer.  “Drop the knife.”

You clenched your hands and it was only then that you realized in the midst of your turmoil, you had picked up one of the knives on the counter, its sharp edge pointed at Eris. 

“Drop the attitude first.”

A muscle feathered in his jaw and the fire in his eyes burned brighter. Strong and powerful magic surged through you but the blood that coursed through your veins was no different than any commoner’s. And you knew it irked him to be spoken in such a way by a common fae.

“I can kill you, you know,” he said casually, one hand reaching out for yours–the one that held the knife. He forced your hand down. “Save myself from all the trouble you bring…”

“Death does not frighten me.” You reminded him just as casually.

Eris’s eyes softened for a moment, a flicker of something you could not discern sparking in his amber gaze. But it was fleeting, replaced quickly by the calculating gaze of a future High Lord, one who was currently navigating a treacherous game. Much to his dismay, he needed you if he wanted a chance at winning. Just as much as you needed him…

He leaned in close, his breath warm against your ear. He wanted you to tremble before him, to fear him.  “Then, I will deny you death until you beg me on your knees for it.”

Your hand tensed against the knife you still held and Eris, whose hand still remained over yours, grew hot. Flames danced from his fingertips, heating against your skin. It was a fleeting kiss of heat that sent a sharp, tingling sensation coursing through your skin but not hot enough to burn. Not yet. 

“Do you think about that image a lot? Of me on my knees?”

Eris’s hand left yours. A wave of relief washed over you and you resisted the urge to cradle your hand to your chest. 

He took a step back, amber eyes sweeping over you with a slow, deliberate gaze. “It would suit you.”

“Keep dreaming, Vanserra.”

Eris's chuckle broke the silence, but it was a hollow sound, stripped of any true amusement. His eyes continued to bore into you with a searing intensity. "For both our sakes," he warned, his voice low and edged with a dangerous calm, "see that it doesn’t happen again."

Without waiting for a response, he turned and walked away, his footsteps echoing ominously. You stood alone, the lingering tension from his presence intertwining with your own growing anxiety.

With every beat of your heart, the darkness seemed to creep closer, and the storm of chaos you fought to contain felt ever more on the verge of breaking free.

a/n: When thinking about the demure trend, my mind had drifted to how each witch would be. Green witch gives off the most "demure" vibes. Then, I saw a tiktok resurfacing a clip from The Nanny of Fran saying she wants to be demure and it made me think of Love witch.

Chaos witch knows she's not demure, even though she has to pretend to be. I might actually use that scene between them in a one shot. It's hard writing short stuff for Eris & Chaos when I haven't written the prologue/introduction. I hope it's not confusing to follow along. For now, all you have to know is that they have their separate goals but must reluctantly work together if they want to see them come to light.

[witch au masterlist]

general witch tag list: @rcarbo1, @scorpioriesling, @ninthcircleofprythian

love witch tag list: @mrsjna , @shadowsingercassia, @acourtofbatboydreams, @rcarbo1, @mvidaaaa ,

@stuff-i-found-while-crying , @lipstickmarks, @yamisukehoe , @mp-littlebit , @thecraziestcrayon,

@talesofadragon, @ceoofyearning, @anuttellaa, @breadsticks2004, @chicken-fifi

@bxtchopolis

green witch tag list: @fxckmiup, @aria-chikage

General tag list: @scooobies, @kennedy-brooke, @sillysillygoose444, @lilah-asteria @the-sweet-psycho

@daycourtofficial, @milswrites, @stormhearty, @pit-and-the-pen, @mybestfriendmademe

@loving-and-dreaming @azriels-human, @mrsjna, @adventure-awaits13

If you asked to be in a tag list and don't see your name, please let me know!

[joequiinn]

When the Wolfsbane Blooms | part i | e.m. x reader au

Summary | September 1916. Edward Munson is back in Hawkins after 13 years, returning to live with his uncle who serves as groundskeeper to the Talbot Estate. Upon his return it’s as if nothing has changed... except the Talbot daughter, who wasn’t nearly so striking back when they were children. But a strange danger seems to coincide with Eddie’s arrival, and all it takes is one fateful night to expose him to exactly what this danger is…

Tags & Warnings | 18+, angsty horror romance, fem reader, depictions of violence and death, smut and nsfw themes, reader last name for plot purposes, use of some 3rd person narrative, historical inaccuracies

A.N | Sooo, this was supposed to be a oneshot for Halloween, but the plot got away from me, and now we've got a big fic. Due to the premise and time period, Eddie may be ooc, but I tried my best to make him fit the era, and the vibes are so worth it!

W.C | 10.3k

!! MINORS DNI !!

“The way you walked was thorny…”

August 1900

The Talbot Estate was a wonder in the late summer, its grounds awash with blooming colors of calendulas and borages, of dahlias and cosmos. To you, it seemed the soil was rich with magic and splendor, for how could the hands of man ever maintain something quite so beautiful? It couldn’t be the hard work of the groundskeeper, always watering and weeding, slaving away under the hot sun for the sake of your family’s gardens - no, it was clearly the power of fairies or sprites that grew the flowers so vivid and the trees so high.

Although the extensive gardens were forever stunning, you favored the surrounding fields as your playground instead, the wild and untamed things far more exciting than the lavish flowerbeds and neat rows of vegetables. It was the rolling hills and woodlands of the seemingly endless Talbot Estate where wonder truly lied, although many days you may have been the only one to see it. Surrounded by the tall grass and wildflowers and imposing trees, you were an explorer - not a mere girl of eight, but a true adventurer of the world, awaiting her next great discovery.

When the days were warm and the sun was high, you could always be found skipping over tangling tree roots or lying amongst the wild helenium. And such is where you were found this lovely August afternoon, snuck upon by the groundskeeper's ward, Edward, the only person in the entire world perhaps more rascally than yourself; or so you thought, as your whole world had only ever consisted of your family grounds and the nearby town of Hawkins.

“You’ll be stung to death if you lie here all day.” The boy’s playful words startled you out of your lazy reverie, having been soothed nearly to sleep by the buzzing of insects around your head. He plopped down to sit beside you, his knobby knee bumping your leg with impatient, childish glee. With a smile wide enough to show off your two missing teeth, you sat up eagerly with a stretch of your arms, your dress wrinkled and the hem stained green from the grass; grass so tall you were both hidden from sight, like two predators stalking their prey.

“The bees wouldn’t dare sting me, we’re good friends.” You argued, delighting in the way Edward grinned back at you and your fanciful way of thinking. He made a conspiratory look, that familiar face he always pulled when he was about to share a tall tale - Edward had always been a storyteller, and you the ever attentive listener.

“You think of them as your friends?” He leaned forward, and so you did the same, coming close enough that he could whisper his closely guarded secret, “No, they fool you. Their queen has it out for you, you know, she’s instructed they play nice to lull you into a false sense of security.”

You giggled into your dirt-covered hand, Edward’s eyes twinkling at how easily he could amuse you, “And what does the queen have against me?”

Although he was only nine years old (nearly ten, he had a habit of reminding you recently), Edward had such control of his face that sometimes you thought he was ninety. His expression became gravely serious, he looked around as if fearful the bees may hear the two of you, leaning even closer while cupping his hand around your ear to keep those pesky eavesdroppers from listening.

“She is jealous. You are like Snow White, ‘a thousand times more fair.’”

Your cheeks grew hot, so easily charmed by Edward’s words; you hid behind your hands, smile large and eyes shining. His own ears were pink despite the proud, confident look on his face; you stared at one another, both nearly too embarrassed to speak.

“Eddie, you are a terrible liar.” You said with a grin, nervously picking at the grass by your feet, getting its threads stuck beneath your fingernails.

“Liar?” He questioned mischievously, “But it was no exaggeration.”

You stared at your feet, unable to look him in the eye. You were too young to truly understand the vastness of emotions blooming between you two this past summer, to know exactly the words for why you looked upon this silly boy as if he were the sun. But you were intelligent enough to know that you felt for him differently than you had before, to know that perhaps this was some child-like semblance of puppy love.

You carefully glanced up at him through your lashes, another conspiring look passing between the two of you, “If you’re caught speaking like that, Edward Munson, they may force you to marry me.”

With a charmed smile, Edward shook his head, eyes alight as he stared back at you, “Oh, Ms. Talbot, I don’t think they’ll allow it.”

“Good.” You said defiantly, rising to your feet and dusting off your skirts, useless as it may be. You squinted against the sunlight as you looked across the fields; your family estate in the distance was like a foreboding beacon, one you quickly turned your gaze from, “Marriage wouldn’t suit me, I have the whole world to see, and a husband would simply hold me back.”

Edward stood with you, the breeze ruffling his hair as he stretched his arms up in the air, fingers splaying wide as if he could brush the clouds in the sky, “But do we not have the whole world here at our fingertips already?”

You two shared an innocent smile, and without a word of warning you quickly spun around and began traipsing through the flowers and weeds, happily going along knowing that Edward was sure to follow. His footfall was merely a step behind you, although with his long legs he could very easily surpass you in stride should he choose. But dutifully he allowed you to lead, and so you pumped your arms and legs a little faster.

“And what is here that I can’t find out there?” You questioned eagerly, bursting out of the grassiest part of the field which neighbored a small pond, one of many scattered about the expansive Talbot Estate. Bugs skated across the water’s surface, a bird glided past your head, a frog croaked somewhere from within a log.

“I’d bet there’s acres of this land that you haven’t seen.” Edward challenged, and you wondered if he’d grown taller recently - why did it feel as if you had to crane your head to look at him more than you did yesterday? You crossed your arms with a smart look, suspecting that he knew something that you didn’t, if that mischievous twinkle in his eye was any indicator.

“And you have?”

The excited smile that overtook his entire face was only confirmation that he had something to share, some new discovery that he was certain you’d absolutely delight in, “Do you know there’s a chapel on your family’s grounds?”

You made a curious face, having never heard about it before. Where could it possibly be hiding, and why had you not previously known of it? You shook your head with disbelief, although you were certainly eager for Edward to follow through and reveal this chapel’s secret hiding place to you.

“If we have a chapel, why hasn’t my father ever shown it to me?” You asked defiantly, debating that perhaps Edward was trying to trick you.

He gave the kind of noncommittal shrug that only a child could, his face showing annoyance that you didn’t believe him, “Maybe he doesn’t know either.”

“But he knows everything.” You argued with silly logic, causing Edward to laugh a little. That was the difference between eight years old and nearly ten years old, the difference between wealth and poverty - he’d stopped believing that his father knew everything long ago.

“I’ll show you.” He insisted stubbornly, although the light in his rich brown eyes gave away his excitement. Your own innocent expression grew wide with exhilaration, eager to see this supposed chapel with your own two eyes.

All it took was for you to nod once, and Edward grabbed your hand, running clumsily over rocks and through brush towards the most northern end of the Talbot property. It wasn’t an easy area to trek, less kempt than the rest of the estate, trees growing taller and wider as it edged along the expansive forest. Perhaps that’s why you’d never seen this chapel, as the northern property seemed far and wide, intimidating even the most adventurous of small children.

But with Edward’s companionship, the journey was exciting, full of wonder and endless curiosity. Eventually, you tugged your hand from his own, struggling to keep up with his longer legs, although you didn’t dare stop moving, else you might lose him amongst the brush and trees. You two laughed at nothing, simply happy for each other’s company, running and running for what felt like an eternity.

The roll of hills slowed you down, the tangle of branches caused brief pauses, but eventually Edward came to a stop, doubling over with his hands on his knees as he caught his breath. His cheeks were splotchy pink as his chest moved quickly, and you yourself had to sit upon a stump thanks to the burning of your calves. From your vantage point, you looked around, a chapel nowhere in sight, and you very nearly whipped your disappointed gaze onto Edward, to scold him for tricking you like this.

That is, until you finally saw it.

Peaking over bright green leaves, a stone spire just barely protruded, practically lost among the foliage. You gawked while rising back to your feet, both shocked and excited to see that Edward was, in fact, speaking the truth. The two of you shared a look, his face satisfied to be proven right, and you once more smiled from ear to ear before stomping down the hill to find the rest of the building.

The chapel stood derelict and decrepit, clearly forgotten about after what must have been a long time. The bricks were covered in moss and lichen, ivy crawling its way up corners and railings, abandoned birds’ nests littering windowsills and the belfry. Even from here, you could see that parts of the roof had caved in, that pieces of stone had worn away from the hands of time.

But curiously, the flowers appeared well-kept, planted fresh in spite of the chapel’s abandonment. It was a flower you recognized from your books of botany, although you weren’t quite certain yet which plant it was - amongst your books there were many beautifully drawn depictions of purple flowers upon sprawling stalks. What would compel someone to return to this ramshackle structure simply to maintain its blooms, you wondered.

You and Edward shared a look of both fear and excitement - although it was unspoken, you both had the sense that you weren’t supposed to be here, and that sent a buzz through your entire body. There was something daunting about the chapel, perhaps something even dangerous, and yet the thrill of that risk was all too gripping to ignore.

You tried to put on a brave face, even as you reached for Edward’s hand again; you held your chin high as if to hide your nerves, acting as if you grabbed his hand not for your sake, but for his. And he said nothing on the matter, squeezing your fingers in his own for reassurance, the both of you slowly approaching the imposing structure.

Those curious purple flowers kept your attention as you drew closer, the way they were planted all around the edges of the chapel - they were practically four walls of their own, a fence of sorts as if to adorn what was housed inside. Drawing closer, Edward reached his fingertips towards the enchanting petals, but you tugged at his other hand, as if the imminent danger suddenly jogged your little botanist memory.

“They’re poisonous.” The words fell delicately from your lips, Edward giving you a quizzical look as the pair of you stopped. You studied the flowers with trepidation, shrinking away from their reach, “Wolfsbane.”

Of course you should have remembered that sooner - your father had an entire encyclopedia of poisonous plants that you found far more fascinating than all the rest. You’d always had an interest in plantlife, even before you could read, so as you grew your father showed you the corner of the library dedicated to such a subject, allowing you to marvel over the pictures while tripping over the Latin names scrawled upon the pages. That book of poisonous plants was one of your favorites, perhaps because of all the beautiful colors that masked the dangers lying just within - but you were too young to read into the deeper meaning of that.

Edward continued the trek forward, tugging at your hand so that you would follow. When you reached the rotted, termite infested doors, he gave a firm push, but they wouldn’t budge. With a determined furrow of his brow, Edward looked around for another way in, but even the shattered windows were too high for you to safely climb. So, he tried forcing the door again; it was once you began to help that it finally began to scrape along the stone floor, the sound grating to your ears as the two of you huffed with each insistent push.

Finally, there was enough space for the two of you to slink inside, and you shared a daunted look with one another now that the path was clear.

“You go first.” You whispered, and Edward’s eyes widened a little, affronted at your instruction.

“Me?”

“Eddie, please.” You requested, swallowing nervously. You looked around, as if fearful that you’d be caught now that you’d gotten this far into your journey.

Edward sucked in his lips and looked at the gap in the door, into the imposing darkness, debating if it was too late to turn back now. He slowly returned his gaze to you, as if afraid that if he turned his back on the dark, it may swallow him whole.

“Hold my hand.” He requested, and you obliged without question or hesitation. You both pressed your backs to the door, shuffling in one right behind the other, feet carefully gliding as you went together into the foreboding chapel.

Despite the fearful drumming of your heart, you were put at ease by sunlight streaming in through the deteriorated roof and ruined windows. You exhaled deeply, sharing another look with Edward as you unclasped your clammy hands.

“Nothing to be afraid of.” He said with ease, as if to calm the both of you down. The corner of your mouth pulled up in a weak grin before you finally looked around the small chapel around you.

The floor was littered with dust and debris, scattered with feathers and leaves. The pews were in tattered pieces, the podium left abandoned on its side; one iron candelabrum still stood tall, melted wax molded upon its holders, but its brethren had fallen much like everything else. You gasped a little at the sight of bones near your feet, but held in the desire to shout with disgust. But then your eyes caught a dried, coppery trail from the bones to the door just behind you, and your heart rate spiked with puzzled fear.

Edward slowly walked past the shredded, crumbling pews, taking careful steps as he approached what was once the altar; where candles should have rested, instead there were more bones and abandoned bits of nature. But you could tell, even while watching his back, that something peculiar caught his eye, and you bit your lip with hesitation.

“Eddie…?”

He reached out towards the ground beside the altar, the sound of scrapping metal making you cringe as he picked something up. He turned around with the cumbersome material in hand, revealing to you a rusted chain weight down by a shackle. Another pang of panic drummed in your chest, finding this place no longer exciting and worth exploring, but rather ominous and frightening - you were not supposed to be here.

Letting your eyes wander, you realized that wasn’t the only chain, that another could be found just opposite of where Edward stood; he seemed to realize the same thing, looking back at you with alarmed eyes, although this place made the darkness of his eyes unnerving instead of comforting.

“I think there’s a reason your dad never brought you here…” His voice was edgy, face appearing nearly gaunt in the low lighting.

“Maybe he doesn’t know.” You countered, although it was clear that you’d only said that for your own comfort. Something told you that your father was most certainly aware of whatever happened in this chapel, although you weren’t sure how you could tell such a thing. A shiver ran up your spine, a sensation so cold that you wrapped your arms around yourself, nervously digging your fingernails into your skin, “I think we should go.”

Edward nodded even as he continued to look around, as if he couldn’t help his innate curiosity to see more, to understand what secrets lie here on Talbot property - you could see in his face that despite the potential peril, he was desperate to know more.

Behind you, the door abruptly scratched agonizingly along the floor, causing you to scream and Edward to drop the chains with a raucous clang as he shouted. In the same breath, you attempted to run towards Edward while spinning to face the sudden danger, causing yourself to trip and fall to the floor. The palms of your hands scraped across stone and dirt and bone, instantly sore as you scrambled towards the altar on all fours.

But before you could even make it a couple feet, something grabbed the back of your dress and pulled, causing you to shout again; you briefly caught a glimpse of Edward’s face in the chaos, and although there was fear alight in his eyes, it certainly wasn’t the kind of terror that you had expected.

“What in God’s name are you two doing here?” Your father’s distraught voice bellowed in your ear, ringing menacingly off the walls. He forced you to your feet with another strong yank, turning you around to face him; you assumed that his face would be red with anger, that his eyes would be full of rage, that his nostrils would flare with fury. But instead, what you saw was horror.

The chaos of the moment made your head spin, and suddenly tears were pricking at your eyes, lips quivering with shaken breath; you cried even as you tried to fight it, eyes locked with your father’s as his alarm melted into worry.

“We didn’t know--!” You attempted to explain, but your emotions made you stutter and trip over your words, making a hiccup leap from your throat.

Your father’s eyes were so caring and apprehensive as he knelt before you, large hands gently grasping yours for reassurance; but as his gaze looked past your shoulder and towards Edward, who was still frozen with fear at the altar, something changed. There was a darkness that seemed to suddenly shroud his eyes, a cruelty knitting his brows and a foreboding suspicion twisting his face. The expression was unlike anything you’d ever seen before, as if your father was seeing something that you didn’t.

Your father rose to his feet, his posture menacing as outrage overtook his face, “You brought her here!”

He released your hands, pointing an accusatory finger at Edward, whose hands were trembling, face pale with alarm. Your father’s shout caused your blubbering to grow worse, but he stepped around you as if you were forgotten, moving as if he intended on causing harm.

“Do you have any idea what kind of danger is in this place? And you brought her here!?”

You watched the confrontation with absolutely helplessness, feeling terror at the sight of your father acting so savage. Frantically, Edward looked around in search of some means of escape, knowing he didn’t stand a chance trying to run past your father and out the door. Your ears rang, vision blurry from tears, as you prayed that nothing bad would happen to him, that maybe your father would show mercy despite his animal-like aggression.

“I-- I didn’t…” Edward was at a loss for words, far too terrified to defend himself. You saw his eyes flick towards one of the shattered windows, clearly gauging if he could make the climb, if he could make the jump; your father saw this too, taking one large, threatening step in the direction of the window to flex his power over the situation.

“I always knew you were trouble, but I could never see it until now.” Your father insulted through his teeth as if he’d had some kind of revelation, his body tense with anger.

“I’m not--” Edward sounded so weak, so petrified; another hiccup interrupted your crying, a weak sound whining in your throat as if to protest your father’s actions.

“Aren’t you?” Did your father nearly sound amused by that? Why did it seem that his words were laced with a mocking malice, as if there were a smile upon his face?

Despite knowing the odds weren’t in his favor, Edward made an abrupt dash for the broken window, using the pews beneath as leverage to jump up and grab hold of the sill littered with broken stained glass. Your father moved only a second later, ever determined to grab the offensive boy and teach him a lesson.

But by some miracle, Edward managed to climb up despite crying out in pain, glass stabbing into his palms as he yanked himself up and over, the shattered remains of the window ripping his pants as he briefly straddled the sill before dropping out of your sight. Your father was just moments too late, angrily clenching his fist around the air in front of him with an enraged growl.

You stared out the window at the green leaves swaying tranquilly in the wind, as if to contradict what had just happened here; you sighed with relief that Edward managed to get away. Tears continued to stream down your face, but you felt numb, as if all the anxiety and fear had drained you of anything else.

When your father turned back around, his expression was far too calm considering the circumstances of what had just transpired; he took deep breaths through his nose, fighting to compose himself. It almost looked as if shame flashed across his eyes as he looked pitifully down at you, as if he realized that he’d behaved dreadfully, frighteningly, that he’d acting like an animal in front of you.

He approached and scooped you into his arms; despite everything, you still clung to him, resting your head on his shoulder as your crying slowly began to mellow out.

“I’m so sorry, my darling, I’m so sorry…” He repeated the apology over and over and over again as he carefully stepped out of the chapel, mindful of protecting your small body as he moved lightly on his feet. He briskly walked down the uneven cobbled steps and past the blockade of wolfsbane as he comfortingly rubbed your back, his voice attempting to sooth your tears.

Despite their dangerous, poisonous nature, you found comfort in the flowers’ purple-hued petals.

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September 1916

Eddie Munson would never have predicted he’d return to Hawkins one day; a few years ago, he would have bet all the money in the world that he’d never see his hometown again. No, once his father showed up following a five year disappearance, insisting that his young son hit the road with him, little Edward barely looked back. It wasn’t for a hatred of his home, nor for any troubles with his uncle, the man who practically raised him - but it was some youthful whimsy and desire, his childlike need to see what was beyond his front door. He was only twelve when his father returned, and as such he thought there would be great adventures to be had, falling for all the promises of happiness laid at his feet.

Of course, it didn’t take long for trouble to start. It seemed that everywhere Alan and Edward Munson went, bad things followed - an arrest in one city, a get-rich-quick scheme in another, a string of debt so long that they’d never see the end of it. As a boy, Eddie hadn’t quite realized how bad it was; but as the years took their toll, he found himself longing for a way back home.

He missed the cozy little cottage shared with his uncle, the smell of the gardens just yards from their front porch, the joys once shared with the Talbot daughter who he had no right to be friends with. All that time away had nearly caused him to forget his childhood friend, his companion in an otherwise lonely world; but once he began to crave his home in Hawkins, Eddie often found himself reveling in the memories of their days spent together. 

The familiarity and comfort of home had been calling out to Eddie, it had become a beacon of hope as times with his father grew worse and worse, his tolerance for this life wearing thin. So, Eddie came up with a scheme of his own, hiding money in tricky ways because his father knew all the usual tactics, mapping out which city they blew through would make his departure the easiest and the quickest.

Really, he could have left at any time - he was a man now, he no longer had to do as he was told, no longer needed permission before making decisions for himself. But Al was a trickster of a man, so much so that he’d find a way to manipulate his boy into staying simply because Eddie was a valuable asset to him.

They were up in Michigan when Eddie finally made his move as his father slept off his drunken haze in the dingy boarding house they’d taken residence in the past month. Eddie had been writing to Wayne for some weeks now, informing the man of his plan and its progression; although Eddie feared his abandoned uncle would want nothing to do with him, the words of forgiveness in his letters were a reassurance on Eddie’s doubtful heart.

When Eddie and Al first settled in upon their arrival in Michigan, Eddie took what chances he could to call the Talbot Estate, hoping to speak with his uncle in preparation - it was shocking to him when his first call was answered by Magda, the elderly housekeeper who had worked for the family Eddie’s entire life. Again, he felt trepidation, but the woman seemed pleased to hear from him, although once she’d been informed of Eddie’s return, she worried over Sir Talbot’s reaction.

That nearly made Eddie’s heart drop into his stomach, fearful that he wouldn’t be welcomed back simply because of a foolish day from sixteen years ago. As if able to read his mind - which was always a startling trait of Magda’s - she reassured him that she’d discuss the subject with her boss, that she’d put the man’s mind at ease. Of all the staff of the estate, Sir Talbot trusted Magda with his life, and if there was anyone that could change his opinion about a matter, it would certainly be her.

And so with everything set, Eddie left for the train station without a single look back, accepting easily that he’d likely never see his father again.

Once he set foot on the depot platform in Hawkins following a near two-day trip, Eddie was struck by how little his hometown had changed - yes, Hawkins was keeping up with the times as best it could, but it was as if the air felt exactly as it did the day he left in 1903. And as he rode through town alongside a farmer willing to give him a lift, he took in that comforting familiarity of the buildings and the roads and the people who hadn’t seemed to change at all.

As a boy, he hadn’t left the Talbot Estate often - Wayne’s job was sometimes all-consuming, so if Eddie did come into Hawkins proper, it was at the side of one of the maids collecting goods, and eager little Eddie was always first to volunteer his assistance. When Wayne was so busy that he couldn’t keep an eye on his boy, the maids took care of Eddie, giving him tasks to stay occupied, teaching him skills that may or may become handy in the future; if it weren’t for one maid in particular, Eddie probably would have been illiterate for half his life.

The streets of Hawkins seemed fresh with new cobbles, many shops with new coats of paint, and more people seemed to congest every direction that he looked - Eddie knew Hawkins had changed more than he thought, and yet that sense of home made it look exactly as it did thirteen years ago.

The farmer dropped Eddie off outside the tall, rod iron gates of the Talbot Estate, their size far less imposing now that he was no longer a child, although there was always something ominous about this property. It was as if there was a darkness surrounding his childhood home, one that only he could ever see, some mystery that he didn’t have all the clues to.

Eddie had to take a moment to simply stare at the estate - at the mansion sat atop a hill, at the surrounding fields losing their color with the arrival of autumn. He smiled fondly to himself despite the intimidating quality that seemed to hang in the air - this was his home and nothing made him happier than being back here.

With a sigh of anticipation, Eddie hiked his bag back up onto his shoulder and forced open one of the gates, stones crunching underfoot as he began to make the short hike up the property and towards the plot of land dedicated to staff housing. As he followed the twists and turns of the driveway, the mansion grew more imposing, Eddie’s gaze jumping from window to window, wondering if someone was watching him or if that was a silly sensation made up in his head.

The staff homes were all small cottages clustered to the northwest of the property - not a terribly far distance from the front gates, but it felt much farther on foot. Eventually, the top of the roofs came into sight, one chimney lazily blowing smoke; Eddie’s steps grew faster, stride longer, as he all but rushed towards the family front steps of his childhood home.

With it being mid-morning,Wayne was nowhere to be found - considering just how much of the property he maintained, mostly on his own, Eddie could guess at least half a dozen places that his uncle may be right now.

So, he deposited his feeble belongings atop the cot that was waiting for him, and approached the Talbot mansion, suddenly feeling a nervous tightening in his chest as he went - would Sir Talbot still frown upon him as if he were trouble just waiting to happen? Would his daughter shun Eddie due to too many years apart? He had to steady himself as he grew closer, taking deep breaths and reminding himself not to overthink as he rang the doorbell - Magda had assured him things would be fun, and that woman never went back on her words.

The butler who answered was a new face to Eddie, which meant he had to explain himself and his presence - he had hoped that perhaps Murray would still be on staff, as it would have been comforting for familiar faces to be greeting him instead. He was half-tempted to ask for Magda purely to help himself relax, but he thought it best to first reacquaint himself with Sir Talbot, considering that he’d be living on the man’s property once again should all go well.

So, introductions aside, the new butler allowed Eddie entry, instructing him to wait in the front hall before disappearing in the direction of Sir Talbot’s office. The mansion hadn’t changed one bit, the art on the walls the same pieces Eddie had seen dozens of times before, the carpet beneath his feet the exact one that he accidentally tracked mud on when he was first learning how to garden. And yet, the familiarity did not stop the drumming of his heart, the anxious little twitch of his hands - ever since that frightening summer day so many years ago, Eddie had never quite looked upon Sir Lawrence Talbot the same way.

Eddie was eventually escorted to the extravagant office, one of the only rooms in the home he hadn’t seen before; the butler announced his arrival, bowed his head, and briskly left the two men alone. Before Sir Talbot sat a stack of papers that he stared at harshly, but it was evident that his mind was elsewhere; nervously, Eddie assumed the man was simply collecting himself before daring to have this inevitable conversation.

When Sir Talbot finally looked over the frame of his glasses, the look in his eyes was nearly startling to Eddie - there was something unspoken in that stare, some kind of secret in the man’s eyes. Talbot’s demeanor became chilly as he studied Eddie closely, his gaze harsh and cutthroat as he looked the younger man up and down in scrutiny.

Growing nervous, Eddie nodded his head in greeting, hoping that his anxieties were written too plainly across his face, “Sir.”

Silently, Talbot looked him over again, assessing the man who he last saw as a boy. When he finally locked his eyes with Eddie’s again, they were coldly unreadable.

“Edward Munson… how you’ve changed.” Sir Talbot finally spoke, his voice still that same strong timber that it used to be. He rose to his feet, removing his glasses with a faint sigh; Eddie was almost dismayed to see that this man was still just as tall as ever, for he’d led himself to believe that Talbot only seemed tall because all those years ago he was an adolescent.

Keeping his shoulders squared and chin high, Eddie kept his eyes on the older man, who rounded his massive oak desk in a slow approach, Eddie suddenly feeling like prey. Once the two men were standing mere feet across from each other, there was a pause, a tense stillness in the air as Eddie held his breath in anticipation.

Wordlessly, Sir Talbot offered his hand - it was not a warm and welcoming gesture, but Eddie knew better than to turn it down. So, Eddie moved to shake the man’s hand, however, Talbot grabbed him by the wrist and turned his palm to face the ceiling; his grip wasn’t rough, but it was certainly insistent. With a confused look, Eddie watched Talbot’s face - the other man’s eyes studied his skin as if he knew palmistry, as if there was some hidden message in the lines of Eddie’s hand.

Talbot’s sharp eyes met Eddie’s abruptly, and the younger hoped that his face conveyed no fear or trepidation. For what felt like an eternity, they stared at one another, Eddie unable to comprehend what could possibly be going on. But a moment later, Sir Talbot nodded as if in confirmation to himself, and finally pressed his palm into Eddie’s for a firm shake.

“Welcome back.” Talbot’s words were far from warm, but he seemed a touch less guarded. Eager to please, Eddie nodded back in thanks as Talbot took back his hand.

“It is good to be back, sir.” Eddie confirmed with a nod, trying to ignore the trepidation he still felt strong as ever. Again, there was something in the man’s gaze that kept Eddie on edge, something that was simply unnerving, “I informed Magda that I’d be returning, although I couldn’t give her a day.”

Talbot nodded while his eyes moved about his office, as if he didn’t want to be looking at Eddie for longer than he had to; there was tension in his shoulders, “I’d heard your return was inevitable.”

Was Talbot always so short with his words? Eddie couldn’t quite remember. Trying to bolster his confidence, Eddie nodded again and took a deep breath, “I’ve come to you first in hopes of offering my services around the estate - I have no intention of living on your land for free, I am no longer a child.”

“No, you certainly aren’t.” Talbot answered in a slow, biting tone that Eddie couldn’t identify. The elder was gazing out the large window, eyes blindly staring out as if in contemplation, hopefully considering Eddie’s offer. When he looked back at the young man, Talbot had a curious expression across his features, “What skills have you acquired while away?”

Eddie swallowed; although he’d been rehearsing this for half the train ride home, it was still so different to be confronted with the actually conversation, to be confronted with the ever imposing man of the house, “I’m knowledgeable in mechanical and electrical devices; I can do any and all hard labor as need be; I’m well acquainted with motor vehicles, both as a driver and as a repairman.”

That last point seemed to catch Talbot’s interest, and so Eddie paused to allow the man to speak, “Motor vehicles? Well, that is a valuable skill.”

Eddie nodded - as motorcars began to grow in popularity these past few years, he’d been more than aware of what opportunities that may offer. Everyone wanted a car, wanted the fun and the luxury of a motor vehicle over a horse and carriage, and so Eddie had decided a couple years back that he would become an expert as best he could, would gain as much knowledge on this new technology as possible.

Talbot continued, “I will not promise you a job, Mr. Munson, however, my own motor car has been troublesome as of late - should you be able to resolve the problem, you have a job here at Talbot Estate.”

Eddie’s expression brightened, although he didn’t want to look too eager - he didn’t want to get his hopes up now that he was offered this challenge. But he gave a quick nod, already thrilling at the prospect of a potential job here at home.

“I’m more than happy to take a look; I can start right now, if you’d like.”

Sir Talbot’s face was once more curious, intrigued to see what Eddie could do, intrigued to see what kind of man he’d become. Talbot’s eyes narrowed slightly in consideration, before he, too, nodded shortly.

“Very well - have Douglas show you to the garage.” Talbot returned to his chair, although he did not yet take a seat, as if he refused to relax until Eddie was out of the room.

“Thank you, sir.” Eddie dipped his head a little, prepared to take his leave.

“And Munson?”

That serious, intimidating tone made Eddie’s heart skip, “Yes, sir?”

Talbot leveled him with a grave look, eyes fierce as they pierced straight into Eddie’s soul, one last domineering show before they parted ways, “Do behave yourself around my daughter. You hear me?”

Nervously, Eddie nodded, swallowing slightly as a cocktail of apprehension and excitement whirled around in his chest at the mention of the Talbot girl, his long lost friend. How much had she changed? How much had she stayed the same? Eddie was oh-so anxious to know, but now was not the time to get roused about it, “Yes, sir.”

Talbot stared for another long, tense moment before giving a small nod of his own, finally lowering back into his stiff leather chair, eyes returning to the paperwork scattered out in front of him as if it took precedence over the man before him, “You may go.”

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Early afternoon and the sun was high, warm in that cozy way that only seemed to happen in late-September once the season changed. It wasn’t the kind of sweltering warmth felt in the summer months, nor was it laced with the hint of approaching winter winds - it was a stillness, as if everything in the world had come to a pause to enjoy the orange sunlight while it would last.

Eddie had been fussing with Talbot’s motor car for over an hour now, tuning up every little thing just to make sure it was in pristine condition - he had to impress the man, after all, and didn’t want to leave a single stone unturned in his work. The vehicle was a virtually brand-new model, as it was undeniably different from those that Eddie had worked on before. Initially, that made him nervous, made him fearful that he wouldn’t have the right tools or knowledge to make any improvements. But once he began poking around at the motor, it was like an intuitive instinct made this new car make sense, and he became lost in his work.

Between the heat and the effort, Eddie’s body was already sticky with sweat; he’d stripped his coat and his vest and his tie, rolled up the sleeves of his white linen shirt, but it was only temporary relief. His hands were covered in grime, and more than once he swiped at his hair or rubbed sweat from his brow only to curse, knowing that trailing his fingers there would be streaks of oil left behind.

As Eddie grumbled to himself, focusing intently as he knelt beside the engine, the sounds of another car driving up the gravel met his ears, and as it drew closer cheerful voices accompanied it. Perhaps the help returning from town, or a visitor joining Talbot for luncheon; regardless, Eddie kept his head down, nearly done with the task he was doing.

The vehicle came to a grinding stop, although the engine continued running, a blend of voices eagerly overlapping one another, laughter harmonizing in a joyous, youthful way that made Eddie furrow his brow. Reaching a good stopping point, he set down his tool and stood, looking out from the open garage door to assess the visitors to the estate; he reached for a rag, already filthy, and attempted to clean his hands in vain.

The driver was a young man accompanied by three women, all of whom appeared near Eddie in age; a realization struck him in that moment, his heart beating faster as his eyes began to dart from face to face, searching for those ever familiar eyes, that ever comforting smile. The group in the car was chaotic, high energy as they made one another laugh, throwing their arms around with hyperactivity as they continued whatever stories and jokes they’d been telling on the drive up. For a moment, the disarray was distracting, but of course, it should have been obvious which of the three women was the one he was searching for--

The woman in the lilac sundress; purple has always been your favorite color, after all.

Eddie took a sharp breath once he finally had the chance to study you; thirteen years felt like it was melting away in an instant as he took in how you’d changed, how you’d stayed the same.

Your hair was still that same lovely color, especially out here in the sunlight. Your smile was still dazzling, bright enough to light up an entire room, especially now that you’d grown into it. Your body language was still as light and carefree as ever, having not lost any of the joyousness of your youth. Although you were one of three women in the vehicle, you radiated in a way that made you the only person Eddie could see;hHe felt his jaw growing slack as he stared, unable to fight the nervous skipping of his heart, the anxious tingling in his limbs.

You were beautiful, and it very nearly took him aback. It was different from the beauty you had in your youth - when Eddie left, you were only ten and he would’ve deemed you as ‘cute.’ For all of your childhood, he’d heard many people exclaim “she’ll be such a vision one day” or “what a gorgeous lady she’ll become,” but at the time he could not have made such bold predictions.

But now you were a woman, a stunning woman who certainly had no right being so damn lovely to look at. Now, Eddie understood what all those people were talking about when you two were just children, because the proof was right here before him in staggering beauty.

Eddie hadn’t realized he was staring until one of your friends finally noticed him within the shade of the garage, drawing the entire group’s attention. And when you set your sparkling eyes on him, he froze, his tongue heavy with nerves and limbs unable to move. You arched a lovely, curious eyebrow, clearly unfamiliar with this man standing in your family’s garage.

As you stood to climb over your friends and out of the vehicle, you curiously eyed this mystery man, wondering if your father had hired more staff or perhaps called for a specialist to deal with his damn car. The man was covered in grease from head to toe, his shoes scuffed and his curly hair becoming unruly from sweat; the buttons of his shirt were undone halfway done his chest, which was heaving from the labor he’d inevitably been hard at doing. Despite the oddness of his attentive staring, you couldn’t help but think that he was certainly an attractive man, whoever the hell he was.

His expression seemed dumbfounded as he stared at you, as if you were some specter that he couldn’t quite make sense of. But there was something about that look that reminded you of someone, that seemed familiar although you couldn’t place why.

Your name being spoken drew your attention, your friends saying their farewells and reminding you about dinner plans you had for tomorrow night; you smiled largely, confirming you wouldn’t forget, as you closed the car door behind you. Billy ripped out of the driveway, just like he always did, far too fond of fast driving and reckless behavior; the speed of the car driving off blew your hair back, the hat securely tied around your neck fluttering in the breeze. Your friends turned in their seats just so they could keep waving goodbye, giggling together as you histrionically waved back for their entertainment.

Once the trio was out of sight - although a dirt cloud was left in their wake - you turned back around, spying the mechanic out of the corner of your eye, seeing the way he sheepishly tried to pretend he hadn’t been staring at you this entire time. It made you smirk just a little, amused by whoever he was, growing yet again curious as to who he could possibly remind you of. Instead of walking to the house, you took leisurely steps towards the open garage, noticing the way the man fumbled with the tool he’d just picked up, which nearly made you giggle.

“Are you here to take that dreaded vehicle off father’s hands?” You questioned with something of a playful tone, clasping your gloved hands behind your back as you continued the stroll up the drive. Amusement flashed across the man’s face as he stared down, aimlessly cleaning the tool with a rag that was filthy; his energy was cautious, and something about that made you want to bring his guard down.

“I couldn’t afford it, miss.” His tone seemed careful as his eyes turned up, mindfully watching your approach. Your lip quirked with curiosity.

“Shame; all week I’ve had to listen to him complain about how burdensome it is.” You came to a pause in the large doorway, studying the man more closely now that you had a better view of him, now that he wasn’t so obscured by shadows.

There was a softness to his features, from the gentle shape of his lips to the curls brushing across his forehead to even the cleanly kept mustache and beard adorning his jaw. His whole aura seemed to radiate with kind easiness, his expressive brows raised with an innocent wonder, as if he was awaiting something in particular.

But those eyes of his, so dark and doe-like, seemed to have an eternal sadness about them, a sadness buried so deep within the bones that it would never quite go away. That struck you as shockingly familiar - those were eyes you’d seen so many times before, eyes you’d known so well once upon a time.

Now, you were the one frozen with surprise, your brow first raising then furrowing, your lips parting slightly with words that never quite came to you. It couldn’t be the boy you once ran through fields with, the boy who always had a story to tell, the boy who had no expectations of you the way the rest of the world had. He was long gone, giving you a rushed and eager farewell as his father insistently tried to drag him away. And yet…

“Eddie?” Your voice came out a soft whisper, his eyes alighting with elation immediately. You saw the exact moment all his trepidation faded away, when his shoulders relaxed and his lips spread into an incredible, gleaming smile. You laughed a little in disbelief, your own face lighting up despite the fact that you still couldn’t quite comprehend it was him; your smile was so wide and fierce across your lips that your cheeks nearly hurt.

Propriety entirely forgotten, you dashed the short distance between you and Eddie, throwing yourself against him so forcefully and quickly enough that he coughed with surprise, your arms winding tightly around his neck as your laughter continued to ring in his ear. For a moment, he didn’t dare move, growing tense against you, as if he was afraid of touching you; but shortly thereafter, he breathed in your scent and snaked his arms around your middle, his palm pressed firmly against your back as he held you close.

“My god, I can’t believe you’re back.” You said gleefully against his ear, pulling back just enough to look at his matured face, your hands coming up to grab his cheeks as you studied him. Your gaze darted with delight over the planes of his face, taking in his familiar eyes, his new beard, the kind smile on his lips; you were practically awestruck at the sight of him, at the sight of how handsome he’d become, “I thought I’d never see you again.”

Eddie’s expression softened as his hands reached up to cup yours, slowly removing them from his sweaty cheeks as if fearful the two of you would be caught like this. He looked between your eyes warmly, the smile now a permanent fixture on his face. His tone seemed nearly apologetic as he answered, “I thought the same.”

You gently wrapped your fingers around his, refusing to let go as you dropped your joined hands between you, “What brought you back?”

Your heart drummed a funny tune in your chest as you continued to gaze upon him, enraptured by the shock of your old friend’s return. Eddie paused to consider his words before answering, dipping his head a little as if sheepish, “I was homesick.”

You smiled at the simple answer, squeezing his hands in yours as a little laugh escaped you, “Oh, don’t tell me you missed this dusty old place; what does it have to offer someone who has surely had so many magnificent adventures?”

Eddie looked back at you as if you were a marvel - even after all this time, you’d held onto your sense of wonder, you continued to crave excitement as if it were the air you breathed. For a moment, it felt like no time had passed at all, as if you were still children sharing tales of the far and wide world that lived inside the depths of your minds. It tugged at Eddie’s heartstrings, a sadness creeping into his thoughts - he had spent so many years away, so many years without sharing stories and relishing in the company of one another. As you stood here with him, hand-in-hand, Eddie felt a deep longing, missing you even as you stared right at him.

“The adventures weren’t nearly as magnificent as you’d like to think.” He answered, to which you pulled a displeased face while waving a hand between you two, as if you were shooing away the words he just said like insects.

“Don’t tell me that. Are you not the same boy who always had a story to tell, whether fact or fiction?” You smiled at him fondly, which prompted him to mirror the expression, unable to resist your charm even now; Eddie figured he’d never quite be able to resist you no matter how hard he tried.

He shook his head with a small laugh, looking down at his feet; he noticed in that moment that he’d gotten oil on your pretty dress, but knowing you, you probably didn’t give a damn, “Don’t worry, I will always entertain you with stories, all you need to do is ask.”

You sighed pleasantly, pulling Eddie back into a quick hug simply because you couldn’t contain the joy you felt, “Is that a promise, Edward Munson?”

“Of course it is, Ms. Talbot.”

Your heart skipped a beat, a pleasant shiver running up your spine; those pesky feelings that had only started to blossom in your youth were already daring to come back, despite the years apart. You tried not to fall victim to folly, and yet the yearning you once had for the groundskeeper’s boy was coming back with even greater conviction, the flame fanned by the excitement of your unexpected reunion.

And it certainly didn’t help that little Eddie had grown up to be a handsome man, so easy on the eyes that you were already convinced you could stare at him for hours if he’d let you. Hell, you could probably spend days admiring that face without ever growing bored of him.

Your cheeks warmed as a yearning look passed between the two of you, and so you dropped your gaze while taking a step back, meandering around the garage as a means to calm yourself down, to hide the attraction you were oh-so clearly feeling towards him, “Tell me about your travels - tell me about all the places you’ve been.”

As you walked with grace and ease, your moves were almost hypnotic; Eddie cringed at the perfect greasy handprint he’d left on the small of your back, at the swipe of grime that was transferred from his cheek to yours - how he hoped that your father wouldn’t see you like this, or else Eddie would be fresh out of luck in gaining a job here at the estate.

You perched upon a large wooden work bench, fussing with your skirts as they twisted around your feet; you both spotted another spill of oil on the lilac fabric, but you simply made an unconcerned face at it before dropping the folds of fabric from your hands. You directed your attention back to Eddie, raising your brows expectantly as an easy smile graced your lips.

Eddie licked his lips with a grin, shaking his head pleasantly while attempting to focus on all the work still to be done on the car, “I’ve been many places, though none appropriate for a woman like you.”

You scoffed with an amused eye roll, “And when have I ever been held back by what is and is not appropriate for me?”

Eddie faintly laughed, “You never have and you never will.”

You leaned forward while resting your hands atop your knees, a wicked look on your face, “And don’t you ever forget it.”

Sharing a familiar laugh, Eddie began to regale you with tales of getting arrested in New York City and Boston, of stirring up trouble in Virginia and Tennessee. His ability for storytelling had only sharpened after so many years, and you found yourself mesmerized by his way with words, the way his body language always complimented the stories he told.

He spoke of robberies and bar fights, of friends made and friends lost along the way; you were not inclined to believe all the words that left his mouth, but the two of you had always preferred the thrills of a good story to the facts of a boring life. It was like a silent agreement between you two to make a tale interesting, even if that required embellishment.

It was so easy to be with Eddie again, so easy to sit and listen to him talk, to laugh alongside him and share wicked smiles. How could thirteen years have come and gone when this moment felt timeless, as if you were once more four or six or eight years old, hanging onto every single word that left Eddie’s mouth?

He was striking to you, utterly remarkable, the way his stories came to him with such ease even as he fussed with car parts that just wouldn’t work. The way he’d look to you just to see your reaction following a particularly harrowing plot twist made you squirm; the way his grin would spread from ear-to-ear at the sound of your laughter made your cheeks flush with warmth.

Your innocent childhood together was felt heavily as you listened to Eddie’s tales - memories of climbing trees and splashing in puddles ever so vibrant behind your mind’s eyes. There was an anxious thrill in your chest that made this different, however, a swirling sensation in your stomach reminding you that things had changed even as they stayed the same. Each smile Eddie shot you was nearly breathtaking, each cheeky wink like a piercing arrow in your heart. You knew better than to let yourself become excited by him like this, and yet it couldn’t be helped, the fire had started burning the moment you laid eyes upon each other.

Even as you listened and laughed attentively, you tried to tell yourself that this was simply your childhood crush briefly reigniting, that the excitement would die down soon enough and you would simply see each other as friends from the distant past. You knew how your love of stories could tint the way you viewed the world, how the romance novels stacked around your room had always given you a longing for a love like fiction. You couldn’t allow those desires to trick you now, but you couldn’t resist, your entire being reacting to something so simple as Eddie smiling at you with all the softness in the world.

Time had gotten away from you as you sat there enchanted by his stories, and once he’d finally completed his work on that damned motor car, you were surprised by just how much the sun’s position had changed in the sky. You and Eddie shared a look of disbelief as he tidied the tools and put everything back in its place, the both of you clearly having been trapped within a bubble where time didn’t exist. You hopped up eagerly from your seat, exiting the garage alongside Eddie as he looked up at the manor with hesitation.

You grabbed his hand again, to which he met your eyes attentively; You grinned from ear-to-ear, just like you did as a child when you decided the day was still young and there was so much more to be explored, “Walk with me? I’ll show you all the changes your uncle has made to the gardens, they’re magnificent.”

Eddie smiled sadly, which caused you to falter slightly; had you misread something about the past couple of hours? Despite every fiber of his being wanting to cave to your each and every whim, he knew better. He gave a small shake of his head while glancing at your home once more, “I must speak with your father - I can only stay should my work on the car be sufficient. And he’s asked me to… behave myself around you.”

You frowned, your lips forming a beautiful pout as your brows turned down. You were reminded that you were adults now, that neither of you had the freedoms of children. You knew you had to let Eddie go, but how you wished you could simply drag him away to hide in the hedge maze or the woods until all responsibilities and expectations faded away.

Righting your expression, you sighed and nodded with acceptance, locking your eyes firmly with his, “Tonight then. After supper, meet me in the gardens.”

It was a plea, even as you spoke as if it were a command. Eddie inhaled sharply, excited by the suggestion but also terrified that the two of you might be found out - your childhood innocence was gone, and it could cause trouble for you to be found together like that. But that look in your eyes, so fiercely determined, made it impossible for him to deny you; Eddie already knew that, even now, he could never deny you.

“Tonight.” He whispered with a nod, causing you to smile wide. Eagerly, you placed a kiss on the palm of your hand, then pressed it longingly to Eddie’s cheek, causing his eyes to nearly flutter shut; he leaned into the touch with such reverie that it made your heart swell.

“Now go, distract my father so he won’t see me like this.” You instructed with reference to your dress that he had dirtied. Eddie laughed smally with one more nod, stepping away from you as if it were burdensome to do so; he began to round the manor back towards the front doors, pausing once to shoot you a playful look before disappearing beyond a corner.

You waited another few moments before scurrying off towards the kitchen entrance, hoping that Magda could somehow get these grease stains out of your favorite dress.

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[PART TWO] | [MASTERLIST]

addt. A.N | The taglist is open for anyone interested in being notified about updates! I can't wait to hear what everyone thinks of this first chapter ♥

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[ladymercysletters]

NSFW Alphabet - Aegon Targaryen

Word count: 3,198

A/N: NSFW 18 + Only!

Requests are open. and if it isn't already clear, Aegon is a happy sad boy and I wanna bit his butt cheeks.

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

He needs a lot of aftercare, especially when you’ve been domming him. He gets extra cuddly when you’ve stretched out his orgasms and worn him out. Sometimes you do that just to empty his head of all the worries of the day. He loves to snuggle up to your side, or on top of you, with your arms wrapped around him to protect him as he comes down. When he’s good and ready you’ll sit him up gently and give him sips of water. He’d prefer wine but you insist on hydration. His happy little face as you stroke his hair from his eyes and kiss his temple lets you know he’s coming back down to earth.

B = Body part (their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Obviously Aegon thinks the actual sun shines out of his cock. In terms of giving you pleasure it is his favourite part of himself, but he also thinks he has a lovely arse. He knows this because you have commented on it on more than one occasion. Just how round and perky it is; jiggling across the room when he goes to get a towel to clean you with, and you can’t help but stare. He loves your breasts in turn - He could watch them bounce as he fucked you forever. Aegon loved all your curves but he loved your breasts the most, holding them; pinching them; licking and suckling on them or just resting his head between them as you stroke his hair- and he can hear your heart beating, just for him.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Aegon was always taught to reproduce; that is what sex was for and as the oldest male heir it was his duty to carry on the family name. So, he had made it his mission is like to cum anywhere except inside a woman- and he found great pleasure in doing so. That was until he saw you with the babe of one of the ladies of court. He had seen her through her pregnancy and saw the way you would gently place your hand on her stomach to feel the baby kick. That night he thought of how you would look with a child – all swollen with his baby, a visible sign you were his. From then on, he’d be obsessed with getting you pregnant. You’d try all sorts of different positions, each one he would close his eyes and think of how his seed could take this time, opening his eyes only to look down and see where you connected. When you do fall pregnant, he becomes even more obsessed with you; during council meetings or even just as he sees you walk in the gardens he can’t look away from you – leaving whatever he is doing as soon as possible to be with his ethereal wife and their child.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Aegon doesn’t mind you knowing, but he’d die if anyone found out he enjoyed wearing your underclothes. Not everything, just some of your smaller clothes – well he likes the way they cling to his arse cheeks, and maybe your stockings, they’re softer than his and they come just up to his thighs. He’s only worn your stays once, just to try them and complete the look – but he prefers his chest bare so you can play with his nipples and run your nails down his chest.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Aegon is of course very experienced when it comes to sex. Maybe not so experienced when it comes to sex with feelings. So when he falls in love with you, he didn’t expect it to make him feel like a green boy once again. Even a soft touch to his arm as you walked together sent a thrill through him; he would watch your lips at dinner as you bit through a peach, the little dribble of juice escaping your lips making him twitch as to catch it.

F = Favourite position (this goes without saying)

His favourite position varies. He loves to have you over any surface he can; breakfast table; balcony overlooking the training grounds; he even once took you for a ride on Sunfyre and made love to you out in the open fields half way between Tumbleton and Goldengrove. He may have also got you ready for him on dragon-back on the way there.  His other favourite, should he be pushed to choose, is pressed up against a wall – or door he’s not fussy. He loves the to take you like that he has to be so close to you, you have to support yourself on him and he can watch you fall apart on him.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Aegon loves to make you laugh. Knowing he is the one to put a smile on your face – even in the most intimate of moments. Whether it be you bursting into fits of giggles when he loses his footing on the bed and nearly slips off, or when his fingertips lightly trail up your rib cage, prompting a light stuttering giggle to leave your lips. Aegon may love those the best, your soft voice is like a balm to any worries he has.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Much like Aemond his pale hair is so fair it hardly warrants taming. He’s slightly courser than Aemond and maybe a bit wilder, but you seem to like how his hair rubs against you.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Aegon usually treats sex as a fun activity, not necessarily an intimate one. He’s much more about you taking your pleasure from each other than anything else. There are times when he looks to you for intimacy, that sometimes end up in sex. More often than not it will come in the form of Aegon crawling into bed with you in the evening, soaking in your warmth and wrapping your body around him. You know when he’s troubled because he makes himself smaller for you. (writers note: I’ve made myself sad now but I promise I’ll write an intimate sex with Aegon fic soon.)

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Aegon loves to masturbate. Don’t get me wrong – he would choose you over his fist any day; but he can’t deny that getting himself off has never been difficult. One of his favourite things, now you are married, is to wait for you in your chambers in the evenings when you have been kept late by your own duties. He’ll strip himself naked and arrange himself on the bed for you, eagerly awaiting your return. When you get back you send the servants away, at the late hour, and make your way to your rooms by yourself. Only to be greeted by your husband, naked as his name day and lit only be the light of the candles. He keeps his doe eyes lazily on you as he languidly strokes his cock. You can see as you enter the room and loosen the cloak from around your neck that he’s been at it a while; the pink tip already shining with pre-cum and he’s definitely been hard for a while judging by the firm look of his balls and the strain in his thighs.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Speaking of which, he loves when you’re in charge. Domming him and forcing him to be your good boy sends him into the clouds. Has a slight mommy kink but prefers to call you mistress or My Queen. He loves to get himself ready for you in the evening. Waiting in your chambers for you to come back and do whatever you desire to him. Though he doesn’t enjoy being slapped in the face (see N!) he would happily admit to sometimes acting out and being a bit of a brat, just so you’d put him over your knee and spank him. It's yet another reason he knows you love him bum; the way you squeeze and stroke over the soft firm skin of his has him purring in your lap. Then the sharp slap, or crack of a wooden spoon, over his backside  makes his hips jolt into your lap and his stiff cock rub deliciously over your thigh.

L = Location (favourite places to do the do)

His favourite place to have you is outside. Where anyone could but no one does see you. He takes you on dragon-back as far away as you can go with ease. Landing in a golden field where the grain is high and Sunfyre can blend in easy at a distance – laying you down in a field of wheat when he’s feeling romantic and taking you under the beating sun, only shaded by the wing of his dragon.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

I’ve said before he loves to watch your mouth. He’s in love with your soft pillowy lips; the way they stretch into a smile and form perfect vowels as you speak. He watches you eat and lick the juice of a fruit from your fingers and hands and he can’t resist you. He approaches you from behind, hand over your cinched waist, and subtly but strongly leads you off for a while.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He hates having his face slapped. His mother used too and still often does when she’s angered – slap him, as does his grandsire, and his father before. It’s a sharp sting that usually comes with the confirmation of what he’d always know, he’s worthless. Stupid. He hates the thought of you hating him enough to slap him as well, and he’d never want to make you cry either. The thought of wither of those things brings a lump to his throat.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Aegon loves oral – giving and receiving. He loves when you ride his face or hold him against you as he works at your core, licking and sucking at your folds like they produce the nectar of life. He’d never deny, in fact he’d shout it from the highest point I the Keep if it wouldn’t ruin your honour, that he’d never cum so hard as the first time you sucked on his cock. You’d heard other women of court say their husbands enjoyed it so you thought you’d try. One morning, whilst your new husband was laying peacefully by your side, you sunk down under the covers of your marriage bed and licked him from root to tip. Only when you enveloped his tip into your warm mouth and sunk down as far as you could go did Aegon rouse from sleep. A deep groan rumbled from his chest as his lifted the sheet to see your head bobbing on him slowly. A sight he never wants to forget, especially when he shot his seed down your throat as you stared up at him.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

His pace is usually quite fast. He’s impatient and wants the rush of ecstasy for both of you now. There’s only been a few times that he likes the pace slow. When you’re teasing him, or when he just needs to be close to you – feel you beneath him and have your arms around him.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Aegon loves a quickie. Loves how you can both get your pleasure from each other quickly and carry on as if nothing ever happened. But he knows. He can almost imagine the way his seed slips out of you and drips slowly down your thighs. Sometimes he can see it in the way you squirm, or walk slightly off centre.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Aegon loves to take risks. If you’re down for it, so is he. Whether it be a different place to fuck you in, or something new you’re bringing into the bedroom. He’s almost always down to experiment.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

On average Aegon can go a solid two rounds a night. If you’re both completely pissed out of your box its probably more like to be one – if you make it to the end without both passing out in a sweaty mess. There was one day where Aegon had you a grand total of 6 times. Still a shining record in his eyes. First thing in the morning, the light was illuminating your body perfectly and he couldn’t help himself. Then again at the breakfast table, or rather over the breakfast table. The third time you had hidden yourself under the table when Aemond and Criston had come in to talk to him, about what neither of you could quite remember; but he did remember how he had to shove several grapes in his mouth not to moan when he shot his seed down your throat - or how, as soon as they left, he pulled you up to your feet immediately and sucked another orgasm from between your thighs. The fourth was later that afternoon when he found you in the garden, then again right before dinner with his family – up against the door. The final time that evening was his favourite. You snuck away briefly just after dinner; gripping your arm as he dragged you along the corridor, and into his mothers bedroom.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Any and all. He’s always down to experiment with whatever new thing his men whip out for a laugh. He’ll laugh along with them ,gloating at how or why anyone would ever need a leather cock; or swinging round a whip one of them brought back from the silk streets; neighing ridiculously when its cracked. Though behind closed doors he’s only too eager to show you. At first he’d brooch it lightly, not seriously asking anything of you but testing the waters. When you ask him, over a cup of wine, if there is something he would like to try he can only say yes. And there’s so much he wants to try.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He loves to tease you, or more taunt you. He knows that if he riles you up enough you’ll take what you want from him, and he’s a lazy little sod so he loves when you take it from him. When he does tease you though, he giggles at your stroppy demands to stop and just make you cum. His delirious joy at seeing you fall apart for him, watch the pleasure and torment wash over your face and knowing it is his doing, oh boy!

What he doesn’t expect is how much he enjoys you teasing him. He’s a prince of the realm, a slightly spoilt prince of the realm; who has never really had the word no said to him by anyone. So when you’re riding him like a champion one evening, both of you hurtling towards your ends, he almost screams when you stop dead in your tracks, staring at him, nails raking lightly up and down his bare chest as he takes deep breaths. He’s begging instantly, even if he doesn’t realise it. “Why have you stopped? Please, I was so close” he’s whimpering and gripping your thick rump. A sly, wide grin spreads across your face as you clench around him. A gasp leaving his lips as you do. “ Naughty girl.”

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Naturally he’s not very loud – to everyone’s surprise. He mainly whimpers and begs when you ride him, and even when he’s on top of you – small growls that if you weren’t in the moment may remind you of an angry kitten. That’s not to say he’s never loud. When you’re romping about outside he can ramp it up when there’s a chance someone else will hear you both… cheeky little shit.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

You got Aegon to eat fruit by introducing it into the bedroom. Now you catch him happily sitting on his balcony, swinging his legs as he looks over his kingdom, plucking cherries from a bowl and chewing gladly on them. You smile lovingly as you watch your husband, turning back into the room. What you don’t see is him launching those cherry pits over the balcony and onto the training field, straight down onto Aemond and Criston Cole.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

His cock is on the thicker side, but not bulbous. The stretch is just enough to shock you a little every time you’re together. He’s got a decent length – around 6 inches and he takes on such a lovely cherry red flush when he’s desperate. You love teasing him just to see it flush and throb for you, and the pretty sounds that fall from Aegon’s mouth to accompany this don’t hurt either.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

It’s Aegon – the boys like a little wind-up kids toy. And it only gets worse when your small pregnant belly starts to show. He loves how it starts off as a little round bump, just barely showing through your layers and folds of dress fabric. Then you start getting bigger; even though you cannot see your bump from behind he can see the way you start to waddle -and it lights something inside of him. He comes up behind you and winds his arms around your body, gently cradling your bump, with his chin resting on your shoulder. At first you thought he was just becoming soft; he’d caress your bump and press his nose into your hair, inhaling deeply. But then he’d also press his groin against you, lightly, so as not to raise suspicion. He’d whisper the filthiest things to you – what he wants to do to you, or how wonderful your bottom looks h=now that your dress pulls just that bit tighter. You feel like you spend more of your pregnancy in bed than you did your honeymoon.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Falls asleep so quickly. Its adorable the way he’ll try and keep his eyes open for you as you lay in bed together. You can see as his consciousness fades; his mouth slipping open as soft snores leave his lips. As he’s drifting further and further off he’ll reach out for you, grabbing like a babe to snuggle up against you. He’s distraught if, in the morning, you are not there with him.

[nahoney22]

In the Shadows*** 🌊

🫧 Pairings: Crosshair X AU Princess F!Reader

word count: 8.8k words

prompts:

• “When can I see you again?” / “Do you want to?”

• “I’ll be everything you ever wanted. I’ll do anything you’ve ever desired.”

Having Clone Force 99 protect you felt like an honour; falling for one of them was a curse.

warnings: NSFW, 18+ only, Smut, Royalty/Princess Trope, AU, First time, virgin reader, Flirty/Explicit Massages, Second Guessing, Cunnilingus, Blowjob, Soft and Rough Sex, P in V Sex, Doggy style, missionary, cowgirl positions Explicit Sexual Content & Language, aftercare, nipple play, Forbidden Love/Relationship, light angst.

Being royalty definitely had its perks. Yet, the things you most wanted in life were often just out of reach. Freedom was one of them. With guards always monitoring you, you were rarely alone. You were surprised that nobody was stationed in your bed chamber when you slept but you were grateful for the latter.

Oh, and there was also the constant threat to your life. A downside that came with the crown.

So that means that every week, your family contacted the Grand Army of the Republic to hire a battalion of soldiers to test their skills. A group would stay and, as you put it, ‘babysit’ you. This week was no different.

You sat outside in the expansive gardens, a sanctuary of serenity and the only time you felt a small sense of freedom. Vibrant flowers of every hue bloomed in meticulous arrangements by the hired garden hands. Tall hedges formed intricate mazes which had been around since you were young, and a grand fountain with crystal-clear water added a soothing soundtrack to the peace.

As you basked outside alone in your thoughts, you noticed four tall, armoured soldiers approaching. You squinted against the sun, using your hand to shield your eyes. “I thought they said they were clones…” you murmured to yourself.

And they were. Just different.

There was Hunter, the leader. He spoke directly but had a kindness in his eyes that set you at ease. Wrecker was tall and intimidating at first glance, but his loud voice was tempered by his kind heart and Tech intrigued you with his constant stream of information.

Then there was Crosshair.

He was different.

Every time you looked his way (to which you had even caught yourself watching and almost being enamoured by him on several occasions), you noticed several things. One of them being that he moved with a lethal grace. His eyes are always scanning, calculating; never certain what is on his mind. His presence was both unsettling and somehow captivating even if his company was less than comforting at times.

However every time Crosshair’s eyes had met yours for a brief moment, his gaze was intense. As if he could see through the layers of your royal facade. It was a look that made you feel exposed and protected all at once. A paradox you couldn’t quite understand. Did he know you were lonely? Was he lonely?

Throughout the week, each clone took a shift to watch over you. You were surprised to see that most of them enjoyed striking up conversations, which made the constant supervision more tolerable.

All except for Crosshair.

Despite his silence, Crosshair was the one you always looked forward to being alone with. His shift came in the evenings, just after Wrecker’s. Most evenings, you spent your time in the library, surrounded by towering bookshelves filled with ancient tomes about your family’s history. The room was a haven of knowledge, illuminated by the soft, golden glow of ornate lamps. The scent of old flimsi and polished wood filled the air, a comforting presence in your otherwise restrictive life. It was definitely your favourite room within your home.

As you sat on a deep emerald couch, nestled in the corner by the large window that overlooked the gardens, you often stole glances at Crosshair. He stood in the shadows, his posture rigid, eyes constantly scanning the room like a suited knight in armour. And each time you looked at him, his piercing gaze met yours, unwavering and intense as usual.

“You’re quiet today, Crosshair,” you said one evening, possibly the second night, setting down your book and reclining on the plush golden cushions.

He turned his head slightly, his eyes locking onto yours. “I am always quiet.”

You rolled your eyes, noting that he hadn’t caught your sarcastic tone, but you smiled nonetheless. “Too quiet. Won’t you sit with me?”

He stiffened, a slight tension visible in his stance. “I am on duty.”

“It’s 2100 hours. I doubt anyone will interrupt us.” Your voice carried a hint of unintended flirtation, and you noticed his brow raise slightly, his fingers drumming along the stock of his rifle.

“I doubt it too, but regardless, I am on duty, Princess.”

The way he said ‘princess’ was different from anyone else. There was a playful edge to his tone that made your stomach flutter, and you felt a warm prickle spread across your skin.

You pursed your lips, pondering. “Why do you not talk as much as the others?”

He blinked, his expression remaining stoic, before shrugging slightly. “I usually don’t have much worthwhile to say.”

“No stories? No grand explanation on why you shouldn’t do x, y, and z with some shuttles compared to others?” you teased, your eyes sparkling with amusement.

He chuckled and for some reason you gathered that it was a rare sound. It sent a shiver down your spine and even made your cheeks warm. The sight of his smirk was also unexpectedly captivating. “You have been talking too much to Tech.”

“I think it’s Tech talking too much to me,” you replied with a grin.

Crosshair’s eyes softened slightly, and for a moment, the stoic mask he wore seemed to crack. Each night on duty, you seemed to chip away at that mask, revealing glimpses of the man beneath the soldier.

It was on the sixth evening that a significant shift occurred between you and Crosshair. As usual, you were in the library when he entered. Instead of positioning himself in his usual corner, you were present surprised as he stood closer, practically next to the couch you were cosied up on.

You smiled up at him. “Want to sit?” you asked, patting the spot beside you.

“I don’t think that would be appropriate,” he stated, though it didn’t sound like a flat refusal.

You licked your teeth thoughtfully, your eyes tracing his tall, lean form. Tilting your head to the side, you continued, “But you want to be near me.”

“I am always near you.”

“But tonight you’re closer than before,” you countered, noting the coy smile that played on his lips.

He shifted slightly. “I thought you’d appreciate talking to me as I stand next to you rather than across the room.”

You moved closer to the edge of the couch, turning your body towards him. Your dress rode up a little, exposing more of your leg, and you batted your eyelashes at him. “And now you are too tall and hurting my neck. Please?” you asked, patting the spot beside you once more.

You saw him close his eyes briefly, a soft sigh escaping his lips before he leaned his rifle against the wall and sat beside you. He leaned forward, hands clasped together, and for the first time, he appeared nervous.

“So, how was your day?” you asked cheerfully. Crosshair wanted to roll his eyes but held back, mindful of the respect due to your royal status.

To Crosshair, it felt strange—almost surreal—that someone of your stature would ask about his day. He had always been told that himself and his brothers, even the regs, were bred for war. Viewed nothing more expendable tools of the Republic. He had always been surrounded by Jedi, Generals and Commanders who saw him as just another operative, valued for his skills but not for his individuality. That’s it.

He glanced at you, your eager eyes waiting for his response. “Routine,” he said after a moment. “Same as usual. And yours?”

Your eyes sparkled with interest. “Busy, as always. Meetings, formal dinners, and endless discussions about diplomacy.” You paused, your eyes softening. “It’s refreshing to talk about something different for a change.”

Crosshair studied you, noting the way your shoulders relaxed and the genuine smile on your lips. He found himself rather intrigued by your openness. “I suppose our routines are different,” he grunts.

You nodded. “They are, but I imagine both come with their own set of challenges.”

He allowed himself a small smile. “You could say that.”

There was a comfortable silence as you both sat there, the warmth of the fire casting a gentle glow over the room. Crosshair found himself unexpectedly at ease.

“So,” you began, breaking the silence after a few minutes, “tell me something about yourself that I wouldn’t know.”

Crosshair raised an eyebrow, a hint of amusement in his eyes. “There isn’t much to tell. I’m a soldier. That’s all I’ve ever been.”

You leaned closer, your curiosity evident. “Surely there’s more to you than that. What about before the war? Any hobbies? Interests?”

He hesitated, then said, “I used to enjoy marksmanship drills. It was... calming. A way to focus.”

You smiled. “I can see that. It suits you.”

As the conversation continued, Crosshair began to open up more, the initial awkwardness fading. For the first time, he felt seen—not as a clone, but as an individual. It was only small but there was a significant shift.

Perhaps a deeper feeling was emerging after all these late night talks.

After a while, you shifted slightly, your dress slipping higher up your leg. You didn’t notice at first but when you turn to look back at Crosshair, his gaze was lingering there. You say nothing at first, feeling a heat grow in your stomach as you watch how his eyes darken - just for a moment - before he quickly looked away.

A playful idea crossed your mind, and you decided to test the waters.

“Crosshair,” you said softly, leaning in a little closer, “would you give me a massage? My legs are terribly sore from all the formal events.”

His eyes widened slightly, and you saw the conflict in his expression. He clearly wanted to, but his sense of duty held him back. “I... I can’t,” he said, his voice strained. “It wouldn’t be appropriate.”

“Please?” you asked once more, your voice a soft purr as you looked up at him through your lashes.

He swallowed hard, his resolve visibly weakening. “Princess, I am on duty,” he said, though his voice was huskier now, betraying his inner struggle. “And it would be dishonorable. I... I can’t.”

You pouted playfully, but inside, you admired his steadfastness, even if it meant denying something you both wanted. “Ever the soldier,” you murmured, leaning back and giving him a small, understanding smile.

Crosshair’s eyes lingered on you a moment longer, briefly scanning your plump and soft lips that he found himself foolishly wanting to kiss before he tore his gaze away, his hands clenched together as if to keep them from reaching out to you. The tension in the room was palpable, a mix of unspoken desire and restrained propriety. It was a delicate balance, one that both thrilled and really frustrated you.

You were awakening a side of him he kept buried, and in return, he was stirring emotions within you that you had long suppressed. After all, how often was it you were with another man who wasn’t a guard unchaperoned? You definitely never had feelings towards any of them but to you? He was beautiful. With Crosshair, you felt normal, something you had always yearned for in the rigid constraints of being royalty. But he ignited another, more primal desire within you—lust.

The way his eyes lingered on you, dark and intense that you found yourself burning up under his gaze. It was clear he wanted you just as much as you wanted him.

Yet, the cruel reality was that tomorrow would be the last night. Would you ever even see him again?

It seemed as though he could read your mind. Clearing his throat, he turned his body towards you, the intensity of his eyes making your pulse quicken. “Do you still require a massage?” he asked, watching you closely. Your fingers had been absentmindedly playing with the ends of your hair for the last few minutes, a normal habit that seemed to make his heart rate pound.

“Please don’t feel obliged to do that for me just because I asked,” you reassured him, your voice soft. “I only asked because...” you trailed off, your thoughts a chaotic mix of emotions you couldn’t entirely decipher.

“Because you like me,” he said boldly, a spark of confidence in his eyes. You watched in silent awe as he deftly pulled something from a pouch in his armor—a toothpick. He placed it between his lips with a casual and almsot suave ease.

You swallowed hard, trying to steady your breathing. “I value you, yes,” you managed to say, your voice betraying your nerves. But then you met his gaze once more, and a surge of courage flared within you. “And I think you would like to give me a massage,” you continued, a smirk curling at the corners of your lips.

Crosshair’s eyes darkened, the toothpick shifting slightly as he bit down on it. “Is that so?” he murmured.

“Yes,” you replied, your voice dropping to a sultry whisper. “I think you want to touch me.”

He inhaled sharply, the tension between you palpable. “You’re playing with fire, Princess,” he warned, but his words lacked conviction, his eyes betraying his desire.

“Maybe,” you teased, leaning closer, your leg now brushing against his. “But it’s a risk I’m willing to take. Are you?”

For a moment, he hesitated, the internal struggle evident in his eyes. Then, with a resigned sigh, he placed his hand gently on your calf, his touch sending a jolt of electricity through you. “I suppose one massage wouldn’t hurt,” he murmured, his voice husky.

You smiled, your pulse quickening as his fingers began to knead the tension from your muscles. “Good,” you whispered, your voice laced with anticipation as you leaned back, relaxing.

Crosshair’s eyes followed the path of his hands as they moved up your calf, his breath hitching as you let out a soft moan of pleasure. His fingers were firm and skillful, each touch sending ripples of sensation through your body. You didn't hold back, your moans growing louder, each one making his arousal more evident. His pants felt increasingly tight, the bulge in them unmistakable.

“You’re making it hard to concentrate, Princess,” he murmured, his voice strained with desire.

“I can only apologise,” you replied, your voice breathy as you reveled in the feel of his hands on you. “I’m just showing you what you do to me.”

His hands moved higher, massaging your knee before traveling up your thigh. Your dress rode up further, and he paused, his eyes locked on the exposed skin. He bit down on his toothpick, his restraint hanging by a thread.

You open your eyes only to find yourself biting your lip as you watch as he slips his hands free from his gloves, laying them over the arm of the couch before his fingers start to knead at your calf. His touch is firm yet careful, his fingers working the tension from your muscles with practiced ease. You let out a soft sigh, sinking deeper into the couch, your eyes fluttering closed.

“This is a dangerous game we’re playing, Princess,” he murmurs, his voice a low rumble. “You know this is breaking every rule.”

“And yet here you are,” you reply, a playful lilt in your voice. “Breaking them with me.”

He smirks, his hands moving up to your knee, massaging in slow, deliberate circles. “It seems I can’t help myself,” he admits, his eyes blown. “You’re... quite persuasive.”

You arch an eyebrow, feeling a thrill of power at his words. “Am I now? I merely asked you the once” you tease, shifting slightly to allow his hands better access.

He doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, his hands continue their upward journey, fingers brushing along the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. You feel a rush of heat as he inches closer to the apex of your legs, his touch sending sparks of electricity through your body.

“You know exactly what you’re doing,” he whispers softly, his hands moving higher, and you hold your gasp as you realise how dangerously close he was to your… intimate area. Every nerve ending in your body is awakened by his touch.

"And you're enjoying it," you whisper back, your voice husky with need.

Stars, what kind of hold did he have on you? You were royalty, trained all your life to be reserved and appropriate, yet here you were, parting your legs to give him silent permission to continue. The boldness of your action sends a thrill through you, a heady mix of fear and excitement that makes your heart race.

His hands pause for a moment, his gaze flicking to meet yours. It is obvious you are exposed to him now as his eyes drop between your legs, his hand moving your dress just enough to touch. He lets out a soft moan, the sound making you inevitably clench. Your silk panties, enticing and damp with arousal, has him stopping in his tracks.

It's his turn to bite his lip, almost snapping the toothpick in his mouth as his fingers flex, eager to reach out and brush against you. The sight of his struggle, the raw want in his eyes, sends a fresh wave of heat through you. But then, he closes his eyes, a pained expression crossing his face. "Tell me to stop."

His resolve is being rebuilt, a fortress against the growing storm of his desire. Despite the desperation coursing through your veins, you do as he pleads. "You can stop."

Despite your words, it takes him a moment or two to retract his hand, pulling your dress back down slowly to restore your dignity. "I'm sorry, Princess."

There's guilt on his face, and your heart sinks. You pull your legs back away from him and sit forward, gently taking his hand. "You have no reason to apologise. I... I should have realised this was foolish." You scold yourself, closing your eyes tightly. "I do not want to compromise your position."

"My position?" he snaps at you, causing you to flinch slightly. The regret in his gaze is immediate. "What about you? You're the Princess. If I got caught with you you'd be ruined." His tone softens as he continues, the anger melting into concern.

The air between you is thick with unspoken desires, the weight of what could have been pressing down on both of you. Crosshair's hand remains in yours, his grip firm yet gentle, as if he's holding on to the last shred of his self-control. His eyes, filled with a mix of longing and frustration, meet yours.

"Princess," he murmurs, his voice low and rough, "this is going to be forward but I've never wanted anything more in my life. But I can't... I can't risk you."

You nod, your throat tightening. "I understand. But just for tonight, can we forget who we are? Just be two people, enjoying each other's company?"

His eyes search yours, and after a moment, he nods slowly. "Just for tonight."

Saying goodbye to Crosshair was inevitable, but it was the last thing you wanted to do. You had already said your farewells to the others, and now it was just Crosshair’s turn.

The two of you didn’t speak of what had happened the night before, yet the tension between you lingered in the air, thick and palpable. As usual, after your time spent in the library, he escorted you back to your bedchambers. This time, though, the walk was slower, each step a heavy reminder of what was about to end.

Neither of you said anything as your door came into view. You stopped, and Crosshair halted just a few steps beside you, the silence stretching painfully.

“When can I see you again?” you whispered, not daring to look in his direction. You heard him take a small step closer, his gaze boring into the back of your head, his presence a comforting shadow.

“Do you want to?”

“Of course I do,” you said, exasperated, finally finding the strength to look at him. “I don’t even want to say goodbye.”

Crosshair bit the inside of his cheek, his eyes narrowing. “You will have a new set of clones sent next week… you may form a bond with one of them too.”

Ouch. “W-Why are you saying that?”

He sighed and took your arm gently, guiding you into a shadowed corner away from any prying eyes or ears. His touch was firm yet tender, sending shivers down your spine. “I think you’re lonely, Princess… and I was just a distraction.”

Your eyes welled up, tears threatening to spill. Crosshair had never hated a sight more. “No, Crosshair, you weren’t just a distraction for me. I…”

“What?” he probed swiftly, his body almost pressed against yours as your back met the wall, the heat radiating from him almost too much to bear.

You searched his eyes, your lips parting as you subtly inhaled his scent, memorizing his gaze, for possibly the last time. “I think you already know.”

Crosshair was silent, not a rarity, but you could see the emotions flashing across his face. He took your hand and brought your knuckles to his lips, his breath warm and tantalizing. “I know.”

The moment hung heavy between you, charged with unspoken words and suppressed desires. His lips lingered on your skin, the gentle pressure sending a thrill through you. Your heart pounded in your chest as his hand slid up your arm, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. His other hand cupped your cheek, thumb brushing away a stray tear. “Crying over me, Princess?”

You leaned into his touch, a soft but sad smile granted at his words. “Just a little.”

Closing your eyes briefly, you savoured the feeling of his touch. When you opened them again, his face was inches from yours, his breath dancing with your own.

Your lips parted slightly, an invitation that he hesitated to accept. His eyes darted to your mouth, his resolve crumbling as he leaned in, the pull between you undeniable. Just as his lips were about to claim yours, you felt the weight of reality crashing down.

“I can’t,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “This is too much.”

You pulled back, the pain of the separation cutting deep. Crosshair's hand dropped to his side, his expression a mix of longing and resignation.

“Goodbye, Crosshair,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

He nodded, stepping back to give you space. “Goodbye, Princess.”

With a heavy heart, you turned and entered your bedchamber without another word. Honestly, you had never hated being a Princess more than ever before.

“Is there something wrong, my lady?”

You stood staring at yourself in the mirror for, well, you weren’t sure how long but it was long enough to raise concerns. Your handmaiden had just assisted you with getting dressed in your nightwear—a beautiful soft nightdress of the finest silk, the fabric a delicate shade of ivory. It flowed gracefully over your form, hugging your curves subtly, with intricate lace detailing along the neckline and hem and stopped just above your knees.

Your hands played with the fabric and you can’t help but wonder what it’d feel like to have his hands on you. It’d be inappropriate for anyone to see you in a state of undress but you got the warm feeling in your gut that he would undress you even further.

You sigh softly to yourself, Crosshair replaying in your mind on a constant loop. His touch from the massage, his words, the intensity of the almost-kiss—it all haunted you, refusing to let you rest. You barely noticed your handmaiden’s presence until she laid a gentle hand on your shoulder, snapping you out of your thoughts.

“Would you like me to get someone for you?” she asked softly, her concern evident in her eyes.

You turned to her, the turmoil of your emotions barely concealed. “No, thank you. I’m just… distracted, I suppose.”

“Is there anything I can do to help, my lady?”

You remain tight lipped, glancing back at your reflection. The nightdress, so elegant and pure, seemed almost a mockery of the confusion and desire within you. “No, it’s something I need to work through on my own.”

She nodded, stepping back respectfully. “Of course, my lady. If you need anything, please don’t hesitate to call.”

“Thank you,” you said, offering her a small, grateful smile. “That will be all for tonight.”

With a curtsy, she left you alone in your chambers, the silence and stillness pressing in around you. You moved to your bed, the cool sheets an almost embarrassing contrast to the heat of your thoughts.

For an hour, you tossed and turned, staring at the canopy above your head. Frustration clawed at you, and at one point, you grabbed your pillow, pressing it over your face and screaming into it to release the pent-up emotions.

Just as exhaustion began to tug at you, a faint tap at the door leading to the balcony broke through the haze of near-sleep. You squinted into the darkness, unsure if you were hearing things, but the tap came again, as if a pebble was being thrown at it.

Instinctively, you would have called out for a guard, alerting them to a possible threat. But something in your gut told you not to. Trusting that intuition, you crawled out of bed, grabbing a gown and draping it over your nightdress.

As you opened the door to your balcony, you hesitated for a moment but you threw caution to the wind and wanted to see for yourself. You stepped out onto the balcony, the cool stone beneath your bare feet grounding you. At first you saw nothing but then, you spotted him.

Below, emerging from the shadows, stood Crosshair. “Crosshair? W-What’re you doing here?” you whisper-shouted down to him, checking the coast was clear.

“Honestly? I don’t know. Hunter is going to kill me and possibly your family, but I had to see you,” he replied, his eyes scanning the area too for any signs of danger.

Your heart swelled, and your eyes twinkled with raw emotion. “Am I really worth that risk?”

“For you?” He chuckled softly, his voice carrying a warmth that made your heart flutter. “Anything.”

Without another thought, you motioned for him to come up. Crosshair scaled the trellis with practiced ease, and within moments, he stood before you on the balcony, his tall form casting a shadow in the moonlight.

The tension from earlier, the unspoken words and desires, hung thick in the air. You stepped closer to him, your hand reaching out to touch his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath your fingertips. “You came back.”

He nodded. You can tell he wasn’t used to showing such affection as his hand, shaking, lays over the top of yours that was against his chest, holding it closer to his heart. “I couldn’t stay away it seems.l

The intensity in his eyes made your knees weak. “What if we’re caught?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

“I don’t care,” he said, his tone fierce yet tender. “I’d rather face the consequences than spend another night without you.”

Without saying another word, your lips met in a frenzy of raw passion and need.

He guided you back into the room, not once parting his lips from yours, and shut the door to the balcony behind him.

His hands took refuge on your hips, pulling you closer as he met your gaze briefly, as if to reassure himself that you were real, before he kissed you again with renewed hunger.

You groaned into his embrace, your body flush against his as the moonlight danced through the cracks in your curtains, casting a silvery glow over your entwined forms. With a soft sigh, you let your tongue run against his bottom lip, and his knees almost buckled at the sensation.

He allowed you access, and your tongues swirled and danced together. Your hands roamed up and down his body, only now realising he wore no armour, just his long black one-piece that most clones wore underneath. This allowed you to feel his slender, toned figure beneath your fingers, the warmth of his skin radiating through the fabric.

“Like what you feel?” he rasped against your mouth as you moaned at the mere touch of him.

“Very much so,” you smiled, both of you pulling away for a much-needed breath.

His eyes roamed your figure, a smirk on his lips and in his eyes. “It feels wrong of me to see you dressed this way,” he muttered, pinching the fabric of your nightdress between his fingers softly. “You look so innocent.”

“Are you saying I didn’t look that way before?” you hummed, a teasing lilt to your voice.

“I suppose you did,” he started before he leans in, his lips trailing down to your neck, leaving a burning path in their wake, “but your mind isn’t so pure.”

A shiver ran down your spine as his mouth worked its way along your neck, planting hot, open-mouthed kisses that sent jolts of pleasure coursing through you. He nipped at your skin, sucking and leaving marks that would remind you of this night. Then, his hand slipped under your nightdress, the cool touch of his fingers against your heated skin making you gasp.

“You like that?” he murmured against your ear, his voice low and gravelly. “You like feeling my hands on you, knowing you’re mine right now, Princess?”

“Yes,” you breathed, your hands gripping his shoulders as his fingers squeezed your arse, pulling you even closer. You could feel his erection straining against his pants, the hard length pressing into you.

You could feel yourself dampen, your pussy throbbing with a desperate need to be met. “Take me to my bed.”

“As you command.” He wasted no time in lifting you up, carrying you across the threshold before laying you down in the middle of the bed. He leaned over, grabbed a pillow to tuck under your head, then crawled over the top of you, claiming your lips once more.

You moaned his name into his mouth, your leg hooking around his waist and bringing him flush to you. You couldn’t help the way your hips ground against his thigh, the friction making you gasp against his lips. “Tell me what you want, beautiful.” He cupped your jaw, his tongue hot and trailing over your lips with teasing flicks. “I’ll be everything you’ve ever wanted. I’ll do anything you’ve ever desired.”

You closed your eyes and let out a breathless sigh. “Do what you wanted to do to me in the library.”

He pulled back, tilting his head down at you. “Tell me first, Princess,” his tone soft, “have you done this before?”

You swallowed and nervously shook your head. “No. But I want to.” You replied, reaching your hand up and touching his cheek, tracing your thumb across the bottom of his tattoo. “With you.”

A cocky and satisfied smile spread across his lips, his fingers slipping under the hem of your nightdress and moving up your thighs.

You trembled beneath his touch as he bunched the fabric around your hips, revealing your bare pussy to him. “Stars, you’re beautiful,” he groaned, his eyes darkening with lust as he spread your legs wider, settling himself between them. His mind flashed back to the moment in the library, when he saw your silk panties and how desperately he craved to taste you. And now, that time has finally come.

He pressed soft, teasing kisses along your inner thighs, making you squirm with anticipation. “Patience, Princess,” he murmured against your skin, his breath hot and tantalising. “I want to savour this.”

You whimpered, your fingers tangling in the sheets as he finally reached your core, his tongue flicking out to taste you. The sensation made you cry out, your back arching off the bed. “Crosshair,” you moaned, your voice desperate and needy.

His hands gripped your thighs, holding you in place as he licked and sucked at your clit, intense and with precision. “You taste so sweet,” he mewls against you, the vibrations sending shivers through you. “I could stay here all night.”

You were lost in a haze of pleasure for an incredible few minutes, your body writhing beneath him as he brought you closer and closer to the edge. “Please,” you gasped, your hands clutching at his head. “I need more.”

He looked up at you through your legs, his eyes burning into you. “As you wish, beautiful.” He brought his hands up, tugging the top of your nightdress down to expose your breasts. You gasp at the sudden chill but then moan as his fingers begin to play with your nipples, rolling and pinching them as he continues to devour you.

You cried out at the dual sensations, your hips bucking against his mouth. “Oh, fuck,” you slipped, the curse word escaping before you could stop it.

Crosshair’s eyes flashed with something primal at your slip of the tongue, and he responded with a feral groan. “Such a dirty mouth for a Princess,” he taunted, his fingers slipping inside you, curling and thrusting in time with his tongue’s ministrations.

Your legs turned to jelly, your body trembling uncontrollably as he finger-fucked you with relentless rigour. “Crosshair!” you screamed, your voice hoarse with pleasure. “Oh, fuck, don’t stop!”

He didn’t, his mouth and fingers working in perfect harmony to push you over the edge. Your climax hit you like a tidal wave, your entire body shaking with the force of it as you cried out his name again and again, thighs threatening to close between over his head as cum all over his mouth.

He held you through it, his movements slowing as you came down from your high, your body limp and sedated beneath him. He pressed a soft kiss to your inner thigh before pulling back. “I could get used to hearing you scream my name,” he murmured, his fingers trailing lightly over your sensitive skin.

“Me too,” you gasped, sitting up on your elbows as he moved to lay beside you. “That was… I can't even explain.”

“Did you enjoy it?” he asked softly, laying his hand over the top of yours.

“Loved it.” You grinned, but there was something you now wanted to try. Your eyes drifted down to the obvious bulge in his blacks, your breath hitching with anticipation. You bit your lip, your fingers tracing the outline of his arousal through the fabric. “I think it’s time I return the favor.”

Crosshair's eyes haze over with lust as he watched you. “Princess, you don’t have to—”

“I want to,” you interrupted, your voice filled with a mix of determination and nervous excitement. You both sit up, Crosshair watching you in awe as you help him slip out of his glove, your fingers brushing against his skin as you expose his toned chest. Your hands moved lower, tugging down his lower half and freeing him from the confines. His erection sprang free, and you couldn’t help but marvel at his size and the throbbing need you saw in his eyes.

“You’re so hard,” you whispered, your voice laced with hunger. “I want to make you feel as good as you made me feel.”

He groaned, his hands clenching the sheets as you wrapped your fingers around his length, giving him a tentative stroke. “Princess…”

You leaned in, your breath warm against his skin as you began to place soft kisses along his shaft. “Do you like this?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Yes,” he hissed, his hips bucking slightly as you took him into your mouth. He lays back down as you start slow, your tongue swirling around the tip, tasting his salty essence. You glanced up at him, his eyes squeezed shut in pleasure, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

Encouraged, you took him deeper, your lips stretching around his girth. You hollowed your cheeks, creating a delicious suction that made him groan loudly. “Oh fuck,” he muttered, his hands tangling in your hair as he struggled to keep control.

You began to bob your head, your hand pumping the base of his cock in rhythm with your mouth. The sounds you made were wet and obscene, if someone were to press their ear against the door they’d definitely hear what was going on but it only spurred you on. You could feel his body tensing, his muscles straining as he fought to hold back.

Wanting to drive him wild, you let your other hand gently cup his balls, rolling them in your palm. You felt his entire body shudder, his grip on your hair tightening. “Oh baby, that feels good,” he groaned, his voice a deep rasp.

Feeling a surge of confidence, you pulled back slightly, letting your tongue trail down to his balls. You kissed and sucked on them, your hand still working his shaft. The combination of your antics had him thrashing, his moans growing louder and louder. Your lips, covered in spit, move back to his cock as you then take him deeper, your throat relaxing as you push yourself to take more of him. His cock hit the back of your throat, and you gagged slightly, but the sound only seemed to excite him more. “Princess, you’re g-going, shit, to make me cum,” he warned, his voice strained.

You looked up at him, your eyes filled with determination. “That’s exactly what I want,” you whispered, before taking him back into your mouth with renewed vigour. You used your hand to stroke the length you couldn’t fit, your fingers squeezing and twisting in a way that made him gasp.

Then, in a moment of boldness, you shifted your attention lower, letting your tongue trail down to his balls once more. You took one into your mouth, sucking gently while your hand continued to pump his shaft. The sound that ripped from his throat was almost primal, his body trembling as his orgasm was closing in.

“Fuck, Princess,” he groaned, his hips jerking involuntarily as you lavished attention on his sensitive skin. “That feels so fucking good.”

You could feel his balls tightening in your hand, his entire body tensing as he reached his peak. With one final, desperate thrust, he came, spilling himself into your mouth. You swallowed as much as you could, the taste of him filling your senses.

When he finally stilled, you pulled back, licking your lips and meeting his gaze. His cocky demeanor was shattered, replaced by a look of bewilderment and satisfaction. “Baby,” he breathed, “You’re incredible.”

You smiled, crawling up to lay beside him, your head resting on his chest. “I’m glad you enjoyed it,” you whispered, feeling a sense of pride. Truthfully, you never thought you’d be able to do this. Especially having brought him so much pleasure.

“Do you want to take it a step further?” Crosshair asks, his eyes searching yours as you nestle into his chest, “Do you want me to fuck you?”

Your heart races at his words, a mix of excitement and nervousness flooding your senses. “Yes,” you whisper, your voice tight with anticipation.

He cups your cheek gently, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip. “Are you sure my sweet? This is your first time.”

“I’m sure,” you reply, your voice growing more confident. “I want you, Crosshair.”

A smile spreads across his lips as he moves to hover above you. He kisses you deeply, his tongue exploring your mouth as his hand slides down your body to your pussy once again. You part your legs, his fingers finding your wetness. “Mmm, you’re so ready for me,” he murmurs against your lips, his voice a low growl.

His fingers tease your slit, rubbing gently before slipping inside you to prepare you for his length. You gasp and grin at the sensation, your body tensing slightly. It felt amazing but perhaps your nerves were getting the better of you.

“Relax,” he whispers, his lips moving to your neck, leaving a trail of kisses. “I’ll take care of you.”

“I trust you.”

He continues to caress you, his fingers working you open as his thumb circles your clit. The pleasure builds, making you moan softly. When he feels you’re ready, he positions himself at your entrance, the tip of his cock teasing your opening.

“This might hurt a little,” he warns, his eyes locking with yours. “But I promise it’ll feel good soon.”

You nod, bracing yourself. He pushes into you slowly, stretching you inch by inch. You whimper at the slight sting, your nails digging into his shoulders. He kisses you gently, murmuring soothing words against your lips. “You’re doing so well, Princess. Just breathe.”

As he pushes deeper, you feel an intense fullness, his cock stretching you in ways you’ve never felt before. The sensation is overwhelming, a mixture of pleasure and pain that leaves you breathless. “W-wow.” You look between both your bodies, watching his cock slowly disappear inside you.

The sight blew your mind. You knew this was breaking royal protocol and that if anyone found out, there would be dire consequences. But the thrill of the forbidden romance only spurs you on, making you crave him even more.

When he hits the wall inside you, his cock rests in the warmth of your cunt, letting you adjust to his size. “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” you whisper, your body relaxing as the initial pain fades and as you lay your head back down to look up at him. “Please, continue.”

He begins to move, his strokes slow and deep, each thrust sending waves of pleasure through you. He watches your face, gauging your reactions, and when he sees you start to enjoy it, his pace quickens.

“Please, be more dominant with me,” you moan, your voice breathy with need. “I want you to take control.”

His eyes gleam with power at your words, a cocky smile spreading across his face. “Are you sure you want that?”

You bite your lip, “Are you questioning the Princess?” You counter with a flash of mischief. “Claim. Me.”

He groans at your words, his hands gripping your hips tighter, his thrusts becoming harder and more powerful as you demanded. The bed creaks under the force, your moans growing louder with each movement. “Fuck, you’re so tight,” he groans, his voice rough. “such a tight royal pussy.”

“More, Crosshair! I need your cock so much.” You cry, your body being pummelled into your mattress. You could feel the stretch of your pussy, his veiny length creating a beautiful friction inside you that had your toes curling.

His eyes burn with lust as he increases his pace, each thrust harder and faster. After a while, he shifts positions, flipping you onto your stomach. “Get on your knees,” he commands.

You obey, your body trembling with anticipation. He positions himself behind you, his hands gripping the roush of your nightdress as he drives into you from behind in a quick motion. You lay your face into the pillow, hips raised to allow him to go deeper, hitting spots inside you that make you cry out in pleasure. “F-F-Fuck.” You gasp, your hands tight in the sheets as he brings your body back and forth onto his dick.

Your moans are muffled by the pillow as he pounds into you, the bed continuing to creak rhythmically beneath you. You reach down, fondling your own breasts, pinching your nipples as waves of pleasure build. "D-Dont stop, you’re so good.”

The room fills with the sounds of your bodies moving together—his grunts and praises, your moans, the slap of skin against skin. His pace is relentless, each thrust more intense than the last. Your bodies glisten with sweat, droplets sliding down your back and mingling with his, the heat of your coupling intensifying.

You feel his hands tighten on your hips, guiding you into a perfect rhythm. Each movement sends jolts of ecstasy through you, your breath coming in ragged gasps.

You arch your back, pushing against him, matching his fervent thrusts. He grins cockily from behind you, reaching across and grabbing a fistful of your hair.

“Dirty little girl,” he groans, watching his cock slip in and out of you. The friction, the pressure, the overwhelming pleasure was making you see stars.

"Crosshair," you gasp again, your voice strained with impending climax. "I’m so close."

He pulls out suddenly making you whine as you miss the heat before he flips you onto your back again. “Not yet,” he growls, and you watch in wide-eyed awe as he moves to straddle your chest. “Suck me first.”

Without a question you take him into your mouth, your tongue swirling around his cock as he thrusts shallowly. He watches you with a dazed, hungry expression, his hands guiding your movements as he locks his fingers round the back of your head, keeping your face in place as his cock slips all over your tongue and down your throat. “You look so good with my cock in your mouth,” he murmurs, his voice rough as you slurp and gasp on his cock. “Such a filthy Princess.”

When he’s had his fill, he pulls out making you gasp for a breath as he begins positioning himself between your legs again. “Ready for more?”

“Yes,” you pant, your body aching for release.

He drives into you again, this time harder and faster. Your moans fill the room as he fucks you relentlessly, each thrust sending you closer to the edge. “Touch yourself,” he mutters, his voice rough. “I want to see you come.”

Your fingers instantly move between your legs, fingers thrashing over your clit as he ruts into you. The combination of his cock and your own touch pushes you over the edge, your orgasm crashing over you like a tidal wave. “FUCK! C-Crosshair! I’m cumming.” Your body convulses, your screams of pleasure filling the room as you feel yourself release over his cock.

“Fuck, Princess,” he groans, pulling out at the last moment. He straddles you, stroking himself to completion. “Where do you want it?”

“On my breasts,” you gasp, arching your back to him.

He moans deeply, his release hitting your breasts and nightdress in hot, sticky spurts. He collapses beside you, both of you breathing heavily, your bodies slick with sweat.

But you aren’t done. If this was the last time you were to see him, you were going to make it last.

With a smirk, you push him onto his back, straddling him with this newfound confidence. “I think it’s my turn to return the favour again,” you murmur, guiding his hardening cock back inside you. You begin to ride him, your movements becoming more skilled and precise despite your inexperience.

Stars, what would anyone think of you now?

“That’s it… you’re beautiful,” he groans, his hands moving to your breasts, squeezing and pinching your nipples as you move, not caring if his hands get a little messy from his previous release. His mouth follows, sucking and kissing your tits, making you moan with every touch.

You grind against him, your hips rolling as you ride him faster. You start by gently rocking your hips, feeling him deep inside you. Gradually, you lift your body, almost letting him slip out before slamming back down, taking him fully each time.

Your rhythm is mesmerising, your back arching as you move, your breasts bouncing with each thrust.

His eyes are locked onto you, completely enamoured, unable to keep his hands off you. His fingers trace the curves of your body, his hands holding your hips, guiding your movements. “Fuck yes,” he groans, his eyes filled with desire. “Keep going.”

Your pace increases, each upward lift and downward slam more intense than the last. The sound of your bodies colliding fills the room, mingling with your increasingly loud moans. Your body trembles with the intensity of your second orgasm building inside you.

“Crosshair,” you cry, your voice thick with pleasure, “I’m going to come again.”

He looks up at you with adoration and hunger, his hands caressing your thighs and waist. “That’s it, Princess,” he murmurs, his voice low and encouraging. “Let go for me. You’re doing so well.”

You feel his fingers start to brush against your clit, adding to the overwhelming sensation. Your hips move frantically, chasing that peak of pleasure. He can’t stop praising you, his voice a constant murmur of soft words and pleads. “So beautiful,” he breathes, his eyes never leaving yours. “Keep going, just like that. Cum for me.”

Your body spas, your orgasm shooting through your body. Your cries of pleasure fill the room and he holds you through it, his hands and voice grounding you as you ride out the waves of your release,.

As you collapse onto his chest, both of you panting and spent, he wraps his arms around you, holding you close. “You were perfect,” he whispers, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. “Absolutely perfect.”

You definitely couldn’t go on after that, your legs like jelly as you flop onto your side next to him, the feeling of him exiting you lewd and sinful but you didn’t care.

The two of you lay in silence, nothing but heavy pants and the soft shines of moonlight seen and heard in the room. You’re suddenly drowsy but you knew you should get up and make yourself tidy. But Crosshair beat you to it.

“Stay here,” he murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “I’ll take care of you.”

He slipped out of bed, his movements graceful and quiet as he made his way to the adjoining bathroom. You heard the sound of running water, the faint clink of glass bottles as he prepared a bath for you. A few moments later, he returned to your side, lifting you gently in his arms.

“Come on, Princess,” he whispered, carrying you to the bathroom. He set you down by the edge of the tub, the warm steam rising up to meet you. “Let me help you.”

He eased you into the bath, the hot water enveloping you like a comforting embrace. You sighed, sinking back against the tub as the tension melted from your muscles. Crosshair knelt beside you, his touch tender as he washed your back and hair. His fingers worked through your knots with care, his eyes focused and attentive.

“This is nice,” you murmured, your voice drowsy. “Thank you.”

“Don’t get used to it,” he teased, making you playfully splash him with the bath water as his hand glides through your hair. “I’m only messing. You deserve to be pampered.”

After a while, he helped you out of the bath, wrapping you in a plush towel. He dried you off gently, his touch soothing and careful. When you were dry, he led you back to the bed, tucking you under the covers before slipping in beside you. You nestled against his chest, his arms wrapping around you protectively.

“What happens next?” you asked quietly, your fingers tracing patterns on his skin.

Crosshair sighed, his hold on you tightening slightly. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I wish I did. Maybe my squad could be assigned to protect you, but it would complicate things. Our feelings… they aren’t supposed to happen.”

You nodded, understanding the weight of his words. “I know. But I can’t help how I feel. Maybe one day, things will be different.”

“Maybe,” he agreed, his voice soft. “One day.”

You looked up at him, your eyes meeting his. “We could run away,” you joked lightly, a small smile tugging at your lips yet a part of you wanted it to not be a joke. At all. “I could live a life of adventure and freedom instead of staying in these walls.”

He chuckled, a sound that rumbled deep in his chest. “As tempting as that sounds, Princess, we both know it’s not possible. Your duty is here. And mine… well, mine is wherever the Republic needs me.”

A sad reality settled over you, the weight of your responsibilities pressing down. But with Crosshair holding you close, you allowed yourself to dream.

“We’ll figure it out,” you said softly, your voice filled with determination. “Somehow.”

He kissed the top of your head, his lips lingering. He doesn’t reply with his thoughts, not wanting to fill you with false promises. Apart from this real one: “Whatever happens, I will never forget you.”

And he said your name. Not your title. Your real name.

You closed your eyes, letting the warmth of his embrace lull you into a peaceful sleep. You didn’t want to admit it, but you know that when you wake he will no longer be beside you.

The future was uncertain, but for now, you had this moment. And it was enough.

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[hyukassubi]

Sorry, The Food Is Cold...

Pairing : Husband!Beomgyu x Wife!Reader

Genre : Angst around the middle, bittersweet fluff at the end

Warnings : Aside from Beomgyu getting a little lonely, none!

Synopsis : Beomgyu waits patiently for his wife to return home from work. The clock keeps ticking, and the food is getting cold...

Content : Beomgyu being lonely for like 60% of the whole fic *sob sob*

Wc : 1.2k words

Tag : @itzzz-yerin

The store-bought gyoza sizzles on the pan. Beads of of sweat trickle down Beomgyu's forehead on this cold night, wiping them off with the back of his arm, sleeves pulled up to his elbows.

The only reason he'd pan-fry the entire bag is because he wanted to have someone to share his dinner with- his lover.

You.

And while flipping the wedges of gyoza-goodness, all he could think about was: 'this would go well with some tea'.

The thing is, you weren't even home.

These past couple of days, work had just been piling up on you. It didn't matter how much you enjoyed your work, too much of a good thing is never really a good thing.

But it paid your bills, and all you wanted for you and your husband was a comfy home the both of you could live in for the time being. So, night after night, the hours grew longer, and the longer it took for you to arrive home.

Beomgyu got used to skipping 'golden hour cafe dates' with you, or snuggling up on the couch talking about your work while crocheting that huge floral blanket of yours— you fiddled and played with the wool, he played and kissed your hair. Even hearing the trickle of water as you shower in the bathroom, humming a foreign melody, and he'd smile everytime he heard your voice.

But here he was, at home, couch empty, the only tunes available being the sizzling of oil on the pan and a couple arguing upstairs, and then, a ping on his phone—

A ping on his phone.

Beomgyu jolted to the sink, washing his hands way too fast before wiping them dry and then reaching to his phone and—

An hour had gone by.

Beomgyu finally stood up, skittering into the kitchen. Upon his five-minute search, he scavanged a hoard of tissues, neatly placing them over the dishes. Beomgyu checked his phone again for the first time in a while, only to receive two missed calls from… his high school dance club friends.

He chuckled, walking to… he didn’t know where.

The kitchen? He grabbed a tupperware full of orange slices and walked out.

The living room? The empty couch made without a body to hold to lay on his chest and hair to play with made the apartment seem all the more spacey.

The bedroom? Same reason as the couch, except instead of a couch sits a king sized bed that is empty, not to mention the lingering smell of fresh laundry and flower gardens coming from your closet full of your clothes that have your scent making Beomgyu remember flashes of you.

Beomgyu stood there, in a hall, in the middle of his apartment— your apartment—contemplating.

The balcony it is.

Two hours had gone by.

The thing about Beomgyu was that his voice box never dies out, even after a two hour talkathon with the boys, arguing about how rat infestations in Soobin’s apartment makes his place banned for boys night sleepovers because Beomgyu might just turn his entire kitchen into the korean Ratatouille live action no one asked for but didn’t know they needed.

An intriguing conversation indeed over muscats under the shining stars. Beomgyu settled down for the time being,tracing out figures of kitchenware and forest animals in the sky. Not long after, a semi-cold feeling brushes past him like a wailing ghost in search of heaven in mid-air.

He was lonely.

Beomgyu pressed his lips together, leaning forward from his seat. He thought, maybe if he looked closely enough, somewhere down there, he’d spot a tiny white car planted in the middle of the road, glued in place in that rat trap of traffic.

Except he does see that familiar tiny white car on the road.

Beomgyu’s eyes widened.

My wife!, he thought.

… Although it could just be someone else’s car-

The table started vibrating.

Beomgyu snapped out of his train of thoughts, clinging onto his phone.

“Beomgyu, darling,” that familiar voice that itched the right spots in Beomgyu’s brain flowed into his ears like honey, “I swear, I’m on my way home, it’s just— the traffic is absolutely horrendous right now.” You went on rambling about some sort of traffic light malfunction, a delay at work, bitter coffee that didn’t sit right with your tastebuds and Beomgyu continued to listen , phone pressed to his ears, eyes on the road below simply watching that tiny… little white car.

He didn’t know how long it took until, at some point during all that rambling, he cut your yapping short. “Sweetheart, give me ten minutes—”

“—Wait what do you mean ten min—”

Beomgyu hung up.

He raced to the kitchen, swaddling up two sets of cutlery inside cherry patterned napkins and a tupperware.

If you could drive into the sewers underground sprouting out of the pipes into your apartment, you… wouldn’t because water bills aren’t cheap, not in this economy.

Your forehead slams onto the steering wheel, a loud wail of your horn blaring for ten whole seconds. Home is literally a street-or-two-and-an-additional-U-turn away, you could’ve been home hours ago in the welcoming embrace of your husband, eating his simplistic yet mouth-watering store-bought dishes… holding each other closely while talking about… the future? Life?… Kids? That was still a mile or two hundred away into the future but… it wasn’t impossible now wasn’t it?

Your head fell onto the steering wheel once more.

And when you lifted it back up… Beomgyu???

What… What’s your husband doing on the sidewalk? Waving manically, bookmarking into the tight spaces between car after car.

“Open the roof.” He insisted, he yelled, he- Oh my God, he’s really gonna climb through there???

You felt— What did you feel? How did you feel about this? Is this even real? Your eyes fell on Beomgyu’s left hand, holding onto a small bag.

The roof of the car slid open.

And so did Beomgyu.

Smooth as silk, he dropped into the car.

The roof closed shut.

“What the hell are you doing?” Your question came out confused and flustered all at the same time.

Beomgyu crawled into the passenger seat, unknotting the cloth of the bag. “Thought I’d get some fresh air and make a small delivery!” he passed a fogged up tuperware your way.

For a moment, all you could do is blink. You just blinked. And then, in the next moment, Beomgyu’s tuperware wasn’t clutched in his hand anymore. “This is why I love you so much.” You opened the tuperware, that salty-sweet scent of sauce looming in the congested air.

Beomgyu chuckled. “Because I cook passable food?” Another chuckle, more awkward than the last. “Sorry, the food is cold.”

“Well… you’re thoughtful.” You started slow, swirling a piece of gyoza around the sea of soy sauce. “You’re loving, you’re you. You’re all I want.”

It definitely wasn’t the trick of a million headlights surrounding the happy couple— Choi Beomgyu was blushing, ever so faintly, looking away.

You placed a hand on Beomgyu’s jaw, plopping a piece into his mouth. “Eat up.”

A/n: I had a friend group later in my highschool days whom I thought of as my girl gang once. I've matured since then once I realized how lonely and misunderstood they made me felt, not because they were bad people in any way, but we had different love languages and communication styles the more we grew older *starts playing 'drama' by txt*. I wanted to encapsulate this lonely feeling in the form of a fanfiction, though it is neither of the two parties faults. I wanted to write something that didn't make making a bold/first move feel like walking over eggshells.

🫶 Reblog and review if you like my work 🫶