#he is a prince who sees people's souls knowing they have more to offer than they show or pretend to

[kaiser1ns]

so today i rewatched disney descendants and the characteristics of ben just straight up gave me ume vibes. so there you go my lovelies. not using the usual layout because this is just a silly quick idea that i had to post.

You, the daughter of Maleficent, and Umemiya, the son of Belle and the Beast, come from very different backgrounds. Wanting to prove yourself that you are cruel enough to your mother, as you use a love potion on him to ensure he falls for you so you can steal the wand of the Fairy Godmother, and him just wanting to prove you that good exits in everyone, as they should choose their own path and storyline.

"Hey, Umemiya~"

"Hey, Y/N."

"I just made these cookies, double chocolate chips, want one?"

"Oh, that's so kind of you but I've got a big game and I don't eat before it. Thank you so much, I would like to try it some other time, though!"

"Ah, yeah. I completely understand" you sighed, lowering the bag, faking the sad expression to achieve more real effect, "Be careful of the treats offered by kids of villains, right?"

"No,no, no. You got it wrong."

"Im sure everyone in Auradon knows that too. I get it you are cautious, that's smart." you open the small plastic bag getting ready to take a bite, "Oh,well, more for me then."

"No, hey —" he grabs the cookie out of your hand and gave it a big bite "See, that. I totally trust you."

"How are they?" you ask, tilting your head out of curiosity to see if the effect of the potion would hit in, "Amazing! Is that walnuts, I love walnuts." he starts to ramble about the texture, how nice the chocolate melts, so warm and soft, and super sweet.

"Y/N, have you always had such beautiful eyes, and pretty smile too?" you can't believe it, the love potion worked incredibly well. Jay, son of Jafar, comes behind him putting an arm around his shoulder, "How are you feeling, bro?"

"In love..." Umemiya said, as he stared into your eyes, hand cupping your cheek as he stroked it gently with his thumb, blush making its way to your face.

As both of you get to know each other, Umemiya's kindness, fairness, good nature and did i mention the love he has for you is ridiculous? He starts to influence you hard, making you question your mother's teachings about evil and the world. If only you knew what your heart was telling you as you don't know what you are feeling or is it just a dream about someone loving you, someone who doesn't see you just as the daughter of Maleficent.

And the moments comes when Umemiya who drinks an anti-love potion before the coronation, confesses that he has genuinely fallen in love with you for who you truly are, not because of any magic or poisoned cookie.

"I know about the love spell." your eyes widen, surprised, as your smile drops, "You... you do?"

"Yeah. And, um, it's worn off." Looking down, a bit saddened, as you played with your hands, "Oh."

"But here's the thing. I haven't loved you because of the spell. I loved you because of you." tears welling up, genuinely touched by his words, by his whole being, and you felt guilty for what is about to come, "Ume, I..."

Umemiya took your hand, squeezing it tightly, to assure you that's everything is okay, "I don't know what the future holds. But I do know that I want to be with you."

Smiling trough the tears, not wanting to appear vulnerable, but there's no point in hiding anymore, "Really?"

"Really." and he looked at you with the same love stare, with those eyes who saw everything you tried to suppress.

©2024 kaiser1ns do not copy, repost or modify my work

[yanderestarangel]

𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐊𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒 𝐌𝐊11 | 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐀𝐑 𝐃𝐀𝐃𝐃𝐘!𝐉𝐎𝐇𝐍𝐍𝐘 𝐂𝐀𝐆𝐄

♡‧₊˚✧˖° request from: @little-bug-butt ♡‧₊˚✧˖°

A/N: I love this Johnny Cage- he's so dilf I'm very simp for him, I hope you like the post dear, thanks for the idea! PS: sorry tagging your @, my tumblr simply deleted my draft with your request <3

TW: age gap, afab reader, praise, smut, nsfw, v!sex, oral ( f!re ), sugar daddy concept, semi public sex, daddykink, degradation kink, blowjob, dirty talk, anal, sex!toys, power play, sub!reader, dilf!johnny, sexual positions/kama sutra, rec!sex, no pronouns used other than 'you', spoilers about the canon line of mk11, little angst.

♡ - After Sonia's death Johnny was lonely and a little too mentally shaken, Cassie was living her own life - even though he was still her father, she needed her own time to work and meet new people, unfortunately, the man It became increasingly lonely, so he decided to use some old contacts and discover the 'sugar daddy' concept - he would be reluctant at first when using the site, he clicked through several profiles, until he found yours - which caught his attention practically immediately, your beauty and interests, you seemed like a great company for him, and he stayed for approximately an hour asking if he should call you in the chatbox or not, he looked more like a scared teenager than a 50+ year old ex Hollywood actor.

♡ - But he took courage and finally started a chat with you - and to his relief, you were an extremely sweet and friendly person to him, the poor man had all his hopes up, you stayed talking for hours, in calls and text messages. Cage really wanted to meet you soon, but you wanted a little more time for both of you to get to know each other better. He would be a little impatient about having to wait a few weeks to take you to dinner, but finally, you agreed to go with him, and he was definitely very nervous.

♡ - Johnny chose the best suit he had, accentuating his muscles and applying a perfume with a strong citrus essence, fixing his hair with gel and proudly showing off the side gray strands that insisted on appearing more every day - not that he cared, after all, he knew you were a hot dilf - he bought the best limousine he could get and met you at the restaurant door; He had brought a bouquet of flowers, your favorites - he wrote down everything the two of you talked about, and all your likes and dislikes, it wasn't that difficult to get your favorite color right. "-You're even more beautiful in person (Y/N)... I hope we get along well tonight." Johnny said smiling as he offered you the gift, you could see the slight blush on his face but he looked away, taking you inside the luxurious restaurant - which he rented that night just for the two of you -

♡ - Dinner was going well, but Johnny was trying to control himself as much as possible. You were a beautiful person, your smile lit up the darkest corners of the fighter's soul, you even showed solidarity when he spoke about his wife's death, placing your hands on top of his, in a gesture of support and half a dozen sincere words and kind... That made Johnny smile for the first time in lonely years. The problem was also focusing on being a gentleman, his dick was pulsing and it was sore in his pants, damn, he really wanted to have a romantic dinner and not have sex on the first date, but with every sweet look you gave him, he made the older man feels his own shaft getting harder. He quickly pushed those thoughts away - especially the ones that projected images created of you sitting on his dick, with his hands wrapped around your neck - and focused on making your night good and enjoyable, and yes, obviously he's going to pay the bill. dinner regardless of your protests, he wants to treat you like a prince/princess, but luckily for you, he was a man who gave in to desires very quickly.

♡ - Johnny guided you to the limo - opening the door for you, he gestured for you to enter first, before entering himself. The interior was lavishly decorated with luxurious seating, a stocked bar, and a huge TV screen mounted to the ceiling - it all started with innocent, shy touches, but anticipation and desire hung in the air between the two of you, the movie star's voice rising. mixed with the wine you were drinking, while Cage's warm, veiny hand found your thigh, massaging it lightly with circular movements, then, as you talked again about the terms of the 'suck' relationship, you cheekily called him "daddy" and that was the end of Johnny's sanity. Reaching out, he grabbed his wrist and pulled it tightly towards his hardened member, pressing into his pants. "-Do you feel how eager I am for you? Fuck baby... I really wanted to be a gentleman, but you drive me crazy, do you want that too? I swear I won't force you into anything." And when you agreed, he just grunted in response as he ordered the driver to speed up and close the access window between you and the front of the limo.

♡ - Johnny pulled your clothes down in one quick movement, revealing your chubby and shaved pussy to his hungry eyes. It was even more perfect than he imagined – tight and begging for attention. "-You're mine now, baby boy/baby girl.." he moaned softly, his breath hot against your flushed skin. As if reading your mind, he pulled out his own cock from his pants, letting it spring free—a thick, veiny member coated in precum, ready for action. "-Now, spread your legs wider for me dear, open that pussy wide for daddy..." he commanded gruffly, his eyes ablaze with lust. The limo rocked back and forth on its suspension as he pounded into you relentlessly, his large hands firmly gripping the seats above your head.

♡ - That was your first date and your first sex, even though you insisted that he didn't need to give you gifts after sex, he insisted again - and this also happened after the first date, with Johnny cumming between your breasts and then you giving a kiss on the forehead and a swarovski emerald necklace, with a satisfied and even probably passionate smile on his face. His gifts are very expensive, if you want an imported car he will buy it for you right away, if you want to go to a parade on the other side of the world for a brand you like... He will find a way to put you in front row and with enough money in your account for you to buy more than enough exclusive pieces, the most futile luxury he could give you. But in the end, what he really wanted was your company, he wanted your affection and nights of laughter and silly conversations together while jazz played in the background of his mansion, maybe some slow, lazy sex after a long day, with him listening your moans and high-pitched squeals in his ear.

♡ - He is a very sexually active man, so expect to fuck him in various positions, some of them being: 'Bandoleer', 'The Grip', 'Afternoon Delight', 'The Clasp', 'The Curled Angel', 'The Plow', 'The Snail'. Johnny also has daddykink - so he will always want you to call him 'daddy' or 'my lord' or any power nickname, he will praise you while he fucks your pussy, especially if you ride on his face moaning and getting a dumb, trembling mess of pleasure because of him. "-Yes baby- fuck- no no, you're not going to cum yet ok? That was our agreement my angel, you're only going to cum when daddy lets you, otherwise I won't give you my card this weekend.." He would moan loudly against your clit, making you squirt on his face and making him cum without even penetrating you, staining the sheets of semen beneath both of you. "-Holy Fuck- boy/girl... You know daddy is going to punish you now, don't you?"

♡ - He spreads money notes on the mattress, a proof of how much he can spend monetarily on you, how powerful he is, while sticking his thick shaft in your holes "-Is that what you like little slut? Being my whore? My exclusive whore." - anal is also included, Johnny will buy anal plugs/vibrators and force you to go to dinners and events with the sex toys inside you controlling every high or medium vibration in your body, whispering dirty talk in your ear. "-Beg me to take that vibrator out of your little dear hole... And maybe I can fuck you right here." This would end with him thrusting into you once again inside the bathroom where the event was taking place, grabbing your face tightly and forcing you to look in the mirror, while his balls hit your clit painfully. "-Look at yourself honey, see how daddy Johnny can destroy that pretty pussy" a slap was given hard to your ass, making you arch even more towards him. "-Take all of this, like the good boy/good girl you are."

♡ - Johnny also loves blowjobs, especially in semi-public places, every time you guys go to buy you some clothes... It ends with you kneeling in front of him, with dollar bills spread across your cleavage while he recorded every gag you made it hit his member. "-Smile for the camera little prince/princess, you look beautiful while sucking my dick like a desperate slut." He would definitely cum on your face and take a photo to put on your wallpaper, in addition to spoiling you like hell that day. But aside from the sex and shopping and luxuries - Johnny really liked you, he really fell in love with you beyond being a sugar baby and a sugar daddy - and you could see it in his eyes every time you hugged each other and lay in the pleasant silence of the night. However, he was too afraid of expressing himself and ruining everything... Just keeping track of your sugar daddy for a long time, maybe, someday he would have the courage to tell you his true feelings for you.

©YANDERESTARANGEL 2023

[novembermorgon]

could you tell us more about myrielle and aerion’s twin sons?

YUPPPPPPPP!!!

whew . ok .

left is maegor right is aenys . maegor is a few minutes older than aenys

neither of these guys are anything like their namesakes. maegor from birth is small and weak and sickly - he's pretty easy to get along with and agreeable by targaryen man standards, very polite and soft-spoken. to me he's almost like a rapunzel figure in that myrielle keeps him inside most days because she fears he'll get hurt or sick - she dotes on him and cares for him but never truly offers him much freedom to do as he wishes, the way she does aenys. he wants to go out and wants to experience new things and be more bold like his brother but every time there's sort of a block in that he doesn't have the courage to or myrielle convinces him that he can't. he, in a sense, is raised more like a princess than a prince and sort of falls into that role despite his status. i feel like he's drawn to more feminine ways of presenting himself and more ladylike activities; dancing, singing, sewing, reading ..

whereas aenys is the complete opposite - he's essentially just a copy paste of his dad LOL definitely aerion's golden boy . he's strong and bold and good at fighting, does all his dad asks of him, goes off with him to hunts and tourneys and charms people at court without really needing to try . of course being a copy paste of aerion targaryen also means he's kind of an asshole and if youre hanging around at court and you think about him being a prince with real power for too long your stomach probably hurts a little . aerion telling him tales of how he aimed for the horse during one of his jousts once to win and aenys going ohhh!!! yess!! so cool!! i also want to be in the business of fighting dishonorably. gets a little too heated in the training yard with the other lord's sons and knocks someone's teeth out and they have to put him in timeout once a week.

they're. hmm. i think there's an inherent sort of resentment there between them that begins as soon as they're born, just by virtue of being so different, and by being named Maegor and Aenys. you cannot escape your fate you cannot escape the cycle of your family etc. and i think that there's a lot of things here that kind of work against them .... aenys resenting maegor for just so happening to be older and therefore being heir despite he himself feeling as if he's better suited, maegor wanting the freedoms that aenys is given by virtue of being their father's favourite and being a second son with less responsibility. they can find a thousand reasons to hate each other, but at the same time they do love each other and know that they are, inherently, tied together by virtue of being twins. the twins we see in asoiaf are very insistent on the fact that they are tethered, they are one soul in two bodies, they will never truly be apart.

aenys hates maegor for being weak and for being heir even though their father doesn't like him, even though he has none of the qualities aenys loves about himself, even though he's more like a daughter than a son - and even still, he loves maegor, he wants to keep maegor safe from the horrors of the world before anybody else ruins him and takes all that's good about him away from him. maegor hates aenys because he's rude and terrible to him, because he's never respected him, but loves him so dearly because he's the only person in the world who will look on his flaws and be able to feel some sense of genuine pity or affection - the only person who will always feel a responsibility to love him so entirely and wholly because they are twins and have that bond that will never go away no matter what.

in my mind the themes of gender in asoiaf is very interesting especially in relation to the targs in that their relationships are .. a lot stranger .. in a lot of cases. you are twin brothers, but your brother is more like a girl than a boy. you know that if things had been only the slightest bit different, you would most definitely be betrothed to each other because your family traditions demand it of you. how would your love be different, then? would it be any different at all? would that be better? would it fix any of our problems? what am i meant to feel for my brother when every part of our family history is built on a wife's suffering, an incestuous misery that never has an end, when we are so nearly brother and sister ...?

they're complicated . and difficult to describe ... a relationship built on shame and not understanding each other and not understanding what you feel for each other .

i'm a little undecided atm what to do with maegor .. he is a bit of a mystery in my mind but when he's ~15 give or take aenys suffers a little (bad) jousting incident and ends up with a bad leg that he pretends isn't there because he doesn't want to be deemed weak by his father or by court and a case of head trauma that makes him Worse . sort of henry viii esque . he eventually marries a velaryon girl ...

there's also the secret third sibling (bastard sister) but i'll discuss her some other time ....

[tadpolesonalgae]

Demon!Azriel x Reader: Teeth and Talons

Summary: you’re accused of witchcraft and sacrificed to the shadow creatures, only to be saved by their ruler who’s suspiciously in sudden need of a bride…

Warnings: demon!Azriel, drinking blood (more vampiric), mentions of cannibalism, sexual tension, rituals, monsterform! azriel?, biting

A/N: I do want to make a small note that @azrielscrown ’s Prince of Hell series made me want to write my own demon!Azriel fic!

-Part 2- -Part 3-

Visual Prompt here!

You’re a trembling mess, cold sweat slicking your body with sallow skin, temperature fluctuation from sizzling to so cold you feel you’ll seldom be capable of movement once the fit has passed. You know what the priests will say. Possession. They’ll say you’re being inhabited by a shadow creature, tie you to the bed and mist sacred water across you until your body shatters.

The fever isn’t subsiding, and you’re not the first to succumb to the strange plague sweeping through the citadel. Just one of many poor, unfortunate souls. You’ve heard they’ve taken to burning the bodies. Some not completely void of life before they’re set alight.

Is this really the end? It swept in so abruptly, seizing you firmly as it ravages you internally. You can only hope death will come silently.

————————

When you wake, your rags are soaked with sweat, a dark pool having formed beneath you, yet you are no longer being sieged by heat. Your brow is clear of sweat, your limbs no longer being wracked with tremors.

You’re struck by the peculiarity of the miracle. Nobody else has survived. Surely if the plague wasn’t fatal word of mouth would have carried the news to the emperor by now. Not as if he would know what to do. Not as he if was actually ruling.

Maybe some god had taken pity on you.

You should make an offering to Thesan.

————————

The following morning you were arrested. Witchcraft, they said.

Not miracle-worker. That was reserved for men.

The stories had willingly flown in. A woman without husband, living by herself, suddenly recovering from an absolutely fatal plague? Corruption. A pact made with the Lord of the underground. The king of Hel.

Devil worshipper.

Witch.

Whore.

The last you knew had nothing to do with the allegations and everything to do with your sex. It didn’t make the sting and less painful.

————————

You’re thrown to your knees at the foot of the dais, the boy-king sat atop the throne, lounging in a bored fashion. He only perked up when he was brought ‘visitors’, or rather, people for him to inflict punishment.

Candle-wic, he cries, clapping his hands in puerile manner, his young mouth lifting into a gleeful smile as he points at you. How a child could so joyfully sentence someone to being doused in scalding tarmac only to be then set aflame, you could hardly fathom, yet here the boy-king sat, dictating your fate with a flick of his youthful hand.

His advisor advises him. Something less flamboyant. More discreet.

It’s the first time you’re setting eyes upon the emperor’s advisor and you’re not at all surprised to see the old man with already fading hair and wrinkles that swallow his eyes beneath flaps of loose skin. But that’s what you catch on. Eyes black as the devil’s, black like you’ve never seen black. Dark as pitch.

They’re alarmingly void, more than anyone’s have any right to be…and lacking in definition. Just one solid layer glazing across the obsidian coloured surface. Depthless.

He suggests leaving you for the devil you sold your heart to in order to revive a remedy. There’s no use in proclaiming your piety, their minds are set. You’re a threat to their power, an unseen obstacle and must be dealt with accordingly.

————————

And that’s how you find yourself in the centre of The Blood Rite. The private ceremony is reserved for great warriors to prove their worth. Though apparently, it serves as a discreet method of elimination for unwanted - innocent or not - citizens.

The earth is damp beneath your knees, the bones sinking into the mud. Your wrists are bound painfully - a courtesy that would not be extended to a warrior. The ties are designed to hinder, to make an already inevitably gruesome death all the more horrid by removing any ridiculously self-indulgent notions of escape.

Your breath fogs as you exhale harshly, the night air freezing your lungs with every breath. How long had you been kneeling here, waiting patiently for your end? Because it’s coming for you. There’s no point of struggling. Movement would only catalyse the inevitable. Maybe if you remained still, calmed your heart and removed any sort of thrum from your body the unknown entity would leave you be.

Wishful thinking.

The night air presses in on you, goosebumps pebbling up your forearms, hackles rising at your back. There’s a presence to the forest you’ve been dumped in, a cloying madness that lies between the trees, stalking every silent breath of damp air.

A twig snaps to your right, tension rippling up your body, neck flushing with heat as terror seeps from your being. Your eyes dart around the forrest in a frenzied dance.

A shadow flickers in your peripheral vision, darting behind a tree. Pulses thrum through you, beating your blood melody loud and clear. How long would your death last? Would you unnecessarily suspended in those agonising moments that should be limited to mere seconds? Or would the dark beasts draw out your torture, playing with the shreds of your skin with carnal delight.

Something rustles to your left, like a hurried shuffle through leaves, only made to taunt and confuse. Made to misdirect.

Then something pounces on you, sharp claws biting into your shoulders as you’re slammed backwards into the ground. Maybe it would be quick, but not painless. A beast wreathed in shadow, four paws with talons the length of your forearm and rows of razor sharp teeth that glitter with wet saliva beneath the silver moonlight. It has an elongated snout, a flat nose sliding over the protrusion, skin around it’s eyes peeled back to be permanently bulging.

It shoves it’s snout against the spoonful of your abdomen, sizing up how big a bite to take. You pray, silver lining your eyes as your body trembles, petrified to the spot. You can easily imagine entrails decorating it’s teeth like the wreathing in temples. Your stomach lurches.

Then it releases an ear splitting scream, agony slicing down your ears as it howls to the sky. Hot, dark liquid splatters onto your torso, followed by a wet ripping sound. Its blood - you assume that’s the liquid - smells of damp clothes left in a pile beneath the sun: stagnant. Admittedly, not the worst scent.

The large creature goes lax, slumping forward, toppling on top of you. You’re crushed by the weight that slugs into you, knocking the breath from your lungs as you careen backward.

The beast is nudged aside by a large protrusion of shadow, flipping the creature onto its back, allowing you to see the viscera spilling from its soft, round belly. A cold sweat slicks your skin, hairs standing on end as inherent dread twists you round it’s sharp talons.

The humanoid shadow steps forward and you’re frozen in place, hardly able to even shift a muscle as it prowls closer. Until it’s stood in front of you. Fight or flight kicks in, everything kickstarting inside of you as you scramble to your feet, finding safe purchase on the forest floor.

You back up, paralysed with fear as you watch the creature, shadows flickering at its silhouette. Before you really have a chance to move, or even do anything, the shadows swarm forward and you feel rough hands gripping your upper arms.

The last thought you have is how abnormally elongated the creatures talons are, like those on a phœnix.

————————

Your mind can barely comprehend the information. Words turning to mush in your brain, thoughts slowing to a sluggish squelch as you sit across from the dæmon. Azriel.

Azræl? You had asked, trying to pronounce the word on your tongue, but the syllables simply bumbled together. He’d shaken his head, Azriel, he’d repeated. You’d kept you silence, deciding the chance of spelling it out in your mouth to his liking was low enough to class as a risk. Instead you’d swallowed and nodded. He’d looked as though he’d push, but his eyes flicked to the bowl in front of you, ordering you to eat.

All he’d told you was he was in need of a human bride. Not why. Or what your role was. Nothing. So you went on with nothing, deciding to follow his command to eat, despite the protests from your stomach.

You look down only to see there’s no cutlery. Your lips part silently in question, flicking about the table as he watches you from the opposite end, marking your actions. His gaze makes you squirm in your seat, discomfort pressing down on you.

Eventually you swallow, lifting your gaze to his nervously. That was another thing, his eyes: Eyes black as the devil’s, black like you’ve never seen black. Dark as pitch.

“May I have a knife and fork?” You request, voice hoarse and scratchy. His eyes bore into you, piercing your soul as they filter through your pupils. You swallow again, throat feeling dry. The table has a single jug - no glasses. The water is crystal clear, mist condensing over the glass, no doubt refreshingly cool. Your parched throat is desperate for reprieve, yet he gives you none.

You’re in Hel, he’d told you. That was becoming clear.

You try sitting in silence with him, but he keeps staring at you with those wild, pitch black eyes, pupils that swallow his irises - if dæmons have irises.

“You’re not going to inquire why I selected you?” He breaks the silence, his deep voice rolling across to you, encompassing your sentences.

“I’m not so conceited as to believe you intentionally chose me,” you reply, steeling your spine as your eyes flick to his. “You are clearly a creature of self-serving narcissism.” Is it wise to say that to a dæmon that technically saved your life? Either way, you hope he doesn’t hold that over you. Dæmons can be…unkind when it comes to their debts.

“Creature over beast?” He responds. Despite the casual tone he’s using, his sharp gaze reminds you it’s anything but. “Are you a beast?” You settle on.

“That’s for you to decide for yourself.”

You bite off some of the fluffy bread, “so there’s no definitive answer?”

He cocks his head, amusement sparking in his obsidian gaze. The movement makes you pause. You have close to zero idea what his intentions are.

You swallow. “You’re not going to eat anything?” You nod to his end of the table, void of any eating instruments. What do dæmons eat, anyway? Do they eat?

A slow smile lifts the edges of his mouth, the tips of glittering canines protruding beneath his lips. There’s nothing remotely kind about it.

Discomfort coils in your lower belly. You’re no longer hungry. Moving slowly, you quietly push the plate away a little, lowering your hands to your lap as you shift in the chair. Something gleams in his eyes and you wonder if he derives pleasure from the buildup of tension before a kill. Immediately, you regret the thought.

“I think I’m full,” you announce, softly, hoping you’ll be allowed to leave the chamber. “Not curious about my eating habits?” He drawls. You know you probably don’t want to hear the answer, but he’s not really giving you a choice. All you can hope for is that it won’t upend the contents of your stomach.

“It didn’t seem as though you were keen on answering,” you reply, watching your hands fiddle in your lap.

He hums, and you prepare yourself. But silence follows.

When you lift your gaze to see what he’s doing, he’s gone, seat empty. It’s unnerving being in his presence, but at least you have a vague sense of where he is. Now you feel as if he’s watching from every corner. You shift in your seat, heart pounding.

A hand wraps beneath beneath your jaw and you flinch, jumping in your seat. He pulls your head to the side, lips grazing the sensitive skin of your neck as your fingers turn white with how hard they’re biting into the wood of the chair arm. Your jaw tightens as you feel the menacing scrape of canines tracing your throat, every muscle in your body turning rigid as you shrink into the chair.

“How obedient,” he drawls, the muffled murmur making your hair stand on end. “I bet I could sink my teeth into you and you wouldn’t move a muscle.” Your breathing turns shallow as you try to limit your movement. “Isn’t that right, bride?” His razor sharp teeth scrape a little too close, a hot stinging sensation prickling your neck. You try to lean away from him but his grip tightens.

“You eat humans?” The tremble in your voice is prominent, and you’re surprised you don’t stutter with the fear that’s thrumming along with your heartbeat. “Among other things,” he drawls, inhaling your scent as you try not to move. Your breath catches as he opens his mouth over your throat, a whimper working it’s was from your own as terror climbs higher. A quiet squeak leaves you as his tongue swipes out, hot and wet, dragging over your skin as he tastes you.

“I can imagine how your skin would come apart beneath my teeth.” Another scrape, followed by that sting. He huffs a dark laugh onto your neck, “does that terrify you, bride?” White spots swim in your vision, dark blotches accompanying them as he squeezes on your throat.

Then he’s pulled back, the spot on your neck feeling cold and empty now his mouth is no longer latched onto you.

“Come, it’s time to retire.”

————————

I can imagine how your skin would come apart beneath my teeth.

The more you replay the words, the stronger the thrill they send spilling inside of you. You have to remind yourself it would be painful. Unpleasantly so. It wouldn’t the be sting he’d given you over the meal, it would be a frenzied shredding. Ripping and tearing as you’re pulled apart beneath his teeth and talons.

If he becomes bored of you, or you fail to meet any expectation of his, would he be free to replace you? Your brow furrows. Are you dead? Surely nothing alive can exist in the underworld. It’s a home for the damned.

Are you damned?

An adrenaline-fuelled smile cracks your lips. Maybe he’s your damnation.

What a silly thought.

At least the bed looks comfy. It’s circular - you hadn’t known they could be circular - and has a distinct lacking of pillows and blankets that you would have expected to decorate the mattress. Maybe that’s just another difference between your kinds.

“You don’t like it.” Displeasure drips from his words as you jump. He’s a very quiet predator. Automatically, you retreat a few steps, finding him directly in front of you when you turn to face his voice. He follows like a dance partner, hand gripping your jaw as he looks down at you, face blank. “Ungrateful,” he taunts, softly.

“I’m curious about the bedding,” you stammer, hauling yourself together. “The nest is fashioned after your own,” he replies, eyes remaining on yours as he pulls you closer, “you did not seem to value them in your own den.”

Heat flushes your cheeks, eyes snapping away from his, “they’re expensive.”

“Steal, then.” You bite back your reply, that if you were caught, you’d suffer a less than favourable death. His brow twitches, “swallow your tongue and be surprised when you choke,” he mutters.

“What?”

He releases your jaw, stalking away, leaving you dazed and confused.

————————

He prowls through your thoughts that night, every scene you dreamt up tainted by a dark shadow lurking just out of sight. The presence grows more sinister as the imagery drags on, growing stronger with every second. He brings a flare of heat with him, every touch of shadow sending flame to lick between your thighs until the dreamscape shifts.

You’re lying on the circular mattress, darkness shrouding the surrounding room, lit only by candles. The milky wax melts to the floor, moving in circles until it forms a tight ring around the mattress. Then, the streams start looking toward your bed, rolling beneath you to inevitably join.

It’s an altar.

Your heart pounds as you look up, that dark presence returning, lurking at the end of the mattress. His pitch black irises take up the whole of his eyes, leaving the ball smothered in darkness. There’s no doubt he looking at you. Shadowy sinew runs beneath his skin, and you follow the lines with your eyes.

He’s naked. Completely without clothing.

Gorgeous. Crafted. Divine.

He’s different from earlier. The blotted out eyes and sinew aside, his canines are more pronounced, fur dusts his abdomen, thickening as you follow down. The same black veins pulse along his cock that’s hard and swollen. Begging to rut into something.

You’re desperate for water, throat parched as you tear your gaze away, dragging it over the rest of him. Scars lacerate his torso, decorating the corded muscle of his arms. Sharp talons split from the skin of his fingertips, curved and razor sharp. As long as your forearm, you would guess, if not longer.

You suck in a breath, raising your gaze to his blacked out eyes. He’s hungry. Ravenous. All of it piercing into you as you shift in the nest, trying to slowly shuffle backward. You catch sight of yourself as you’re doing so, clothed only in a white robe that’s barely concealing your breasts. The lace reaches just past your elbows before it cuts of, and the rest of the silky fabric does nothing to conceal your heat from him. He has the perfect view of you: your thighs are parted though you’re trying to squeeze them together, nipples peaking through the sheer silk.

But he doesn’t move. He just stands there, watching. Waiting.

He’s waiting on you. Waiting for you to come to him.

Heat spools between you thighs as a sinful curve tips the edges of his mouth, like he’s hearing your thoughts and giving you the confirmation you need. You’re not sure what will happen if you don’t adhere to whatever ritual he’s caught you in.

But you know you’re in a dream. You’re asleep; safe. He can’t hurt you here. It means nothing.

Maybe that’s why you shift onto your hands and knees when he beckons you toward him with the pull of his middle and index finger, crawling toward him, eyes trained on one another. It’s like you’re enraptured by him, everything around the male fading to negative space as he encompasses your conscious. He’s everything.

You stop when you reach him, tucking your legs beneath you as you kneel before him, hands in your lap. How obedient. His mouth splits open in a murderous grin, baring his sharp canines as he takes in your submissive form. Small.

How he’ll enjoy defiling you.

————————

You wake with a gasp, skin damp but clothed. You pant, fingers gripping the mattress as you haul down lungfuls of air.

“Bad dream?”

You scream, jerking away from the voice, scrambling backward but a hand wraps around your ankle. He pulls you toward him, making you scream harder, kicking as your night robe rides up until the silk is pooling at your waist.

He snarls at the noise, lifting from his stomach, muscle flexing with the movement, as he climbs on top of you. His hand covers your mouth, silencing you as he straddles your middle. The male sleeps naked. You silently thank his shadows for sparing you the humiliation of a shameful flush decorating you cheeks should you have seen him again, in such a short span.

Silver lines your eyes as those same shadows tie your wrists down.

Terror sets in and you open your mouth, biting down hard on his hand. He doesn’t even flinch. Only cocks his head in what seems like confusion, pulling his hand away to examine it. You still, not knowing what to do. You don’t want to provoke him any further. “You bit me,” he states, eyes flicking to yours, back to normal.

Then a dark laugh rumbles from his chest as one hand grips your jaw, the other thumbing your upper lip away from your teeth, “how adorable.” The pad of the digit runs beneath the blunt edge of your canine, pressing against the enamelled bone, “what were you expecting to do with these?”

You tremble beneath him, the true power imbalance dawning on you. His teeth broke your skin by grazing it, while he’s pressing against your own canine without so much of an ounce of pain showing.

I can imagine how your skin would come apart beneath my teeth.

Before you can manage anything he’s pressing his face into the crook of your neck, scenting you. He pulls back, nostrils flaring.

“You’re in heat.”

“I’m not an animal,” you breathe, a hot flare of indignation flushing your skin. Despite the denial, warmth envelops your body, settling deeper in the pit of your belly. “It just happens sometimes,” you hiss, hot embarrassment flushing your cheeks. “It’s not something I can help.”

“I can.”

“No.”

He tilts his head, lips curving into a malevolent grin, “you’re aroused. That’s what a husband is for.” Your breath hitches at his implication. “You aren’t my husband.”

“Not yet. But you’re still mine.”

“I am not.” His thumb brushes against the soft skin of your neck and you flinch, feeling the sting his canines left. “Maybe to you. But you’re surrounded by my kind. They’ll understand my mark.” Your eyes widen, “you can’t do that,” you breathe, “you can’t just lay claim to any human you want.”

He leans closer and you press back into the bed, “what’s stopping me?” The words brush over your mouth and you shiver.

You’re aware of the shadows thrumming around the bed, how his powerful arms are caging you in, but it’s taken you a while to realise there’s something hard poking into your middle. You squirm beneath him, trying to wriggle out of his dominating hold. “I said: what’s stopping me?” He growls, hand fisting in your hair as he yanks you upward, his mouth grazing leisurely along the lifeline in your throat.

A whimper claws its way up your throat and he laughs at the sound, canines searching for their earlier mark. “That’s right,” he purrs, lapping once over the scratches before he lines his teeth up, preparing to bite down, “nothing.” His fangs sink into your skin and you don’t even have enough breath to scream.

His shadows loosen and your hands instantly fly to his hair, nails raking over his scalp. He doesn’t let up and you grasp onto him desperately, clawing for something to grip, to tie yourself to for some form of safety. You go lightheaded as he feeds.

The myths you’ve heard about their drinking habits are false. In the tales they don’t leave a drop behind, needing every ounce to sustain themselves. For Azriel, it’s a display of decadence. He doesn’t need every drop. He’s drinking you up for his own enjoyment. You aren’t a necessity, or even a luxury; you’re a gluttonous indulgence.

Blood trails hot paths down your neck, sloping over your collar bone, trailing between your breasts as the liquid flows down your body. It spills over your back, saturating the bed with sanguine flavour. Then he pulls back, licking over the bite mark to heal it. You receive a metallic zap, and you’re sealed. Fresh as ever.

He looks down at you, soaking in your look of shock as he releases your hair, a blood-red slash instead of a grin. It drips from his lips, weighted droplets splashing on your chest, staining the silk night clothes. “My side is fulfilled,” he drawls. Your vision swims, fingers releasing their grasp on his soft hair, brushing over his shoulders before falling at your middle.

You manage a few shaky pants before he’s lowering his mouth, a surprised whimper being stolen from your lips as he settles over you. The blood mixes with his taste, tongue sliding over yours as his canines inadvertently slice up the inside of your lips. You lie there, passive, still very much in shock.

With the little strength you have left, you bite down on his tongue. Blood - not yours, this time - fills your mouth, gushing from the wound you’ve made. His eyes snap open angrily, hands brutally digging into your shoulders as he shoves away from you. Fury dances in his charcoal eyes before it’s smothered.

“If I’m going to choke on anyone’s tongue,” you hiss, words dripping with venom, “it’ll be yours. Not mine.”

Taglist: @myheartfollower

[shanastoryteller]

Happy Birthday 🎉🎂 Something for Hades?

a continuation of 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8

Zagreus drags himself from the Styx, pulling his power back so he doesn’t move anything accidentally.

The Styx is a river of blood. Blood of the dead isn’t technically within his domain, but these days his domain seems to be creeping past normal boundaries. It doesn’t help that his followers have started to die natural deaths and so when their blood mixes with the Styx it knows and yearns to follow him even still.

The last thing he needs is for his father to see him manipulating the currents of the Styx.

“Zag, Zagreus, my man,” Hypnos babbles as he shakes the blood off of him. “How are you? Died of natural causes again? Wow, that’s crazy-”

“What’s wrong?” he asks, glancing towards his father’s desk, but he seems engrossed in a conversation with his mother and isn’t paying attention to him at all. “More visitors in my room?”

Hypnos has seemed to determined not to ask him any questions. Instead he sneaks every soul into his room that his scroll lists as belonging to the Prince’s Court – he’s still blaming Eurydice for that catching on – and Zagreus directs him through to the actual piece of the underworld under his control.

“I tried to stop him,” Hypnos whispers frantically, looking around nervously as if anyone is bothering to pay attention to them. “But he wouldn’t listen to me! He never listens to me!”

The list of people who never listen to Hypnos is rather long, so that doesn’t help him at all. “Is something wrong?”

“You have a visitor,” he says with an unnecessary emphasis, and continues, “Thanatos is waiting for you in your room.”

Ah.

“Thanks,” he says, clapping Hypnos on the shoulder even as he feels his heartrate go up several notches.

Hypnos gives him a thumbs up but it’s trembling, so it’s less reassuring than he was probably intending.

He waves to his parents, skipping the conversation he’d planned to have with Achilles to go straight to his room. He erects a sound barrier as he passes through. Noise coming out of his rooms is muffled naturally, but he doesn’t think he’s going to want a single word of this getting out.

First is Thanatos. He’s stiff and straight backed and angrier than Zagreus has seen him since the first time he tried to escape without talking to him.

Next is his visitor and he can’t help his face from falling when he recognizes them.

“You weren’t sick,” he says, “she would have told me.”

Eliana’s father smiles at him before going into a deep bow. “It’s an honor to finally meet you, Prince. I am an old man. It was not sickness, but time.”

“Eliana isn’t old yet and you had her young,” he protests, thinking back to when he saw her last just a few months ago. She hadn’t looked that much different than when he first met her, he doesn’t think, although he’s not an expert on human ages.

Eliana’s father laughs softly. “Her association with you grants her many gifts.”

Oh, shit. He hadn’t thought of that.

She’s the first priestess of the god of life and blood. If she wants to die at some point, she might need to some help to do it. Oops.

He’ll deal with that later. Instead he offers her father his arm and says, “I’ll visit her soon and let her know that you’re well.”

“Thank you,” he says, gingerly taking his arm.

“Zagreus,” Thanatos whispers.

He looks over his shoulder. “I’ll be right back.”

He guides him over to the mirror and with a press of his hand the surface shimmers and the two of them step through. Sisyphus is going over new plans for another building that Zagreus doesn’t think they need. He looks up at them and grins. “Another one?”

“Be extra nice to this one,” he says, “he’s my priestess’s father.”

He puffs up in pride at his words. Zagreus makes a note to tell Eliana about that specifically. She’ll be pleased to know that her father is proud of her even in death.

“Of course, Prince,” Sisyphus says, abandoning his plans to grin and clap Eliana’s father on the back. “Come with me, we’ll get you settled right in.”

That taken care of, he slips back through the mirror into his room.

Somehow, Thanatos seems even angrier now than when he left. He’s even outright glaring at him. “You’ve taken a human wife? How did you – why did you – think of your children!”

Zagreus blinks, runs through their interaction in his head, and concedes that he sort of understands how Thanatos might draw that conclusion.

He’s almost tempted to let his misunderstanding stand. It’s more believable than the truth, after all.

[mgc02]

Okokokok

What about......Angel Dust is dating Charlie's twin brother, and Y/N gets his short king dad to free Angel's soul from Valentino?

I decided to go for some angst then comfort but I hope I was respectful and appropriate

The Last Straw

Angel Dust x Male Reader

Tw: abuse, toxic relationships, this one talks about the abuse and its affects more than my other fics have so please do not read if that is something triggering for you

You guys had to keep your relationship a secret for various reasons. One being, that the prince of hell and a famous porn star would draw a lot of attention if people knew you were dating. The other being Valentino. Angel's boss who owned his soul and treated him poorly. You knew Angel was afraid of him. Worst of all he was more worried about Valentino hurting you than him.

You knew with the power you held you could obliterate him out of existence but Angel begged you to stay out of it. Despite your worry you decided to respect his boundaries. Especially since you intervening could make things worse for him. You couldn't break deals. It was out of your control. Some days were alright, but some days Angel came home so exhausted he didn't want to even eat. You worried about his well being.

One day he came home tired again. He seemed so quiet. You noticed that he was wearing a fancy scarf he had not left the hotel with earlier. You went to his bedroom with him and once you two were alone you brought it up. At first he tried to play it off but then he got defensive when you asked him to take off the scarf. But when you've been with someone long enough you can see when something is wrong. When he removed the scarf you were upset but not surprised that it was covering up bruises. You felt a pain of sadness initially before a burning rage rose inside you. He begged you not to get involved but you couldn't let this happen anymore. But you didn’t want to freak him out so you tried to calm yourself and sat him down to talk about what you planned to do. Hopefully if you talked this through you could calm him down too.

"No one should ever put their hands on you like that. I'm going to get my dad involved. He knows how to break deals and he is perfectly capable of protecting himself." Angel tried convincing you. "It's fine! It's fine babe. You don't have to get your dad involved. He's probably busy anyway." But you stopped him. "Angel, I love you. And when you love someone you'd do anything for them. And doing anything for them just comes easy. If I was in the same situation I know you would do the same for me." Angel's makeup ran down his cheeks mixed with tears before you opened up your arms offering your comfort. He accepted and fell into your embrace. You two held each other for a while. Despite the heaviness of what just happened there was now some kind peacefulness in the silence and sound of the two of you breathing. Angel pulled you in closer. You could almost fall asleep but you still had something important to do.

You asked Angel if he wanted to come with but he wanted to stay and spend some time with Fat Nuggets. "Just still all emotional ya know?" You smiled and nodded then kissed him before heading out of his room and towards your father's tower. It wouldn't take much convincing. You knew your dad hated guys like Valentino. And he really liked Angel. You just wish you had done something about this sooner. But it wasn't healthy to hang on to guilt like that.... So you took a deep breath.... and opened the door.

[idyllcy]

if I told you that I love you, you could be mine

word count: 15.7k

warnings: non-explicit smut, death and heavy themes, historical au

summary: whether in curse or in blessing, in life or in death, he is your knight before anything else, and your orders are absolute, even if it means losing you

🕛.

You die too early the first time Cael serves you.

He finds that the two of you are stuck in some time loop, some loop in which every time you wake up at the stroke of nine on the night you had suffered a concussion, and you stare at your hand, a new carving on your upper thigh, a groan slipping past your lips as he watches you make way to the mirror and pull your night dress up to count. The first time it happens, you only see one tick on your upper thigh, and you turn to look at Cael, confused, eyes wide.

"What... year is it?"

Cael, the ever-faithful servant, gives you the year.

The first time it happened, you clawed at your hair and cried.

The first time it happened, Cael did not tell you that he had returned with you. He had simply watched as you scribbled down everything that happens in the future, and he had nodded when you had told him to guard outside the door rather than inside. He is your faithful knight. His sole purpose is to live to serve you— so if you regress and want him outside of the room from now on, he will regress with you. He will serve you until blood bleeds through his fingers and his soul shatters into pieces through the regression. Until the sun burns out from exhaustion and leaves not a trace of the planet left, he will serve you.

So, he follows you on your journey, he watches as you flirt with the king, lips curled into a sweet smile as you link arms with him, the passion that bled past your skin burning into his, an impression that left everyone who had ever interacted with you speechless. It was simply how you were. You had the aura that would win thousands, and you knew it. So, he stands there on the side, simply content with being with you at every moment. You indulge in the king, smile charming him, and your engagement approaches. He does not get the luxury of being the one you choose, but he gets the honor of being by your side and escorting you down the aisle to the king.

Even if he is too old for you, and even if the king is almost a decade above your age, Cael hands your hand to the king with a nod. He believes that you are making the correct choice. You are making the correct choice to pick the king, and you will live to see a long, long life. You will have children and rule over the empire with dignity and grace, and he will stand by your side through it all as your personal knight.

Your first death comes too fast.

First, there is the announcement of your pregnancy. You are told that you will bear a son to the king, and the two of you are elated. The village streets are decorated with ornaments that would cost a fortune at the celebration of a royal prince, and you are elated, your smile crinkling even the corner of your eyes with a joy that he could only call euphoric. As your personal knight, he guards the chambers of you and the king at night, fighting off any intruders that the king himself was not fast enough for. There are little assassins, he finds. The people of the empire are relatively content with the fact that you are to bear a son.

You decorate the coming prince's bedroom, his cradle and bed all dressed with pretty hues that you pick out personally, and Cael nods at you as you ask him which one would suit the baby more. He tells you both— if your child is to take after you, the prince would look beautiful. You laugh at him, lips stretched into a wide smile as you smack him playfully. You smack him in a way that is unbefitting of the queen of the empire, but in a way that Cael has grown used to since the beginning of his service to you, a way that Cael knows is only reserved for him.

As your due date arrives, he stays by your side alongside the king, offering you a hand when you struggle to do simple tasks, nodding at the maids as he makes your favorite dish. You eat it with the same vigor that he is used to, and he cracks the smallest of smiles as you finish his dish and ask for seconds. The king laughs, wiping your mouth with a smile, simply glad that you are eating again after your pregnancy sickness.

Then, your water breaks.

It is at night, and Cael calls for a maid as the king holds onto your hand, and he watches the midwife as she rushes in with a group of maids. Your legs are spread, and you are told to push, your screaming too graphic for even Cael's ears. He grimaces, wishing nothing more than for you to finish, and no one notices as a maid slips in with water prepared for you, pressing it to your lips with an uncanny amount of panic in her eyes as you swallow, eyes murky and your head spinning. Cael senses something is wrong, grabbing the maid's arm as she tries to slip out with the water, eyes harsh as he tells her anyone who enters may not leave. You push for longer, what seems like hours, and the baby finally arrives.

Then, the world falls silent.

You go quiet, assumed to have passed out, and the next three seconds are awful.

The midwife pats the baby's back. Nothing.

The king presses two fingers to your nose. Nothing.

A maid presses her ear to your heart. Nothing.

and Cael's jaw hardens as his grip around the maid's wrist tightens, nails drawing blood as a bruise forms on her skin and she thrashes in his grip. She screams and wails for him to let go, and Cael stares right past her eyes into her soul, an unbelievable amount of anger present on his face as he looks at the king for permission to draw blood. You are gone. Your son is a stillborn. He can not take orders from anyone except for the king. Perhaps it is a lingering sense of loyalty, but as the king nods, he draws his blade and kills.

He can not bring you back no matter how many times he stabs the maid. You are gone.

So, even as his uniform is bloodied and the king commands for him to stop, he does not, sanity long gone as you had been. He steps up to the stillborn still in the arms of the midwife, pulling off his gloves to brush his finger over the cheek of your child, his roughened hands jagged against the cheek of your baby, a frown so thoroughly embedded on his face that he fears it would burn his soul.

He then steps to your body, lowering himself onto one knee as he takes your hand and presses it to his forehead, his eyes closed as his heart clenches and organs sour. You are gone.

"Knight Cael." The king speaks up, eerily calm for some reason. "You are hereby—"

In the distance, bells chime, and Cael stares at your fingers as it reminds him of something.

Oh. Right.

It meant time was up.

🕐.

The second time Cael serves you, he finds himself back in your room, and you pull up your nightgown to stare at the second tick on your upper thigh, the color of a fresh wound on your skin. Your eyes widen as you curse aloud, and Cael looks up at you, expression unchanging, but in some strange way, he is relieved that you are still alive and cursing. It simply means you are back. In a way, it calms him to see you look manic on your bed.

"I'm back." You croak. "Is it because I was killed?"

Cael has learned to ignore your mutterings. It does wonders for him, he believes. You are unbothered when you think he is simply not listening.

"Cael." You whimper. "What day is it?"

He tells you the date.

You curse, falling back into your blankets, eyes closed. Again. You are here again, and Cael has to watch you suffer through it again. You have to weave your way through high society and win the heart of the king again. You groan at the thought, but you possess the knowledge of a past life to aid you this time.

The king falls for you earlier this time. He cherishes you even more than the past, and Cael watches as you are adorned with gems that the you in your past life thought yourself to be undeserving of. He watches as you adorn a ring with a gem twice the size of the one in your past, and watches as you celebrate a wedding far grander than he's ever seen before. You accept that this is what you have to do in order to reach the end, and this time, Cael makes sure not to let anyone into the room, and you deliver the baby safely. Both you and the child live this time. Cael lets out a sigh in relief when you smile at him, beckoning him over when the maids finish washing the baby and the king goes to fetch his kingdom papers.

"Isn't he cute?" You mumble, eyes gentle as you stare at the child. "I didn't get to meet him last time."

Cael nods, pulling his clean glove off to press the baby's palm, the young one's fingers wrapping around his as he smiles. "He resembles you."

"You can barely tell." You huff. "He's so young."

The child grows up slowly but loved by all. The maids and royals spoil him rotten, and Cael brings the young prince around to tour the palace. Everything goes well. Everything goes so well. It is almost as if the two of you will reach an end. It does not need to be with Cael. It simply needs to end, and the two of you will return to the dust of the earth, and your consciousness will stop looping. That is all Cael asks for. He may repeat it again and again, but in order to put you out of your misery, you would have to fulfill your planned end.

You do not.

The second time Cael serves you, you die to the blade of a loved one.

You watch as the conquering army fights with the royal army at the border, and Cael watches from next to you as the king is stabbed through the heart. You blink lifelessly as your husband falls, and you turn to Cael. Perhaps this isn't your end either. Cael asks if you would like for him to eliminate them all, but you know this is not the right ending. You were never meant to marry the king nor bear a child for him. So, you watch as the palace gates are broken through and the maids scream for mercy.

Cael presses a brick on the wall, and you follow him into the walls of the castle.

There is only one person who would be able to find you here.

The two of you make way down the passage of stairs, and you stop halfway to ditch the heels you had forced yourself to grow used to. Cael watches as you step after him, heels ditched on the stairs, descending into the lower grounds of the castle, a place where they rested the prisons. Perhaps it was not safe, but to you, anything was better than dying at the hands of the man in power during the rebellion. Though, you are not granted that mercy when you reach the bottom of the staircase.

Cael's hand rests on the hilt of his sword, ready to draw blood at any chance, and the leader of the rebellion looks up at you, eyes cold. You back down at him, eyes weary as he orders you to confess to the sins you do not have. Cael is offered a way out, but he has sworn his life to you, so he follows when you are captured and dragged to the dungeons to be publically executed. You do not know how this happened. You simply sit in the dungeon, waiting for your moment. Cael sits in the same cell, head resting against the wall as the guards who feed him each day practically shove the food down his throat.

Then, the day of your execution comes. He is paraded out after you, and he stands behind you as you confess to no crime. You are a clean slate. The flaws of the noblemen were pushed onto you to frame you as a scapegoat and as you are lowered to the guillotine and asked if you have any last words, you stare your son dead in the eye as you curse him to an eternal damnation, cursing that there would be no future with him. You curse him to live in a world in which he is forever to haunt the walls of the palace and never be born.

Cael knows what look you have in your eyes.

You are beheaded, and your head is tossed into a basket. Cael is lowered by the hair to the same guillotine, his eyes staring into your closed ones in the basket as he is asked if he too has any final words. Cael stares your son in the eye and then closes his eyes, only remarking the shame that he decided to believe his friends over the ones of the very one who brought him into the world. Your son curses him for being your loyal dog, and Cael refutes by smiling and mentioning that at least you had been faithful to him to the very end rather than pin the blame on him.

The sound of the blade cutting through the air is not the last thing Cael hears.

It is the sound of distant bells.

Time's up.

🕑.

The third time you regress, Cael watches as you lock yourself in your room for days on end.

Your son killed you. The very child you had birthed and raised with the most love in the world had killed you. You died while your son sneered at you in contempt because he believed you were the reason his expedition to the north had failed, so he decided to dethrone you. It is inhumane of him, and it tore you to shreds, Cael finds. He brings you your food— the only one bold enough to ignore you as you throw vases and pillows at him, and he brings the food to your lips, promising you that it will be fine.

You emerge from your room two months later.

By that time, there are more than enough rumors circulating about your descent into madness, but you pay them no mind. You finish the paperwork for your residence, and get back on with your life, grumbling as you make your very late debut into high society. Cael follows you around as you finish your tasks, and he escorts you down the stairs at your ballroom fitting for only the best of the best.

It is there that you catch the eye of the crown prince.

So, Cael stands by your side and you greet and smile at the prince. Surely if the king was the wrong choice, then the crown prince was the right option. Your son had betrayed you for him, after all. You accept the crown prince as your first dance, and from then on, Cael watches the same thing happen in the past. You get engaged, get married, and settle into a calm day-to-day life that is supposed to go on uninterrupted.

This is the end, Cael believes.

You are finished.

But that is never the case.

The crown prince lets you know one night in bed that he wishes to take over the kingdom, and you watch as he recruits the crown prince, and you watch as the royal palace you once resided in is reduced to nothing but dust. You watch as the queen is beheaded before your eyes, and Cael covers your vision, watching as you grab your own neck unconsciously. The sound of the blade slicing their heads off cleanly, and you grimace, reaching for Cael's hand as their heads are spiked and displayed in the center of the city.

The crown prince becomes the king, and the previous king's child is disposed of after the new king rises to power. You watch as the queen's child is killed in cold blood, and you wonder if that was the fate of yours. Instead, you listen to your husband's requests, the blood spilled during the revolution staining his hands as he presses them on your skin, and with each time he kisses you, you are reminded of the screams of the innocent as he burned down their villages.

Yet, you stay with him.

You do not know what makes you stay with him. Cael does not understand why you stay with your husband, but neither of you speaks up. So, even when Cael is ordered to relocate away from you, the two of you simply turn to the king and disagree. You voice your disagreement, and the king raises his brow at you incredulously, scoffing. He tells you that he was looking for a reason to replace you with a foreign princess anyway to solidify his position, and this was the perfect excuse. Is there any in the land who was so bold as to speak up against the king? Suddenly, everything makes sense. This man had been looking for an excuse to get rid of you, but because of your lack of flaws, he was unable to grant himself the divorce he wanted so badly.

"I will leave." You sigh. "We may get divorced at the temple."

Rather, the king draws his sword and stabs through your chest, and you cough out blood, red staining your lips and his sword as Cael catches your dead body before you can fall. You hiss out a curse at the new king and an order for him to die, and Cael lets your body to the ground slowly, stepping over it as he draws his sword. Your orders are absolute, and if he would die executing them, then so be it. He has no will to fulfill other than the will of his master. You are dead now, so even if he were to die carrying out your final will, he would simply meet in your next regression.

Cael stabs his sword through your ex-husband, and he watches as the king falls with tears in his eyes at the sight of your corpse, his throat punctured so only the sound of a whisper breaks past his lips. Cael watches as he crawls on the ground as though he were some maggot, trying to reach for you, and it makes Cael sick to his stomach. You deserve someone. You deserve someone who would not die before you, give you a son who kills you, or kills you because he is unable to handle the throne perfectly. You do not deserve all of this. The king dies next to you, and as the guards rush in to point their swords at Cael, bells sound in the distance.

Time's up.

🕒.

The fourth time you regress, you wake up and stare at the fourth tick on your skin, and you tell Cael that you're going to plan a rebellion.

Cael does not refute you. After all, if marrying neither sovereign of the nation was not the correct route, then surely putting yourself on the throne was the right. So, he works closely with you as you conspire with the crown prince, acting as an aide and watching the world burn to the ground. You take the lives of all of your past lovers and theirs, and you sit on a throne stained with the blood of your past lives and theirs. You are where you are supposed to be. You want to believe that you are where you are supposed to be. It makes you crinkle and crack, but you want it to be over.

It is not.

You are worked to no end with no real allies as a result of how you disposed of those who would dispose of you, and it is you alone in a palace that is far too large for you. Cael takes over the royal guards, and he lingers by you only when he is not training the others, but it is not enough. You do not have allies in an empty palace far too large for two, and it eats away at you slowly because of a lack of people. It is lonely. You are lonely. You have finally killed the ones who have ruined your life, but you are not free.

Cael watches you as you welcome the magic tower's embassies.

They are welcomed to a tea room, and you sit down with the embassies as they tell you the purpose of their visit. It is marriage. The empty seat of the king consort next to you is empty, and in order to stabilize the kingdom, you would need an heir. It gives you a headache, Cael can tell. He finishes with your tea, and you take it from him with a frown, sighing.

"Well, who do you suppose should be my husband?"

They recommend one of the tower mages. It would be beneficial for the child to possess magic abilities, and you meet them, the mage smiling at you gently. He is sweet, Cael finds. You are treated like glass and porcelain and spoiled to the ends of the earth, and for a second, Cael thinks you will be fine this timeline. You will not die like the previous times. You will get to live a long and healthy life with a doting husband, and the kingdom will slowly revitalize itself. That is all Cael asks for. No more marks on your skin, no more tallies on your thigh, no more cycles for the both of you.

You get married after establishing your new husband's status, and the nation cheers at the celebration, newspapers flying out and selling out about it, and you bear an heir, a young boy for the throne. You live a long and happy life with your husband. Cael watches as you age and your son ages, and he watches as you send people off before your son is by your bedside and on the throne. He possesses magical abilities that could only be borne to parents who both have the ability to create, and it amazes Cael when the young prince lights up the empty palace walls with a simple flick of his fingers.

Perhaps you know how to do magic. After all, you had never been taught or learned how to.

"Do you think you could break my curse?" You squeeze your son's hand while at tea, humming.

"I could not." Your son whispers. "It is a curse that we have examined and found it is too hard to break. It would need to be someone like the first archmage."

"Then will I be cursed to live like this forever? Is there really no ending for me in sight?" You mumble. Cael helps the two of you pour more tea, and your son shakes his head.

"I can not. I am sorry." He pauses. "In your next life, perhaps seek out the archmage instead of father. That might be of help."

"I see." You mutter. "Thank you for being born my son."

"Thank you for loving me." Your son squeezes your hand affectionately.

You are sent off with people who love you. The mages live longer than humans, and even upon your dying breath, your husband presses his forehead to your fingers, muttering gentle spells to keep the pain from getting too close to your heart. You die of age— something Cael now sees as a luxury for you. So, he sits by your bedside with the rest of your family, heart clenching in his chest as you thank him for his service. He does not have long either. He will be following you shortly after, but you do not know that. But for the time being, he kneels by the side of your bed.

You run your hand through his hair one last time, and he leans into your touch one last time.

He can not covet the things he does not own. It is not for his owning. You are not something that could be coveted by a mere knight like him. He is the object coveted and owned by you. To you, he is nothing more than a mere tool and perhaps a dear knight. To him, even on your deathbed, he is below you on his knees, resting his head on the edge of the plush in order for you to be affectionate with him one last time. That is all he craves, and that is all he knows. He will never be the one you pick, simply because he does not have the knowledge to break your curse as the others do.

You close your eyes as he stands up, and he closes his eyes with you. "I will see you back in your room, master."

A maid is sent out to announce the death of the queen, and in the distance, the same bells as before chime.

Time's up.

🕓.

The fifth time you regress, you head straight for the magic tower.

Though you are clumsy and unlearned, they let you in simply for the magic affinity you have accumulated through your many deaths. You take in the words of your son whom you will never meet again, and you pass the entrance exam when they discover your magical ability is beyond comprehension. Even if you are not an immediate mage, you will be a subject of study. Cael enters after you, leaving behind his sword and title of Lord, fingers cool against the orb as it proclaims him to share the same amount of magical ability.

"I did not know you had magical properties." Your lips quirk up slightly at the same color.

"Wherever the master goes, I will go." He mumbles, nodding at the mage. "It is my duty as your knight to protect you."

"Which includes secretly hiding an insane amount of magical ability from me?"

"It never arose in our conversations." Cael smiles. "Let us go."

You study hard, working closely with the higher-ranking mages to crack the situation of your curse. It is observed and studied, but ultimately, nothing comes up in the magical index. You read through some of the books on it in your free time, but the vast majority of your days are taken up by fleshing out your research and doing studies. Cael has more free time, fingers flipping through the books as he looks for the content of your supposed curse.

Perhaps it was a blessing, but it is not his place to say.

If his master believes it is a curse, then it is a curse.

Then, under Cael's radar, you find yourself grow closer and closer to the archmage, somehow breaking past his rude facade. Cael does not ask if you did it purely for survival reasons or for personal gain, but he is happy for you. You will be cursed to repeat the cycle again after the two of you pass, and it does not hurt for you to continue finding romance and loving people. It is simply the truest way you live— loving others and being loved back.

Love is a luxury for the both of you. You both know that.

So, as you spend your days with the archmage and Cael finds himself further and further away, he worries about your safety at times. You may be strong and consistently have a magic lining that prevents you from being stabbed, but it is still worrying. So, he moves all of his books to your shared room, flipping through them and completely tuning you out when you're making out with that archmage of yours.

At one point, Cael realizes that whatever circle has been drawn on you is not a curse.

So, he changes sections to blessings, something that would have been revered as the ultimate gift of the universe. You are immortal and able to live again and again. It is a cruel cycle, but it is immortality in a sense. Cael flips through the pages of the book as he leaves you be, confident that the archmage would be able to protect you when he is not there.

He narrows it down to the last books in the archive, and he has tea with you, another mage pouring the tea for the three of you. Cael feels there is something off about the maid, but he doesn't speak up. There is no need to worry over trivial things. You are not the archmage nor someone who is desired to be disposed of. It could have been simple jealousy.

He supposes it's both of you's fault for forgetting how jealous women could end up.

You press the tea to your lips, listening to Cael as he tells you the details of what he's discovered about your curse so far. You press the tea to your lips, sensing something about is off, so you put away with drinking it. You listen to Cael as he tells you it's a blessing rather than a curse, and perhaps the only way to undo it was to undo the blessing itself.

"I see." You pause. "So it is a blessing?"

"According to earlier works." Cael hums, tea pressed to his lips. "...what a waste of good tea."

"I know, right? Well, did you figure out which book has it? I'll just steal it in my next life."

"You're letting yourself die to the poison?"

"I will, after you call for the archmage."

Cael gets up to call for him, mentioning that you were the one looking for him, and the archmage steps into the tearoom, lips pressed to your cheek as you take a sip of the poisoned tea, spitting out blood and dying in his arms dramatically. The scene amuses Cael, his lips curled upward in amusement, and he watches as the archmage directs his anger of your death onto Cael, and the silver-haired man holds both of his hands up, pointing at the maid who had been trying to run away, unable to unlock the spell put on the doors by Cael.

He watches as the archmage kills her on the spot, blinking twice and then laughing.

In the distance, bells chime as the archmage reaches for Cael's neck.

Time's up.

🕔.

The first thing you say when the two of you return to your bedroom on the sixth time you regress should be confusing to Cael, but it makes him laugh more than anything.

"Damn. I really wish I got to see him go ballistic."

Cael laughs. It is a laughter that breaks past his chest into his stomach, his whole body shaking as he tries his best not to make a sound that would make him come off as suspicious. Instead, you raise a brow at Cael in amusement, lips curled upwards as you laugh with him, something in your eyes telling him that you knew. Neither of you addresses it, but you both know. It is funny to no extent, but it is hysterical for the both of you. There is an endless cycle in the world, and the two of you are cursed to live it forever.

You do not bother going to the magic tower. Instead, you simply steal the book Cael was reading and read through it instead. You will return it when you finish it, you swear. In this life, you do not pick, you wait. Romance is not a necessity to you anymore it is not your problem, you swear. So, even as you lock yourself in your room with Cael to try and trace the magic circle back, try to undo the curse that has been placed on you in your day-to-day life, it is impossible.

Then, a marriage proposal makes way to your door.

You are to be wed to a minor duke in order to strengthen their status in high society, and you look at it, really wondering if you should be getting married when all you were doing in your day-to-day life was fighting for your life and trying to remove the seal from your skin. Cael helps you, his magic affinity visibly larger than yours, his magic carving into the spell as the two of you try to undo it before your supposed prospective marriage partner arrives at the mansion. His magic is cool against your skin, now that you think about it.

"Madam? The junior duke has arrived." A maid knocks at the door.

Cael helps you up, and you greet the man.

"You are the one to be engaged with me?"

"Yes. I believe." You hum. "What made you decide upon my house of all?"

"You are... alone." He swallows. "Perhaps you need protection, though your knight is a grandmaster."

"From?"

"The other nobles."

It is a poor excuse to marry into your house to covet your wealth, Cael finds. You hold the wealth of two of the richest families in the kingdom, so it would be normal to want to marry you for such, but you are not stupid. You smile coyly, pretending to frown. There is no one in the nation that could be wiser than you. Perhaps that is what makes Cael's heart twist and turn with some twisted sort of wanting. He is the only one who has gone through everything with you— whether it be through your death or your suicide. Perhaps that is what makes him think the nobleman is not enough for you.

Yet, you accept it anyway, curious to see if his household's history could help with your curse.

Your wedding is comparably plain to the man from your previous life, and you spend your days in the new library, flipping through old books with Cael as the two of you sit at the tables and ladders, still minimal knowledge known about the curse. The maids whisper about your infidelity with Cael as he glares them down, but your husband pays them no mind. You find that it is much quieter than it has ever been. Considering your husband's status as second-born, you do not need to do things that a typical duchess would need to.

Yet, both you and Cael know the story that is to come.

"My older brother died." Your husband tells you. You blink at him and nod, attending the funeral as both you and Cael find that it was a poisoning. The human mind is greedy, the two of you suppose.

"Are you going to divorce me for the woman at the reception?"

"You've been having an affair with your knight for years and I have turned an eye. I shall simply bring her in as a mistress."

"There will be a divorce or no mistress." You speak. "Pick."

"Then her." He clenches his teeth. "Had I known you were to be this selfish, I would have not married you."

"You only married me for my wealth." You turn to leave, and Cael steps forward as your husband tries to pierce a sword through your body. His sword goes flying as Cael saves you in time, the magic spell on your body activating at the action.

"Witch!" Your husband screams.

"You know, Cael." You pause to think. "I kind of want to burn the mansion down."

"Whatever my master wants," Cael turns around to kneel, "master gets."

The mansion erupts into flames as your husband screams, the maids rushing out with what they could in the chaos, and you watch as the flame starts burning your skin.

"You should go." You mumble. "Go live."

"I can not." Cael whispers, smoke filling his lungs as the two of you lay down in the ashes of the mansion. "For wherever you go, I will go. Wherever you dwell, I will dwell. I am yours to use and to keep. Without you, there is no me."

"So you follow me back each time I pass?"

Cael wraps an arm around you as you use the last of your strength to curl next to him.

"I'll see you in my room."

"I will meet you there, master."

In the distance, merged with the roaring flames, the same bells as always chime.

Time's up. For both of you, this time.

🕕.

The seventh time you regress, Cael is leaning over you, his hands caging you into the frame of your bed, hair falling off his shoulders as he stares down at you. You blink back up at him, waiting for someone to say something. This is new. Usually, when you return, Cael is at your door staring at you. He stares down at you, and neither of you move for the silence that haunts the two of you.

"So?" You raise a brow. "What is the meaning of this?"

"I was going to see if you would hit me." Cael sits back up, getting off of you. "What will you be doing this life?"

"Do you think I could just rot in bed for the rest of my life?" You yawn. "Do nothing."

"You could try something new."

"Like living as a commoner..." You pause. "First world problem."

"Yes." Cael hums. "That would be a little... inappropriate."

"Yes." You pause. "Perhaps I could just not pursue romance."

"You know that will not happen." Cael pauses. "Perhaps a new man?"

"Perhaps my old husband." You close your eyes. "I miss my son."

You do not find your old husband. You find a friend, heart ringing in your ears as you smile at her, the two of you running around the field of grass as Cael watches over you. The sun burns in her eyes as you take her hand in yours, the wind in your hair as you press your forehead to hers. She is as dazzling as the stars in the sky could dream to be, and the world is as sweet as divine nectar when you are with her. The world bends and cries according to her will, and you find that you are no different than the other people who love her.

Cael cooks dinner for the two of you in your friend's home, kitchen utensils clattering as he uses his magic to manage everything at once. The two of you stay hushed up and whisper stories to each other under the stars, and the three of you have dinner together in your friend's little room. There is not much told to you about your new friend. You know she is sweet and gentle like the bumblebees are with the flowers, loving like the grass and morning dew, free like the birds are in the air. She is everything that you once wanted to be, and her existence meant the world to you.

Cael sees that you see a fragment of yourself that you've lost over your lives in her.

"What would you do if you could do anything?" You whisper to her in your shared room, the stars twinkling outside as Cael leans against the door on the other side.

"You're funny." Your friend laughs. "I would spend every moment of my life pressing my fingers onto your skin and loving you until there is nothing left."

"Really?" You mumble.

"You?"

"I would..." You drift off, and Cael knows you have closed your eyes to avoid your friend's. "I... I don't know. Perhaps I would spend every moment of my life as your best friend."

Your friend laughs, music to your ears, and you smile at her foolishly.

"The moon is gorgeous."

"It sure is." You hum.

You are not allowed to have good things. Cael watches as your friend wakes up one day coughing blood out of her lungs, and as a doctor is called in, Cael watches as your heart breaks and your eyes go wide. You are the fault. You are causing her decline in life because of your magic affinity. You are destroying her and eating her alive. You, her best friend, her soulmate, are eating her alive. You are destroying the very thing you love because you love it.

"I'm sorry." Your voice cracks, terrified of stepping close to her. You stand at the door, head hung as she sits in bed.

"It's alright. Please—"

"I can't." You mumble. "I won't let myself."

"I am fine." Your friend insists. "I would rather spend the last of my days being with you than letting the guilt of eating me inside out destroy you. If it is you, then I would be more than willing to pass out of love."

You step closer to her, kneeling on the ground as you lean into her touch.

"Besides, I find this ending to be much better than being recollected by the family who had abandoned me to be married off for connections." She laughs, lips curled upwards.

"Do you think I could find you in my next life?" You close your eyes. "Are we soulmates in every life like this?"

"We are not even soulmates in this one." She whispers. "You may not see it, but your soulmate is not me."

"Then I shall make it you." You close your eyes. "I shall claw my way past fate and destroy the books and tear the quill that decides our fates and carve our names in the book of life."

"That is not possible." Your friend laughs, illness visible in the way she is thinning. "Perhaps we will meet again in your next life. Do not bear the guilt of destroying me because you loved me. It is a beautiful thing‚ to be loved."

"It is a terrible thing, to destroy the one whom you love." You whisper, taking her hand as you help her settle into the pillows. "I will not subject you to such a death in your next life."

"I pray that we will meet again. Whether it is in a fleeting moment or a long escape into the field, I pray that we will love as genuinely as this again."

She closes her eyes.

Cael plans the funeral. You are too struck with grief to do anything, and he borrows your name to help bury your friend in the same field of flowers the two of you ran through. The two of you bury her in a field of flowers, your shoulders shaking from the intensity of your tears, heartbreak everywhere on your skin as you come to terms with the loss of your soulmate, your soulmate whom the world had been so cruel as to tear from your fingers and bury her in the same earth that everyone was borne from. No amount of magic could have saved her, you know. Yet, you blame yourself anyway, the guilt of everything clawing at your skin and destroying you. it is a cycle that Cael recognizes from your first two regressions.

"Bury me with her." You growl, lunging for her coffin as it is lowered into the ground, and Cael holds you back, his own heart twisting painfully in his chest. "LET ME GO. I COMMAND YOU, LET ME BE BURIED WITH HER! I WANT MY SOULMATE BACK—"

Cael releases you, and you continue to thrash in his grasp as you sob into the earth by her grave, the two of you sitting there until you catch a cold and are forced to return to her home. You have a raging fever, the lack of will to live eating you alive, and Cael nurses you slowly and patiently, concern trickling out of his skin with each bite of congee you eat, and you whimper, heartbroken as you sit up in her bed and stare out the window.

"I wish to return." You mumble. "Cael, kill me."

Cael's fingers twitch. He can not disobey you, but he can not obey you either. He does not want to obey you. Yet, bound by his oath, he draws his sword. He stares into your eyes. You weep for someone who had become so significant in your life in such little time. You did not weep for your first nor second nor any of the lovers you have had in the past, yet you weep for the girl who had been your soulmate. Cael was not your soulmate. It did not matter what he felt for you. At the end of the day, you are not his as he is yours.

"Please do not do this to me." He whispers, voice breaking.

"Kill me. Now." You whisper.

"How would you like it?"

"Kill me the same way my soulmate died." You hiss out. "Curse me until this wretched body of mine is worth nothing but dust just like hers."

Cael lets out a breath, dropping his sword as he laces his fingers with yours.

As you turn thinner and thinner, as his magic eats away yours the same way you ate away your soulmate's, he understands why you were so struck with grief.

"I love you." He croaks, watching as you close your eyes.

In the distance, the same wretched bells that have rung every single one of your deaths clang.

Time is up.

🕖.

Cael slumps against the wall as the two of you return for the eighth time. He sits on the ground, and you lay in your bed, and there is a heavy silence that hangs in the air. Nothing is worth anything. Everything is worth nothing. Cael had killed his master per your orders, and you had killed yourself for the love of your life. The two of you do not know what to do.

"Knight." You speak up first, voice filled with a lack of spirit that Cael had found terrifying.

"Yes, master?"

"Bed me."

Cael pauses, blinking at you, unsure if he had heard you correctly.

"Do not make me repeat it twice." You hiss out. "Bed me."

"Perhaps you have gone insane." He unclasps the sword from his belt, wedging it between the boards as he climbs on top of you. "Master. Why would you ask a mere knight as I to bed you?"

"Bed me." You hiss. "Make me forget that I am stuck in a wretched cycle and cursed to destroy everything I love. Carve your fingers into my skin so that I may remember that in this world there is only you and I and no other. I am not to fall for anyone else. Even when I do, there is no ending."

"Is that not cruel to your servant? You do not love even me."

"You are my knight. You are mine to use." You swallow thickly. You do not believe your own words, but Cael does not pry. So, he lifts you into his arms, fingers gentle as he unbuttons your nightgown, fingers cold against your back, helping you slide out of it as he rests his head in the crook of your neck for a moment.

"What may I do?"

"Whatever you must do to make me forget." You lift your hips, and he unbuttons his top, swallowing slowly as he slides his hand up your thigh, tapping twice. You watch as he swallows thickly, his fingers tugging at the waistband of your panties, dropping them on top of your ditched nightgown. You stretch as your now exposed bottom half brushes him slightly, and he freezes in place, eyes focused on your pelvis as he closes his eyes to get rid of the discomfort. His feelings. He has to put his feelings aside. It does not matter. His feelings must be put aside. You are his master, and his only job is to serve you to his uttermost.

So, he lifts your leg, pressing a kiss to your ankle as he pulls your hips to meet his, his fingers, brushing your clit to test the waters, resting your calf on his shoulder as he slides a finger in, curling it slightly as you arch your back. His fingers make a mess of you, one finger becoming two, his heart racing in his chest as you whimper and dig your nails into the sheets. It is not enough, Cael knows, but it is also only the beginning. His skin would paint every cell of your body with his, taint your purity with some twisted impurity that belonged to him. Until his darkness would swallow your light whole, there would be nothing left.

And even when your head is relaxed to the side and he has prepared you for him, he longs for nothing short of the entirety of you. He longs for himself to be engulfed in your light, until the darkness that was tainting your soul was completely absorbed by him, until there is nothing left of your curse but fragments of memories that you would get to take to your grave. He longs for you to become a star in the sky as you have always dreamed, as you had told your stargazing husband so many lives ago.

Cael will forever be a knight to you. So, even when he is buried to the hilt inside of you, his size too big for you as you whimper for him to halt, even when he brushes your hair to the side and presses a kiss to your skin, he is simply a knight to you. He is a servant who will serve you until his dying breath, a breath that will never come simply because of his existence. Through his sword, his life was in your hands, his skin engrained with your name, and if his master wished to return to the dust of the earth, then so be it.

He will forever be a knight, but even with the sight of you blissed out at his antics underneath him, he loves you. His heart burns and bursts and rots for yours, his soul flickering and engulfing everything that comes his way except for you. To him, you are everything at once, the only reason for him to be of worth. You are the one who has given him a purpose, and he is in love with you foolishly and stupidly, but it is not something that can be reciprocated. You do not love him back. You call others your soulmate and your husband, but never him. To you, he is just a knight for your use.

"I love you." He croaks, desperation and longing staining your skin alongside his fingers, his nails digging into the plush of your waist as your head is thrown back in ecstasy, head muddled in the clouds at your servant's antics. You can not hear him, but it does not stop him as he continues thrusting into you, a mess of bodily fluids sullying the sheets, his nails digging into your skin as his hair slides off his shoulders on one side from his movements. His movements become agitated as you clench around him for the nth time, eyes rolling so far back your skull that perhaps someone fears that your eyes will get stuck. Yet, he makes no means to stop, not until you are crying his name and begging him to stop.

Your nails move to his forearms at some point, and his eyes roll back as you tighten around him like a vice, grip strong as his name falls off your lips in broken syllables, begging him for another release, and who was he to deny you?

At some point, the sun sets, and you are fast asleep, your exhaustion engrained in the silk of your sheets, and Cael wipes you down with a rag from the maids, the servants unsurprised at your antics. He forgets how much you had used him in your first life. Though, that remains to be a past that he would not touch upon. You still did not love him, so he supposes there has not been much of a change.

"Cael?" You mumble, shifting as he wipes your face.

"Yes, master?"

"Water." You mumble, and Cael lifts you to have you drink, and you press your lips to the cup, puffy from Cael's own. "Thank you."

You rest up again, and Cael finds you dead in the morning when he wakes up, your breathing gone.

It was not a poison nor a murder— it was simply that your body had given up in bliss.

In the distance, Cael thinks the chimes sound like wedding bells.

Though, time is up once more.

🕗.

The ninth time you regress, you tell Cael to stay put.

"We shall separate this time." You speak.

Cael listens, sending you off in the dead of the night as he returns to the magic tower to continue his reading. The archmage is weary of his magical abilities, but he makes no move, his fingers flipping through the pages as he does his research at the same time, sending you letters with his magic. You do not write back, but he knows you receive them. Perhaps you are with your soulmate again. It is not his worry. His master had commanded him to leave, so he did.

Your curse is engraved in the forbidden archives of the magic tower. He is granted permission after his research reaches a point, and the archmage hands him the key to further his research. Cael spends his days sitting in there, reading through a man's diary— a man who bore the same curse as you did. He flips to the final page, and the indication of the man's death makes Cael pause. Nothing had changed. Rather, the mage had mentioned unsealing the curse through many lifetimes, before eventually passing away of old age. The indication of no other books meant that this man was back to dust.

Cael studies the magic left behind, trying on objects, watching as everyday objects created to not break down broke down. To reverse a blessing meant to create a curse to counter it, Cael finds.

It is intriguing.

It would take a while, and it had taken the mage hundreds of regressions to figure out both the spell and the execution, but Cael would not let that happen. You will pass in next next handful of lives, he promises you that much. So, he engrains the contents of the book in his mind, requesting to be let out of the magic tower so that he may find you. You are still his master, after all. You had told him to separate from you, but not to leave you forever. The archmage grants him that much, and Cael sets way to find you.

You are in a forest.

The evergreen trees surround your little cottage, a small flame burning inside at your fireplace while you have left to forage for the day's food. Cael is glad he has at least found you, standing outside your door as he waits for your return. Even if he had to wait an eternity, he could afford it. So, he continues flipping through the book he has replicated, only pausing when the sound of footsteps echoes in the wind into his ears.

"Cael." You stop. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to test out a hypothesis." He smiles. "To let you return to dust."

"Is it really that easy?" You laugh, opening the door to let him in. "Shall we have dinner together?"

He nods, unclasping his robe as he steps next to you to help with the food. You do not use magic while he does, and he helps you cut while you manage the heat of the flame, and neither of you speak. It can wait. There is no need to exchange words in such a hurry when you are so close. Whether it be in this reincarnation or the next, Cael would stand next to you. He has stood next to you for the past eight, after all.

"Do you still remember your first life?"

"Before my regression?" You hand Cael a peeled potato.

"Yes." Cael hums, magic working as it peels itself. "Before any of this."

You pause, staring down at the rest of the potatoes you need to wash. "...yes."

"We used to cook like this." Cael hums, having you sit down as he finishes with the rest of the veggies. "And the maids would yell at you for tainting your gentle hands, but we still snuck out in the middle of the night to do it anyway."

You hum slowly. "I suppose so."

"Did you enjoy that life?"

"I did not." You mumble. "It was a life where I was raised for the sole purpose of being somebody's bride, only to not be proposed to at all because of the cruel rumors the maids spread."

Cael hums, putting the lid on the pot and setting a spell on the pot to alert him when it is finished.

"I quite enjoyed it." He smiles. "I have enjoyed every life I have spent next to you. I believe that is the word."

"You've changed quite a bit." You hum, tapping the table as you rest your cheek in your palm. "You have grown much more emotional."

"Is that such a bad thing?"

You pause. "No. It is quite... interesting. I am glad you have been beside me for all of these lives."

"Do you miss the children you once had?"

"Sometimes." You pause. "But it is quite alright. After all, one had killed me, and the other had wished for nothing but my own wishes. I do not miss anyone else."

"Not even Naledi?"

You freeze at the name of your best friend, grimacing. "I watch her in the fields."

"I noticed you live close to there." Cael nods, pulling out the utensils from the cabinets, handing a set to you. "Is she faring well?"

"Very much so." You hum. "Though, she had moved away a while ago. She has married, I suppose."

"Was it a carriage that came?"

"It was the crest of the magic symbol."

"Ah." Cael pauses. "Perhaps it was..." Cael does not want to finish the sentence.

"I am aware, that my ex-husband has married her. Though, I cannot call him that in this life." You hum. "You?"

"I have buried myself in the archives. The forbidden ones, to be exact. I have found your curse."

"Will undoing mine undo yours?"

"It does not matter." Cael shakes his head. "As your servant, my only job is to grant your wills."

"I see." You look up at the pot as the magic sparks. "Do you cook in the tower?"

"We have a chef." Cael unlids the pot, and he flicks his finger at your bowl, the ceramic floating up as he fills it with the soup. "Have you been cooking?"

"Yes." You mumble. "It is rusty after so many eons of not cooking, but it is food."

"Perhaps you could hire me as a chef as well." He smiles. "Shall I undo the spell right now?"

"You're planning on killing us both this time, huh?" You frown at the soup.

"I am not. I simply must return to the tower by nightfall."

"Ah. I apologize for making you wait."

"It is normal for a servant to wait for their master, no?" Cael gets down on one knee next to you, taking your hand in his as he traces a small symbol on your skin. "Though, this means you will live a shorter and shorter life in each regression."

"That is fine." You whisper. "I can live for hundreds of years, after all."

"Very well." He completes the circle as it glows some wretched purple, and Cael stares up at you, setting sun in your hair as he smiles. "I shall see you back in your bedroom?"

"Will you not stay to eat?"

"The sun is setting." He presses his lips to the back of your hand. "Eat well, master."

You nod as he disappears, a gust of ice leaving with him.

Cael does not live long after that. He assumes you had made a mistake with one of your plants, and when he heads to his quarters for the night, he hears the chime of bells in the clouds.

Ah, his time is up once more.

🕘.

"Come on." You stick your hand out to Cael in your tenth regression. "The curse."

Cael listens, kneeling at the side of your bed, fingers gentle against your skin as he traces a different circle on your skin, glowing a dark purple as he stares up at you, sealing the magic with a gentle press of his lips to the back of your hand. "Anything else you require, master?"

"Since I am passing soon, I suppose I should do something I have not done before."

"How about becoming a knight?" Cael blurts, eyes widening at his own brashness. "Ah, my apologies. It is a hard—"

"Where do I sign up?" You pause. "No. Take me to your headquarters as grandmaster. I would like to try it."

"You will need training first, master."

"I have wielded a sword in my past life. Let me attempt." You barter.

Cael gives in, sending you to the door of the academy, heading to the principal himself. His return is easy, and he is returned his sword from his days on the battlefield, watching as you have to defeat the rest of the knights who have been training for eons to possibly enter the academy. He nods at his past comrades as he settles down next to them, and he listens to them speak on each one as he watches you.

You are clumsy, but your experience leading a revolution does not go unseen.

"She fights like someone who has seen war." One of Cael's coworkers leans in. "Is she the one who you were bought by?"

"Yes." Cael hums. "Her background is a little murky to even me, but I am surprised at her talent."

He is not. He has seen you kill people without hesitation in order to become queen of the kingdom, and he has seen you bash a man's skull in with a dulled axe. If there is a death out there, then you would bring even that to its knees. You look up at one point to wave at Cael, to which he only grants you a small smile.

You pass the examinations, body strong enough to handle only the minimum, but enough to handle it nonetheless.

You move through the ranks quickly, and Cael no longer gets to see you as often as before, busy with training his own group of students. He finds it is easier to form bonds this time around. His many lives have taught him to read people with eerie accuracy, but his many lives have also taught him how to feel something. He takes his students out on trips to train in the grass and gives time to relax. They are allowed to feel something rather than obey his every word. It angers some of the other generals, but it does not affect him. Perhaps this is what people with power get to live like.

His students are still the top in the academy, after all. Though, it would be a lie to say he does not miss you.

He finds that some of the students in your group are too busy flirting with you to focus properly. You swat them all down, and Cael finally gets to witness this in action, his lips curled upwards as he meets eyes with you while someone has you pinned against the walls. You do not want him to do anything, so he leans against the other wall quietly, watching as you turn the guy down.

"One chance. Come on. Do you really think you're still at top value after turning so many men down?" He sneers. "If you don't accept me—"

You kick him in his groin, knocking him to the ground as you step on his chest, staring down at you with a glare. "Say that again, you shitty piece of scum?!"

"You're not at top value—"

"Knights." Cael speaks up this time, looking at you and then at the guy underneath you. "Is something wrong?"

"She's hurting me!" The guy decides to play the victim, and you scoff.

"Cael—"

"Grandmaster." Cael corrects, nodding.

"Grandmaster Cael." You deadpan. "He damaged my honor by insulting my name, and I was simply paying him back."

"I was telling the truth! No man wants a woman as brash—"

"Do not speak out of turn." Cael waves his hand for you to take your foot off of the man's chest, and he watches as the man scrambles off. "It is a shame. I was willing to give him a chance to explain himself."

"Men like that only prey on me because they think I'm an easy target."

"How have you been?" Cael speaks up, watching as you dust off your uniform.

"It has been alright." You hum. "It is nice not to be treated and revered because of my status. But it is also a pain in the ass to be harassed by the men in my class."

"Would you like to join mine?"

"And get told that you go easy on me? No thank you."

"We will die in war this time around." Cael lowers his voice, glancing around. "You and I both know that."

"Yes, for the honor of the imperial palace, we will be sacrificed in war." You pause. "What if we win?"

"Then that will be something else." Cael pauses. "Then we will be left with no crown prince."

You purse your lips. "Right."

"We will see when we get there." Cael hums. "Good luck with training."

"There is not much in terms of luck." You sigh. "Thank you."

Just like your past lives, the rebellion takes place. Your unit and Cael's are sent to the frontlines, and Cael hands each child a silver tag with their name on it, hidden in the depths of their pockets to be used for identification. It is something he has lived to see once, and it is something that he will live to see a second time. He will lose people, and it will affect him this time.

Though, even in times of war, Cael finds that people tend to get bolder.

"General Cael..." A girl is pushed in front of him by her friends, and he raises a brow.

"Yes, knight?"

"It is a time of war... so I thought I would," She swallows, and Cael knows what comes next. "I like you. I've liked you for a long time."

"I cannot accept these feelings." Cael sighs. "I am far too old for you, and we are at a time of war. It would be cruel to accept them. You will find that they are fleeting emotions in the future."

"I know." She smiles. "There is a rumor that you have a crush on your master."

Cael freezes in place before shaking his head. "She does not love me."

"But you did not deny that you love her."

"Yes." Cael trails off. "Feelings are bound to bloom after spending so long together, after all."

The girl dies on the battlefield, and Cael creates a flower out of his magic, leaving it in place of her sword as he returns to the barracks for the night. The loss of his students is not easy, he learns. It had been different when he could not feel, but now that he is sitting in the very seat that his mentors had been in, he finds that the loss of one soul after the other is never easy.

You open the entrance to his tent as he is preparing to rest.

"Grandmaster." You whisper.

"Master." He mumbles back. "What brings you here?"

You ditch your jacket, straddling him on the edge of his bed as his hands stay by his side.

"Cael." You whisper. "Kiss me."

"That is hardly appropriate for me to do as a general, knight." Still, he makes no move to push you off of him.

"Tomorrow at dawn, the crown prince will ambush my camp." You whisper. "My general has evacuated the vast majority of the people, but I will be one of the knights to stay behind. I have located the quarters of my ex-husband, so you must kill him so that I may kill the crown prince tomorrow."

"We can not guarantee a win even with such."

"Once the leaders of the rebellion pass away, those who were on the fence will inevitably leave now that they have no morale." You whisper, slipping a folded paper. "This. This will be the plan. I have not run it by my general, but you are the general of this other camp. Please, Cael. I have no other but you."

"And if you pass?" He closes his eyes. "We can not guarantee anything if you die."

"I will not die. I have cast magic this time." You whisper.

Cael hums. "Very well. Good job."

"So, general? Can I get a small reward?"

Cael reaches up for your cheek, pressing his lips to yours briefly before letting go. "If we win, I can guarantee something better."

You grin at him, laughing as you disappear with the wind.

Cael's army sets out in the early hours of the morning, and Cael makes haste to simply kill your ex-husband, and he finds it appalling that the man in the tent is not your second, but your fourth. It makes his blood boil, and he scoffs. Your second husband had not killed you because he wanted to. He had killed you because your fourth husband had gained enough power to destroy anyone who fought him's life. So, for your past lives and for his peace of mind, he kills them both, blood staining his white gloves and clothes as he emerges from the tent, both of their severed heads in his hand.

The rest of his army clears and captures the camp, and a letter makes way to him as he reads of your success in killing the crown prince.

The war is won.

He returns to the king and accepts his second title as grandmaster, granted the land that he has received from the deceased duke. Perhaps he would have been scolded for killing instead of capturing, but it was disposed of. Cael watches as your general is honored as well, unconsciously looking into the crowd of soldiers to look for you. You are not there. Perhaps you had not wanted to see your first husband again, but it was not an issue. Wherever you go, he will find you.

He finds you underneath a tree, a pill in your hand as Cael emerges from the trees.

"Master." He kneels by your side, holding out his hand for the poison. "What brings you here all alone?"

"I was thinking of resetting." You hum.

"What about your prize?" Cael raises a brow.

"I can collect that in my bedroom."

"Then, at least grant me the honor of passing with you." He lodges the poison between his teeth and lips, leaning in as you press your lips to his. He bites down on the pill, poison sinking into your mouth as the two of you die kissing.

There are no bells for Cael this time around.

🕙.

In the eleventh regression, you find yourself spread open for Cael once more, tears in the corner of your eyes from overstimulation, lower stomach in knots as your eyes roll back in utter bliss. You are in heaven, you believe. You have won a war in your past life, killed the man who had ruined your life, and now you are coming undone on your knight's fingers as he draws another magic circle on your skin, lips pressed to your skin as you shake underneath him.

"Master," He whispers, humming. "won't you look at me?"

"You're like a spoiled dog." You gasp, arching your back as he curls his fingers in you.

"I promised you a reward." Cael hums. "You wanted it. I am simply fulfilling my master's orders."

You get your reward, skin crawling with goosebumps by the time he's done, a mess in your sheets as he lifts you up to place you in the bath. The maids stay outside of the bath as he washes you up, and your sheets are changed in the short time that you are in the warmth of your bath. Cael washes off after you leave, and he leaves the maids to change you as he sinks into the water, exhaling slowly. He is your knight to be used, and unless you order him to, he will not be your lover.

He dresses himself, stepping next to you as you stare out the window, some sick form of longing visible in his skin, snaking around his neck as it suffocates him, his eyes on the plush of your visible flesh, no better than the men in the streets. So, he tears his eyes from the warmth of your body, staring ahead as you wonder aloud what you should do in this life. You do not wish to be part of the rebellion again, but you do not wish to rot away either. You must accomplish something, anything.

"How about visiting the next empire over?"

You pause. "Can I start a war there?"

Cael would like to tell you no, but you have the beauty to, so he can not lie.

"I'm going to start a war in this life." You pull him down for a gentle kiss, his eyes going wide as you call for the maids to prepare for your journey. There was a banquet going on in the next empire over, and perhaps you could see Naledi again. So, you pack your bags as the two of you send note of your visit, and Cael watches as you are welcomed by the emperor himself, a smile on your lips as you greet him. He does not know if you were joking or not, but perhaps it is not worth it.

"Do not do it, master." Cael mumbles.

"I won't." You hum. "Maybe I should become a pirate."

You do not, and you spend the rest of the year in the empire, watching as your past kingdom falls to ruin, and you purchase a small home in this empire, only attending banquets with the same dress you had brought, never spending too much nor doing too much. You are waiting for someone. You are waiting for Naledi, Cael finds. Even now, you can not let go of her.

"Perhaps the next banquet," He prepares to escort you home, but you stay, eyes glued on the door as you meet the new emperor. The new empress walks in, and you let out a sigh of relief at the sight of Naledi.

The two of you greet them with a bow, and there is some form of closure you receive from seeing that Naledi is doing much better without you around. There is no way for her to know that it is you, but there is also no way for her to remember. You will bear the memories of your relationship forever, heart ringing in your ears as she leaves, your eyes never leaving her figure.

"Did you get it?"

"Let us return home." You smile. "We can find a new place to visit."

"How about the sea?"

"Sounds fun." You grin, the two of you packing your things and paying for the ship's ticket. It is supposed to take you to a new place, and though the world is a large place, there is a sense that it will be discovered soon. Though, perhaps not in this life. As Cael is holding onto you and covering you both in an orb of ice so that you may float, the rest of the ship goes under, and you cling onto Cael, laughing as you lean back into the ice, the magic forcing its way out of the water to say afloat on such a bad storm.

The two of you end up in a boat made of ice, and the two of you drift on the water.

"Which one of us will die of starvation first?"

"You." Cael leans back into the boat. "I can live without sustenance."

"You and your immortality." You grumble. "What will happen to you once I finally return to dust?"

"I shall continue serving your bloodline." He smiles. "And then when your soul returns, I will search for you."

"That's kind of sad, you know." You close your eyes. "You should go explore."

"And become immortal? Like a legend?" Cael holds his arms open as you snuggle close to him. You are losing body heat.

"Yeah. That way, if I ever return, I will know who you are."

"You do not even love me." Cael mumbles sadly.

"Not yet." You close your eyes. "See you in my bedroom.

The bells in the distance chime, and Cael stares out as his vision fades to white.

Time's up again.

🕚.

In your twelfth regression, you rot in bed for the first ten days.

"Is there anything else you would like to do?" Cael tilts his head at you as the curtains to your room are pulled open by the maids.

"No." You close your eyes. "I have already done so much."

Cael watches as the maid leaves, and he reaches for your hand, gesture practiced, carving another magic circle into the back of your hand. You let him, eyes closed as you rest in the warmth of your bed.

"You need to exercise, you know." He nags gently, eyes soft on your hand as he finishes, pressing a kiss to the back of your hand, then turning it around to kiss the palm. "Come on."

He dares to violate your personal space now. He should not have this leniency, but you offer it to him. He can only take it for granted. You have only one more cycle to live through. Perhaps he will wait a day or a thousand or centuries before he can see you again, but he would rather cherish every moment that he gets to spend with you. He is a spoiled dog, now that he looks at it.

"Master," He sets your hand down, holding onto your fingertips.

"Yes?"

"What should this poor knight do without you?" He whispers, squeezing your fingertips. "When you are to pass?"

"Be a little selfish, perhaps." You hum. "Is there something you wish to do with me?"

Cael's ears turn red. He can not be selfish to this extent. He can not. He... he can't be...

"Shall we get married?" Cael looks up at you sheepishly.

You sit up, accidentally hitting your forehead on Cael's, his fingers rubbing it with a gentle frown as you pout.

"You want to get married to me?"

"We can live in the nice little cottage you had in your tenth life." He whispers. "And we can wear matching rings."

"Will you grant me a quick death in my next life, then? So that I may return to dust?"

"Of course." He whispers. "Anything that the master wants, the master will get."

"Then yes." You pause. "Though, make sure the proposal is at least grander than any of my previous ones."

"It will he hard to outdo the king, no?" He hums affectionately.

"I'm sure you can do it, my knight." You grin.

You regain your will to move around shortly after that. The two of you board to explore the continent you both passed away looking to visit, and you have fun, brow raised as Cael helps you off the ship, the two of you settling down in a hostel and wandering around the streets. You find that it is not much different from when you had gone around town with Naledi. Though, the food here is much more fragrant, spices dancing on your tongue as you have them, eyes lit up.

"Good?" Cael takes the food from you, finishing it as you look for something new to try.

"mhm," You hum. "You?"

"It is alright."

"Here." You take the food back, and finish it in a bite, licking your lips. "I'd get you some soup, but they don't seem to have lighter foods here."

"That's quite alright." Cael mumbles. "So? Was there something you wanted specifically?"

"Oh, there it is!" You hand the woman two coins as she pulls out drinks from the ice, and you hand one to Cael. "I think you'll like this one."

"Yeah?" He takes a sip, pausing as he raises a brow. "It's good."

"That's good." You pull at his wrist, pressing your lips to the straw, taking a sip. "Alright. I just wanted a sip. Do you want skewers? I think that's what they're called."

"I'm good." He follows after you, straw pressed to his lips as you look around and stare at the small trinkets. Cael wonders how he's going to propose to you. Perhaps he could make a grand ring, but it would not be worth much. If he buys something mass-produced, then he would be an awful lover. Though, he glances at the store tucked behind one of the shops, snapping his fingers to cast a self-defense spell on you as he heads in. That ring.

He needs to get that ring for you.

The purchase goes smoothly, his words sweet as he tells the jeweler that it is for his lover, his eyes gentle as he snaps his fingers, bag of gold manifesting with his magic. The jeweler blinks at the money handed to her, and she shakes her head profusely. Cael takes the ring and the box, waving at the jeweler as he makes his way back to you, stepping next to you as you show him the soup you've just obtained. You feed it to his lips, and he smiles, laugh on his lips as he hums, the drink you bought him empty now.

"Was it really that good?"

"Yes." He hums. "Shall we get going?"

Time flies. You finish your little trip and pack to leave, luggage heavier than before, yawning as you step around to get ready to leave. The boxes are packed up as both you and Cael push them to the ship, and he laughs, lips curled upward as he hums.

"What do you think about going back on our own boat?"

You blink. "A... like last time we were stranded?"

"It will be better this time." He promises, lips curled upwards gently. "I will learn wind magic for my master's next life."

You laugh at him, cheeks warm with a life that Cael had not seen in forever. So, he brushes the fallen lash on your cheek as he stares down at you, he finds himself laughing, breeze by the port in his hair as he looks up at you, eyes gentle and warm, brimming with affection as he smiles, corner of his eyes crinkling as you stare up at him.

"Master." He speaks. "Will you go on my boat with me?"

You hum, smile mirroring his. "Yeah."

The two of you stay out at sea for a while, and at some point, the boat stops moving. There is plenty of food the two of you have brought, so you do not worry about starvation, but you can't help but feel that it is so strange to see Cael be so upfront about his emotions for you. You suppose it was inevitable that he would fall for you, but you were surprised that it had taken him such a long time to be selfish to this extent. Perhaps it is the looming worry that you will be gone by your next life.

So, when the boat disappears into a floating platform of ice, you jump in your seat, staring at Cael as the ice hardens under your feet. You stare down and then back up at him, confused, head tilted to the side as you let him step close to you, his fingers gentle on your face as he brushes your hair, lips curling upwards as he kneels, and it gives you the same sense of deja vu you got from knighting him so many years ago. Yet, this kneeling is for a different purpose, you find.

"In this life and your last, in your sickness and my death, will you do the honors of letting me be the one to cherish and hold you close?" He pauses. "Whether it is as your knight or as your beloved. Whether it is as a penpal or your chef, and whether it is as your curser or blesser, will you let me cherish you until you return to the dust of the earth and know nothing better?"

The sea breeze ruffles your hair as you look down at him, cheeks and ears flushed, warmth creeping up your neck as you find yourself breathless, and Cael waits as your mouth forms words, baring all your teeth in your smile as you give him your answer.

"Would any master say no in this case?"

Cael fishes out the ring, sliding it on your fingers as you stare at it.

"It's so pretty." You mumble, staring in awe, barely noticing the way the ice platform has returned to a boat. "When did you buy it?"

"That is a secret I will be keeping from you," He grins, finger pressed to his lips as you pout.

"Aren't my words absolute?" You pretend to frown.

"Not when it is my proposal." He hums. "Let me cherish you this life so you may pass quickly in your next one."

"Alright." You hum, closing your eyes as Cael holds you close. "Can you kill me with poison in my next life?"

"You would like to be poisoned?"

"It would be fitting as I died that way in my first life, would it not?" You pause. "Perhaps something to grant me a quick death. Maybe to pass in my sleep would be nice."

"Alright." Cael whispers, pressing your fingers to his lips, bottom lip brushing over your ring. "Where would you like the wedding?"

"Do you think the king would let us get married in the glass chapel?"

"It does not hurt to ask."

You get married to Cael, his hair done up as purple flowers decorate the venue, your lips curled upward as a smile that forces your eyes to crinkle sits on your face, an eternity past spent with him, and the short eternity future to be spent with him. You get to live a long life next to him, your skin turning wrinkly and old with age and Cael staying the same, but his eyes and touch ever fond with the same gentleness that has never changed even now that you are no longer at your prime.

You wave goodbye to your kids, and Cael sends them off with a nod.

"Phew, I'll have to see you in my bedroom soon." You frown, staring in the mirror. "I can feel my death approaching."

"Do you believe we are soulmates, dear?" Cael sits next to you by your bedside, and you smile.

"Perhaps." You close your eyes, sighing. "Maybe Naledi knew all along."

"Perhaps." He closes his eyes with you, and in the distance, the same bells that chimed on your wedding chime again.

Time is up at last.

🕛.

"Would you like to do anything before you pass?" Cael is the first to speak in your final regression.

Perhaps thirteen is an unlucky number, but it is not his problem. He slides your sleeve up as he carves one final circle into your skin, and your chest glows a dark purple, symbolizing the completion of the curse. You stare at your hand, then at Cael, lips curled into a sweet smile. You reach for him, wrapping your arms around him wordlessly as Cael hums into your skin, the vibrations soothing against your flesh.

"Cael."

"Yes, master?"

"Call me dear." You hum. "Ah, I would like to be buried with my ring from our past life."

"I shall do that." He nods. "Would you like to repeat our past life?"

"I do not mind it." You hum. "Though, it would be nice to have children earlier. I do not believe I will live as long as I did in my past life."

"Of course." He presses his forehead to yours, humming. "Let us get married earlier as well."

Cael finds the ring in the same place as before, handing the clerk the same amount of gold, a smile on his face as he returns from his vacation, offering you a pretty bouquet of flowers similar to the ones at your wedding, the ring attached to the center rose, and you laugh, cheeks warm with affection as he slides the ring back on your finger. There is no wedding this time around, just a simple registration and wedding gown, the same white and violet flowers in your hair and his suit, his lips pressed to your ring as the two of you spend the night together as you had in the past.

Cael looks into magic to control pain, and you find that it is so much more soothing to deliver a child with your husband's icy hands on your back. It is almost as if he had learned it so that there would be as little pain as possible this time around. You find that it may be annoying, but knowing what each of your children would be like was much better than expected. Their fingers cling onto yours as you watch them grow up, your body aging faster than your past life, your children only young adults when you turn old and frail.

So, when you call them all to your room, Cael still next to you and brushing his fingers over the back of your hand; you laugh.

"I'm passing soon." You hum. "It is a shame, but I will not be able to see my grandchildren this time around. Perhaps Cael might, but it seems that..."

"It is fine." Your eldest pauses to stare at Cael. "Father will be free once you pass. He will find you again."

"Like he always told us he would." Your second chuckles. "Though, we may not be alive to see you."

"I'll miss you." Your youngest steps next to your bed, taking your other hand. "We will miss you, mother."

"I will miss you all as well, but..."

"But you will be put to rest." Cael nods. "There will no longer be a repeat of the past, and you will no longer be forced to live in a world where you are cursed to return again and again."

"Yes." You smile. "Now, shoo. I wish to have a word with your father."

"Stay in the tearoom. I shall discuss burial when she passes."

Your children exit the door, your eldest looking back one last time. It is strange to see such a young man smiling at an old woman so affectionately. One might mistake him for your grandchild, but it would not be the case. He may not have gotten much affection from his father, but it was evident that Cael loved at least you with his whole heart. Perhaps he will look at someone with the same amount of affection in his eyes one day.

"So?" Cael raises a brow, holding your hand to his cheek as you hum. "Where would you like to be buried?"

"In Naledi's flower field that we purchased off her hands." You close your eyes. "Please tend to the flowers each time you return from your travels."

"Of course." He closes his eyes as you close yours. "I love you, dear."

"I love you too, Cael." You hum. "My beloved."

This time, there are no bells to chime nor time that has run out.

Cael tells your children about where you wish to be buried, and your children comply, gathering for a small funeral as they bury you in the dirt where you had wished to return, and Cael finds himself hugging his children for the first in a long time. It is hard to lose you, he knows, but he is aware that you will return sometime soon. Your soul will wander back into the people who are close to him, and even if you will not recognize him, he would protect you until the very end. Thus, as he sends his children off one by one, handing the family seal to his eldest with a gentle kiss to his forehead, he hums the same lullaby that they had grown up listening to.

"Come visit. The residence's walls are always open." His eldest looks up at him through tear-stained lashes, and Cael nods.

Once all of your children are gone, Cael removes his sword and places a bouquet of preserved flowers on your grave, tightening his coat as the winter snow falls, your frail body buried back into the earth, returning to the dust that it was made of.

And though you are gone now, Cael will find you again as he always has.

After all, you are his master, his lover, and his object of affection. just as he is your knight and beloved.

[sayafics]

Dance of Shadows - Teaser

Daemon Targaryen x Targaryen!OC

Hi, this is just a teaser for a little storyline I've been playing around with in my head for a while. Let me know what you think and if you want more!

Chapter I

Masterlist

Saenyra Targaryen was the youngest daughter of King Viserys I and Queen Consort, Lady Aemma Arryn.

The girl was only a year younger than her sister, Rhaenyra Targaryen, and she had grown up in her shadow. With no male heir, aside from the Rogue Prince - who was repeatedly banished from the kingdom before finding a fleeting excuse to return - Rhaenyra was seen as the heir of Viserys.

With such recognition came the adoration of both the people of the Seven Kingdoms and their father.

Such notions were not extended to Saenyra, a child who was truly defined by her sex. She was to be traded off as a brooding mare when her father deemed it time. That was what the Lord Hand had told her.

Otto Hightower was a shrewd man, able to recognise even the smallest of cracks which he could weather and weaken. He had found one in Saenyra - a tiny crevice that grew into a gaping wound as her mother gasped her last breath.

A crack in her heart and a tear in her soul that reeked of agony and desolation as her sister sought comfort in Ser Cole, and her father in the unwilling arms of Alicent Targaryen.

Saenyra was a disaster, a wavering opportunity Otto Hightower couldn't allow himself to pass.

***

Saenyra would find herself bumping into the man when she walked to the library, in hopes of finding a book invigorating enough to distract her from her fumbling thoughts. He would tag along, share encouraging words and place a comforting hand upon her shoulder.

Otto was not blind to the lack of parental love she was offered, and though she was a beautiful sight, he knew that becoming the figure that she was missing in her life was the best way to assure she played to his tunes.

Saenyra was not much taller than her older sister. Her hair flowed down her back in tempered curls and brushed across her thighs, her eyes were a violent hue of purple, and her smiles were shy. She did not have Rhaenyra's fierce nature, nor her confident persona - Rhaenyra knew the power she held in her beauty, and she knew how to use it to her advantage.

Saenyra was ignorant to her charms, rarely leaving her room since she had no dragon to tend. Her dragon had not hatched when it had been placed in her cradle, and being a Princess meant she was confined to the Red Keep without a dragon to help her escape.

She could see how her father and uncle looked at her sister in admiration, how her mother coddled and gushed over her when she performed tricks with Syrax. It caused her heart to ache, knowing that she would never be looked at with such adoration, with such love and care.

It was a realisation she had been burdened with for so long. A realisation she had began to hope was false after her mother's death.

As her relationship with her father crumbled to dust, she built a tentative friendship with Otto Hightower - oblivious to the Hand's ulterior motives.

[xx-thedarklord-xx]

i saw your tony/loki shipping post and it's got me considering it. do you have any recs?

I sure fucking do! (referring to this post)

Sorry this took me so long to get to, I had to go back through some of my bookmarks and refamiliarize myself with the ship. If anyone would like more recs just let me know!

Stark Fashion Statement by STARSdidathing | 10k, T Tony knows it takes a lot for Loki to play nice with Asgard. Mostly, it takes him wanting to secure an apple for Tony. Despite this, Tony is willing to hate everyone on sight, especially when he's forced to attend an event with Loki. But just because they're playing nice, it doesn't mean Tony is going to stand for an insult. Who says time on Asgard can't come with a little mischief?

(Do check out STARSdidathing Ao3 they have SIX HUNDRED completed FrostIron stories.)

Devoted to you by Draysmeria | 14k, E *part of a series* Tony Stark's beliefs were one of the best guarded secrets of all times. The thing was, if you asked Tony about it, he would say that in his opinion it had absolutely nothing to do with belief. Because he knew for a fact that his God and others like him existed. So, he did not have to believe in the elusive existence of a higher power but could worship and be devoted to a very real deity that had visited Earth regularly in centuries past. He had absolute Faith in his God and was devoted to him, addressing prayers and offerings to him regularly; his chosen God was Loki, god of Fire, Chaos, Lies and Mischief.

(I am fascinated and in love with the idea of Tony praying to Loki as a god. Loved loved loved the entire series.)

Exploiting Technicalities by pineapplesquad | T, 9k His blood ran cold the moment his seidr touched the other man. With unsteady hands he switched his earpiece to their private channel, fighting the panic rapidly crawling up his throat. “JARVIS,” he snapped, voice already shaking, “why are you piloting Anthony’s armor?” Loki didn’t care for the long pause before the AI finally answered. “Sir has activated a protocol that, when enabled, allows me to remotely pilot the Iron Man armor to continue the fight if he is to fall unconscious. My priority is now the safety of the team.”

(The emotional angst and pain of this fic hurt but it was a good kind of hurt.)

Never Let Go by STARSdidathing | T, 3k Anthony likes to hold Loki’s hand. And it’s not that Loki doesn’t enjoy it, quite the opposite actually– he just doesn’t understand it.

(It's just so soft and cute and after the angst of the last one, it's a soothing balm to the soul!)

The Einherjar’s No Good Very Stressful and Incredibly Difficult Job of Protecting Tony Stark by NamelesslyNightlock | T, 14k When the Einherjar notice that Tony Stark makes Prince Loki happier than anyone – or anything – else, they decide that protecting the mortal is a matter of complete importance, and put all of their resources toward the task. But… their job would be a whole lot easier if Stark would just stop putting his life in danger at every possible opportunity.

(Outside POV but it's just so good. I love seeing how others view their relationship and the idea of someone trying to guard Tony of all people makes me laugh because he does dangerous stuff all day every day.)

When You're Gone by NamelesslyNightlock | T, 5k DUM-E misses Loki almost as much as Tony does. This causes a problem when, after a longer than usual absence, DUM-E decides to go looking for him.

(It's just so cute! I adore when fics explore all of Tony's robots and the fact that DUM-E misses Loki is just adorable and I want more of it okay.)

A Little Unsteady by kipli | E, 68k *part of a series* After observing the battle at the airport between Captain America and Iron Man, Loki stumbles upon Tony Stark hidden away in the depths of a panic attack. Loki finds himself drawn to Stark in ways he’d not expected.

(Loved, loved, loved this one! I loved the sequel as well.)

So We're ... Friends by Loni4ever | E, 15k *part of a series* When Loki shows up on Earth two years after getting exiled from Asgard, what Tony expects is fights, casualties and attempts at world domination. What he gets instead is reasons to smile, answers about magic, and an unlikely friend in a certain prankster mage. ___ Or, 5 Times Tony and Loki Didn't Fight Each Other, and 1 Time They Decided To Fight Side By Side

(this was perfect. The way they showed the transition from acquaintances to friends to really good friends to best friends to omg I might actually love this idiot to dating to falling in love to HUSBANDS. I just really really loved this whole series and melted so many times)

[miss-starlet]

♤ Bury Your Head Prologue ♤

Prince of Darkness! Yang Jeongin × Princess! Younger Sister of Chan! Y/N

Release Date: Early June

Word Count: 700+

Warning: Devil! I.N, light mention of blood, and talks of killing the uncle

The biting cold of midwinter's wind cut through Chan mercilessly, sending shivers down his spine as he quickly walked to the chapel.

The chapel was nestled in the back of the garden that was located on the side of the royal palace. It was once filled with lavish detail and decor, but under his uncle's reign as king, he sold what could make him more money, and made sure the rest went to ruin. The ornate details on the door were weathered, the stained glass windows shattered and broken, and long vines of ivy crept unchecked along its outer brick. Chan was well aware that if his uncle's reign over the kingdom continued, it would be the end of their kingdom and people, just like this old chapel. He was willing to do anything that was necessary, even the most drastic measures for his uncle's end.

Swinging open the heavy wooden doors, he gets to work. He sits the book he brought with him down on the pew and lights every candle located still in the building. Chan then cracked open the ancient book that contained how to contact spirits and demons. As if the book knew, it flipped open to the precise page he sought. Kneeling on the dusty wooden floor, he etched the symbols shown in chalk before meticulously laying down a protective salt line. Afterwards, he studied the arcane words, reading and whispering them under his breath again and again to ensure their accuracy. Before he loudly echoed the words on the page.

He shivered from the cold air that drifted in the chapel. Yet the cold wasn't enough to distract him from the loud pounding of his heart. It should have worked by now, why hasn't he appeared? Chan threw the book on the floor devastated, he failed his people. Then suddenly the candle's flames went out with a fleeting gust of wind leaving Chan in darkness for a few seconds before reigniting. The sound of hushed whispers he can barely make out before it's back to quiet. Then the chapels doors swung open with a forceful push, revealing the entrance of a striking man dressed in black silk.

The man started taking slow deliberate steps towards Chan. The sound of his shoes echoed around the chapel. The soft colored light from the moon and candles creates a radiant glow upon him, one akin to an angel bathed in celestial light. Each movement of the satin fabric he wore seemed to amplify the ethereal effect. Pausing just before the salt line, he fixed his gaze on Chan and introduced himself, “ I am the prince of darkness, the devil, yet 'Jeongin' will suffice for now.” After the introduction, he steps over the salt line, still heading towards Chan. Chan flinged back and commanded the being, “Stop.” Jeongin stopped for a moment, smirking.

“I am Bang Chan, the prince of Lavender. I seek my uncle's demise, grant me the throne and the title of eternal king," he proclaimed. Jeongin's pauses momentarily, as if he didn't expect that request. "While I cannot claim your soul, I shall instead claim something that holds even greater value than your kingdom and its inhabitants."

Chan didn’t know what to think about this, he was unsure of what could be more important and grand than the state of the people who lived in the kingdom. He cared for his siblings, yes, but they are not more profound than the fate of his people.

Without delay, Jeongin unsheathed his sword attached to his belt, causing Chan to take another step back nervously. He watches the demon slice his palm open before roughly grabbing Chan's hand. Pulling him closer before flipping his hand back to see his palm before repeating the action, before clasping their hands together. They shaked each other's hands, their blood mixed together, sealing the deal.

"Your uncle will be dead by morning, and as for my offering…” Jeongin withdrew his hand, fixing Chan with a chilling smirk. “I will take it when you least expect it." He declared, his tone ominous, leaving Chan wondering if he did the wrong thing. Jeongin turned, and walked out the wooden doors. The candles blew out once more, leaving Chan back in darkness.

[mischiefprincess]

 "I thought we could unite our kingdoms one day. Bring about an alliance, bring about a permanent peace... through you."

How

How?

HOW????????

What did Odin have in mind when he took Loki? How was he going to forge that alliance? Through marriage? Was he going to tell Laufey that the son he thought to be dead this whole time was actually alive and well and living as the second prince of Asgard? And then he'd offer to marry Loki to someone in Jotunheim so he could take Laufey's throne?

Laufey had already rejected Loki as a newborn, why on earth would he want to have his son back especially when he was basically Odin's puppet? And another thing, would the Jotuns accept Loki as their ruler? He's a runt and grew up in Asgard being raised by Odin, a man they no doubt hate with their entire souls, what made Odin think that his plan would work?

Not to mention the fact that Loki himself would probaly go fucking INSANE once he realized that his purpose in life was to be Odin's puppet in that frozen wasteland while Thor was destined to sit on the golden and glorious throne of Asgard

"But those plans no longer matter"

When

When did they stop mattering?

When did Odin realize that what he had in mind when he adopted Loki would never work out? When did he start seeing Loki as his son instead of the political pawn he was initially?

In WML Loki says that Odin didn't like to send him very often in missions throughout the nine realms, I know the book is it's own universe but maybe that's how things were in the movie timeline too, Odin didn't want to have Loki deeply involved in the politics of the nine realms and decided to just confine him to the palace

"So I'm no more than another stolen relic, locked up here until you might have use of me?"

This could indicate that Loki was in fact trapped inside the palace at least to some level, only allowed to leave and travel through the nine realms when Odin approved it unlike Thor who was probably free to come and go as he pleased, so Loki had only the company of his mother (bc he didn't have friends of his own) while being desperate to have his father's attention and approval, desperate to have a chance to prove that he could be just as competent as Thor (if not more) as a ruler and still being treated as some kind of possession instead of a person

This is tragic but so delicious at the same time, and I know this makes more sense for movie Loki bc series Loki is very different from the original canon, I kinda miss the hungry look he had in Thor 1 tho, that boy who was just standing in corners, lonely and rejected, with so many storms inside himself that barely anyone could notice bc he kept them hidden under a facade of calmness and politeness, that stiff posture of someone always living under pressure, the neutral expression in his face and the ocasional picking of the hands that betrayed how nervous he truly was, being silent and only speaking to people when he was spoken to, the layers and more layers of clothing, covering everything from neck to toes, the submissive and kinda fearful look in his eyes whenever his father spoke to him (until of course the Jotunheim incident), the curly hair severely straightened so he could appear more collected and calm, so many things about him fascinate me, I could talk about it for hours...

How I wish we could go back to the 2011-2013 Loki era omg there's so much potential and things to explore there, take me back to those simpler days

[apritellointeractive]

Sworn to Devotion: Chapter 2 - Part 4

>> “Why were you cold to my brother?”

(Art by @lovelyladylavie)

It takes a minute to work up the courage, but eventually Donnie asks, “Why were you cold to my brother?”

April blinks at the blunt question. “Your brother?”

A blush spreads across Donnie’s face as he realizes he slipped and asked the wrong question. 

He coughs, “A-hem, yes, my brother. The, uh-” the softshell scrambles to salvage the situation “-the slider I ride next to. The one who wears the same armor as me but in blue. Yes, that brother. The only brother I have.”

A few seconds pass before April’s eyes narrow at Donnie, and she leans forward until her face is mere centimeters away from his. The softshell feels his palms become cold and sweaty as the princess stares him down.

“I don’t think that’s who you were referrin’ to,” April starts, her determined eyes searching his nervous ones, “But your ‘brother' is cocky and egotistical. Though he's decent with wielding his twin katanas.”

Before Donnie can sigh in relief that he’s off the hook, she pulls back and states, “However, I’d like to know who you were originally referrin’ to.”

She picks up a piece of cracker and pops it in her mouth, still staring at him while she chews.

Donnie shifts uncomfortably under her intense gaze. “But I–”

The knight barely gets a word in before she adds, “And I won’t be entertainin’ any other conversations until you tell me the truth.”

Donnie sucks in a breath, mentally cursing at himself for slipping and asking such a dumb question. His father would smack the back of his head with his tail if he were here! Normally he’s so so good about keeping a tight lip, not letting anyone know that he’s related to the crown prince and the royal family.

But… Princess April is marrying into the family. She’ll learn about one of the crown’s best-kept secrets eventually. Maybe she should know about it sooner rather than later. 

“I, well… Princess, are you good at keeping secrets?” Donnie asked, his fingers tapping on his kneepads.

She shrugs. “Well, I’ve kept secrets from my father more times than I can count, and my castle staff seem to trust me.” She pops another small piece of jerky in her mouth to make a point, though it takes her a minute to chew and the atmosphere between them grows uncomfortable. “A-hem, so, if my people trust me, then I don’t see why you can’t.”

Donnie nods, looking down at his twiddling thumbs. Her nonchalant response brought him some comfort, but still left much to be desired. 

“It’s not that I don’t trust you, despite the fact we’ve barely known each other a week at most.” Donnie picks his words carefully. “It’s just that it’s a secret very few know about. Not even the lords and ladies you’ve spoken to know about it.”

That catches April’s attention. “Say what now?”

“None of the lords and ladies you conversed with know about it,” he reiterates, “And… if I were to tell you, I need you to promise you won’t tell the rest of the court.”

The princess sits up straight. “Sir Donatello, I promise not to tell a single soul. On my honor as the princess of Old York.”

The knight searches her eyes for any sign of dishonesty, but finds none.

He sucks in a deep breath, steeling himself. “Prince Raph is my half-brother.”

(Poll below offers a perspective switch. The first is to switch to April, the second keeps it on Donnie. :3c)

>> Donnie explains his convoluted, drama-filled family tree.

[epilogue-and-prologue]

For the AU-gust Mashup:

Fili x Reader + Fairytale + “Just look at me. Forget everything else.”

No pressure at all! Thank you in advance for considering the request! <3

Words

Fandom: Lord of The Rings - The Hobbit Ship/Pairing: Fili x Reader Trope: Fairy Tale - Curse Note: Prompt is in the ask. Thanks @sotwk I don't have the occasion to write for Fili near enough. SORRY FOR BEING SO LATE. Warnings: Curse, losing your voice, not being able to communicate, near death experience. Word count: 1 954 Tag-list: @heilith @asgardianhobbit98 @middleearthpixie @glassgulls @evenstaredits @fizzyxcustard @sotwk

The summer had barely begun, when you met him. At first, you thought he was an illusion. A trick of your mind. Clear eyes, blonde hair, he’d carried himself just like you thought he would. The Crowned Prince, they called him. He had introduced himself as Fili. Nothing more. He came and went to your stand on the market place. Over the course of a few months, he had become a vital presence in your life. Just as you did in his.

To your agony, none of you would speak of it aloud. In your mind only, could he hold you, could he be with you. The status was one thing. The other was how people called you: the witch. Fili would never refer to you in such a way. He once called you a “soft-spirited soul who could cure any wound”. It had made your heart beat so fast you thought he would surely see the beats on your skin. But, the herbs you used and the unguents? It was common knowledge, yet it was not as widely used as it should have been. It was considered a women’s trade first and then was replaced completely by modern medicine. They did not keep your stall empty though. Even, on occasions, some people would come to you for more than just healing. For a kind ear and a cup of ale. That was why it did not surprise you when the tall and grand man came, in his white robes and equally beautiful staff. He did not say his name but you would remember his face forever. An intricate affair of wrinkles and bones showing under his skin. It was as if he’d been taunt over an overused canvas. You had seen worse ugliness, worse gnarly members, deformed by arthritis or unfair accidents. It was nothing new and you thought nothing of it.

“What may I help you with tonight, traveller?”

His robe was stained on the hems, earth and what you assumed was crusted mud over it. He did not move, only following your movements across the room with intent. His lips seemed to be moving, but no sound came out of them. Uneasy, you sat down and offered a cup of warm tea, just brewed. He stayed motionless.

“You look just like her, you know? — What?”

The jolt almost made you knock over your tea. The last time someone compared you to anyone else was when your grandmother was alive. Could he have known her? Or was he toying with you?

“You like just like your grandmother…” He stepped into your space, closing in on you. A chill ran down your spine. He had known her then. “The same eyes, the same face, those same treacherous lips…” He grabbed onto your chin, a harsh grip forcing you into meeting his eyes. You were so scared you did not dare move a muscle. “And you will pay for her lies and her filthy words.”

He released you, your body meeting with the floor in a violent attempt at getting away from him. His staff pointed at you, he mumbled incoherent words. Then, some all too coherent ones.

“Blood of the blood of my enemy, I hereby punish you. For your grandmother broke my heart with her words and it will break yours too! You will remain speechless, until someone confesses their love for you. Only if they do and you love them in return, the curse shall be lifted. A day and a night you shall have before the words strangle you. Hear my wrath, blood of the blood and know your time to be shortened.”

A maniacal laugh echoed through the room, white and grey fog sneaking through the door. You raised your head and he was gone, heaps of smoke the only sign he was there at all.

The next morning, you were mute.

———— It had taken a heavy toll on you. People could not understand why from one day to the next, your voice had gone out. The weather could not explain it. You couldn’t any more either.

Of course, Fili chose that day to show up. He did not exactly chose, for it was the first time in weeks he had managed to have some free time. Naturally, he arranged to come and see you.

“Hello.”

The smile you offered was…odd. Uneasy. He wondered what he could have done to deserve this thin lipped, excuse of a smile. You were always so quick to smile brightly, even in the early hours of the morning, eyes stinging with the last remnants of sleep.

“Are you not going to say it back?”

He rose an eyebrow, more out of curiosity than animosity. You tried. You really, really tried to tell him. But the clients were growing impatient and the line was growing thick behind him. Upon seeing you interact with them, gestures and half guessed prices, Fili realised you were not choosing not to answer. You could not. In an impulse, he jumped over the stand and joined you behind.

“Hello, good sir, what might we do for you today?”

The dandy man blinked once. Twice. His eyes kept going from you to Fili before choosing to ignore the fact that the future heir to the kingdom was now selling herbs and creams on the market. You could not stop him even if you had wanted to. Before you could try to intervene, he had already taken it upon himself to help you. He pushed you back and sat you down on your chariot. He did not stop, not for one minute. The whole morning he served and listened sometimes turning to you for confirmation. You intervened once or twice, and that was that. How long did he observe you to know almost as much as you did? From where you were you saw him leave his heavy pelted coat, warmed up by the activity. His shoulder blades barely hidden behind a linen shirt, became a good distraction to the feeling of helplessness within. Your fingers twitched once or twice, wanting nothing more than to reach out for him. You knew you couldn’t. But one can always dream. Right? Suddenly in lack of clients, he turned to you, chest rising rapidly. A hint of hair peeked from under his collarbones and you had a hard time focusing on his words.

“Now. How did you lose your voice?”

A real worry started to gain his face even as he smirked. He could not fool you anymore. His eyes started studying you, as if your face could tell him what had happened.

“Did you catch a cold?”

You shook your head and sighed. This was going to be impossible to explain. Suddenly, you sprung to your feet grabbing his hand. If he had been in his right mind, he would have stuttered and crumbled internally at that. Luckily he wasn’t and merely blushed when you did. Your hands were showing him something.

“Something to write?”

Excitedly, you nodded. He pulled a piece of paper and a charcoal out of his pocket and handed them to you. In quick words, you explained the situation to him. As he read on, his heart kept sinking. He knew his attachment to be love. Fili had known for quite some time. Regardless, if you did not feel the same then it was a doomed story. The deadline was growing closer as each moment passed and he was losing his mind. He kept pacing trying to find another way out of it. There was none. Even if he had gone to Gandalf - the sorcerer of the Kingdom - it would be too late before he’d come up with a solution. His only hope was to tell you how he felt. In the unlikely odds, that maybe, you would not reject him. If not, he’d make your last day a feast and a paradise. The taste of grief melted in his mouth. He swallowed it soon. In a whisper and an extended hand, he called you to him. When you took his hand, shaking and hesitant, his heartbeat accelerated.

If only he knew. His face told you everything. You could see his resolution disappear with every passing moment. He had no solution. So, he did not love you in the end and the dreams you had about living together were just dreams. You almost cried when he pulled you in, embracing you in his arms, his warmth. He could not look at you and you could not blame him for it.

“It’s time I told you…”

You held your breath, a deep sigh shaking him. He took your face in his hands, gentle and tender.

“I am afraid that all those months I have deceived you.”

Your heart sank again and as you struggled in his hold, he stopped you.

“Let me finish, please.”

You nodded, tearful sobs already on the edge of your lips.

“I have not been honest. From the very first time we met, I knew. I knew I would come to love you. I did not stop it. I knew our stations would not match. It didn’t bother me. It still doesn’t. I don’t care if you don’t love me back. I need you to hear this…”

Tears ran down your cheeks. He had to be lying. He had to be. How could he say such lies when you were in this deadly situation? How could he toy with you like this. Again, you struggled against his hold and he gripped your shoulders. Through the cloths his heat was both a fast poison and a powerful balm.

“Just look at me. Forget everything else. Forget where we are. Just listen to me.”

You did. You looked at him and his sea-coloured eyes. A deep feeling of content took root inside of you. Maybe if you were to die by tomorrow, enjoying him was not the worst thing you could be doing right now. So you did as he said and focused on his voice, his eyes, his neatly braided beard. Your fingertips combed gently through it and it made him stutter for a moment.

“I love… No. I adore you. You will not die today, I will not allow it. Never will I allow it. You cannot leave me like this. There were shadows in me before, now there’s only your light. Yours and no one else. How you did it, I will never know but I love you. I love you, and I will always love you until the end of time… —I love you too.”

Your voice croaked as if it had been unused for years. It startled both of you. An immense joy washed over you and you jumped into his arms, breathing him in, basking in his warmth. He held on to you so tight, it was sure to leave marks. The market around you was unchanged but you were. He looked at you dead in the eye, a mere centimetres from your face.

“Never, ever, do that again. —No promises.”

You laughed and squealed when he mumbled about “promises” and “worried sick” and you being the death of him one day. Quickly, in between two rants you pulled him to you and kissed him. He continued on for a good moment before he realised what had happened. He blushed furiously, the corner of his lips lifting. Soon, your lips found his, gently. He wanted to enjoy that kiss and all the others coming afterwards.

People around you, were sure to have something to talk about the next day.

On the other hand, you would choose to be nowhere else but right there in his arms.

All their words be damned.

[dark-elf-writes]

Wait, but if Hazel was decades in the Asphodel... You cannot tell me that Eurydice didn't adopt her in twelve seconds max.

Hazel spent decades having a real mom, a good one. Who cooked to her and sang her songs, and extorted Zagreus into bringing her some pencils to draw because she was his sister and deserved it. And told her stories about everyone here and how good do her songs sound when she has Orpheus lyre to back her up. And told her how much she would have liked to have a kid like her, how that would have been her biggest blessing. And how Gaia likes to influence people lifes ("Take it from a nymph, hon. That woman loves it when someone smaller does her work for her.")

Zagreus knew her and brought her ambrosia from time to time, and pressed the contractor until they told him how many diamonds would he need to get his sister into the house from Asphodelus. (He told her she wasn't missing that much in Elysium unless she wanted to see him beat up Minos and Theseus).

He was so close, just one diamond more and he could introduce her to Dussa and Achilles and Nyx and even both of his parents had wanted him to succeed and bring her home where she belonged... Hazel's gone. A kid who looked like him but sadder got her out. And no one can find Thanatos.

I feel like it was a mix of Zagreus asking for a favor and Eurydice adopting Hazel tbh. Like Zag hears about his little sister sentenced to Asphodel rather than Elysium because she chose to take another’s guilt onto her and sacrificed her title of hero after already sacrificing her life to save countless more. But when he eventually finds her she’s so young. A child. All of thirteen and scared and alone in Asphodel. The one who remembers when no other mortal soul does.

Zagreus offers her a hand, tells her that he is her older brother, tells her that he knows a friend nearby.

Eurydice sees the usual red blur that is the prince dashing into her home and has to do a double take because in his arms is a rather dazed looking girl who keeps trying to make herself small.

Of course she offers to let Hazel stay.

They talk of curses. Of cruelties. Of love and loss. They talk of a woman who is earth as much as she is anything else. They talk and slowly Hazel starts to heal.

(“It wasn’t your fault.” They all tell her that a lot. Zagreus Eurydice. Orpheus. Even Nico when he shadow travels in and meets her for the first time years later.

It takes a long time for her to believe them, but in the Underworld there is nothing but time.)

Then one day Nico tumbles into Eurydice’s home in a tangle of shadows and too thin limbs and tells Hazel there’s a way out. That he can bring her back. That he can let her see the sun again.

Eurydice smiles and kisses them both in the forehead. “Go, children,” She whispers to them. To this little prince and princess of Hades. “You always had too much life to stay here.” It kills her to let her daughter leave but… Eurydice tried to escape once. Had helped Zagreus escape countless times. She would give Hazel the same chance.

And Zagreus understands when he finds out even if it aches to know he won’t be able to easily see his sister again.

Then the Doors are chained. Then Than goes missing. Then he stops dying.

And suddenly he can see a lot more of his siblings topside than he ever imagined.

[the-lucid-llama]

Hazbin Hotel (/Hells Belles) Au idea

Eve, lucifer, and Lilith are all in a poly relationship

Charlie was raised by all three and grew up with a big family

The seven deadly sins are Charlie's older siblings and maybe some OCs ( I want there to be damn near 13 of them)

each one rules or helps maintain the 13 rings in hell

there are more than seven rings earth realm mortals can't go past the 9th ring

extermination doesn't exist but souls are being tortured by the princes and their generals. So it's still a shitty situation I mean it's hell

Depending on the severity of the sinner's "sins" they can be placed on 1-9 levels with one being things that really only caused harm to the sinner and those close to them and nine being where the worst of the worst go

Upper-starting sinners can go lower but lower starters can't go higher than their assigned ring

Rings passed level 9 are only able to be accessed by hellborns

The Magne-Morningstar family can see sin which helps them properly dictate what level a soul belongs on and why

Angels can visit level 1 & 2 sinners as they are the most docile and rarely cause harm to others (this would only happen later on when Charlie "takes over"

I want the driving force behind this Au to be that Charlie doesn't like that her siblings are using sinners for their own selfish desires and punishing them harshly for it.

because of this, she wants to at least "rule" over one ring so she can try to help her people (sinners)

So she comes up with the whole redemption scheme but like instead of going directly to heaven they have to be reborn on earth and put those lessons to the test (of course when they're reborn they lose memories of the afterlife but their soul doesn't so their more likely to live s different life) and if they prove themselves they earn their paradise

Of course, there is still the whole problem with no one believing that rebirth/ redemption for sinners exists, so she has to struggle to achieve this dream

The time restraint would be the fact that Lucifer thinks Charlie is far too sweet to even run the first ring in hell so after her whole PowerPoint musical he's like: "I will give you [a year]/[ six months]?? to make some type of progress towards this goal and while maintaining a small facility and really prove yourself I will give you full rein to attempt to redeem all sinners on levels 1-5.

And with that, Charlie decides to recruit her girlfriend Vaggie and they open the Happy Hotel!

The first resident is obviously Angel Dust (though I can't find a good way for Val to own his soul in the studio thing seeing as they would obviously be sent to different levels)

maybe he went to a lower level for drugs or he didn't know bout the leveling system when he first got there and was attacked but was saved and tricked so he made a deal??

I know I want other souls besides Sir Pentious to join before the whole interview (OCs??)

Similar to the pilot of the actual show Charlie's interview doesn't go as planned but does catch some's attention

Husk is still an overlord in this Au simply because Alastor and him are in two different rings and he's smart enough to not go bugging people who he knows for a fact have done way worse stuff than he has *Alastor ass *

Overlords still exist they're just not as all-powerful and the territory they gather isn't really theirs but more like a bribery to the princes that govern the ring (like: we give you souls that can't refuse you and you leave us alone k?)

Deals made by sinners tend to be more soul-binding (that's why the princes prefer to take offered souls than make their own deals)

Of course, husk gets the chance to join because a condition to being able to attempt the whole redemption thing is that Charlie has access to more souls that may be willing to change which gets her access to help those between rings 1-5 where Husk resides

I think Overlord Husk would love to help simply because he believes souls on upper levels to his own knowledge would be more susceptible to making a deal which would help keep his position over the other overlords he's in competition with on his level

I like the theory that Alastor's only interest in the hotel is because of his contract so this still applies but Lilith (the one who everyone theories owns his soul) isn't this mysterious benefactor as such Alastor's able to join as well

I full-hearted believe that all the Vee's still end up on the same level because their actions directly or indirectly caused multiple deaths and they don't feel remorse for those actions

Rosie is hell-born in my head so she is in this Au lol

Carmila and Zeastial are married I don't make the rules [I do I just think it's cute]

Carmila has two adopted imp children [idk if those two girls are her adopted daughters or she had them on earth and feels responsible for them but now they're hell-borns]

Idk how to place the character on which level tbh but the overlords in the show will be

There absolutely will be romance

I want to write about their earth lives (their second one)

I want to also write their healing process ... so like fluffy angst??

Will kinda follow the Hells Belles series more than the Hazbin Hotel series

[muddyorbsblr]

secret notes part 3: can't help falling in love

Series Masterlist See my full list of works here!

Summary: One of your covers on YouTube goes viral and catches Wanda's attention, which piques the interest of Morgan, Tony, and Loki.

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: none, this is just fluffy [let me know if i missed anything!]

Things to be aware of: mutual pining, idiots in love, reader in denial

"It seems that Loki has an admirer on the internet," Wanda commented from her prone position on the couch in the common area. 

"We all know that Bambi's got a whole army of fangirls, Wanda. Nothing new about that," Tony quipped as he walked into the kitchen with Morgan. "So why are you interested in this one? They have a kinky name or something?" 

"No. It's the opposite. Usually they have something that ties in to Loki's name, right? Or declares themselves as his?" 

"Who's mine?" Loki walked in from the direction of the training area and straight into the line of the refrigerator for a drink. 

"Your army of admirers," Wanda answered. "You have a new one." 

He chuckled. "What else is new?" There was something sad in the way he said the words. What use is that admiration to me, he thought to himself. The only woman I wish to admire me has relegated me to a mere friend. "But as peculiar as it is, I must concur with Stark. Why are you interested in this one, Maximoff?" 

"She calls herself The Lonely Avenger, and she's going viral." 

"Viral?" he questioned. "Like a plague?" 

He heard a giggle coming from Stark's daughter. "No. It's not like the cold, Prince Loki. It means many many people have watched her video." 

"More like heard her voice, little Morgan," Wanda finished. "Since her identity's currently a mystery." 

"Who's a mystery?" your voice called out from the top of the stairs. Loki couldn't help the smile on his face at the sight of you in a dress set in a regal shade of blue. 

"Good morning, Auntie Y/N!" the tiny Stark exclaimed and ran to your waiting arms once you reached the bottom of the stairs. "You look extra super pretty today." 

"Why thank you, baby." As you placed a soft kiss on the little human's cheek, the god's heart swelled. Ached. With the need to see that but with your own child. With him. Then you looked to the Sokovian once more. "So. Mystery. Tell me about it."

"Loki's admirer on the internet. The Lonely Avenger. Currently a faceless voice on YouTube. But damn. What a voice." 

Your blood froze the moment you heard Wanda speak your channel name. How the fuck did she even get there? What was going on? 

You struggled to keep your face expressionless as Wanda started talking about your voice. As she started singing praises for The Lonely Avenger and how expressive and emotional your voice sounded as you sang the songs on your channel.

"Hold on. Wanda, how did you find this channel anyway?" Tony quipped as he walked over and picked up Morgan into his arms. 

Wanda rolled her eyes at the billionaire. "I told you, Tony. Her video went viral." 

My video went viral? you thought to yourself. Dear God which one? Please don't let it be the Tagalog one they'll know in 0.65 seconds flat. You made a note to check your channel analytics the second you were back in your apartment.

"So you're interested in her identity because…?" you prodded your friend, trying to sound teasing rather than so nervous your soul was on the verge of leaving your body.

"I will repeat myself, dear friend. What. A. Voice. Here, I'll play the one that went viral," Wanda offered. "FRIDAY? Could you play my phone's audio through the speakers in the common room?" 

"Certainly, Miss Maximoff." And then your voice began to echo off the walls.

Wise men say, only fools rush in

But I can't help falling in love with you

"Damn, Rock of Ages," Tony commented. "Wanda's right. What a voice." 

"Wait, Wan," you croaked out, trying not to sound like you were about to burst into tears and ripping yourself a new hole in your body as you heard your voice coming through on Tony's sound system that you didn't even want to guess how much it cost. "How'd you even know that the videos were for Mischief?" 

"I read the description." Of course she did. You really had to shoot yourself in the foot there thinking nobody ever bothered to read the description box anymore, they just wanted the content. Then again, you never figured that Wanda would find your channel either. And furthermore, the thought of you even getting more than 12 views if you were lucky was so far-fetched and now here you were having one of your best friends tell you that this video had gone viral? 

Just my fucking luck, I guess, you thought to yourself. 

"For the dark-haired Asgardian in the Avengers Tower," she read out loud, her voice resonating throughout the common room. "Doesn't get more obvious than that," she finished with a chuckle. "Shall we hope for a face reveal one day, Loki?" 

"It's an enchanting voice," he commented. "I can only hope I can look up on the visage that possesses it."  His eyes flickered to you for a split second and you found yourself busying your hands with straightening your dress and walking towards Wanda. 

"She sounds like a princess," Morgan commended, bouncing in her father's arms. "Doesn't she, Daddy?" 

"I feel like I know her voice from somewhere," Tony pondered. "It feels so…familiar. I just can't place it yet." How you were still up and kicking, you wouldn't know, because you were pretty sure that the only thing flowing through your veins was pure ice. 

"I bet Auntie Y/N could find her." You looked at Stark's baby girl with wide eyes, masking them as playful rather than nervous.

"Really, baby? You bet I could?" 

"Yes!" she giggled. "With your magic computer powers, you can find anybody!" 

For a split second, you stammered, wondering how the hell you were going to look through the internet to find out who The Lonely Avenger was when you knew that they were all looking at her right now. And then, as if a silent prayer that was never even uttered was answered, Loki spoke up.

"Little Stark, it's clear that this woman wants to keep her true identity a secret. Perhaps for now we should simply let that be." 

The little girl pouted at the god as he walked toward you. Wanda gave you a look complete with a wiggle of her eyebrows that made you wish  you had something in your hand to throw in her direction, even just a singular piece of popcorn, but alas you had nothing.

"But she likes you, Prince Loki! And you're lonely, too." You and Tony both widened your eyes at Morgan. This kid was absolutely fearless, you were sure. No one, not even his brother, would dare say those words to Loki's face.

"Well, I mean if the objective of this is to get you a love life, then maybe I should make an exception and use my magic computer powers, Mischief," you joked as he stepped into the space next to you and placed his hand on the small of your back. Keep your goddamn cool, Y/N. 

His only response to you was a soft smile. "To repeat my words to you on the eve of the new year, I am content with the state of my life, darling." His hand slid to cup the curve of your waist. "I have all the life I need," he whispered, never breaking eye contact. 

"I have all the life I need." The god's words were truthful, for all he needed was to keep you in his life and he would be content. But the child in Stark's arms had uttered truthful words as well. He was lonely.

For much as all he needed was your presence, your companionship, he desired more. He longed to wake in the morning and know the feeling of holding you in his arms, to rouse you from sleep in the form of lazy and carefree kisses upon your lips, your neck, wherever he could reach. 

Every morning he would leave his chambers as soon as he could so that he could prolong his time spent with you if even for a few moments. He desired, more than anything, to not even think about leaving his bed for you were already there with him. 

He found himself agreeing once again with Stark. Twice in one day, who would've thought it possible? But the billionaire was correct, the voice that Maximoff made them listen to had sounded familiar, as if he'd heard it somewhere before. It was a beguiling voice, and he truly was curious who expressed their admiration for him in this way.

But he also found himself hoping beyond all reason that perhaps…his mystery lark could be you.

A/N: This is really one of those 'filler' chapters because when I was plotting out the story literally all I put in the document for part 3 was "you start going viral and Wanda plays your audio". Next part's gonna be interesting tho. Someone's gonna find out who The Lonely Avenger is. Any guesses?

Taglist:

Everything: @lokisgoodgirl @lokischambermaid @imalovernotahater @mygfloki @lucylaufeyson3 @thomase1 @springdandelixn @fictive-sl0th @mochie85 @laliceee @xorpsbane @gigglingtigger @silverfire475 @cabingrlandrandomcrap @vickie5446 @salempoe @lokixryss @sinsandguilt @lokidbadguy @alexakeyloveloki @glitterylokislut @arch-venus25 @freefrommars @littlemortals @cakesandtom @girl-of-multi-fandoms @mischief2sarawr @thedistractedagglomeration @five-miles-over @goblingirlsarah @peaches1958 @huntress-artemiss @lilibet261 @iobsessoverfictionalmen @holymultiplefandomsbatman @lovingchoices14 @avoliax @devilsadvocactus @purplegrrl27 @lokiprompts @sititran @imherefortomhiddleston