#he kept his promise despite her no longer remembering it

[drowning-in-paragraphs]

LATE NIGHT, SAFE HANDS.

• jude bellingham x gf!reader

• warnings: just the horrible title. (Also, English is not my first language!)

• summary: Jude Bellingham’s quiet night is interrupted when his girlfriend arrives home drunk after a night out. Amid playful chaos, he faces the ultimate challenge: getting her to finally sleep, revealing the warmth and humor of their relationship.

His girlfriend had gone out with her group of friends tonight. She´d had been looking forward to it all week. They had been together for about eight months, and things between them felt easy, natural, despite their busy lives. Jude was head over heels for her, and though they weren´t living together yet, they spend a lot of time at each other´s places. He trusted her completly, however he couldn´t help the subtle flicker of concern that burned in his chest.

Earlier that evening, she had sent him a picture of her outfit for the night, teasing him with a playful "Rate it out of 10." He remembered grinning at the sight―she looked stunning in that red dress that left Jude staring at his phone for way longer tham he´d like to admit. His reply was a teasing, "Solid 11. You´re gonna have every guy at that club staring at you. Take care, yeah?"

She´d reply with a string of laughing emojis and a lot of hearts of different colors and added, "Promise! Love ya."

Hours passed, and with her occasional messages about how much fun she was having and how the club had "grwat music bt terriblw cocktailss" and a few blurred slefies, Jude couldn´t help but laugh before texting her to be careful, trying not to admit that maybe he was a little bit unease.

Around 1:30 a.m, the messages and slurred audios from her had started to slow down, but he wasn´t too worried. He figured she was just caught up in the fun, dancing with her friends and enjoying the night. After all, it was still early. Still, he checked his phone more frequently, feeling a little restless as the minutes ticked by without a response.

"Everything okay?" he´d sent about an hour ago, hoping for an answer.

Nothing.

Jude sighed, staring at the screen for a moment before tossing the phone back onto the couch beside him. He told himself not to worry. She was probably, no, she was definitely fine, just lost in the music, and her phone was somewhere deep in her bag. But a small voice in the back of his mind kept telling him otherwise.

He tried not to be that boyfriend. You know, the one who texts every five minutes to check up on her. But as the clock ticked closer to 3 a.m. and still no word from her, his foot started tapping nervously against the wooden floor. He shot her another text, "You good? Getting kinda late..." Jude stared at the screen, waiting for those familiar typing dots to appear, but after two minutes of nothing, he sighed. He set his phone down, leaning back against the cushions, trying to keep his mind out of it.

Ten minutes passed. Then fifteen.

By the time it hit twenty, Jude was seriously considering calling her. Just to check, he told himself. He had refreshed the chat multiple times but there was no response. He unlocked his phone and was about to hit her name when the sound of the doorbell cut through the quiet.

Frowning, Jude stood up, wondering who could be visiting at this time of night. As he approached the door, a series of knocks came, maybe a little frantic. His heart race just a little. Who could possibly be knocking at this hour?

He then swung the door open and froze.

There she was, standing in front of him, her makeup smudged, her hair slightly tousled, and that same red dress clinging maybe a little bit higher than when she went out. But what really stood out was the way she was standing, as if she was going to fall at any minute, with sparkling eyes and cheeks flushed―whether from the cold air or the alcohol, Jude wasn´t sure.

But the smile she gave him? Bright as ever.

"Juuuuude!" she exclaimed, throwing her arms up as if she´d just seen him for the first time in weeks.

He couldn´t help but grin at the sight, feeling the relief flood through him. She just threw herself into his arms before he had a chance to react. He caught her easily, wraping his arms around her waist as she giggled into his chest.

"Hey, hey," he said softly, trying to hold back a laugh of his own. "You alright?"

She pulled back slightly, swaying on her feet as she looked up to him. "Of course I am. Why wouldn´t I be?" Her words slurred together, and she had to repeat the question a few times.

"You´re plastered," he stated plainly, amusement dancing in his eyes.

"Your plastered," she tried to imitate him. "Am not," she protested, though the wobble in her stance told him otherwise. She tried to step forward, but Jude quickly caught her before she could topple over.

"Please tell me you didn´t come walking all the way here like this," he asked, closing the door behind them with one hand, the other firmly around her waist.

She gave him a pout. "Wanted to see you."

“Yeah, I figured that much.” He chuckled, guiding her over to the leather couch. “Come on, sit down before you hurt yourself.”

She let him guide her but promptly flopped onto the couch with dramatic flair, kicking off her heels and curling her legs beneath her. She looked at him, a playful glint in her eyes.

“Jude?” she asked sweetly.

“Yes, love?”

“I'm hungry.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You want me to make you something?”

“Nooo...” She shook her head, grinning mischievously. “I wanna cook.”

Jude immediately burst out laughing, kneeling beside the couch as he looked at her incredulously. “Babe, you’re drunk. You can’t even stand up properly, let alone cook.”

She squinted at him, clearly not appreciating his lack of faith. “I can cook. I make the best... sandwiches.”

“Sandwiches? That’s the bar we’re setting?”

She nodded eagerly, but before he could protest further, she was already struggling to stand, making a beeline for the kitchen. Jude quickly jumped up to intercept her, catching her around the waist before she could get too far.

“Oh no you don’t,” he said, pulling her back toward him. “You are not cooking in this state.”

She notice how warm he was. “Jude…”

He laughed, tightening his grip around her. “Nope. Not happening. You’re going to hurt yourself or burn the kitchen down.”

“That is not true.”

“I’ve seen you try to use a toaster when you’re half-asleep. I don’t need you burning down my kitchen with us inside.”

With a huff, she slumped against him, clearly defeated but still playful. She tilted her head back to look at him, her frown returning. “You’re no fun.”

“I’m a lot of fun,” he corrected, pressing a kiss on her forehead. “You’ll see how fun I am tomorrow when you wake up with a hangover,” he teased. “Now, how about we get you some water and you go to bed, yeah?”

“I don’t want water,” she mumbled playfully, leaning her head onto his shoulder and putting her hand on his back. “I want… you.”

Jude felt his heart do a little flip at her words, though he tried to play it cool. “Yeah, well, you can have me tomorrow after you drink some water.”

He got up and headed to the kitchen, grabbing a glass of water and bringing it back to her. She was now sprawled across the couch, one leg dangling off the side as she stared up at the ceiling, mumbling something incoherent.

“Here,” Jude said, sitting her up gently and handing her the glass.

She took it begrudgingly, sipping at it like a child forced to take medicine. “I didn’t want this,” she muttered.

“I know,” Jude said, rubbing her back soothingly. “But you’ll thank me in the morning.”

After a few sips, she set the glass down and looked up at him with wide, adoring eyes. “You’re so good to me,” she said softly, her voice suddenly tender.

Jude smiled, feeling his chest tighten in that familiar way it did whenever she said something sweet, even in her drunken state. “Of course I am. Someone’s gotta take care of you when you decide to get hammered.”

“Jude, I’ve already told you that I’m not—,”

“Alright, alright,” he said defeated. Then, after making sure that she had drunk all the water, he lifted her as if she was nothing and carried her to his room.

The softness of the mattress and the sheets made her yawn. As Jude carefully wiped off her makeup and gave her some of his clothes, she couldn’t help to smile, adoring his features. When one of his hands brushed where her ribs where, she giggled at the motion, leaning her head against his chest. “You’re my favorite person,” she whispered.

His heart melted. “And you’re mine,” he whispered back, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

They stayed like that for a while, she snuggled up against him as Jude absentmindedly ran his fingers through her hair, soothing her into a more peaceful state. Her tipsy giggles slowly faded, replaced by soft, sleepy breaths.

“You okay now?” he asked quietly.

“Mhm,” she hummed, half asleep against him.

Jude looked down at her, his chest swelling with affection. Drunk or not, she always managed to make him feel like the luckiest guy in the world. And despite her occasional recklessness, he wouldn’t trade moments like this for anything.

[peacefulharu]

new jeanmika doujinshi i got recently.

i love the storyline. it's new and refreshing to me. it focus on their childhood time where both had actually met each other wayy before the canon aot story started. kid Mikasa went to Trost with her dad and got separated somehow. kid Jean saw her crying and went to help. They went around town but didn't manage to find the dad so Jean ended up taking Mikasa to his house for that night before they resumed their search at the port the next day.

their interactions are just so so cute. and innocent. and Jean promised to search for her when he grow up and all (and kinda built the foundation of why Jean was drawing somebody who looks like Mikasa in canon 🤭🤭🤭)

Alas Mikasa grew up forgetting about this 'lost in Trost' episode and fast forward when they were finally together post-canon and Jean brought her home to meet his mom, she was liek, oh I feel like I have been to this house before and the past memory came backkk.

[myerssimp21]

Jason Todd, Hot Neighbor (YAN!Pt.2)

Romantic!Yandere!Batfam Part 2. Part 1 is Tim getting aphrodisiac'd by Ivy and desperately coming over to Darling's apartment, getting it on her. Hot neighbor!Jason hears them fucking and comes over, jealous. Part 1, Part 3: here

Still reeling from Tim's sudden departure after one of the most intense sexual encounters you'd ever had, you couldn't shake the feeling of emptiness that washed over you. There was a sense of sadness lingering in the air, a twinge of disappointment that he couldn't stick around a little longer.

The word that kept echoing in your mind was "used". You didn't want to admit it, but that's how you felt deep down. You wanted to believe that Tim had a valid reason for leaving so abruptly, that there was something important waiting for him elsewhere. But a nagging voice in your head whispered doubts, reminding you that you were important too.

On one hand, you wanted to extend an olive branch, to give Tim the benefit of the doubt and assume the best of him. But on the other, you couldn't shake the feeling of being disposable, of being cast aside after serving his purpose. He had seemed so sorry to leave, he'd apologized and promised to make it up to you, but you needed the emotional aftercare badly.

It was a bitter pill to swallow; that someone could be so desperate to be with you one moment and then leave without a second thought. It made you feel cheap and dirty. It felt as if your worth was measured solely by your ability to fulfill someone else's desires. These feelings were made worse when you realized your sex had somehow left you still impossibly aroused; as if the two orgasms Tim pulled from you were inconsequential. It was like your cunt forgot it had barely pulled off the second orgasm in a row.

The conflicted feelings and the growing desire settling in your body together, you experimentally snuck a finger into your underwear as you stood there in your bedroom, eyes widening at the sloppy wetness that was there despite Tim using a condom. You were still aroused- you felt your heartbeat quicken at the realization.

Heartbeat beginning to pound at the thought of whimpering on a vibrator soon, a faint hope flickered in your chest as you heard another knock at the door. You couldn't help but wonder if it was Tim again, returning to offer some explanation or just to be with you a little longer. You honestly hoped it was Tim so he could chase away the lingering sense of emptiness that had settled in your chest. Neglecting to wash your hands this time, you staggered over to the door.

As you pulled it open though, Jason's tall form greeted you, stance confident and looming over you. His presence radiated authority and self-control, a stark contrast to Tim's frantic approach. Seeing him wearing a shirt for the first time, you remember you're not wearing pants, pathetically hiding your nudity behind the door with only your clothed torso exposed.

"Hey there," Jason's voice was smooth, his tone laced with a hint of something you couldn't quite place—"I couldn't help but notice some... interesting sounds coming from your place," Jason's words were carefully chosen, his tone easy-going but his eyes dangerously sharp. "Thought I'd check in and see who's been keeping you busy tonight."

You find yourself at a loss for words, stunned by the realization that Jason not only heard you with Tim but also has the audacity to expect you to disclose who you were with. Tears begin to prickle in your eyes as you grapple with the unfairness of the situation. If only Tim had stayed for some form of aftercare, you wouldn't feel so utterly lost right now.

"You've been getting to know someone else, haven't you?" Jason's tone carries a blend of amusement and feigned curiosity, as if he already knows the answer but is daring you to admit it. It's as though he's challenging you to reveal the truth.

Your silence seems to irritate him, and a sneer plays at the corners of his lips as he leans in slightly, effortlessly invading your personal space. Because he's so confidently moving in, you don't think before opening the door more and exposing your nudity thoughtlessly. His eyes quickly scan your form and his sneer morphs into a mean smile at the sight. The realization that you've allowed these power dynamics to spiral out of control, allowing unspoken boundaries to be trampled, makes your tears bigger as he draws closer, threatening to drop.

"Lost for words, are we?" Jason's voice held a note of mockery, "It's funny how the most vocal sluts so often have the least to say when it comes to the truth."

You couldn't help but feel shame wash over you. The brutal way he spoke down to you left you almost shocked into submission; as if his words made you want to bow your head and eagerly do as he said. The overpowering scent Tim carried that you caught when you'd buried your nose into his neck still had you dizzy, your heartbeat throbbing and beginning to ache in your cunt. It was so dangerous to let Jason bully you into what you knew he wanted, especially after Tim had left you feeling so dejected and empty with his quick escape, but you were still desperately needy both physically and emotionally.

"Maybe you should worry less about who's been keeping me busy and more about how you can keep up."

It's confident at face value, but those tears are still threatening to spill and your voice is too quiet to convey self-assurance, betraying your shaky invitation.

There's a beat before Jason wordlessly invites himself in and you feel a sinking sensation beginning to form in the pit of your stomach. His silent actions speak volumes, locking the door behind him as he steps in and his body firmly presses against yours. The click of the lock sends a chill down your spine, a stark reminder that this is no longer just a tense exchange at the doorway.

You’re sure he can feel you trembling when he dips his head down to attach his lips to your neck, exhaling loudly when you melt into it. You’re certain he can tell you’re shaky when both his arms reach up to support you as soon as he’s locked the door behind him, holding you steady as he turns out the harsh kitchen light Tim neglected when he ran out. The only other source of light is softly spilling out from the bedroom from your lamp, lightly enveloping you two in a serene glow.

“We can stop anytime you want,” he says gently and more tears well up in your eyes at how fucking soft he sounds in comparison to how mean he just was, “just say it and I’ll listen.”

You sniffle back more tears that come out when he begins rubbing circles into your back, feeling frustrated that your body hasn’t caught the hint you’re not quite in the mood. The physical discomfort that has you convinced only orgasm will relieve it is hard to explain.

“I just don’t know what’s wrong with me, Jason,” you whimper, “I need this but my headspace is fucked.”

As you speak, you can feel Jason's arms tightening around you, offering comfort and support amid your confusion. You struggle to make sense of the conflicting desires coursing through your body, the overwhelming need for release clouding your thoughts.

Then you’re trying to keep your knees from giving out when his lips return to your neck, alternating between sharply nibbling and sucking the skin there.

“I’ll take care of you,” he breathily promises, one of his large hands snaking into your panties to rub your labia up and down as he guided you both into your bedroom. Shudders erupted over your skin when he eased you onto the bed to crawl above you, a grin on his face again as he pulled it away from your neck, "even if you've broken my heart."

"Jason-" you begin, pouting up at him, overwhelmed by the sensations and confusing signals from him, "You-"

He didn't let you finish your protests, covering your mouth with his in an obscenely lewd kiss as a finger slipped into you. The embarrassingly loud, low moan involuntarily spilling out onto the tongue now exploring your mouth makes him pull away and laugh, slowly pumping his finger.

"Did you let him cum in you?," he asks, sounding accusatory, the mocking grin glinting back at you, "You're so sloppy down here."

"He didn't!" You whine, aware he's being degrading again but knowing you're too far gone in committing to this pleasure to care, "I just... I need you that much, Jason."

He falters fingering you to process what you've just said to him, and your eyes search his expression, trying to figure out what he's thinking. The thrill of not knowing makes you clench down on him, squirming underneath him as your desperation grows.

"Please don't make me beg," you whine again, sure you sound pathetic, "Jason, plea-!"

You're cut off again, this time by the sensation of a second finger slipping in, pumping steadily as he attaches himself to your neck once more, biting and sucking as you moan in relief. You can't help but squeeze on his fingers at every sensation, feeling the painful tingling of arousal slowly ebb away with each dedicated movement of his. Quickly any pain is replaced with a building need for release and you close your eyes, focused on how good the friction of the finger-fucking feels.

It's increasingly apparent to you that you're in your bedroom with Jason. He's the hot neighbor you never imagined would be between your legs teasing you like this, smirking down at you like he was Satan. But here he is, sweetly giving you exactly what you want, exactly what you need.

He suddenly stops pumping them, pulling them out wordlessly and your eyes fly open in the absence. Before you can protest or do anything other than make frustrated eye contact and whine, he sinks them back in and pauses before wiggling them inside you in a way that makes your hips buck up against him with an even helplessly louder moan.

"There we go," he murmurs contentedly when you instinctively grab for anything when he moves like this again, settling on squeezing his bicep as it flexed with his fingering, "There's my good girl. You're so responsive to me, aren't you?"

"J-Jason," you whimper, your voice already breathless and needy as his fingers work their magic and you feel yourself approaching your climax. "Can I please cum?"

As soon as you ask it, the shame rushes through again. You didn't mean to sound so pathetic, but Jason's attitude makes you feel like you should ask him for permission with the way he's acted about Tim coming over and because it's him bringing you to the edge right now.

Jason's lips curve into a knowing smirk as he feels the immediate shift in your demeanor, sensing your embarrassment even as your body continues to respond to his touch.

"Did you just ask for permission?" he teases with his voice low and husky as he continues to pleasure you, slowing his strokes and gently placing his thumb onto your clit to rub circles, "How obedient of you, begging for release like a good little pet."

His words send a flush of heat to your cheeks, the embarrassment mingling with the added pleasure coursing through you.

"I-I didn't mean to," you stammer, your voice barely a whisper as you struggle to find the right words amidst all the overwhelming stimuli, "It's just... I can't control..."

Jason's smirk widens at your embarrassed stammering, relishing in the power he holds over you in this moment of vulnerability.

"Didn't think I'd have you begging for permission so soon," he taunts, his voice dripping with amusement as he continues to tease you. "Makes me wonder... did you ask the other guy for permission too?"

Your cheeks somehow burn even hotter at the mention of Tim, the memory of his presence earlier adding another layer of shame to your already flushed face.

"I-I didn't," you manage to choke out, your voice barely audible over the rush of blood in your ears. "I didn't need to..."

"Of course you didn't," he drawls, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Because I'm the only one who can make you feel this way, aren't I? And you know what? I'll make you forget about him," he whispers, his breath hot against your ear. "I'll make you forget about everything except how good I can make you feel."

"Move up and face that way," he murmurs, his voice low and husky as he guides you into a new position. "I want to see you from a different angle."

You comply without question, too caught up in desire to protest. Little do you know, you're playing right into Jason's hands, completely unaware of the surveillance cameras placed at strategic areas of your apartment and bedroom capturing every intimate moment between the two of you for the voyeuristic pleasure of the BatFamily. His movements are carefully calculated to get a better angle for the cameras hidden throughout your apartment, so he can prove to Tim that he fucks you better.

Suddenly, Jason shifts his position, dipping down between your legs with a predatory gleam in his eyes. His hot breath fans across your sensitive skin, sending shivers of anticipation down your spine. You muster the nerve to peer down at him and feel faint at the sight of such a gorgeous man hovering over your pussy, looking devilishly up at you.

"J..." you whimper, your voice barely a whisper as you feel his lips begin to press against your most intimate place. The sensation makes you gasp in surprise and instinctively try to shut your legs. He uses a big arm to keep your legs spread so his head and hands had room, his warm mouth alternating between flicking at your clit and sucking on it while his fingers were buried in you. While you can't pry him off if you wanted to, the grip you have on his hair with both hands helps you feel more grounded and gives you something to squeeze when he sucks hickeys into your labia lips.

You cry out his name when your orgasm finally hits, tugging on his hair to pull him as close as you can to your pussy as he bottoms his fingers out in you and sucks at your throbbing clit.

He laughs as he pops off your pussy, "How many orgasms is that for you tonight, baby?"

Your head is spinning and a new ache is growing in the depths of your pussy. You hiss when he slowly removes his fingers, trying to answer him, "Um, maybe three?"

"Mmmm" he practically purrs, crawling back on top of you and covering your mouth with a deep kiss you hadn't expected before pulling away to smile at you, "Being able to still count them means you haven't had enough yet."

You giggle but whine when he's back to nibbling at your neck again, hearing his clothes rustle while he distracts you with kisses, "Jason, you have to wear a condom. They're next to my bed in the dresser."

He lifts his head to glance over to the dresser, "No, they're not. They're on top of it. You and him used two earlier?"

"It-" your ear tips are warm again, "It doesn't matter."

"Right." Jason says and it frustrates you that he still seems slightly peeved about Tim's visit earlier. His body hovers over you as he cranes for the condoms and he chuckles, bringing one of your vibrators into your view underneath him, "I want to see you get ready for me on this while I put this on," he gives you a look like he means business that sends shivers down your spine, "and it better be your favorite setting."

Closing your eyes and trying to not worry about the intense warm feeling spreading across your body in throbbing sensations, you expertly start and find your favorite setting on the sex toy, whining when you find the best spot near your clit. Some part of you is screaming at your decision to close your eyes; it's better for you to focus on what he said in this head-heavy state, but you're also screaming at yourself, begging yourself to just peek at what Mr. Hot Neighbor is packing. Something tells you it'll make the brain fog happening in your head worse.

The sounds of latex and skin quiet down and his lips are back on yours, hotter and heavier than any other. Or maybe that's just how you're seeing it? Your eyes fly open when you feel it bumping against your thigh and your wide eyes meet his teasing ones when he pulls away from the sweaty kiss, smiling down at you.

"How do you want it?"

"...I like it from behind," you shyly state, yelping in surprise when he promptly grabs you by the waist and roughly flips you onto your stomach. It would make sense that all those muscles would be good for something after all. He dips down to nibble on your ear tip and lays some of his bulky weight on you and you feel his penis pressing against your ass.

"What do you like about it?" He asks, and you feel weak and tremble as he grabs your hips and firmly pulls them up so they're flush against his pelvis, hard penis slowly rubbing against your cunt.

You want him to fuck you so badly, and it makes you feel pathetic and slutty given Tim had been here earlier.

"Jason-" Your bratty tone is cut off by him laying a hard smack onto your ass, and you jump in his grasp.

"Answer me or I'm not putting it in," he growls.

"That it's a deep position and it makes me feel full," you confess, feeling feverish from your need, "Please please fuck me."

"Hmmm," he hums, hesitating. In frustration, you wiggle your butt against him, rubbing yourself on his dick in impatience, "Is that it?"

"Why are you being so mean," you pout, attitude dissolving when you feel him prodding against your entrance and gasp, "Jeez, you're big."

"I know you can take it," he says and begins easing it in. You stare down at the blankets your hands are wildly gripping and moan while his entry begins stretching you open, "I'd bet you even like the pain, don't you?"

"Yes and I-I-" you feel like you can't even breathe until he's all the way in, "I can't believe you're so big." You're feeling increasingly dizzy as he slowly inches his way in, feeling a weird static-y sensation building up in your head as he eases into you.

The orgasm hits almost as soon as he bottoms out, and your body begins involuntarily twitching with each throb of your pussy clenching around him. The stimulation is getting to be too much but your moans are loud and lustful as he helps you ride out your climax on him, gripping your hips tightly to keep you glued on his dick. He keeps you plugged up with himself as you twitch on him until you finally stop cumming, trying to catch your breath underneath him after it tore through you.

The silence and stillness is broken by wet sex sounds as he begins thrusting, pulling almost all the way out before burying himself back in decidedly. The pace is slow but each thrust makes you feel like you're possessed when you throw your head back and moan at the sounds, feeling your vision blur.

"Oh," he coos, "would'ya look at that?"

His big hand comes up to wipe at your face and he shows you the drool he just dragged off your chin. His hand disappears from your view and you hear him suck on his fingers, pulling them off with an audible 'pop'. The thought of Jason sucking your spit off his fingers makes you shudder and he feels you clench on his dick like mad again.

"Oh, fuck, just like that, baby," he whines and you whimper in reaction to how fucking good Jason sounds when he whines for you, "Take me just like that."

His pace is faster but he's fucking you just as hard, his fingers digging into your sides as he grips you and pounds you down on him like you were a toy. Feeling yourself inching towards another orgasm, you start whining and repeat to him over and over that it's coming.

"I know," he manages through his grunts, ramming into you now at his own vicious pace, "I'm so close, I know you can cum with me, you can do one more."

Then all at once, as he climaxes and pushes himself all the way in, you feel yourself snap and you spasm on him with your final orgasm, crying out with each pulsing sensation. His moan is choked as you cum with him, and his hips lightly jolt with each twitch of his dick as he empties into the condom. As he and you both come down from your highs, the hands that were gripping your waist slink up and he embraces you from behind, using his weight to ease you down until you're lying on your stomach and he's atop you, breathing heavily.

"Are you okay?" he finally asks, "You're shaking so badly right now."

"I-I'm just..." it's hard for you to finish your sentence. How are you supposed to tell him Tim left without aftercare, you just had more orgasms in one night than you ever had before, and you were scared of how your relationships with both would fare after this night?

"Here, hang on," he says and his weight lifts off of you. His dick slowly begins to slide out of you and you hiss at the sensation, feeling tears spring into your eyes at the settling throbbing pain.

"Woah, hey," Jason's voice breaks through the haze of pain and exhaustion, his touch gentle as he helps you shift from lying on your stomach to settling in his lap. His thumb brushes away a stray tear that escapes your eye. "Tell me what's wrong. Was I too rough?"

You shake your head before he even finishes asking, fighting to keep your voice steady despite the tremble in your bottom lip. "No, you're fine, thank you," you manage, your gaze dropping to your hands. "I'm just tired and sore."

The lie hangs heavy in the air, and you can sense Jason's skepticism in the silence that follows. But to your relief, he doesn't press further. Instead, he wraps his arms securely around you, pulling you close against his chest, your head resting against his shoulder. He rubs slow circles into your back as you sniffle in his arms.

"Hey," he murmurs, "You know you can tell me anything, right? Whatever it is, I'm here for you."

Your mind races with uncertainty. You worry if you're being too vulnerable, too open with him. After all, you haven't known each other for that long, and revealing this level of distress feels scary to you. Summoning a shard of courage, you lift your head from his shoulder, meeting his gaze tentatively. His eyes are filled with worry, yet there's a glimmer of relief as you finally meet his gaze through your tears.

"Hey," you begin softly, your voice barely above a whisper. "Do you think... could you maybe grab us some water and Advil? Just for now? They're both in the kitchen."

The request feels small in comparison to the weight of your emotions, but it's a start. Without another word, he gently eases you out of his lap, tucks a pillow next to you for your comfort, and stands up. Quickly throwing on his boxers and his shirt, he leaves. Your gaze lingers on his retreating form, admiring his physique and pondering once again how he acquired the scars that litter his torso and upper thighs.

The dull ache in your body becomes more pronounced, each movement sending waves of discomfort rippling through you. You shift on the bed, muscles protesting as you try to find a more comfortable position. A quiet groan escapes your lips, the pain a sharp reminder of the intensity of your recent sexual escapades. It feels like it's been longer than it should be, but you swallow the fear he's left you like Tim did, trusting that he'd come back.

As Jason returns, you feel a twinge of relief wash over you. He's carrying not only the Advil and your reusable bottle of water but also a small bag of cookies, which he sheepishly explains his roommate baked for him. He brought a cup of water from the kitchen for himself, bringing out a packet of powder that he poured in.

"Hey, I've got an extra," he mentions, showing you another packet from his pocket, "If you're game, we could watch a movie or hang out for a bit."

Taking the packet, you see it's an edible drink mix, and your devious grin makes him laugh. Letting him give you his freshly mixed cup, you guzzled it greedily, swallowing a couple painkillers down with it. As he used your water bottle to pour himself a new cup, you tried to stand and instead felt very dizzy, plopping back down on your sheets.

Jason is quick to steady you, "Are you okay?" he asks, his voice again laced with worry.

You manage a weak nod, trying to shake off the dizziness. "Yeah, just need to shake it off," you reply, though you're not entirely convinced yourself.

He stays close, gauging your condition, "What do you need right now?"

You pause, considering your options, "A shower would be good. I think the Advil and the weed will help my pain, but I can't relax if I don't feel clean."

"Okay," he says, "Let's get you over there."

You lean on him for support as you push yourself upright, feeling a wave of dizziness wash over you. With Jason's arm securely around your waist, he helps ensure you don't stumble or lose your balance on your way through your bedroom to your bathroom.

He hesitates for a brief moment when you get there, his protective instincts kicking in. "I'm not sure leaving you alone right now is the best idea."

"You're right," you concede, feeling a bit shy, "I'd feel safer with you here. Would you mind sticking around? Just in case? I could use the company."

"Absolutely," he affirms, a flicker of intensity in his gaze. "Consider me your personal bodyguard."

It's really less awkward than you thought it might be, with him just helping you step over the tub and closing the curtain behind you. It was honestly a good idea to have him there, since every time you bent over to reach the shampoo or soap up, you'd feel so dizzy you thought you'd fall. You decided to keep it brief, soaping up the necessities and rinsing off quickly while he chatted about his day-to-day. Apparently the cat was a friends and he was watching it for them, his boss was a dick, and his dad was a jerk. You also let him freshen up with an extra toothbrush you kept for visitors, and he laughed since he lived next door and could have gone to clean up over there.

By the time you were done showering, the weed had gotten to both of you and you couldn't hold back inexplicable giggles as you toweled up like he hadn't seen your naked body up close and personal earlier. Feeling less weak but still dizzy, you stumbled back to the bedroom with Jason attached at the hip, collapsing in bed in a fit of laughter at something super dumb he said. Eventually you pulled an oversized t-shirt over your nudity and some panties, dimming the bedroom lights.

He turned on a show you both liked well enough, and you cuddled into his side, yawning. You were almost asleep when he excused himself with a roll of his eyes, gesturing to his ringing phone. Taking the call in the living room and closing the door to not disturb you, you thought you heard him saying "Ivy" or "patrol", but you were really too hazy between the physical exhaustion, the weed, the Advil, and the eventful evening to pay attention to eavesdropping.

When Jason returned to the warm bed, he pulled the sheets up and you settled back into his arms.

"Hey, how are you feeling now?" He asks softly, "Are you still dizzy?"

"Mmm," you groan sleepily, "I feel better now. Why?"

"No reason, just wanted to check," he says, arms gripping a little tighter, "Have sweet dreams, sparrow."

Crinkling your eyebrows in amusement and smiling at the nickname, you fell back asleep quickly.

Part 1, Part 3: here

[adventuringblind]

Keep me Close

Past Jules Bianchi x reader, platonic Charles Leclerc x Reader

Genre: angst

Request: yepyep finally got me some angst things to write

Summary: Charles's new girlfriend can't understand why he's so attached to the reader

Warnings: talks of death, name calling, a table gets flipped

Notes: I definitely didn't cry writing this at one point. Also, no hate to Alex!! I know hardly anything about her, but I know her and Charles are currently together, and it fits the Timeline, so please bear with me.

Masterlist

Your love for Jules was something you find in fairy tales. It was beautiful, and both of you felt connected on a level deeper than anything imaginable.

It started when you were both merely kids. You were six, and he was eight. The two of you had met at the wedding of a mutual friend. Dressed in nice clothing, he'd marched right up to you and claimed to be a knight looking for a princess.

You were inseparable after that. It was like you'd found your soulmate.

When you turned eighteen, Jules had immediately proposed. And when you countered by asking if you were both too young, he said, 'Why waste time when I know I'll love you forever?'"

You'd gotten close with Leclerc family. Specifically with Charles since Jules was named godfather. He spent a great deal of time with you and Jules.

Then 2014. Everyone was sure Jules was going to get a seat with Ferrari. It would be a crime if he didn't.

You remember kissing him, good luck. The last feeling of his lips on your before getting in the car.

You remember telling him to be safe with the rain; that you love him dearly. He replied with his signature wink and an 'I love you more and I always am.'

Then everything stopped. The world seemed to no longer spin. Time refused to move forward as you willed it to go back.

It couldn't be real. There was no way it had happened. You still thought that as you sat at his bedside faithfully for months. There wasn't a world you wanted to live in if it didn't have Jules.

Charles was similarly devastated. He'd lost someone dear to him. The boy spent all his free time sitting with you in the hospital. Even bringing around food that Pascale had made to keep you alive. Something you didn't want to be at that moment.

The bond you'd formed with Charles during this time is hard to explain. There is nothing romantic. He's family despite the age gap not being that large.

He was, and is still, family. You'd promised to still take care of him despite the loss of Jules, and he promised to do the same in his stead.

The start of the 2024bseason brings on an interesting turn of events. Charles had split with his girlfriend before the new year and is now with his new girlfriend Alex.

You like her. She's very sweet as far as you've been told. But there is something there that makes you worry. You just blame the fact that you want the best for Charles.

The first time you met her was at a family dinner. Charles brought Alex with him to introduce her to everyone.

You were actually the first person he introduced her to. You felt honored, but there was something behind her eyes that you couldn't quite pinpoint. But you kept it to yourself and made friendly conversation.

The next time you saw her was when she dropped by the Leclerc family home unannounced. The position she caught you in wasn't a bad one, but it probably didn't look good to her.

Charles had a rough race in Monaco, as per usual, and was laying with his head in your lap while you ran fingers through his hair. It's the same thing Jules had done when Charles was a child after a bad Karting race.

Alex definitely didn't look pleased with you. But she managed to put kn a smile and say hello.

It was awkward. Especially after Charles and her went into another room because you could hear them talking in hushed whispers.

Your fingers find the chain with your wedding ring on it. Your lips press against the cold metal as you hold the ring to your mouth. "I hope I'm doing this right, Jules. It's hard without you here."

The last time you saw Alex was at a birthday party. Your birthday party. Something you don't like having after Jules because he was the one who always made the day special.

Charles is a stubborn man though and decided it was necessary. Partly because this is his way of remembering that you are alive and with them, but it also gives him and excuse to drink and dance.

It wasn't anything massive. Or at least - not a massive as it could have been. There were a good number of people crowded into your Monaco home. The food is good, and the music is better. It definitely felt like a party Jules would have dragged you to in your youth.

It's not long until Charles appears at the door with Alex in tow. He comes to you, and you embrace him as usual. The smile on his face makes everything worth it. despite having to deal with a party for a few hours.

Pierre also finds you and starts up conversation. The three of you fail to notice the fourth becoming increasingly agitated.

A loud crashing sound pulls all of their attention. Alex flipped over the table in her agitation and is now sending chills down your spine with the look on her face.

"Why are you so determined to be some kind of homewrecker! Why can't you just stop being a creep to Charles and let us live in peace!" She screams. It hits your mind like a shadow. The world fades away, and your thoughts are filled with the doubts you have daily.

Tears fill your eyes, and your body goes rigid. "I'm Charles' godmother. Y/N Bianchi. I am no homewrecker." You choke.

Charles and Pierre take a protective step in front of you. "Get out!" Charles' voice drips with venom. Alex looks stunned. She doesn't move even as Charles shouts at her. "Nobody gets to speak like that to my family! Get out!"

Then she runs. Avoiding the gazes of disapproval.

Charles spins around and places his hands on your shoulders. His eyes scanning your face to assess the damage.

"I'm so sorry that happened. You're amazing. Always have been. And anyone who says differently is a fucking asshole."

Even through the tears, she smiles. Jules couldn't have left her in better hands.

[a-bright-comet]

Jade Shadows Thoughts

(NOTICE: I have edited this post after a few days and many lovely replies and tags giving me more insight and opinions, overall my view of this quest has gotten a lot more positive, thank you all <3) okaaayyyy I am utterly rattled rn lmao also made the mistake of looking at tumblr after doing the quest and as expected it seems to be a 50/50 of hating or loving it. so here are my personal thoughts, I am a little scared but talk seems to be civil thankfully. I can definitely agree on the sentiment that this quest needed more time, cause let's be honest the people hating this quest wouldn't be jumping to the things they're jumping to if Jade herself got more screen-time before the big drop, warframe's style has always been vague and never 100% straight-forward and I think that unfortunately hurt it a bit this time, as what they didn't show came off wrong to many people and while I sorta see why I disagree on some parts. I also feel like the quest kinda got a bit *too* hyped both by DE and the fanbase's theories, way too short, it deserved and needed to be a bit longer for it's special narrative. Jade kinda got a weird spot, both being the main focus alongside Stalker but also hardly explored. But let's be honest, most of the negativity is caused by this outside-circumstance alone. Now, what I absolutely disagree with is people insisting that DE was trying to say "bodily autonomy bad" or that Stalker didn't care about her and only the child, thing is I thought it was pretty fucking clear that she *wanted* the child in what little was shown and she was going to die no matter the outcome (thanks to the orokin to absolutely no one's surprise) and Stalker in his guilt for all she's done for him wanted to make sure that he at least kept this one promise to Her, cause She wanted it. she still had bodily autonomy in the fact She wanted this, she wanted the child no matter what. and she wanted stalker to protect her and the kid. And he did, like a true loving partner. DE has a long track record of being very autonomy-positive. A point they make time and time again is that ripping it away is *bad* and horrifying, the quest is a bittersweet tragedy, not a horror. Honestly there would be 0 issue if DE had given us a Jade-only quest before this one, I personally would've preferred it as well, she's cool as hell she deserves it. who knows maybe DE will see all of this and make prequel quests? we can only hope. I do not want to assume the worst of anyone or anything cause that's a miserable existence. Look I personally enjoyed the quest and get the feeling whoever wrote it did it out of some personal experience or sorrow, that's at least the vibe I got. It's a tragedy, but her choice was seen till the end, many women choose to still have a child despite knowing they won't make it, many also don't, that's why choice is important. and she did, she chose her child that she was having while likely forcibly infested and turned into a warframe. (also remember there are women on the team who likely looked at this.) there are some other iffy parts of the quest, (really should've been the drifter instead of the operator if they were gonna do that, but that's personal discomfort.) but overall I enjoyed it and open to explore the implications of a born-warframe-child and Stalker healing as they both grow together. These are my thoughts, and I can understand why people like or dislike this quest, but I think it's fine and just ended up in a very unfortunate spot due to outside circumstances beyond it's control. (sorry if any of this comes off as aggressive it is not my intention despite how riled I am by some folk online, I disagree with you but I do not hate you, I don't even know you.)

Her choice, His promise, Their light.

Thank you for reading my first ever text post about something I care about, not sure I'll be doing this again any time soon out of anxiety lol (Edit: and thanks to everyone responding to this post wonderfully, ya'll are great and have lessened my anxiety and have made me appreciate this quest more <3)

[lqveharrington]

Handsome As Always | V.

summary: After three years of dating, you and Vox decide to tie the knot. But what happens when Vox lets his fears consume him?

pairing: Vox x Lucifer’s Daughter!Reader

includes: MAJOR FLUFF, insecure Vox, over-protective Lucifer, Charlie being herself, Valentino being his usual self (that’s pretty much it, let me know if I’m missing anything!)

a/n: this can be read as a part two of ‘you look beautiful’ but can also be read individually!

Ever since your father deemed it was all right to date Vox, you’ve watched your relationship grow in many ways. Vox gained upgrades to his technical self while you gained more recognition as the upcoming Queen of Hell. Your relationship became more well-known to the Pride Ring, and eventually, the news made its way down the other rings. However, there were things you believed never changed. Like Vox’s fears that were kept hidden from lowlife sinners and Overlords.

Vox feared a total of three things as an Overlord and as your loving boyfriend. He feared your father, rejection, and losing you from his life in Hell. And throughout your three-year relationship, you were able to witness each fear creep up behind him at least once.

But there were times you didn’t realize they were happening or being kept from you.

“You promise to watch over my little girl?” Lucifer handed Vox a velvet box, watching the Technology Overlord nod with fervor. “You better. If not, I swear I will not hesitate to wipe you out of existence with the snap of my finger, do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.” Vox tucked the box away into his suit pocket, flattening the new creases made. “I understand. I promise I will cherish your daughter until the day Hell freezes over.”

“Good.” He gave a harsh pat to the back of the Overlord’s back, earning an awkward chuckle from him. The two stood in silence for a hot minute, waiting for something else to happen before you walked in with Charlie trailing behind you.

“Dad, Charlie said she didn’t take the necklace but… Vox?” You give him a quizzical look, snapping your earring on. You and Charlie glanced at one another before you spoke again, smoothing out your skirt. “What are you doing here so early? I wasn’t expecting you to be here for another thirty minutes.” You squint when your father scoots away from where he originally stood. “Nonetheless seeing you with my father.”

Vox pulled you into his arms, squeezing your waist. “I just thought I could come earlier. I don’t mind waiting a little longer if you need more time, gorgeous.”

“Cheeky picture box.”

“I’m a flat screen. Upgraded, remember?” He teased, tilting his head at the way you grinned up at him. “You love me.”

“I do.” You let him lift your chin and press a kiss to your lips, smiling softly.

Lucifer coughed, “Won’t you look at the time? Sweetheart, you have to get ready for your date if you want to leave with Vox anytime soon.”

You separate with a grin etched on your face despite the eye roll you gave your father, gaining a chuckle from your partner. “I’ll be back soon.”

The second you left the foyer, Charlie was shooting questions toward Vox, bouncing on her heels at her sister’s soon-to-be fiancé. “Did my dad give you the ring? Are you excited? Gosh, my heart is pounding for you two! Do you know how you’ll propose? Who else knows that you’re proposing tonight?”

“Yes, more nervous than excited, mine is too, nope, and just you guys and Alastor,” Vox answered all her questions with a lopsided smile, fiddling with his fingers.

“Nervous? What for?” Charlie sat on her hands to prevent more movement. “It’s not like she’ll reject you after rejecting a million other guys. She actually loves you. Those other guys just asked her ‘cause she was royalty.”

“Charlie!” Lucifer glared in his daughter’s direction, earning a quiet squeak from her. “She won’t reject you, Vox. She truly loves you. She would never leave you.”

The father-daughter duo watched Vox glitch at the newfound information, both cursing themselves for making the sinner a mess. Vox was fine until Lucifer and Charlie began talking about your past experiences. The fear seeped into him as he felt his fans kick on, becoming a glitching mess by the time Lucifer was able to speak again.

“Okay, uh— I’m not sure how to fix this.” He rested his hands on his cane, looking back at the stairs and the sinner glitching in front of him. “Listen, uh, my daughter isn’t one to date someone for three years and just leave. She really does love you. I mean, she gives you these lovesick looks whenever she sees you!” Lucifer sighed when the thought of his little girl getting married appeared, a soft smile etching on his lips.

Charlie clasped her hands together in excitement, “And I’m sure she wouldn’t say no either. You two are perfect for each other…”

“What now?” You stick your head in between hers and your father’s, resting on Charlie’s shoulder.

“Come here, let me look at you.” Lucifer pulled his eldest to the front of him, eyes beaming with pride. “You look amazing, honey.”

“Thank you.” You do a full turn before you feel an arm pull your waist to a chest, warmth filling your own. “Hi, handsome.”

“Are you ready to go, my love?” He pressed a kiss to the back of your head, missing the way Charlie and Lucifer glanced at one another.

“Of course.” You spun in his arms, linking your hands together.

You watched as Vox consistently dropped his fork, apologizing each time for the clattering noise. You purse your lips at his nth time for apologizing, the fork hitting against the table. Today was supposed to be a relaxing night for your anniversary, but something was bothering your other half. So in return, it bothered you.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” You set down your utensils and reach for his hand that wasn’t messing with the food on the plate. “You’ve been fidgeting since we left the manor.”

“Sorry, there’s just a lot going on in my mind.” He squeezes your hand and meets your eyes. His gaze relaxes within a second, giving you a soft grin. Vox sees it now, the look your father was talking about. He takes both your hands in his, “I love you.”

“I love you too, Vox.” You smile and rub his hand.

“I really do love you…” He feels himself heat up before clearing his throat, keeping his eyes locked with yours. “Gorgeous, these past three years with you have been unbelievably amazing. You’ve been this light sent from Heaven for me and I can’t thank you enough for being there for me. You make me feel like my fans constantly need to be on, and you’re always there for me even if you don’t want to be… I love you more than any words can describe it. So…” Vox kneeled on one knee and reached for the velvet box in his pocket, opening it to reveal the ring Lucifer used to propose to Lilith. Your name fell past his lips as tears fell down your face, “—Will you marry me?”

You let out a wet laugh, nodding at him. “Of course, I’ll marry you, you cheesy picture box.”

Vox slipped the ring on your fingers before pulling you up from your seat and lifting you to spin around with him. “I love you.”

You rest your hands on his chest as he stops spinning, “I love you so much more.” Your lips connected, the feeling of electricity stronger than ever between the two of you. “I’m never leaving your side.”

“No?” He held you close, hands clasping firmly around your waist. “I hoped you would never.”

“Never.” You press another kiss to his lips, messing with the ring on your finger. “Is this why you were talking to my dad?”

Vox nodded, eyes filled with love. “How else was I supposed to get parental consent to marry the eldest of the Morningstar family?”

“Oh, shut up.” You smile and kiss him, feeling his grin in the kiss.

When you got back from the restaurant, Charlie and Lucifer immediately zeroed in on your left hand. You flashed your hand toward them before getting tackled by a hug when they saw the engagement ring adorning your finger, noises of excitement coming from your family.

Lucifer shook Vox’s hand when he spotted the Overlord, “I told you she loves you.”

The next eight months were taken over by your wedding plans. From the venue to the flavor of cake, you and Vox were present for all decisions, making sure everything was up to both your tastes. However, Lucifer handled all the expenses and invitations, ensuring that his eldest had the best despite Vox being one of the richest Overlords in Hell. Charlie was with you when you picked out your wedding dress, assuring you that everything was beautiful.

It wasn’t until the day of the wedding that you and Vox became nervous. More so, Vox.

“You can’t tell me you’re too pussy to marry la princesa now, Voxy. It’s your wedding day.” Valentino blew smoke from where he stood in the dressing room, eyeing the television demon. “What are you even nervous about?”

“What if she realizes she can do so much better than me?” Vox drags his claws down his screen, pacing around the room. His dead heart rate picked up, the paper vows in his suit feeling heavy with each second. “I haven’t seen her since two days ago! She might’ve changed her mind—“

“Vox, I doubt your doll would change her mind about marrying you.” Valentino points his cigar at him, rolling his eyes when Vox glares in his direction at your nickname. “You’re rich, she loves you, you’ve got the wits and brains, she has beauty and power. I don’t get what’s wrong.”

“She’s more than just looks and status!” Vox adjusted his lapels, smoothing them out. “This is such a stupid tradition. Separating the groom and bride before the wedding? They can go to Hell.”

“They most likely are.”

Vox sucks in a breath, glancing at the time. “Fuck, okay. Where’s Alastor?”

“You think I would know where your best man is?” Valentino pushed off the dresser and made his way toward the door. “He’ll appear when he appears. Otherwise, have an amazing wedding. I’ll be seated with Vel.”

Vox let out a frustrated groan. He truly loves you, but the fear gnawing from the inside out was making this day so much more difficult than it needed to be. His eyes twitched as the clock ticked, not knowing where his best man was and how his soon-to-be wife was.

You, on the other hand, were also pacing your own dressing room, Charlie doing her best to calm you down before it was your turn to walk down the aisle.

“It’s going to be fine! You look amazing, the venue is perfect, and you don’t have to worry about safety, what’s left to scrutinize?”

“Does Vox love me?” You whip around and stare at your sister with a distraught look. “I mean, I love him. He’s wonderful, but what if he thinks I’m a pretentious royal who is just marrying him for fun just to leave?”

“That’s not what he’s thinking about.” She gripped your arms, slightly shaking you. “Right now, he’s waiting to marry the love of his life in death at the arbor. And we both know that you love him until double death.” You let out a small chuckle, resting your hands on your bouquet. “And as of now, I need to walk down the aisle as your maid of honor and then you need to walk down with Dad, okay?”

You nod, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “I’ll see you up there, Charlie.”

“You look beautiful, don’t ruin it!” She exclaimed as she stepped out of the room.

You smiled as she left, then met your father’s eyes as he stepped inside the room. “Hi, dad.”

“Oh, baby, you look… You’re all grown up.” Lucifer gave you a small smile and hugged you, keeping his tears in until later. “You’re making me seem like an old man.”

“Dad.” You laugh against his shoulder.

“Are you ready, my little princess?” He reached up and cupped your face, gaze filled with joy. You link your arm with his, nodding. “Then let’s get you married.”

And it truly was gorgeous. Since it was a royal wedding, there were many people in attendance, but your attention was solely on Vox. Both your fears and Vox’s fears faded away when you met each other’s gaze, the admiration radiating off the contact. And you never broke eye contact with him, even when you met up at the altar. When Lucifer started officiating, you kept close by Vox’s side, doing your best not to kiss him right then and there.

“You look beautiful,” Vox murmured in your direction, making your smile wider.

You glanced over to meet his eyes, “Thank you… You look handsome as always.”

You both chuckled at your words, knowing you said those exact same words to one another when he first met your father. Soon enough, vows were completed with few tears, and rings were passed over, the only thing left was the pronouncement.

“By the power invested by me, I now pronounce you husband and wife.” Lucifer clasped his hands together, a golden, red, and blue wisp swirling around the newlywed couple. “You may now kiss your bride.”

Vox pulled you in by the waist, bringing his screen close to your face. “I’ve been waiting two days to do this again.”

“Let’s give them a show then.” You wrap your arms around his neck as he pulls you back with a hand secure on your waist and meets your lips, the cheers from the audience making you smile into the kiss.

“Okay, kids. Break it up, I’m still here.” Lucifer coughed from where he stood, not making eye contact with his daughter. When you throw him a playful look, he smiles, finishing the ceremony. “It’s my honor and privilege to present to you for the first time Mr. and Mrs. Vox Morningstar!”

Vox raises his brow at you, “Your last name?”

“You don’t like yours, why not have mine?” You tease as you link your hand with his, walking down the aisle.

“I’ll have all of you if you want me.” He presses a kiss to your temple, the static from his lips gone. “I love you, beautiful.”

“I love you more, handsome.” You rest your head on his shoulder with the biggest grin adorning your face.

Yeah, his fears were irrational.

©lqveharrington - all rights reserved. do not copy, translate or share my work on other media platforms

[rubycruzin4abruzin]

Forbidden Crown - II

Summary: Five years after your last visit to Tir Asleen, you finally get to see Kit again. Although you promised your mother you wouldn’t let Kit influence you, her fiery personality and strong will draw you in, and open your eyes to a whole new world of excitement and adventure.

Pairing: kit tanthalos x princess!reader

Contains: fluff, reader’s subtle mommy issues, rebellious kit, weapons, sword fighting, stumbling upon mature illustrations, childlike innocence, implied parent death, one bed, sneaking out

Word Count: 5.6k

A/N: this chapter does contain adolescents stumbling upon some ‘sensual’ illustrations in library books. It is purely meant to be part of a ‘coming of age,’ and I even had others proofread it to make sure it comes off that way. Anyways, here’s the second chapter of Forbidden Crown! :)

Almost immediately upon returning to Azarenth, you began pressing your parents about revisiting Tir Asleen.

Your inquiries began innocently. “Mommy, can we go and see the twins today?”

Each time, she’d shake her head. “Not today, sweetheart. Our responsibilities leave no time for such an endeavor.”

Then, you resorted to excuses. “Father, we’ve been so busy, we could really use a holiday. How about a trip to Tir Asleen?”

He’d chortle at the suggestion. “Princess, if we were to go on holiday, it certainly would not be to a place such as Tir Asleen!”

Every day, you would pose similar questions, and as time went on, your parents' refusals became curt, tinged with vexation. Eventually, you ceased questioning altogether, not wanting to further irritate them.

Despite your silence, your mind occupied itself with thoughts of Kit. You longed to keep in contact with her, but your parents thought you weren’t old enough to have your own carrier pigeon. In an attempt to keep her close, you even secretly wore her breeches beneath your dresses until they no longer fit, then kept them stashed in the bottom of your storage chest, hidden from your parents or any prying maids.

Every day, you wondered how she was doing, and every day, you wondered if she thought of you as well.

It wasn’t until just before the summer of your tenth year that you thought you would ever see Kit again. On a golden May afternoon, you heard your mothers voice calling you in from playing outside with some children from the nearby village. Disgruntled, you bid your friends farewell and trudged back in through the castle doors.

Upon entering, you immediately saw your parents sitting in the Great Hall, hands folded on the table in front of them. You gulped; this room was rarely ever used, with the exception of large gatherings or very important meetings. Hypothetical scenarios swarmed your mind as you desperately tried to figure out what horrible thing you had done to warrant a meeting in the Great Hall.

Walking in, you took a seat across from your parents, folding your hands in your lap and refusing eye contact.

“I’m sure you’re wondering why we called you in here,” your mother began, never one to beat around the bush.

You nodded slowly, still declining to meet her gaze. Your father cleared his throat, taking over the conversation.

“Princess,” he began. “As you’re well aware, you are a child of nobility. It is very important to us that you grow up receiving the best education and training possible, and that includes learning crucial life skills such as independence and adaptability.”

Furrowing your brow, you nodded, confused. You didn’t have a clue where this conversation was going and frankly wished your parents would just get to the point so you could go back outside.

Almost as if she could read your mind, your mother jumped in. “Your father and I have been exchanging letters with the Queen of Tir Asleen. You remember Sorsha and her twins, don’t you?”

Your ears perked up at this, the mere mention of your long-lost friends sending a wave of sweet nostalgia to wash over you. “Of course! I loved playing with Kit.”

“And Airk,” your mother interrupted, hardening her gaze.

Forgetting that your mother wasn’t necessarily a fan of the Princess of Tir Asleen, you were quick to agree. “Yes, Airk too, surely.”

“After some back and forth,” your mother took a deep breath before delivering the news. “Queen Sorsha has agreed to foster you temporarily. You will be staying in Tir Asleen with her and her children for the summer months.”

Just for a brief moment, you swore your heart stopped beating before a burst of warmth exploded in your chest. Three whole months spent with Kit? Staying in the Tir Asleen castle? Away from your parents? The very thought made you tingle with excitement.

“This is not a holiday,” your mother interrupted your daydream as if she could see your thoughts. “You will be studying under an array of tutors and governesses, receiving a rigorous education and learning proper court etiquette. I hope you don’t think you’re going to spend the entire summer rolling around in mud with that filthy girl.”

Your mother’s slander against Kit made your blood boil underneath your skin, evaporating to your face and turning your cheeks a dark crimson. Every cell in your body wanted to stand up and scream at your mother before shouting Kit’s praises. Instead, you decided to seethe quietly, fearing that speaking up could jeopardize the trip.

As the conversation came to a close and you got up to leave, your mother called your name just before you made it out the door. You took a deep breath, forcing a grin as you turned to face her.

“Yes, mother?” Your voice came out strained and tense.

Her expression turned serious as her jaw stilled, mouth tight in a straight line. She peered at you through her brow, not breaking her gaze for one moment.

“Don’t let that Kit girl influence you. I mean it.”

The following fortnight seemed to drag as you waited impatiently for June to arrive. Each day seemed to tick by slower than the last, until you managed to develop an irrational hatred for the month of May.

When the morning of your departure finally arrived, a servant entered your bedchamber to fetch your storage chest, only to find the room empty and the chest missing. After informing the castle and a brief moment of panic, one of the guards found you already in the carriage, having dragged your storage chest by yourself all the way outside at the first sign of daybreak.

“May we leave now?” You asked, ever impatient.

The castle staff shared a hearty chuckle over your eagerness when your parents stepped outside, dismissing the crew before bidding their final farewells.

“Luck be with you in Tir Asleen, Princess,” your father began, bearing his familiar kind smile. “You’re not to worry about traveling alone, I hired the best coachman in all of Azarenth to ensure your safety.”

Returning your fathers warm grin, you leaned out the carriage window to wrap your arms around his neck. Your mother, nowhere near as affectionate as her husband, simply gave you a tight smile and a curt nod.

“Be on your best behavior for Sorsha, please.”

The day-long journey to Tir Asleen was long and winding, the wheels against cobblestone bricks gently rocking the carriage. Traveling alone for the first time had you a tad nervous, but the friendly coachman made sure to keep you company.

Soon, as the late afternoon sun began its descent, the castle of Tir Asleen gradually came into view. Nostalgic memories rushed through your mind as the stone battlements seemed to pierce the clouds. You leaned your head out the carriage window, feeling the warm wind on your face and breathing in the familiar smell of dew.

The carriage came to a halt at the castle entrance, the sudden stillness of the car making you wonder how long your hands had been shaking. Peering out the carriage window, you saw Airk near the front, sword sparring with another boy around his age.

Disappointment shadowed your face at the absence of Kit, but you tried to hide it. As you waited for the coachman to gather your things, you busied yourself watching Airk spar. He was quite the swordsman, staying quick on his feet, and countering each attack with focus clouding his uncovered face.

Despite Airk’s impressive skill, his opponent still seemed to have the upper hand. You couldn’t quite make out who he was due to a faceplate covering his features, but his technique was precise, perfected, almost as if he’d had to work twice as hard as Airk to get where he was.

Suddenly, Airk momentarily lost his footing on a slippery rock, allowing his mysterious opponent to take advantage and deliver one final strike. Airk tumbled to the ground, the anonymous swordsman moving to stand over him as he conceded defeat.

You couldn’t help but erupt into applause, after all, duels rarely happened in your kingdom. Startled, Airk and his friend turned towards you, noticing your presence for the first time since you’d arrived. You were about to approach Airk and exchange pleasant greetings when his masked adversary suddenly removed his faceplate, shaking out his hair and revealing his identity.

Shock hung from your features. This mysterious man wasn’t mysterious at all! Or a man! It was Kit!

“Kit!” You exclaimed, your voice coming out as an involuntary squeal.

She called your name back and ran to you, enveloping you in a hug. You buried your face into the crook of her neck, damp with sweat from the humidity of the faceplate.

“Your hair got so long!” You commented after pulling away.

It was true. Kits original short chop now flowed in waves down to her mid-torso, making her look oddly feminine even in trousers.

“I hate it,” Kit groaned, pinching a lock of her hair and frowning down at it. “It gets so hot, and I hate having to put it up.”

As she fidgeted with her hair, your gaze traveled down to her wrist, noticing a sandstone silk strand peeking out of her sleeve. Curious, you took her hand and pushed her sleeve up, revealing the ribbon she had stolen from you all those years ago.

“My ribbon!” You exclaimed, surprised and genuinely touched. “You still wear it?”

“Every day,” Kit answered truthfully. “It reminds me of you.”

You turned her wrist over in your hand, admiring the ribbon. The previously bright pink silk had faded into a blush beige, bleached from sun exposure. Once perky bunny-ear loops now drooped down her wrist, tickling the bottom of her palm. It was almost unrecognizable, this old ribbon that time had not been kind to, and the fact that Kit had worn it all these years warmed a special place in your heart.

Airk cleared his throat, startling you slightly as you had forgotten he was there. You offered him an apologetic smile, letting go of Kit’s wrist to shake his hand.

“Forgive me,” you chuckled nervously. “It’s good to see you again as well, Airk.”

The rest of the evening was spent catching up; the three of you laid on patches of grass and recounted events from the last five years until a maid rang the dinner bell. Even at dinner, all of you prattled incessantly. Airk eventually found he’d said enough and focused on his meal, but you and Kit talked through mouthfuls of food, much to Sorsha’s chagrin.

“You can eat or you can speak, but it’s terribly impolite to combine the two,” she scolded.

After the third or fourth lecture, you noticed how they would only come from Sorsha. A brief glance around the table confirmed your suspicions: Madmartigan was absent.

“Where’s your dad?” You whispered to Kit, worried that asking Sorsha directly would upset her.

Kit, however, perked up at your question, eyes sparkling at the mention of her role model. “He’s on a quest! He’s going to fight inside a worm!”

“He’s trying to destroy the Wyrm from the inside, Kit.” Airk corrected.

Kit brushed off her brother, ignoring his comment and continuing. “He’s been fighting the Wyrm for some time now. He’s so busy, but he always has a letter delivered to us on the first of every month!”

She sprang up from her chair, dashing to fetch the most recent letter before being stopped by Sorsha. “Kit, how many times have I said not to leave the table without being excused?”

Kit spun around with a dramatically curtsy and mimed pulling on an invisible skirt. “Mother, may I please be excused from this fine supper? Oh mummy, please may I?”

You stifled a giggle at her theatrics. Sorsha sighed, dismissing her with the wave of her hand. Kit sped out of the room, returning seconds later with a piece of paper and thrusting it into Sorsha’s hands.

“This one arrived today.” Kit explained, leaning over her mother’s shoulder.

Despite Sorsha’s annoyance with her daughter, she couldn’t help but smile as she gingerly pinched the corners of her husband's letter.

“My dear family,” she began reading as Airk rushed over, joining Kit in reading over their mother’s shoulder. “As I venture forth on this perilous mission, know that my thoughts are never far from all of you. My journey to confront the Wyrm may be ripe with danger, but carrying the strength of our family has gotten me through some challenging moments.”

“To my daughter, Kit,” Kit perked up at the mention of her name, leaning farther into the letter as Sorsha continued to read. “Your unyielding spirit and fearlessness are sure to serve you well in all that you do. Always remember to keep your sword sharp and your wits sharper.”

“To Airk,” it was Airk’s turn to lean into the letter. “My son, every day you continue to amaze me. I look forward to returning and watching you grow into the man I know you’re destined to be.”

“And to my lovely wife,” Sorsha’s voice cracked as she read. “Not a day goes by where I don’t picture your face. You are the light that leads me through the darkest tunnels.”

Sorsha sniffed, attempting to discreetly wipe away a tear before reading the last section. “I promise to return one day, victorious and bearing plenty of stories. Until then, I hope you’ll take comfort in these letters. All my love, Madmartigan.”

Kit looked up from the letter, eyes shining with undeterrable admiration. “When I grow up, I want to be just like him.”

Later that night, as you readied yourself for slumber in one of the castle's many guest rooms, a knock interrupted your solitude. You granted permission to enter, fixing your posture and bracing yourself to be greeted by Sorsha. However, your tension eased when the door cracked and Kit’s face poked through.

“I need your help with something,” she whispered, cautious not to disturb any sleeping residents.

“Why? What happened?” You inquired.

Without another word, Kit seized your hand and led you away. You protested at first, feeling naked in your thin nightgown outside the walls of your bedchamber, but Kit's hand wrapped around yours felt soothing, like a warm glove on a cold day, and you knew that no matter where you went, you would be safe as long as Kit was there.

She led you to the end of the hall, down a flight of stairs, and through the doors of the basement, only letting go of your hand to ignite a taper candle and shed some light into the dark room. Weapons of all shapes and sizes mounted the walls, their silver blades illuminating in the candle light. Various types of armor decorated the corners, including the faceplate Kit had worn earlier in the day.

“Is this…”

“The armory.” Kit answered your unspoken question.

You nodded, marveling at the room. Azarenth had an armory in their castle too, but it was heavily guarded, and strictly off limits to you.

Kit plucked a sword from the wall and laid it flat against her palms, presenting it to you. “I need you to cut my hair.”

“What?” You searched Kit’s face for any sign of humor, but found none as she stood completely serious.

“I need you to cut my hair,” she repeated. “I can’t reach back there, and Airk won’t do it because he’s afraid of getting in trouble.”

“What if I get in trouble?” You asked, still in disbelief at her request.

“You won’t,” she replied, completely sure of herself.

Kit still sensed your hesitation, so she put the sword down and took both of your hands in hers. “You’re not going to get in trouble, I promise. My mom won’t let me cut my hair because she says it makes me look ‘pretty,’ but what good is beauty if I’m constantly uncomfortable? Please, I really need you to do this for me.”

There it was again, that feeling of safety that surmounted whenever Kit held your hand. You sighed defeatedly, nodding in agreement. Kit beamed at you as she placed the sword in your hands, but the large piece of metal turned out to be much heavier than you expected and you ended up dropping it, the sword falling to the ground with a loud clatter.

“I haven’t actually… used a sword before,” you admitted sheepishly.

“Hmm…” Kit thought for a second before her face brightened once again, running to a nearby rack and picking up an oddly-shaped knife. “Dagger?”

You agreed, and Kit handed you the dagger, showing you how to grip the handle. As you clutched this foreign weapon, a new sense of power washed over you. You suddenly felt invincible, safe, but a different kind of safe from when Kit held your hand.

“How short do you want it?” You asked, still examining the jagged piece of metal.

Kit shrugged. “I just don’t want to have to tie it up in order to spar.”

She turned around, facing away from you and shaking out her long locks so they all flowed down her back. You gulped, gathering her hair in a handful just below her neck, hands shaking as the previous power evaporated into thin air and replaced itself with anxiety. With one quick slash it was all over, the sharp blade passing through her delicate hairs with ease. A sigh left your lips, relieved to have completed your task. You glanced down to admire your handiwork, but were met with a sight so horrific that the dagger fell from your unsteady hands, dropping to the floor with a sharp clang.

Her hair, once long and beautiful, was now absolutely botched. Tresses meant to float over her shoulders now curled just under her ears, while crooked sprigs stuck out in all directions.

“How does it look?” Kit asked, but you were too afraid to answer.

When you didn’t, she picked up the sword off the ground, admiring her reflection in the shiny metal. Her jaw dropped, eyes wide with shock. She reached up, carefully running her fingers over the butchered ends.

A lump rose in your throat as you became overwhelmed with guilt. “Kit, I’m so…”

“I love it.” Kit said in a low voice.

You blinked, not quite registering what she said. “Huh?”

“I love it!” Kit repeated, grinning from ear to ear. “It’s exactly what I wanted: short!”

“But it’s so choppy and uneven!” You exclaimed, confused by her elation.

Kit shook her head, sprigs flying in every direction. “I look the way I’ve always felt inside: a harbinger of chaos!”

She swung the sword around for effect, giggling like a little kid. You felt yourself relax as you watched her, relieved she wasn’t angry and somewhat enamored by her unbridled joy.

All of a sudden, the unmistakable slam of a basement door reverberated throughout the armory. A tall figure entered, holding a large torch that cast a looming shadow. You and Kit froze, tension palpable as the figure stepped forward, revealing itself to be Sorsha.

Her gaze immediately fixated on Kit’s hair, expression hardening into unreadable stone. “There was a clatter. I was afraid there might be an intruder.”

Slowly, she approached you two, both of you holding your breath in anticipation. She reached out to touch Kit’s chopped tresses tentatively, as if they would scald her. “Your hair…”

You glanced between Kit and Sorsha, a sense of dread settling inside you as you prepared your confession. “Your majesty, I…”

“I did it,” Kit interjected, surprising you. “I got fed up with my long hair, and since you wouldn’t allow me to get it cut, I snuck down here and did it myself.”

Sorsha squinted at her daughter, skeptical at her story. Noticing her doubt, Kit gestured towards you. “She’s here because she tried to stop me.”

Sorsha’s gaze shifted down, noticing Kit still holding a sword, while your hands were empty. She took a step back, her face darkening with a quiet anger. You held your breath, bracing yourself for the explosion, but instead her eyes softened as she turned to you.

“Your mother raised such a well-behaved young lady,” she remarked sweetly before redirecting her attention to Kit. “I wish I had done the same…”

You glanced over at Kit, who appeared unfazed by her mother’s hurtful words.

“We’ll continue this discussion upstairs,” Sorsha muttered through clenched teeth, seizing Kit’s arm and leading her away.

You watched as Kit was pulled out of the basement, the guilt from going along with her lie eating you up from the inside. Part of you longed to follow, to confess your involvement, but your feet stayed cemented to the floor, blocks of concrete too heavy to move.

Just before disappearing through the door, Kit turned to look at you, noting your terror-stricken face. You attempted to mouth an ‘I’m sorry,’ but she vigorously shook her head. Instead, she offered you a reassuring smile, sending a wink in your direction that made your heart squeeze. And just like that, you became certain that everything would be alright.

It would be a full month before you could speak to Kit again.

You were right to be worried about getting into trouble, because Kit had gotten herself into a lot. As punishment, she had been confined to her chambers for the past few weeks, only being let out to assist the scullions with chores. Sometimes, you would pass her walking with the maids in the hallways, and when no one was looking, she would shoot you a funny face that never failed to make you laugh.

The weeks without Kit seemed to stretch, each day growing longer than the last. You eventually grew bored with Tir Asleen, the absence of your friend diminishing the kingdom’s original appeal. Luckily, you at least had Airk to keep you company.

“Why do you think our parents keep pushing us to be friends?” You asked him one day, while you were both taking a stroll around the palace gardens.

Airk simply shrugged. “I wonder that too sometimes. Perhaps they want us to learn about each other's homes?”

You shook your head. “Azarenth is only a day trip away from Tir Asleen, not much to learn. Maybe they just want us to get along.”

“But I don’t recall any conflict between our kingdoms,” Airk remarked.

These were the typical conversations between you and Airk: mundane, frivolous words meant to fill an empty space. It’s not as if he wasn’t pleasant company, but he just didn’t excite you the way Kit did.

One early morning, near the end of the month, you were sound asleep in your guest bed when you suddenly felt a crushing weight moving on top of you, followed by the inability to breathe. You opened your eyes to see a dark figure over you, holding its hands over your nose and mouth. Fear coursed through you as your survival instinct took over, thrashing under the dark figure and screaming pleas muffled by its hands.

“Shh… shh… Princess…” the figure leaned down to whisper in your ear.

Your stifled breath hitched in your throat at the familiarity of the figure's voice. Forcing yourself to calm down, you stared up at the figure, eyes adjusting to the darkness until Kit’s unmistakable face came into view.

“Kit…” you whispered as soon as she removed her hands from your mouth. “What are you…”

“I’m not in trouble anymore,” she cut you off. “I’m free.”

“What…” you sat up to lean on your elbows. “Kit, that’s wonderful. But, what do you mean?”

“My mother’s focusing on Airk now,” she replied. “Come with me.”

She seized your hand once again and pulled you out of bed, disclosing her intentions while leading you across the castle.

“I’m usually awoken this early to assist the scullions with chores,” she explained. “However, this morning one of the more prying maids told me that I’m no longer needed, that Airk will be doing chores now.”

“But why?” You inquired.

“I’ll show you.”

She led you down to the large double doors of the palace library, opening them cautiously to avoid getting caught. The overwhelming smell of old books hit you as soon as you stepped inside, smacking you in the face before enveloping you in a warm hug. Your castle didn’t have a library as much as a few bookshelves here and there, so you couldn’t help but stop and marvel at Tir Asleen’s vast collection of books piled high as the ceiling.

“Come on,” Kit insisted, yanking you out of your daydream and pulling you towards a table in the back of the library that was covered with half-open books. “The maid said that my mother caught Airk reading these late last night, and that’s why he’s in trouble.”

“For reading?” You were puzzled.

“Not just reading,” Kit explained. “She said the literature was lewd.”

“Lewd?”

“Bad.” Kit clarified, a wicked grin spreading across her face.

Your brows furrowed, still confused. “But… how can a book be bad?”

Kit seemed unsure how to answer your question, but was curious to find out. She pulled a paper manuscript off the top of one of the piles and opened it to a random page, both of you gasping at the sight. While the text was nothing extraordinary, the margins of the pages were filled with graphic drawings of women in various states of undress.

Your finger trembled as you pointed at one of the women, the top of her dress pulled down to her stomach. “Is that…”

“I think that’s what they’re supposed to look like. When we’re older.” Kit whispered, not taking her eyes off the page.

Both of you sat at the table and stared at the page in awe, neither of you daring to speak. After a moment, you decided to pick another book off of one of the piles, the cover reading “Carmina Burana.” You glanced at Kit, who bore into you, silently daring you to open it.

Flipping to another random page, you came across a translated poem entitled “Si Puer Cum Puella,” and began to read. “If a lad and his sweet lover, in a room together linger—an ineffable game begins, in their abandoned lips and limbs.”

Looking over at Kit, you expected her to explain what the poem meant, but she seemed as confused as you were. Turning the page, you found more marginalia, these drawings far different from the ones in the manuscript. In the corner of the page was a drawing of a man, carrying a sword in a full state of undress that exposed his flaccid…

You slammed the book shut in disgust, cheeks burning a dark crimson.

“What happened?” Kit questioned.

With a shaky hand, you pushed the book in her direction. She furrowed her brow at you and flipped it open, thumbing through the pages until coming across the drawing. Horrified, she let out a sharp “eek” before slamming the book shut once again.

“Shhh…” you reminded her, remembering what happened the last time you two got caught sneaking around. She nodded, slapping a hand over her mouth.

Both of you stared down at the book as if it had burned you. The air around you felt thick, the only audible sounds being shallow breaths and your own heart beating in your ears.

“Airk has one of those,” Kit finally spoke in a low voice. “I’ve seen it. We took baths together when we were younger.”

“Do they all look like that?” You asked in disgust.

Kit shook her head, gesturing to the abandoned book. “Not like that!”

The two of you stood frozen for another minute before you decided to take a leap of faith, grabbing the “Carmina Burana” and flipping back to the offending page. You tore out the drawing, ripping it to shreds and shoving it down one of your stockings to dispose of later. Glancing over at Kit, she stood shocked, her mouth agape.

“I think boys are nasty,” you exclaimed, grabbing the previous manuscript and revisiting the page with the drawings of women, a satisfied grin spreading across your face. “Much better.”

For the rest of the summer, you and Kit made it a habit to sneak around in the dead of nights, embarking on secret little adventures just for the two of you. Sometimes you would revisit the back corners of the library to explore banned literature; other times, you would break into the kitchen to eat an entire jar of fruit preserves between the two of you.

But most nights were reserved for nothing but late-night chatter. You would hide in each other's rooms, whispering secrets that dissolved into the quiet of the night, like you did when you were younger.

However, these late nights did take a toll on your daily schedules; neither of you could stay awake during the day. When summer classes started around mid-July, you often found yourself dozing off in the middle of them, frequently waking up to the angry scolds of a palace tutor following the sharp thwack of a ruler against your desk.

One Saturday morning, you were at the breakfast table eating with the Tanthalos family, when you felt yourself start to nod off before being awoken by a sharp jab in the ribs.

“Ouch,” you exclaimed, glaring daggers at Airk, sitting next to you. “What was that for?”

He held up his hands defensively. “You fell asleep on your toast.”

Groaning, you took your napkin and wiped the butter off your cheek. Now that you were awake, you couldn’t help but notice that Kit, who usually sat across from you in a similar state of stupor, was missing.

“Where did Kit go?” You asked Airk.

He gave a half-hearted wave in the direction of the kitchen window. “It’s the first of the month. Where do you think she went?”

Sure enough, Kit had glued herself to the kitchen window, refusing to look away from the nothingness of the outside in case a messenger were to appear out of nowhere.

“Kit,” Sorsha sighed in exasperation. “Come back and finish your breakfast.”

“But dad’s letter hasn’t arrived yet!” Kit protested.

“It’s early morning, the day has just begun. I’m sure your father’s letter will arrive later, now come eat!”

Kit grumbled as she plopped herself back down at the breakfast table, wolfing down her meal in seconds flat before excusing herself back to the window.

Unfortunately, the day’s sun came and went with no letter in sight. By nightfall, Kit was still perched at the window, wringing her hands like a damp towel.

“Time for bed, Kit.” Sorsha commanded, a hint of pity in her voice.

Kit looked up at her mom with wide eyes. “What about dad’s letter?”

Sorsha sent her daughter a reassuring smile, not showing any concern. “Sometimes messengers can get lost, nothing to worry about. I’m sure his letter will turn up soon.”

Several days passed with Kit stationed at the window, growing increasingly anxious each day as she waited for something that never came. By the end of the week, still no letter had arrived, and even Sorsha’s calm composition began to falter.

“Mom,” Kit called from the window, voice coming out small and frail. “Where’s dad’s letter?”

Sorsha rested her hand on her daughter’s shoulder, peering out at the fading sky alongside her. “I’m not sure, Kit.”

“Is he alright?” Kit looked to her mother for reassurance, a small child desperate for a glimmer of hope.

Sorsha opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. She turned away from her daughter, letting the silence settle between them like a thick fog. And that was the moment all light died from Kit’s eyes, the innocence of her childhood crumbling before her like a glass vase shattering on tile floor.

That night, you were preparing for a restful evening when your door flung open. Startled, you whipped around to see Kit standing in your doorway. She seemed fragile, like a baby bird with a broken wing.

“Hey,” she whispered, her red, puffy eyes visible in the dim candlelight.

“Hey…” you responded, confused. Your midnight retreats had been put on hold after Kit’s attention turned towards her father’s letter.

“I’m worried about my dad…” Kit admitted in a low voice. “Can I sleep in here tonight?”

Her words tugged at your heartstrings, filling you with sympathy. You agreed, climbing into bed and patting the space beside you. Kit smiled gratefully and crawled onto her side, pulling the covers over the both of you. It was a bit of a tight squeeze to cram two adolescents into a twin bed, as you both had done a lot of growing since your childhood sleepover. But as Kit buried her head in your chest and snuggled up close, the proximity didn’t bother you. The warmth of your bodies merged like two flames into a single fire, becoming one and the same.

“No one knows where he is,” she mumbled into the silk of your nightgown. “Do you think something happened to him?”

You gently scratched her back and soothed her labored breaths, taking a moment to choose your words carefully. “Kit… you are one of the strongest people I know. I really, truly mean that. If your dad has even a fraction of your strength, I know there’s nothing that could stop him from seeing you again.”

Kit’s breathing evened out as your words seemed to reassure her. Her eyelids fought to stay open, a week of restless nights finally catching up to her. You bent down, planting a gentle kiss on her head before you both drifted off to sleep.

Tag List: @chloepricesgirl @canmargesimpson @yourelliewillms @valenftcrush @camilleee222 @prettygirlfemme @slaytillieswooo @love4lyn @joanvisitsrome @athenalive @mih11 @j-pacifica @everybodyhatesari @vii-ofswords @sofi4v13

[sh1-n0bu]

hey hey!! new anon here,,

not sure how to write this but I'll try

could we get a scara x amab reader, with praise, overstimulation, and if you're comfortable body worship? (for scara ofc) i wanna make him cry 🛐

also !! can i be 🍷 anon?? <3

♡︎ 𝙮𝙤𝙪, 𝙢𝙮 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙩 ♡︎

characters: sub!scaramouche x dom!AMAB!reader

warnings: praise, overstimulation, body worship, dacryphillia, overall very soft and fluffy

notes: of course you can be 🍷anon! slowly but surely clearing out my inbox and thinking on holding a 3k followers event. if you guys have any ideas, lemme know!

wanderer — formerly known as scaramouche, balladeer and the sixth of the eleven fatui harbingers — has always been a shut in type of person. always preferring his own space, solitude and of course, a bitter tea to go along with everything. so when you, his assistant since day one, had suddenly proposed your affections for the angry gremlin he rejected at first.

but that never deterred you. you would try over and over again. asking him out on dates, offering him some help, cuddles if he was being restless and stressed, holding his hand while he undergoes the painful weekly tortures of il dottore — you did it all for him.

and one day, scaramouche did indeed cave in and decided to accept your nth suggestion for a date. it wasn’t like he had liked you or anything, he just wanted to make you shut up quickly. he’s lying, he loved you way longer than you did him.

since then, going out on “dates” had become a usual thing between you two. you two would meet up in certain places, hang out for some time, talk for a bit, hold hands if scaramouche is feeling gutsy enough and say your goodbyes.

it had continued on for so long until it suddenly came to a stop when scaramouche had to go to sumeru with il dottore to take buer’s gnosis. of course the plan worked and the second harbinger came back with the gnosis but no scaramouche.

for some time after that, you seriously thought you were tripping absolute bonkers. everyone kept saying the sixth seat of the harbingers had been vacant and the name scaramouche or balladeer doesn’t ring a bell. you even held an audience with her majesty, the tsaritsa as well and yet she said she doesn’t remember!

that was until you decided to desert the fatui and go to sumeru yourself to find out just what the fuck was going on. it took incredibly long time — sumeru’s rainforest and desert aren’t the most hospitable places for someone so used to the cold like you — but after a whole half a year of searching, you managed to see him again.

him. the one who stole your heart. the one who caused you to desert the fatui despite knowing the punishment would be death. the one that cradled your heart gently in his hand since you’ve been assigned to be his assistant.

and by the archons was it worth the whole thing. to be chased down by the people who were once your comrades. to suffer heatstrokes in the hot desert of sumeru. to continuously get pelted by the rain and thunder in the rainforests of sumeru. by the archons was it all worth it when the moment you two locked eyes. it was as if your first meeting all over again.

by the archons was it worth it when he recognized you, dropping the scrolls in his arms as he runs up to you. it was worth it when he came to a stop in front of you — hesitating. waiting. wondering. before finally muttering “fuck it” and getting on his tip toes to plant a kiss on your lips. it was worth it all — even as you gently broke him down and rebuilt him again a whole new in your arms in the comfort of your now shared home.

scaramouche has always been a shut in type of person. always preferring his own space, solitude and of course, a bitter tea to go along with everything.

but wanderer was a bit different. he preferred to be alone, alone with you. a bitter tea and your voice going “yuck!” whenever he made you take a sip, lying and promising he put sugar in it this time. a shy stolen glance at each other and a peck or two followed by the silence of each other’s presence. “lonely together” you once called your relationship. he couldn’t agree more.

even as his first time is taken by you — the doll couldn’t be happier.

even as he whimpers and whines whenever you praise him, planting kisses on his skin as he blushed a beet red. weakly thrusting his hips back to meet yours under the dim lights of the lit candles. desperately reaching back, tangling your hair in his hand to tug you down for a sloppy kiss to try and hide his moans when you called him your “good boy”, “pretty doll” and your “one and only”.

a weak sob and sniffles resounding in your shared home as wanderer comes on your cock for the nth time. how many times had he cum by now? he’s too hazy and lust ridden to even keep up count.

tears kept falling down his face as he unconsciously grind back into your cock, wanting more. a cacophony of keens and moans and shrill sound resembling a squeal coming out of him as he feels your tip hit his prostate again. archons, he wanted to feel that again and again. feel himself get broken down by your hands, by your lips, by the soft praises coming out of your mouth, by your dick just fucking into him so good to the point his mind becomes a mush.

when you gently put him back together again — wiping away the sweat and cum staining his skin, when you cradle him gently as you two share a quick bath together, when you wrap your arms around him and hug him close to yourself — the pupet couldn’t help but smile.

a genuine, unadulterated smile of happiness spreading on his face as he hears your words of affirmation. in soft moments like this, the puppet couldn’t help but whisper out weakly in a hoarse voice.

“you, [name], my heart…” before slipping off into a dreamless state.

[ohwaitimthewriter]

The Memory Keeper

Chapter 4: Mend.

Pairing: Noa x human!reader

Warnings: None?

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

Words: 3.6k+

A/N: So... My brain did a thing and I just went with it!

Enjoy your reading 😊

The Memory Keeper masterlist.

Broken.

It was a simple word. Just a series of sounds combined together. Nothing more and nothing less than the strange association of letters that came to form a particular meaning.

It had been a long time since you'd experienced the devastating impact of a simple word.

Broken.

There was a distant echo to the word.

The frame was broken.

This frame that had been with you for so many years that today your brain no longer knew how to depict the passage of time. It was nothing more than a shadow. A shadow that seemed to stretch on indefinitely, so far away from you that you wondered whether it had a beginning or an end. All that remained was a sensation of emptiness. An emptiness that deepened at the back of your skull, sinking deeper and deeper into the darkness of a lost soul. Or rather, was it an ocean? An abyss so deep and vast that the mere idea of plunging into it made you dizzy. It was like walking on the precipice of a canyon, and the fear of heights gripped your stomach every time you dared a brief glance towards that bottomless void.

Every time you looked back, you felt as if you were sinking deeper into the abyss known as time.

〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️

"(Name)!"

You ignored the throaty young voice trying to get your attention. It was the first time in 5 years that you'd found yourself back in the middle of the rubble of an abandoned city, and you'd spotted a building in the distance that looked promising for what you were looking for.

In 5 years, the city had changed drastically. Vegetation had begun to cover the walls of houses and plants of all kinds had invaded any building, standing or not, that crossed your path.

You had to be careful. The asphalt that had once been a heavily trafficked road was cracked all over, creating crevasses that were sometimes invisible because of the flora that had embedded in them.

"(Name) wait! It's dangerous!"

The young ape was doing his best to keep up with you, but you were way ahead of him. So much ahead that he kept losing sight of you as you navigated between the ruins of a recently extinguished human civilization. He congratulated himself on being able to follow your scent, because soon, despite his best efforts, you had disappeared into the meanders of partially collapsed buildings.

You moved deeper into the center of the city and finally came upon the destroyed front of the building you intended to investigate.

You remembered that, at the time, this building was nothing other than a shopping mall and what you were looking for could only be found inside such a structure. This was the third one you'd visited, and if the other two hadn't been a success, you were still holding out hope that this one would be.

You looked around, looking for a clue among the branches and leaves that had covered the walls of the stores that met your expectations. The window fronts were broken and the glass cracked under your weight with every step you took as you ventured further inside the mall.

The hurried footsteps of the ape travelling with you suddenly echoed through the building, and you watched him move from quadruped to biped in a fraction of a second, his eyes wide with curiosity and wariness at this place he had never set foot in before.

There was plenty to admire. The building still stood feverishly on its foundations, and no fewer than 5 floors rose above your heads. The once luminous signs were shaky, sometimes suspended by a single live wire or fallen over, the neon lights forming the letters of the store names broken and detached from their bases. Numerous plants climbed the walls and twisted around stair railings and poles and one tree, a poplar if you remembered the name correctly, had even taken root in the center of the hall.

"What… is that?" The young ape asked, slowly moving closer to you as if to protect himself from the immensity of a place evoking a past that only you had known perfectly.

You were focused on pulling out the stems of a wisteria that had woven itself around a large panel showing the floor plan of the building. As you seemed to be ignoring him, he leaned over the plan, taking advantage of your proximity to gently bump your arm with his slightly bent hand.

The slight pressure he applied to attract your attention had the desired effect, and you ended up meeting his green eyes. A look that kept reminding you of his father.

"A shopping mall." You answered him before focusing again on reading the plan.

He huffed as if in agreement, even though he had no idea what a shopping mall was. He got down on all fours again, deciding it was best to leave you to your business, but he didn't have the heart to venture too far from you either.

It was a world he didn't know very well.

Sure, he'd had all the stories told by Maurice, Rocket and sometimes, when you were willing, by you. But the stories were… stories. It was maybe the first time you'd allowed him to go with you beyond the woods. Maybe because you felt it was time for him to get to know the outside world? Or maybe because he'd grown big enough and strong enough to manage on his own in an unfamiliar environment?

When he watched you, he couldn't help noticing that he wasn't yet as tall as you when he stood on his own two legs. Another year? Less? Before he finally reached your height? He'd learned that his father was a few centimetres taller than you, and from that day on, it had almost become a personal goal for him: to become as big and as imposing as his father, a strong, powerful and reliable ape who could be trusted in all circumstances.

No one had ever forced this goal on him, and no one had ever expected him to be exactly like his father. He'd put this idea into his head all by himself, because he wanted only one thing: to be worthy of his father.

For now, he might still be too young to carry on the legacy, but this was his challenge: to prove that he could embody his father's values with pride.

He suddenly snapped out of his thoughts as you started walking again, beckoning him to follow, and he wasted no time in following in your footsteps, as if he'd become your shadow.

" This way. Come on!"

You took the stairs and, eager to show himself braver than he felt at the moment, Cornelius decided to take the lead, carefully checking that the steps on which you would put your feet would hold your weight. Reaching the second-to-last step, he considered the staircase safe and jumped straight onto the landing, looking back to watch your progress. As you drew closer to the last step, he held out his hand to offer you his assistance, which you might consider useless given the ease with which you were moving, but he offered it anyway out of pure sympathy.

You smiled kindly and accepted, not unexpectedly, slipping your hand into his.

It was a habit. When Cornelius was younger, he'd developed the habit of dragging you with him wherever he went, holding you firmly by the hand. At first, you always had your back bent, having to adapt your posture to his small stature, and even more so when he impatiently ran on all fours to drag you to whatever he absolutely had to show you. Then, as he grew older, you managed to regain an upright posture, and despite the maturity he was gradually gaining right up to the present day, he would always take your hand to guide you to a place he wanted to show you.

He was proud to be able to hold your hand, just as he was proud to have Maurice and Rocket with him to teach him to become an adult ape, a future leader. You who had known his father, as Maurice and Rocket knew him. Being able to hold your hand was like being able to hold his father's hand. A form of continuity that he nurtured.

He asked you for directions in sign language, and after giving them to him, he guided you, keeping the lead.

Cornelius was still young. You could see it in the way he moved. His body was still trying to find a balance between the young ape he was and the adult he was about to become. His shoulders weren't as broad as his father's, and the muscles in his back still lacked strength, but that would soon change. Seeing him take the initiative to guide you through an unfamiliar place made you feel proud of what he was becoming. You knew him well, the unknown had never been his forte, but witnessing him defy the fear that once would have made him hide behind your legs, you could only be proud of him.

The store you were looking for suddenly appeared in front of your eyes and you stopped abruptly, causing a twinge in your shoulder as Cornelius continued forward. You gritted your teeth and the hissing breath you produced stopped Cornelius dead in his tracks.

"There it is!"

You withdrew your hand from his and began to rummage around the room. Cornelius followed your every move, not really knowing what you were so eagerly looking for. He simply felt that you knew exactly what you wanted.

And then, a sigh of joy escaped your mouth and Cornelius came over to crouch right beside you, nuzzling his shoulder against yours for some sort of comfort, he leaned forward slightly to observe what you were holding in your hands.

A strange square object surrounded by a piece of wood, slightly cracked on one corner. While you still held the object in your hands, he traced the outline of the wood to stop at the cracked corner.

"Broken?" he asked.

And you smiled at him, and shrugged.

"We can mend it." You answered, placing the wooden frame in your bag.

〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️

You were gone.

Not only had you left the house, Noa had heard you call your horse, and after a few minutes, the pounding of hooves leaving your clearing left him shaken. Raka gave him a quizzical look, but found himself without an answer.

He didn't understand. Had he said or done something wrong? Was it so bad that you decided to leave on horseback at nightfall?

His eyes fell on the blanket. It hid the object of all troubles. He was unsure.

If you'd put that blanket over it, you certainly didn't want him to look.

But on the other hand…

You were gone.

As if to give himself some form of courage, he let out a heavy sigh through his nose, determined to understand what was so precious about this object.

He gently pushed back the blanket. The broken pieces of wood clung to the fabric and fell back onto the transparent plate as they hung slightly in the air, gravity doing its work.

The tinkling drew Raka's attention, and he came closer to peer at Noa tracing the outline of a square shape with his fingers.

Noa picked up an angular piece of wood and noted that the corner was cracked too, then his eyes fell on the transparent plate. He pressed his hand against it, a cool sensation emanating from the object, which also formed a square. Its corners were sharp, and he concluded that the wood was used to protect against cuts.

And then, beneath the transparent plate, there was an image. The half-light didn't bother him and he could make out the silhouette of a… he suddenly grabbed the image from under the plate and pulled it up to his eyes.

An ape.

Noa quickly stepped up to Raka, handing him the image. A strange sensation bubbled in the pit of his stomach, and he couldn't decide whether it was simply curiosity or excitement at his discovery.

Noa rushed through his signs, alternating the words "why", "how" and "who" as he addressed Raka. The latter was trying to remain calm in the face of Noa's restlessness, and decided to take the picture and turn his back on him, to protect himself from Noa's insistent gaze.

It hadn't taken Noa long to realize that this ape, whoever he was and wherever he was today, was the reason you'd felt such emotion. However, even if he had understood this, new questions piled up in his head and you became more and more mysterious.

"I've never seen such a thing." Raka stated after pondering the question. "Perhaps, the image of a book?" He asked then. "No." Noa suddenly replied, ignoring the wave of pride he'd felt at having found something Raka didn't know about. He resumed in sign language. "Echo was sad. I could see it. In her eyes."

Raka didn't seem convinced and Noa frowned, almost annoyed by the questioning Raka carried in a simple look at him. He pointed at the image, this time using his voice to make himself heard.

"Important." He began. "More than petals."

He paused, studying the image carefully. The ape looked… strong. Even through a simple piece of paper, Noa recognized that this ape was a powerful leader, like his father.

His father. A thought flashed through Noa's mind and he felt as if he'd forgotten why he'd come this far. A feeling of guilt scratched at the back of his mind, accusing him of taking too long to fulfill the promise he'd made to his father, in front of his gravestone. Noa had to close his eyes for a moment to focus again on the here and now.

"The image of a book." Raka persisted. "Books are too old for her to know."

If Raka was right, the emotion you'd expressed no longer made any sense, and Noa wasn't ready to admit that maybe you really didn't make any sense and were just like every echo he'd ever come across.

" You know them. Why not her, too?" Noa signed.

Raka seemed to ponder the issue for a moment before handing the image back to Noa.

"Human complicated. Tough to know what she knows, or doesn't know." Raka said.

Noa sighed, almost defeated. He was right about that, but he couldn't get his mind off the idea that this object was very important to you and knowing it was broken had triggered an emotion in you, and he had, for some reason that was completely obscure to him, an urge to hold on to that emotion. It might be the only way for him to get what he wanted: to get out of here with your horse.

Raka wanted to wait for you to speak. Noa was done waiting. He looked again at the broken object and wood around him. Maybe if he could fix it, you'd listen to him.

➰➰➰➰➰➰

It had taken you all night and most of the morning.

It had to cease. Those two apes had to leave your house and go back to wherever they came from, so you'd never again have to feel the things they'd awakened by their mere presence.

So you headed south. Beyond the river.

You'd gone south because the only way to see them go was for them to get a horse. You had once again strayed from the endless activities of the lists on your wall. But it had to stop. You were convinced of that. Once they were gone, you could go on with your activities. Once they were gone, you'd find again the ease with which you'd let yourself be carried along by time, and you'd no longer be on the verge of falling off the precipice every evening, in front of Caesar's own eyes.

You had returned just as the sun was reaching its highest point in the sky. A rope perfectly tight around the pommel of your saddle and a mare tied to the end of that rope who had stopped struggling to get back to her herd.

She was wild, but the proximity of your horse comforted her, and as you offered her apples to encourage her forward, she eventually gave in enough to follow you obediently without pulling back.

Once you'd reached your clearing, you untied the rope and tied it around your horse's neck, confident that the mare would stick around. She stayed away from you though, not wanting to be touched yet, and you knew it would take some time. However, you could congratulate yourself on the experience you had gained in the art of making a horse docile before you could train it. A few days, at most, and you could teach her to bear a saddle and bridle without biting. A few more days and she'd be ready to carry a human… an ape, on her back.

After removing your horse's saddle, you let him graze and showed the mare around.

Seeing her following your horse with no fuss made you feel as if you'd finally untied a knot too heavy to bear.

Yes, everything was going to be all right.

You sighed with relief and set off to find the two apes you'd left inside your house the day before.

Ignoring the aching and heavy feeling in your eyes, you pushed open your front door to find only an empty room. The previously loaned blankets lay neatly on your table.

The blankets.

Like a light bulb that's just switched on, your eyes darted to the fireplace and then to the blanket left on the floor, pushed to one side, the frame it previously covered vanished.

Your heart leapt into your ribcage to remind you of its existence, and a feeling of sheer panic rushed through your chest.

No, no, no.

They couldn't have done this. They couldn't have taken it away from you.

You rushed outside and before you could set foot on the threshold of your home, a large hand held you firmly in place before you made hard contact with its owner's massive torso.

Your eyes fluttered up to his green ones, and Noa caught his first glimpse of fear in the depths of your irises. He watched you while you no longer seemed to know where you were because of the sudden encounter, and when he saw in your eyes that you were coming back to your senses, he let his hand fall back along his body.

One step back.

You needed to find a space… less shared with his own, and you decided to take another step backwards.

Words tried to form on the tip of your tongue, urging you to ask him what he'd done with your frame, but these words quickly fell into the void of silence as Noa slowly handed you your frame, which he held delicately in his second hand.

You found yourself lacking the words that had rushed to you as your brain tried to put the pieces of the puzzle back together again.

You blinked once.

Then twice.

Then three times.

But no, you weren't dreaming, the broken frame you'd left under your blanket had come back to you in one piece.

Noa felt you were suddenly… overwhelmed. Your usually lifeless gaze seemed to find its way back to life, with a wave of emotion that you were obviously having trouble sorting out in your mind.

So he had seen sadness and fear, and now he saw a tide of relief rising in your eyes until it formed the first drops in the corner of them. But you were like… frozen. You looked at the square object in his hand as if suddenly you had no right to touch it, even though it belonged to you.

And then you looked at him, almost encouraging him to say something before you crumbled.

"Fixed." Noa almost whispered, letting his husky voice trail off as softly as possible, as if he didn't want to break anything inside of you, and he carried on, using his free hand to show himself, almost proud of what he'd just accomplished, silently telling you " me, I fixed it".

You couldn't help but look at him, letting him probe everything that came to your mind, as if to silently thank him for saving you from forgetting. Tears forming beads of rain on the edge of your eyelids, you signed back, revealing your relative knowledge of sign language in the process.

"Thank you."

A tear rolled down your cheek, and the overwhelming emotion you offered Noa gave him enough courage to ask you one of the questions running through his mind.

"The image… who is it?"

Noa felt as if an eternity had just passed in silence as you pondered revealing his name. Did you have to tell him his name?

You gently slid your fingers around the frame, which had regained a youthful shape, and Noa almost felt like holding it back to force you to tell him who this ape was, but he didn't need to, your voice rising in a faint note.

"His name was…" You started, swallowing hard in anticipation of the emotion that awaited you around the corner. "His name was Caesar."

And this was surely the first time, after years and years, that you'd uttered his name to introduce him to someone else.

◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆

Tags list:

@callsignwidow

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[daydreaming-nerd]

Young Love and Old Money (Cassian x Female! Reader) Part 7

Young Love and Old Money Masterlist

AN: Damn we on part 7? That happened fast. I just realized that this series is going to be longer than I thought. ALSO, highly suggest clicking on the link to see the readers dress bc it adds to the plot and it was hard to desribe lol.

Summary: She was the most beautiful woman in Prythian, sister to the High Lord of Night, and now she is the soon-to-be wife of Eris Vanserra. Despite her many titles and her aura of unattainability, Cassian can't help but fall deeply in love with the princess of the Night Court. But will it be enough to stop her impending wedding to a man who is sure to destroy her from the inside out?

Warnings: Sexism, heavier SA in this one again, a little bit of exhibitionism, jealously, Smut 

Word Count: 6,009

“If you don’t stop right now Rhys is going to kill you for being late!” I giggle watching Cassian pepper kisses all over my neck through the floor-length mirror. I had simply asked him to button up the back of my dress for me but now he couldn’t keep his hands off me.  

“Rhys can wait,” Cassian smirks nibbling under my ear, the scruff of his morning beard tickling my skin. 

“I’m sure he can, but it might seem a little suspicious that you’re late considering you’re the most punctual person I know,” I smile running a hand through his hair. 

Cassian doesn’t stop pressing loving kisses all over my shoulders and neck. His hands rubbed soothing circles on my hips. His strong chest behind me kept me upright as I watched him ravishing me in the floor-length mirror. 

“Cass,” I protested, turning in his arms knowing if I didn’t my newly buttoned dress would be unbuttoned and on his bedroom floor in an instant. 

“Alright, alright,” he laughed as I threw my arms over his shoulders to play with the hairs at the nape of his neck. 

“I promise you can kiss me all you want later,” I laughed, pressing a kiss to his lips. 

“What about anywhere I want?” he grins, kissing me again.

“Hmmm, maybe,” I tease, tilting my head to the side. Cassian’s hands gripped my waist tighter. 

“C’mon princess don’t make me beg,” he said lowly, pressing a kiss to the shell of my ear. 

I couldn’t help but let out a small giggle to hide the change in my heart rate, “I wouldn’t mind seeing you on your knees general.” I tease. 

“You know I’d crawl to your bed if I had to, princess,” he teased back and the air in the room had become thick and warm.  

I push away from him a little, “Cass stop I know what you’re trying to do! Go talk to Rhys before he comes up here to see what’s taking so long!” I laugh. 

“Fine, fine,” he shakes his head and follows me out of his room into the hallway. 

“What does he want to talk to you about anyways?” I ask as we walk idly towards the kitchen. 

“I’m not sure,” he admits. “Probably just catching up on the Illyrian camps I visited with Az earlier.” 

“Well remember. Nothing about you and I, as far as he’s concerned Eris and I are counting down the days until the wedding.” I remind him as we round the corner to the kitchen where Azriel sips his morning coffee. 

“Hello lovebirds,” Azriel mused, not looking up from his book. 

“Hello Az,” I smiled at the shadowsinger. 

“I promise to paint a lovely picture of newly engaged bliss, even though I enjoy it,” Cassian assures me as we stop at the door to the balcony. 

“Thank you,” I say cupping his cheek. “Now go before Rhys loses his mind,” I say pushing him out the door. 

“Ah ah ah not without one of these,” he smirks, pulling me in by my waist for a kiss. Gods I would never get tired of kissing this male. 

Without another word, Cassian pulled away and flashed me a charming smile before flaring his wings and taking off into the air. These past few days I had grown to see a new side to the Illyrian that I had never known before. For one, I had never known him to be so sweet and loving and two, I had never seen the male smile so much. Not that I could complain, he did have one of the most dashing smiles I’d ever seen.  

“You two are adorable but you make me sick,” Azriel laughed from the kitchen table beside me. I turned my head to find him watching me intently. He tried to mask his face in disgust, but the love in his eyes was a dead giveaway. 

“There will be loads of women fawning over your pretty face tonight tonight.” I teased ruffling up his hair. “And you’re a wonderful dancer. I’m sure you’ll find your person soon.” I continue waltzing towards the library.

“So you think I’m pretty?” Azriel teases taking a bite of an apple. 

I simply rolled my eyes and shook my head as I exited the room. 

Cassian’s pov: 

“Cass please sit down,” Rhysand says motioning toward the plush chair in his study, one large enough to accommodate wings of course. 

I had known the bastard for hundreds of years and never once had I been afraid of him. But I hadn’t spoken to him since everything happened with me and y/n. I had made sure to keep my mental shields up but I couldn’t stop the irrational fear that Rhys’ next words were going to be, “Are you fucking my little sister?” As he poured us each a glass of whiskey I couldn’t help but feel a bead of sweat dripping down my back. 

“I hear you’ve been keeping y/n satisfied,” Rhys drawled, handing me a glass. 

Oh shit

“At least that’s what Azriel said the other day when I asked him how you guys were doing with going back and forth to the Autumn Court all the time.” Rhys cocked an eyebrow at my blank expression as I grabbed the glass of whiskey from his hand and sipped it eagerly. 

Azriel that motherfucker. I could practically see his smug face as he told Rhys about how “satisfied” I was keeping his little sister. I would be thoroughly kicking his ass today at training. 

“Yeah I mean it’s a pretty simple task taking her back and forth.” I shrug trying to shake whatever tension I had from my shoulders. “But she seems to have no quarrel with me, except for one time when I messed up her hair because I flew too fast but that’s about it.” I smile remembering the cute angry look on her face that went along with her messed-up updo. 

“Ever the little princess,” Rhys rolled his eyes and relaxed into his chair. “Is she happy with Eris?” 

I tried to look collected as Rhys asked the question I had been dreading. The entire flight here I considered telling him everything. I thought that maybe he could help her, or at least talk to Beron. But then I thought about how I would have to explain why I cared so much, and Rhys would be much less inclined to help if he knew I was fucking his little sister. Hell if y/n ever did figure this out would Rhys even allow me to be with her? I was a bastard after all.  

Then of course there was y/n. She would never forgive me for betraying her trust, and I wasn’t willing to lose it. More importantly, I thought back to what she said the day that Eris first tried to take advantage of her. 

Cassian please, don’t take my choices away from me…

Cauldron how those words had struck me like lightning when she said them. The poor girl had never been given free will to make her own choices until recently. First, she was closed off from the world because of her beauty, then she was under the mountain. Now she was engaged to Eris and I’d rather die than be another person who tried to control her. 

“She seems to be,” I reply to Rhys. “I mean she did agree to marry him.” 

Lies 

Lies 

Lies

“And Eris? Will he be a suitable husband for her? I’ve heard stories of him, some good, some bad. I was hesitant at first to let him near her till I remembered what others have said about me.” he says with a hint of sadness. “I thought I’d give him a chance, in hopes that Feyre will give me one someday.” 

My heart broke for my brother, “I’m sure she will brother,” I say warmly. “But Eris seems quite smitten with y/n. He’s already sent her a large trove of dresses and jewels.” 

Not entirely a lie.

“I hope you’re right Cass,” Rhys said with a sad smile. “But I’m glad my sister is happy. After all she’s endured she deserves it. Will you be joining us tonight?” he asks, referring to the engagement ball. 

“Have you ever known me to pass up free drinks and beautiful women?” I chide leaning back in my own chair.

“I suppose not,” Rhys laughed, slamming back his whiskey. 

y/n’s pov: 

Cauldron boil me.

That was the only thought that raced through my head as I stared at myself in the floor-length mirror. For once my lady's maids didn’t get a chance to select the perfect dress for me to wear tonight, as Eris had specifically labeled a dress in the trove he sent me. The dress I now wore. 

The fabric itself was beautiful, swaths of chrome of molten gold. It draped and cascaded down my body perfectly, the only problem with the fabric was that there wasn’t enough of it. The high slit and the low back left little to the imagination. Even the top of the dress was skimpy, with only three thin pieces of fabric holding the garment together. 

As I exited my bedroom to the foyer to meet Cassian I could only hope that the fireplaces would be roaring on both ends of the vast ballroom tonight as I was already freezing. I find Cassian already waiting for me (per usual), in a night court black jacket that has him looking like pure sex. The only color adorning him is the two red siphons on his hands. 

“Absolutely fucking not,” he gawks at my dress, eyes raking up and down my nearly bare body. 

“What don't you like it?” I tease doing a spin for him. 

His arms pull me close to him, hands wandering all over my exposed skin. The familiar touch of his hands soothes the goosebumps on my too-cold skin as I feel myself leaning into him. 

“That’s what he’s making you wear?” he scrutinizes, looking me up and down again. 

“Unfortunately yes,” I sigh looking down at the dress myself. Gods I hated this. 

“That bastard’s going to have his hands all over you all night,” he grits, turning his head to the side like he doesn’t want me to see the simmering in his eyes. 

I reach up to cup his face turning his gaze back to mine, “Cass I know that this isn’t easy. If the roles were reversed the female would be dead by now,” I laugh trying to ease the mood. “If you don’t want to come tonight I’ll understand.” 

“No, I’m not leaving you to do this on your own,” he says, placing a hand over my own that rests on his cheek. 

“Cass-” 

“I’m going y/n,” he assures me. 

Secretly and selfishly I was glad he was coming. I would never make him do such a thing. Especially knowing how Eris is going to be. But there was a comfort in knowing that he would be present. A comfort in knowing that at the slightest hint of a scared glance, he would likely burn down the whole court for me. 

“Cassian?” I whisper. 

“Yes?” he asked. 

“Kiss me,” I say, referencing our first kiss, hoping it would bring a smile to his face. 

“With pleasure,” he smiled before leaning in for a kiss. 

I took every moment and committed it to memory knowing that soon it would be Eris’ lips instead, and they wouldn’t be as tender and sweet. Soon it would be Eris’ hands on me, and they wouldn’t be as warm and strong. I savored every taste of Cassian I got, somehow in that moment falling even deeper in love with him. Cassian kisses me like I’m the air he breathes. He kisses me like every female dreams of being kissed and gods I’ll never get enough. 

“When we get home,” I whisper in his ear. “I want you to rip this dress off me and fuck me on every single surface in this gods forsaken house.” 

“Be careful princess. You don’t want me at attention in public.” Cassian purs in my ear holding me closer. 

“Maybe I do,” I smile, pressing a kiss to his jaw. 

“Cruel, wicked female.”

Unlike the last ball when my brother and I arrive, we are one of the first people there, as the ball is being thrown in Eris and I’s honor. I spend the first hour or so making polite conversation until the rest of the crowd shows up. Thankfully the second they do the dancing is in full swing giving me ample time to converse with others as Eris sits on a dias at the end of the room. A place normally reserved for the High Lord alone, but it seems Beron wants to show off this union.

“She’s not here again,” I say to my brother. 

Rhys was one of the first people to dance with me tonight and I had never accepted an invitation so happily, well besides Cassian. When my father taught me to waltz Rhys was always there to help me. We must’ve spent hours dancing together while growing up. Dancing with him now was like living out the old days I so dearly wished for. 

“How do you know?” Rhys asked me as he spun me around once more. 

“I checked the guest list,” I say sadly. “It sounds like she and Tamlin never even leave his mansion.”

“Oh,” my brother says sadly, halting his search for the infamous cursebreaker. 

“You should call upon your bargain Rhys. Give her time to get to know you,” I tell him as he lifts me slightly and resumes the dance in time with the others. 

“I don’t want to force her to love me,” he admits sadly. 

I can’t help but feel my heartbreak. Sure Rhys wasn’t always the best at first impressions given his reputation, but he was an amazing brother and an amazing male. “Rhys please, she’s your mate. Maybe if she meets me I can help her see how amazing you are,” I say hopefully. 

“If Tamlin is what makes her happy I won’t stand in her way,” he explains to me and it’s like a punch to the gut. Before I can say anything to ease his pain a voice cuts in from beside me. 

“Mind if I cut in?” Azriel asks politely. 

“Not at all brother, just don’t step on my dear sister's toes,” Rhysand jests, passing my hand to Azriel’s.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Azriel smiles before leading me up into a waltz.

“What no crowds of women falling all over you?” I tease him as he gracefully moves around the dancefloor. 

“I’m actually using you to get away from a particularly nosey one,” he nods his head to a giddy blonde in the corner. She looks far too young for him and way too energetic to catch Az’s interest and I can’t help but laugh. 

“Glad to be doing the royal duty of helping my citizens,” I laugh as he spins me in a circle. 

“If you really want to help you could give me a kiss,” he tilts his head so his cheek is on full display for me. 

“Who would come after you first? Eris, Cassian, or my brother?” I roll my eyes. 

“Don’t forget Helion, he's here too,” Azriel laughs and sure enough, out of the corner of my eyes, I can see the High Lord of Day. 

“By the cauldron, I’ll never know peace,” I sigh as Az picks me up and twirls me around.

Even though it was the same ballroom as last time this one felt smaller. Every move I made felt more and more observed and scrutinized. On one end I had Eris sitting on a dias watching me like I was a pet he had let off its leash. On the other side stood a very grumpy and brooding Cassian who wouldn’t take his eyes off me and Eris, like he was waiting for the prince to make one wrong move. Never mind the rest of the guests who gawked at my dress or the ginormous ring on my finger.

“Eris is looking at me like he’s about to have me incinerated,” Azriel laughs in my ear. 

I can’t help but roll my eyes, on the next spin I see the prince doing just that. “That’s his way of saying he wants me back.” I sigh. 

“You want me to dance us away from him?” Az asks sweetly and quietly. 

“No, no I’ve already been avoiding him for far too long. He’ll come down here himself in a moment,” I say as the music stops and I bow to Az. 

“Good luck then princess,” he bows to me before he saunters off to where Cassain sits gripping a goblet of wine tighter than he ought to.

Like I’m either a blessing sent from above or a curse from below the crowds parts for me as I make my ebay towards Eris. The men gawk and lick their lips, the women gossip and whisper to one another. Once again I felt like a painting displayed at a museum, I was beginning to hate balls. 

“Have I told you how delicious you look in gold, my pet?” Eris says as I take my place standing next to his chair.  

“At least a dozen times tonight,” I sigh, snatching a glass of wine off a silver platter. 

“Come here,” Eris says, patting his lap and I know better than to disobey, not when all of Prythian is watching us. 

“What, I don't get to have my own throne?” I grumble, adjusting my dress from where I sit on his lap. The damned thing is one gust of wind away from exposing me to the whole room. 

“Wall ornament my dear, wall ornament,” he reminds me, lips trailing down my neck. “And how beautiful you look perched on my lap,” he smirks. 

“Yes and I’m one gust of wind away from flashing the whole room,” I grit, adjusting the dress once more. 

“Good, let them see what I get to indulge in,” he grins, lifting my goblet to his own lips. The overwhelming urge to spill the liquid all over his pressed jacket is strong but lord knows what would happen next. 

“Prince Eris,” mused a female voice drawing both of our attention. “I came to offer my congratulations to you and your future wife.” 

The woman standing before me was nothing short of beautiful. Her skin is fair and covered in freckles across her nose and cheeks. Eyes the color of the evergreen trees found in the winter court. Her hair is unbound and the deep auburn. She looked at Eris with a certain coldness and in that moment I realized that they might have been lovers at one point in time. Her eyes flitted to mine and my blood ran cold. She looked at me like I had taken her future away. I suppose I had. If Eris had any feelings for her he certainly didn’t show it.

“Thank you for your well wishes Lady Adarna. We hope to see you at the wedding next week,” he chided leaning back in his chair once more. 

The woman simply bowed and waltzed away. I mentally hoped she wouldn’t go near Cassian. Not that I didn’t trust him, but because I didn’t trust her for one moment.

As she scurried off to join a large group of lords and ladies conversing I watched as Eris’ eyes trailed her entire backside. His lips twitched up as if recalling a fond memory. Now was the perfect time to execute my backup plan. 

“She seemed angry to see me on your lap,” I muse, taking another sip of my wine. 

“So is every male in this room. You should be used to it by now.” he kissed my shoulder. 

“You fucked that woman didn’t you?” I turn my head to him letting him see the false anger in my eyes. I had to sell it. 

“Many times my pet,” he smiled proudly. “She used to beg me to come to her bed.”  

I scoff at his words, it was too hard to believe that any woman would beg to warm Eris’ bed.

“And you're ready for monogamy?” I raise an eyebrow at him, my question more like a test. Eris had been so in lust with me had forgotten about the other women he once bedded. Surely the idea of monogamy wasn’t one he relished, he needed a reminder. The very concept could be the only thing to stop the wedding. 

“Who said anything about monogamy?” he laughed while taking a sip of his wine. “I’m sure I’ll be insatiable after I deflower your tight cunt, but once you’re with child I’ll be left to my own devices. Someone will have to satisfy my needs,” he said like it was common knowledge. 

By the fucking cauldron this man was insane. But in his words, I saw an opening I never thought of. Maybe I didn’t need to call off the wedding, maybe I just needed to ensure I could sneak out the back door so to say when I needed to. 

“And what about me? Will I be allowed other partners?” I muse playing with the hair at the nape of his neck like it might soften him up. 

Eris barks out a hearty laugh and I already know I’ve lost this fight as his hand trails up my thigh. The fabric of my dress starts to shift and I find myself shifting around to fix it once more. 

“Of course not wife, I won’t have your cunt defiled by any other male,” He pressed a kiss to my neck. “You are purely mine, to taste, to fuck, to impregnate all I want.” 

“I’m not your wife yet,” I grumble trying to stand, but his hand on my front flattens and I’m pulled down onto his lap once more.

 My stomach pits as I feel what prods into my backside. He’s undeniably hard and my eyes search for Cassian. I have no doubt that Eris would fuck me right here on this dias just to prove a point to everyone in attendance. I search and search, but Cassian is nowhere to be found.  

“Oh really? Because you’re on my lap, on my throne and you’re wearing my ring,” He purrs lowly so only I can feel his hand dipping under my dress. “And I’m pretty sure you’ve cum on my fingers. So yes I will call you my wife preemptively because that’s what you are ‘Jewel of Prythian’, mine.” 

His hand cups my sex and my breath hitches in my throat. Tears prick my eyes and I put on a cold face. 

I will not cry.

I will not cry. 

I will not cry. 

I feel a finger slip through my folds and when he doesn’t find what he’s looking for his finger slips inside me. My eyes search the crowd to see if anyone is paying attention, but thankfully they are all drunk and lost in conversation or dancing. That is until my eyes land on Cassian’s. I could throw up from the embarrassment of it all. 

Eris quickly retracted his finger, bringing it to his lips and sucking it. 

“Good girl. You didn’t fight this time.” he muses, brushing a hand down my cheek. 

I take the quickest route out, “I think I see Viviane, she wants to speak to me,” I say quickly, standing from his lap. 

“Have fun pet,” Eris smirks, smacking my backside before I saunter down the steps making a beeline for Kallias and Viviane. 

My mind is a mess of a million different voices. Eris calling me his broodmare, Cassian begging me to end all this, the voice of my brother sacrificing himself for me, the sound of the children of Velaris playing in the streets. All of it is like a perfect storm. I could erupt at any moment and I don’t think anyone here would care unless my makeup smeared and ruined the image of “The Jewel” 

Like a magnet, my eyes flit up from my feet rushing through the crowd to find that hazel gaze that always brought me home. 

Cassian was making a beeline towards me. No, not towards me, to my right.

I passed him without so much as a word but as if some strange instinct kicked in, I reached out a hand and felt him do the same. Our fingers grazed each other where no one could see. His touch held a thousand words. 

I am here. I am with you. You are not alone. I love you.

My breathing calmed, my heart rate slowed, and the voices in my head quieted down to the point where all I heard was the white noise of those around me.  

And I was thankful, so thankful, for that simple touch that brought me home.

Cassian’s pov: 

I could kill him. 

I could fucking kill him for touching my mate that way. Cleave his head from his body. Castrate him. Rip him limb from limb and my rage still wouldn’t be sated. 

The look on her face as his hand dipped between her legs is one I wouldn't soon forget. She was so scared, so helpless and I just let it happen.

I marched towards the other end of the ballroom after grazing her hand in mine. I just needed to feel her once. Just needed to remember that she was mine. 

I pushed past the large swaths of curtains lining the room to where I knew there was a door that led to the cool night air outside. I just needed air. I needed to forget. 

y/n’s pov: 

“Well I hope to see you and your new husband visiting us in the winter court soon,” Viviane said, embracing me fondly.  

“And tell that brother of yours that I want to have a drink with him soon,” Kallias smiled putting a hand on my shoulder. 

“I’ll be sure to do both,” I smile warmly. 

While under the mountain, Kallias was one of the people who looked out for me. His relationship with my brother was strong, and since Rhys couldn’t ever be with me Kallias had stepped in as one of my protectors. I had only met Viviane once since Kallias shielded her from the horrors under the mountain, but her warm soul always spoke to me. I was happy to call the mates my friends. 

“I’ll do just that,” I smile, backing away from the High Lord and Lady. 

My eyes flit up to that cursed dias, looking for any sign of Eris’ gaze. Instead, I found him lounging about talking to one of the men who sexualized me at the last ball. My skin prickled at the memory. Their voices calling through my head as I made my way towards the edge of the room scouring the dancehall for another drink. 

Suddenly a hand gripped my exposed arm and pulled me behind the swaths of large fabric that lined the room. My back hit one of the many pillars as another hand was placed over my mouth to keep me from screaming, which I desperately wanted to do until I saw that beautiful shade of hazel that warmed my very bones. 

“Shh, it’s okay it’s just me,” Cassian whispered, releasing his hand that covered up over half of my face. 

“Oh Cassian,” I breathed, placing my hands on either cheek. The stubble from this morning mixed with the warmth of him setting my very soul on fire. 

“Are you okay?” he breathed pulling me into his chest, like he just needed to have me in his arms if only for a moment. 

“Yes, yes I’m fine,” I said frantically as I inhaled his scent. 

“He touched you,” Cassian glowered and I pulled my head back to meet his simmering eyes. 

My heart shattered right there at the pain within them. He had seen everything. Seen Eris’ hand roam where it shouldn't have, seen him bring that hand to his mouth. Seen him do this in front of everyone and I had instructed the general not to even flinch. It was cruel, I was crueler than even the prince of Autumn himself, 

“I’m sorry Cassian, I’m so so sorry,” I pleaded, brushing a hair out of his face that had escaped the bundle at the nape of his neck. “I’m yours Cassian, I’m yours.”  

“Y/n I-” 

“My heart,” I cut him off, placing his rough hand over the center of my too-exposed chest. “My heart belongs to you Cass.” 

In an instant his hands found my waist, pulling me towards him as his frame backed me into the marble pillar. His lips on mine in a fiery need. I met him touch for touch as I pulled the lapels of his jacket towards me, needing to feel every inch of him on me. Even more than that I needed him to erase every single fingerprint Eris had left on me. 

Cassian. 

My Cassian.

His hands brushed over the vast expanse of my exposed skin leaving a trail of warmth wherever they went. I had spent the night so freezing cold from my lack of coverage that the heat of his body against mine felt so delicious. 

His tongue parted my mouth and I felt every inch of him reclaiming me. My hands found that head of hair that I so often found myself gripping as he licked my most sensitive areas. My mind raced to last night where he spent a solid hour coaxing orgasm after orgasm from me. 

A woman laughed loudly from the other side of the curtain pulling both Cassian and I’s heads away from one another. We looked to see if the curtain had been pulled back but found nothing.

My core ground down on the bulge in his pants. Oh gods I needed him. I needed him now. 

“Tell me to stop,” he breathed, tucking a stray hair behind my ear. “Tell me to leave and wait till we get home.” 

“No,” I rasped pulling him down to my lips once more. 

I needed him now. Needed to feel all of him, needed to remember that no matter what Eris said or did to me he could never own me. He could own my body, sure. But my heart? My soul? The very essence of me? All of it belonged to Cassian. So much so that it consumed me. 

Cassian’s large hands reached beneath my thighs hoisting me up and pressing me further into the cold marble pillar. It didn’t take much for my dress to part for him exposing my core. My hands went to the ties of his pants frantically pulling them down until he sprang free. 

“Cassian, I need you,” I pleaded with him. 

“Shh I’m coming baby,” he assured me, pumping his cock a few times. 

The woman outside the curtain laughed again but this time neither of us looked to see if she had seen us. Let them see. I thought to myself. At this moment I was beyond caring about who was engaged to and who I wasn’t. Who was a prince and who was a bastard. Cassian had all of me, that's all that mattered. 

Cassian slid home filling me to the brim so harshly that I gasped. A calloused hand flew over my mouth and my eyes met his. His intense stare watching me take every luxurious inch of him could’ve been enough to make me cum right then and there. 

“Shh princess, I don’t like sharing.” he mused, thrusting into me even harder.

His hand fell from my mouth to brace against the pillar behind me as the other arm kept me upright. Every stroke threatened to have me screaming in pleasure. Calling out just how in love with this man I really was. But there were at least a couple hundred people on the other side of that thick curtain and though I hated to admit it, the game we were currently playing thrilled me to my core. 

“Fucking mine,” Cassian gritted through his teeth, thrusting harder for emphasis. This wasn’t just about releasing the tension for both of us. Oh no. This was my general reclaiming what was his, and cauldron if he didn’t have a hand holding me up I would’ve been weak at the knees. 

“All yours Cass,” I mumbled into his mouth as I pressed my lips into his, my fingers digging into the material of his jacket. 

“I love you y/n,” he breathed. “So fucking much.” 

“I love you too Cassian,” I smiled, feeling myself clench around him, as the knot in me was beginning to let go. 

“Fuck,” he hissed in my ear, burying his head in my shoulder. 

It was enough to have me cumming around his cock. My hand flew to my own mouth to stifle the loud moan my body involuntarily let out. My orgasm triggered Cassian's as he let out a smothered low groan burying himself deep inside me

As I tried my best to catch my breath Cassian pulled his head from my shoulder. I looked at his strained face and his messed up hair and began meticulously brushing every strand back into place. His eyes met mine and I couldn’t help but laugh. 

“We did not just do that,” I giggled brushing his hair into submission. 

“I think we did princess,” he laughed looking down to where he was still seated inside me. “I’m sorry I got a little jealous there.” 

“Don’t be sorry, it was kinda hot.” I smile, running a hand down his cheek.

“Yeah?” he smirked, leaning in for another kiss.

“You two are fucking idiots!” Azriel hissed low coming from around the corner. 

Our heads turned immediately to find a very worried Azirel shrouded in his shadows. Cassian set me down and shielded my body with his growling at Az as he tucked himself back into his pants. 

“A warning would have been nice brother,” Cassian grumbled, making sure I was decent before stepping to the side. 

“You’re lucky my shadows found you before anyone else did,” Azriel argued. “Eris is looking for her,” he says nodding towards me. 

“Shit,” I curse, adjusting my dress and stepping towards the curtain. 

Cassian’s hand finds mine and pulls me back. My eyes snap to him and where there was once lust is now a pleading gaze that has tears threatening to spill from my own eyes. 

“Please don’t go to him, I can’t bear it any longer,” he begs me and gods does it shatter me to my core. 

“I have to Cass,” I say adjusting his jacket so it’s straight.

“Tell him you're ill and then come back to me,” he pleads. “Then we can go home.”

I know deep down that I shouldn't be leaving this early. It had only been an hour or two since the guests arrived and I hadn’t even spoken to Helion. But Cassian looked so broken. So broken and so hurt. I couldn’t put him through anymore tonight, and I wanted nothing more than for him to take me in his arms and tell me everything would be okay.

“Alright,” I say assuringly, squeezing his large hand. I take one look at Cassian and then at Azriel who looks worried as hell, like if I didn’t leave right this moment we would all be found out. 

So I reluctantly pulled my hand from his and parted the curtain that concealed us. Thankful for the shadows Azirel lent me, I was able to assimilate back into the crowd seamlessly. But as I made my way towards the dias where Eris sat impatiently I swore I could feel Cassian’s anger behind me and it threatened to bring down the room around us. 

Part 8

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[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

Push the Sky Away - Part One

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x original female character (Lorra Stark) Chapter warnings: Angst. Canon typical violence. Mention of loss of virginity. Smut. Word count: ~6.5k

Summary: We are getting to know Aemond in this chapter. Some scene setting and world building, not much to be found of our OC until she is introduced towards the end. Laying the groundwork for what's to come later. Series masterlist.

Author's note: For @sapphirehearteyes. I don't have a tag list. Please follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications. Community labels are for cops.

Fire and Blood, the infamous words of House Targaryen. It is a phrase that both haunts and eludes Aemond Targaryen from an early age, with its promise of greatness and constant reminder of all he will never be. 

The Targaryen name is the only thing of any value that Viserys has ever bestowed upon his sons. Aemond ponders whether his father’s disinterest in him is a result of the illness that weakens his body by the day, or if he simply has no room in his heart for the children borne of his second marriage. When he watches him interact with Rhaenyra, how he lights up in her presence in a way that he does not for him or his other siblings, he knows it is the latter.

The fireplace warms his skin, uncomfortably so, and despite the septa’s caution that he not sit so close, he refuses to budge. Sweat prickles the back of his neck, dampening and curling the ends of the hair that sticks to it. His discomfort is of little importance to him, he needs to remain within this proximity to the hearth in order to keep his egg warm, to ensure it hatches. It is a vigil he has kept for as long as he can remember, not moving until he is forced to bed with aching joints and soot covered hands. Unable to understand why it had never hatched in his cradle, he is certain that if he does his due diligence then soon he will have a dragon of his own.

His mother is alerted of his disobedience, and Alicent regards him with sadness in her large brown eyes, as she reaches for him.

“Come away, my dearest love, you will have a dragon of your own one day.”

He simply shakes his head. She could not understand. He does not want just any dragon, he wants his. There must be a reason why this particular egg was imparted upon him, otherwise it is all for nothing.

Despite this, day after day the hardened scales remain cool to the touch, little more than a rock between his tiny fingers. Perhaps placing it within the flames themselves will yield the result he hopes for?

He leans forward into the fireplace, heat blazing against his pale cheeks, and an acrid stench fills his nostrils. It is not until he is pulled forcefully back by the firm grasp of the septa that he realises the ends of his long, fair hair have singed, charred and blackened by the heat of the fire.

The egg is taken away after that, and Aemond weeps bitterly at the unfairness of it. It is his birthright, his only birthright, and now his sole purpose for being has been snatched from him; it seems there is little point to his existence now. He never sees the egg again, but he often wonders what would have happened if he had been left uninterrupted to place it upon the flames.

When Aemond is a little older, he begins to frequent the Dragonpit, for what is a Targaryen without their dragon? If he no longer has his own egg then he will find another, or perhaps claim a riderless mount of his own.

The warmth beneath the Grand Sept is different from that of the fireplace. It is dank and humid within the pit, the odour of droppings hangs heavy in the air, mixed with sulphur and ash. The smell sticks to his clothes when he returns to the Keep each evening, and momentarily he feels his chest swell with pride as his mother winkles her nose in disgust at the scent. It is the same look of distaste that she bestows upon both Helaena and Aegon when they return from flying, and for the briefest of moments he can pretend that he has too.

Yet still he goes to bed each evening dragonless, and begins each day anew with the bitter taste of jealousy in his mouth as he watches his nephews, Jacaerys and Lucerys, interact with their dragons, Vermax and Arrax. Targaryens are considered to be closer to gods than men, so it feels like a cruel twist of fate that his half sister’s bastard offspring should be blessed with eggs that hatched in their cradles when his did not. Rhaenyra’s children have the favour of the Seven, whereas they seem to have turned a blind eye to him.

Aemond’s heart soars with hope when the dragonkeepers reveal to his sister that Dreamfyre is gravid. If she produces a healthy clutch of eggs then he can claim one, one that will actually hatch. In spite of the warnings that the she-dragon be left in peace during this sensitive time, and Helaena’s frustrated and repeated requests to stop disturbing her, he cannot resist the pull towards where she roosts within her darkened cave. If she is to lay an egg, then he wants to be the first to see it, to ensure he can take one for himself.

The blistering heat of the flames that Dreamfyre expels with her mighty roar of anger as he approaches yet again causes him to stagger backwards, wide eyed and slack jawed. But Aemond feels no fear as gazes into her fiery maw, his only thoughts are that one day soon a beast of his own will do much the same.

When Aegon claps a heavy hand upon his shoulder, steering him forward, and claiming a dragon has been found for him, he does his best to remain calm. He is used to his brother and nephews’ cruel japes at his expense. But as he stands at the top of the slope to the Dragonpit, he cannot help the way his heart races with excitement at the possibility that it might be true.

His hopes are dashed when a pig is led out to him, trussed up in wings, having been jokingly named “the pink dread”. He bows his head at the raucous laughter of Aegon, Jace and Luke around him, humiliation flushing his cheeks for having dared to believe it could be true.

The echoes of Aegon’s mocking pig grunts ring in his ears all the way home, and he stands dejectedly as Alicent delivers yet another scolding for him having dared to disturb Dreamfyre. He is usually silently accepting of her scorn, confident he knows better, and prepared to defy her all over again the next day. However, this time he can no longer bear the injustice of it all.

“They gave me a pig!” He cries, feeling the prickle of tears in his eyes. “They laughed, they all laughed.”

The warmth of his mother’s embrace does little to comfort the inferno that blazes inside of him. Today is proof of the fact that his own brother does not view him as equal - how could he? Aemond is a second born son and has no dragon. He is worth nothing.

If he is not destined to be a dragonrider, then Aemond decides he will give his all to becoming a fearsome warrior instead. He excels in the training yard with each daily practice, every strike of his wooden sword against the straw stuffed target more ferocious than the last. The proud glint in the eye of Ser Criston Cole as he watches diligently, offering guidance on both stance and technique, serves to spur him on. He will be the best at this, he has to be.

Much to his displeasure, the allotted time for sparring is shared with his nephews. Though they learn under the watchful eye of Ser Harwin Strong, there is still a competitive element, and an underlying sense of animosity between Criston and Harwin that he does not quite understand.

Aegon later tells him it is because Ser Harwin is the true father of Rhaenyra’s children. He feels a smug sense of satisfaction at being privy to this information, and it brings him and his older brother closer together. The two of them share rare moments of comradery each time they don their armour and pick up their practice blades. It’s the only time that Aemond ever genuinely laughs or smiles.

There is an obvious divide from that point onwards, Targaryens uniting against Strongs, and as the tension grows between the boys, it does between their mentors too, until one day it reaches a boiling point.

At first Aemond titters along with his brother as they watch Criston scuffle with Harwin, but his smile quickly fades upon seeing how valiantly their father fights for them, knowing his own would never do the same for him. As he looks up into the solemn features of Aegon, he knows the sentiment is shared. It is yet another privilege that Rhaenyra’s children possess that he does not have; the love of their father.

They journey to Driftmark when they receive the news that Laena Velaryon has passed away in childbirth. The icy, coastal winds that whip Aemond’s hair around his face as the stone coffin is committed to the sea are as bleak as the mood that envelopes them all. He seeks warmth near the brazier, attempting to catch the eye of Jace, who stands on the opposite side. Despite the tension between them, he hopes to offer condolences, knowing the loss of both Ser Harwin and his aunt play heavily upon his nephew’s mind.

He realises it is a futile gesture the moment that Jace turns away in disgust, and once more Aemond is reminded of how alone he truly is, that he has nothing. Luke will inherit Driftmark, and their mother has betrothed Helaena to Aegon. Luke snivels at what he is offered, claiming that when Driftmark passes to him it means everyone will have died. Aegon scoffs at the notion of being married to Helaena, claiming they have nothing in common.

It angers Aemond, to be overlooked in favour of those who are so ungrateful for all they have. If he were set to inherit anything, he would do everything in his power to prove he is worthy of it and bear the title with honour. If his mother had betrothed his sister to him, he would do his duty and ensure the match produces heirs that would make House Targaryen proud.

His attention is drawn to the clifftop when he sees the spread of enormous wings and hears the mighty rumble of the creature atop it. Vhagar. Laena Velaryon’s dragon is now riderless, and the pull he feels towards her is one he simply cannot ignore. At last, he has found his purpose and his desire to claim a dragon is reinvigorated with new strength.

Aemond waits until nightfall. Sea spray has made the rocks slippery beneath his feet, and he ascends carefully, though determined, towards the top of the cliff where Vhagar roosts. Windswept and breathless by the time he reaches the top, he stands awestruck at the sleeping dragon. Even partially submerged in sand, she is a magnificent sight to behold. She had appeared massive when looking at her from above, but it does nothing to prepare him for the sheer scale of her up close. She is gargantuan.

For a moment, icy fingers of fear grip Aemond’s heart, and he considers simply turning back, he has made a dangerous mistake. He shakes the thought from his mind the moment it presents itself.

I am no craven.

His approach is tentative, palms outstretched to communicate that he does not present a threat, as the elderly beast grumbles and shakes sand from her back. He stares transfixed as she opens her jaws, the white hot inferno that swirls within their depths makes that of Dreamfyre’s seem like a mere campfire. He feels as though he is looking into the very mouth of the Seven Hells themselves, but instead of fear Aemond feels kinship. Vhagar is without purpose, as is he, until now.

“Lykirī,” he calls out, the wind carrying half the sound away with it. Yet she hears, and she stills, eyeing the child before her with keen curiosity. Be calm.

Emboldened by her calmness at his command, Aemond steps closer, fingertips ghosting against the heat that radiates from her scales.

“Dohaerās, Vhagar,” he tells her, voice trembling. This is the same dragon ridden by the great warrior, Visenya, the conqueror’s wife. She is battle hardened, and with the smallest of movements could snuff out his short life. Serve.

The faintest sound of displeasure reverberates through Vhagar’s body, yet she remains still. Aemond’s heart beats wildly in his chest as he grips the ropes attached to her saddle and begins to pull himself up. If he had thought the climb to the top of the cliff difficult, it proves nothing compared to this. His arms ache with exertion, the expanse of the great beast he is attempting to summit is vaster than anything he has ever climbed before.

By the time he pulls himself into the saddle, Aemond’s palms are red raw with rope burn and his skin is damp with perspiration. There is barely time for him to catch his breath though, as the moment Vhagar feels him settle on her back, she rises to her feet, vast quantities of sand slipping from her back and wings in drifts.

The movement startles Aemond, and he fears he will fall. His sore hands cling tightly to her reins as he shouts his final command to her. 

“Sōvēs.” Fly.

As she rises into the air with an effortless flap of her wings, he feels as though he has left his stomach on the ground below. The rush upwards is dizzying, frightening and exhilarating all at once. Aemond begins to laugh as he grows used to the weightless sensation of every ebb and flow through the air as it whistles past his ears, and chills his skin to the bone. He is finally complete, he has his dragon, and for the first time in his life he is genuinely happy.

That happiness is short-lived.

The moment he reaches solid ground, his cousins, Baela and Rhaena, are waiting for him, alongside Jace and Luke. He had anticipated this, and is well prepared.

“It’s him!” Rhaena shouts as soon as she sees him.

“It’s me,” he responds calmly, confident there is nothing to be done now that Vhagar is his.

“Vhagar is my mother’s dragon!”

“Your mother is dead, and Vhagar has a new rider now.”

“She was mine to claim!”

“Then you should have claimed her. Maybe your cousins can find you a pig to ride? It would suit you.”

He is startled when Rhaena angrily charges towards him, though he is bigger than her and pushes her to the ground with ease. A punch from her sister, Baela, catches him off guard, the pain in his face enraging him and causing him to hit back so hard she falls over.

“Come at me again and I’ll feed you to my dragon!” He snarls angrily.

Jace and Luke rush at him, and in a moment of confidence Aemond thinks he has bested the both of them, until all four children knock him down and begin to rain their fists down upon him.

He is the rider of the world’s largest dragon, and his new found confidence coupled with the surge of adrenaline allows him to fight them all back. He grasps a rock, holding it above Luke’s head as he grasps him tightly by the collar.

“You will die screaming in flames, just as your father did. Bastards!” He hisses.

“My father is still alive!” Luke wails.

Aemond smirks, rock still held above his sobbing nephew, and he glances to Jace. “He does not know, does he, Lord Strong?”

Jace unsheathes a dagger, to the protestations of both Rhaena and Baela, and the distraction is enough for Aemond to knock it from his hand. His dedication in the training yard has paid off and he quickly gets the better of Jace, snatching up the rock once more, prepared to bring it down upon his skull should he try to attack him again.

In Aemond’s mind, the matter is settled, they should accept what has happened and retire to bed.

Unfortunately, his nephews do not share the sentiment. He winces, staggering backwards as Jace throws sand in his face, and before he has had time to fully recover, Luke is racing towards him, Jace’s dagger in hand.

The pain is excruciating as his nephew slashes upwards, and suddenly his vision shows blackness on one side, instead of his surroundings. He falls to his knees, a shriek of agony leaving him as blood seeps through the fingers of the hand he clasps to one side of his face.

His only focus is the searing, torturous pain he feels, waves of nausea rippling through his prone body, until a clamour of armour alerts him to the presence of the Kingsguard. As a knight kneels beside him, coaxing his hand away, his pale, horrified expression and exclamation of “Gods be good” are all Aemond needs to know that his face is ruined forever.

The fire in the hall of Driftmark is warm against his skin, and he does his best to focus on that sensation instead of that of the Maester extracting his eye from his skull. Though he has been dosed with milk of the poppy, he still feels every cut, every tug, and the pierce of the needle as it’s pulled through his skin repeatedly to stitch up the wound.

Aemond is unsure if it is the milk of the poppy that dulls his senses, or the satisfaction he feels at having claimed the world’s largest dragon, but he does not feel anger or sadness as he expects he would have when he is told his eye is lost forever.

When his mother snatches a knife and charges towards Rhaenyra, he is certain she has more blood of the dragon coursing through her veins than his coward of a father does. She is willing to risk everything to avenge his disfigurement, while Viserys makes excuses and appears more affronted at his eldest daughter’s children being called bastards. The loss of Aemond’s eye seems of little importance to him.

It is in that moment that Aemond feels the tiny semblance of respect he had for his father wither and die. As he takes in the harrowed expressions of Alicent, Aegon and Helaena, he knows they are all he has left.

“Do not mourn me, mother,” he says softly, rising to comfort her, though unsteady on his feet as he adjusts to his partial sightedness. “I may have lost an eye, but I have gained a dragon.”

A scar mars the flesh of Aemond’s face, but also ravages its way through the Targaryen family. Rhaenyra and her children leave King’s Landing, settling upon Dragonstone with Daemon and his daughters. Meanwhile, the health of Viserys continues to decline and the instances he is not bedridden grow fewer. Aemond does not miss his presence.

Worry hangs over his mother, a permanent shroud of anxiety, while Aegon becomes more debaucherous, sinking further into his cups with each passing day. Helaena retreats deeper into herself, rarely speaking unless spoken to, and bristles at any initiation of physical touch.

Slowly, Aemond heals, though it is not without struggle. He must learn to do everything anew. His favourite books become a chore to read, no longer able to pore over their pages for as long without suffering a terrible ache in his head.

Criston has to begin his training with the sword all over again. There is a newfound blind spot to account for when he fights. Not only does he have to learn how to balance, pivot and wield his weapon with accuracy, he also has to develop hyper vigilance and an acute awareness of where his opponent is at all times, to prevent them from drifting to the side from which he cannot see, and besting him.

Even flying on dragonback is difficult, though he only has one flight to compare it to. He learns fast, and is grateful that Vhagar’s advanced age makes her placid and more forgiving than a younger mount might be. When Aemond is airborne he can almost forget his disfigurement entirely, until he returns to the ground and the world is half blackness once more.

It is enough to make Aemond want to scream in frustration and give up at times. However, he is accustomed to a life of feeling out of place, of having to work harder than everyone else to prove his worth. There is nothing to be gained from a defeatist attitude, so he hardens himself to the challenges he faces, determined to be better with one eye than he was with two.

If his vision of the world is now limited, then he will simply expand his mind beyond that. He loses himself in tomes of history and philosophy, ignoring the dull pain that plagues his skull as he reads into the small hours.

In the training yard, he is quick to learn to keep Criston within his line of sight at all times, and wields his sword viciously, relentlessly, always striving to be faster, stronger, more precise. The proud look upon the Knight’s face means little to him now. The only person he means to prove anything to is himself. 

He reasons that a warrior must appear as fearsome as they fight, and takes to wearing a sapphire in the empty socket of his eye, when it is not covered by a patch.

The single matter that Aemond is never able to quite grasp is that of the fairer sex. Aegon has always seemed to have an overly indulgent interest in women, moreso what lies between their legs, but he has never understood his brother’s obsession with fornication. He has read about the mechanics of it in books, and the idea makes his lip curl in disgust. However, he reasons that Aegon is older, and perhaps his own appetite will develop in much the same way as he ages.

Aegon reasons that women’s skin is soft, they smell nice, and when you find one that has the perfect pair of tits and legs then there is little else that matters. While it is agreeable to Aemond that women are indeed more pleasant to look upon than men, he questions why he should not take an interest in their education or how they like to pass the time. His brother argues that once you are sheathed inside a woman, it is not what is in their mind that matters in the slightest.

Upon Aemond’s thirteenth name day, Aegon slaps him on the back and informs him that it is “time to get it wet”. The very idea makes his guts churn with unease, yet he dons the clothes of common folk just the same, pulling a hood over his head, and allows his brother to guide him to the Street of Silk.

The walk through Flea Bottom reeks of urine, with men staggering half drunk through the narrow cobbled streets, while women in varying states of undress beckon them forward into darkened hovels. Aemond keeps his head bowed, dreading what is to come, and is thankful when the establishment that his older brother guides him to looks slightly more respectable than the half a dozen they have passed by already.

The pleasure house is dimly lit and the heady scent of cheap perfume burns his nostrils, though it barely covers the smell of another undesirable stench that he assumes is the byproduct of what goes on here. He half wonders if it will stick to his clothing, much like the smell of sulphur and ash does when he returns from dragonback. He sincerely hopes not. 

His throat runs dry when Aegon staggers away with a busty woman, full of giggles, leaving him alone. The brothel’s madame has a kind smile, though it does not meet her eyes, and when she places her hand upon his shoulder it makes him shudder. He feels her touch there like a brand long after she has taken it away.

“Choose any of my girls that you like,” she tells him.

Timidly he eyes all of them. He wants none of them, but how can he say that?

When he hesitates, she chooses for him, pushing him towards a room with a girl that cannot be much older than he is. Her hair is the colour of straw, her skin reeks of the same perfume that lingers thick within the air, and there is wine upon her breath.

The fireplace burns low in the room as he lays upon the bed, and he keeps his eye fixed upon it until it is over. He has enjoyed none of it, the finish feeling little more to him than the satisfaction he experiences when scratching an itch. He cannot understand why Aegon makes such a fuss about it, if that is all there is to it then he never wants to partake in such an act of vulgarity ever again.

He leaves without saying a word, and walks as quickly as his legs will carry him back to the Red Keep. In the bathtub that evening, he scrubs until his skin is red raw, wanting nothing more than to erase every trace of what he has endured that day.

When he is served his favourite meal for his name day feast, roasted haunch of venison, he finds he has no appetite. Sickly perfume fills his nose and turns his stomach, and he leaves his plate untouched.

From that day forth, Aemond decides that he has no taste for depravity, and dedicates his time to reading, training with the sword and taking flight on Vhagar. Despite the nagging ache at the back of his mind that Aegon is set to succeed their father when he passes away, despite neither wanting nor deserving it, he feels a sense of fulfillment in knowing that he is making both their mother and House Targaryen proud.

There are few books in the Keep’s library he has not read at least twice, and he trains daily in the yard with Criston, now at a point where he is the victor in almost every sparring match.

The years pass, and Aemond is content with solitude, assuming that is his lot in life. Fire and blood course hotly in his veins, and in spite of his disfigurement he feels every inch a true Targaryen.

Viserys deteriorates to the point that Aemond’s grandsire and Hand of the King, Otto, now oversees most of the royal duties, and he has begun in earnest to plan with Alicent for Aegon’s eventual coronation. It comes as no shock to Aemond the day that he is beckoned to the Small Council Chamber, though he is surprised to find it is just his grandsire that sits at the table, there is not even a cup bearer present.

“I trust you are aware of the plans to crown Aegon once your father passes?” Otto asks, once Aemond is seated in the chair nearest to him.

Aemond sits up straight against the backrest, long legs stretched out and crossed at the ankle, as he regards Otto impassively. “I am.”

“Good,” Otto nods, clasping his hands in front of him on the table. “Then I am sure you must know of your own duty to the realm.”

Aemond purses his lips, eyeing the older man carefully. “I will do what I must to ensure Aegon’s claim to the throne goes unchallenged.”

Otto sighs, leaning back and regarding Aemond with a twinkle of amusement in his eye. “Rhaenyra is sure to challenge your brother’s birthright, as your father foolishly named her heir, but there are means to remedy that.”

Aemond says nothing, waiting for Otto to say what he means. He watches as he fills both their wine cups, before setting the jug down. He takes a deep drink from his own, but Aemond leaves his untouched, wishing his grandsire would just get to the point.

Otto clicks his tongue before continuing. “To strengthen Aegon’s claim, we must curry favour with the other Great Houses of the realm.”

Aemond lowers his gaze, fingers drumming absentmindedly on the armrests of his chair. “You wish for me to marry.”

“Yes, Aemond, you are to be betrothed.”

The tone of voice in which Otto says this has such finality, it sounds as though a match has already been decided. His eye flickers upwards to meet the unyielding gaze of his grandsire.

“To who?”

“Your mother and I thought it best not to present you with suitors, we know you would not enjoy such a spectacle.”

You know all of them would take one look at me and be horrified by the very notion of being married to me.

Otto continues, “So we have chosen for you. The daughter of Lord Rickon Stark, Lorra. She is a pretty girl, and having the allegiance of a Great House of the North will weaken Rhaenyra’s claim.”

Aemond stays silent as his mind races.

House Stark. Their sigil is a dire wolf, their words are Winter is Coming.

Beyond that, he knows nothing of Northerners, what could he possibly learn about his betrothed from a book anyway?

He wets his lips, resigned to his fate. “When?”

“She will arrive in King’s Landing in two weeks, so that you can begin your courtship of her.”

“I will do my duty.”

“I trust that you will.”

Aemond retires to his chambers for the remainder of the day. He had anticipated that he would have to marry to form a political alliance at some point, however, the thought rattles him all the same. 

He is a solitary creature by nature, what on earth will he do with a wife? He supposes life will stay much the same, if his mother and father and Aegon and Helaena are to be used as examples - both couples married, yet living entirely separate lives. It is a mere formality. He will not be expected to spend time with her.

They will be expected to produce heirs, however. Nervousness swirls in his gut at the thought. He does not want to endure what happened to him at the brothel each time he couples with his wife, yet he cannot leave her childless either.

Lorra is a highborn lady, however, not a common whore, so perhaps he will be able to find pleasure in the act. Doubt niggles in his mind as he ponders his inexperience. A Prince must know what he is doing if he is to produce children, and Aemond possesses neither experience nor interest in the act of procreation. He will need to prepare if he is to perform his marital duties as anticipated without embarrassing himself or his wife.

The thought of returning to Flea Bottom makes him shiver in revulsion. He has no desire to part with coin for an act that sickens him. He will need to find an alternative.

There are plenty of maidservants around the Keep who are pretty enough, and of a similar age to him. He does not wish to be like his brother, however, and will not take what is not freely given. He has observed the way that Aegon expresses interest in the women that attend to them during mealtimes and decides to deploy some of the same tactics, though in a much more subtle manner.

At supper the following evening, he spots a young woman who is pleasing to him. She has a slender neck and pretty face, her large eyes framed by thick lashes. He watches her carefully as she rounds the table, filling each cup with wine, and when finally she approaches him, he deliberately reaches forward, his fingers brushing the soft skin of her wrist as she pours from the jug she holds. She glances down at him and he looks up, holding her gaze, the faintest of smirks on his face. A slight blush creeps up her neck, dusting its way across her cheekbones and he knows she is interested.

He spends the rest of the meal catching her eye whenever he can, and when the evening draws to a close, he lingers in the doorway, beckoning her with the slightest tip of his head when she looks at him, before walking back to his bedchamber. Aemond does not have to wait long for the knock at his door.

“Your grace, will you be needing anything else this evening?” She asks with a polite smile.

He closes the door behind them, steeling himself before turning to face her. “You understand why you are here?”

She nods, reaching up to cup his face as she leans in. He turns away, pulling back slightly.

“I have no need for you to kiss me.”

She nods in understanding and moves towards the bed, slipping out of her clothes. Aemond stands in silence as he watches her disrobe. She is attractive to look at, much more desirable than the girl he had coupled with in Flea Bottom. Smooth skinned, with subtle curves and firm breasts. He wonders how many others have looked upon her in the same manner that he has.

“Lay down,” he instructs her, once she is fully bare before him.

She moves to position herself face down, but Aemond steps forward, halting her actions.

“Let me look at you.”

“As you wish, your grace,” she whispers, blushing again, and repositions onto her back.

Aemond stands over her, his eye raking over her form as he takes in the way her chest rises and falls with every breath, the way the narrowness of her waist expands outwards towards her hips.

Tentatively, he reaches forward, fingers trailing lightly over the plush flesh of her inner thigh, tugging gently.

Obediently, she spreads her legs and he sucks in a breath at what glistens between them, curiosity guiding his actions as he spreads his fingers through the slick folds. She sighs in pleasure, and he looks back up at her face. Her lips are parted, eyes hooded with desire. Admittedly, though this is a much better experience than what he’d endured when he was thirteen, he still feels little in the way of excitement. Aemond appreciates that she lays there quietly, however, allowing him to take things at his own pace, and he feels his body respond to her regardless of his lack of emotion.

When his cock strains almost painfully against the lacings of his breeches, he unfastens them, crawling over the maidservant to cage her body in with his. She feels better against him than the whore had, her skin is more supple and her scent not quite so overpowering. He grunts as he pushes himself inside of her, her tight, wet heat gripping every inch of him as he slides forward.

The inside of her is different from the grasp of his own hand. Aemond is no stranger to the act of self pleasure, using it as a means to clear his mind or lull himself to sleep on nights when rest evades him. It is not a carnal act for him though, he simply focuses on the sensation, guiding himself to release. Despite the pleasant warmth of her body, he does not feel driven to desperate passion as he had anticipated, as he has so often heard Aegon describe.

As he rocks his hips into hers, back and forth, the growing ache he experiences is nice enough, but it does not light a fire within him. He is simply rutting against another person. The dulcet sounds that fall from her lips as he pistons into her sound too performative, and he feels resentment as he looks upon her face, just wanting to put an end to it.

He speeds up, and her sounds grow louder. Annoyance prickles at his skin.

“Shut the fuck up,” he hisses.

She falls silent and the room fills with the sound of the slap of his skin against hers, until finally he spills inside of her with a quiet gasp. He is quick to withdraw from her, standing and tucking himself away.

“You can go now,” he tells her, turning away.

He doesn’t watch as she dresses and quietly leaves his chamber. Aemond feels disappointment that he is unable to derive pleasure from such a carnal act. He has read that it is supposed to evoke excitement within a person, and from the way Aegon behaves he knows it is certainly true. So why does such a feeling evade him?

It matters not, he supposes. He will treat his wife in the same way he has the maidservant this evening. He will not take her by force, and he will be gentle with her. The act will be for the sole purpose of producing heirs, besides that they will live their lives as they please. He did not choose her, and she did not choose him, so he is confident that this will be an arrangement she finds satisfactory.

The next two weeks pass by without incident. Aemond reads, he trains and he flies, and thoughts of his betrothal scarcely enter his mind.

Upon the day of Lorra’s arrival to the Red Keep, he gathers in the Great Hall, with Alicent, Otto, Aegon and Helaena to greet her upon her arrival. He stands straight, hands clasped firmly behind his back, eye scanning the room impatiently. He hates the formality of it all, and wonders what could possibly be taking such a long time.

He will, of course, be dutiful and stand here for as long as necessary, but irritability simmers within him as he exhales heavily through his nose, wishing to be anywhere else right now, the library, the training yard, on dragonback. Such a display seems wholly unnecessary for an arrangement that is a mere formality.

When finally the doors open to the steps that ascend into the Hall, he faces forward, eye fixed upon the Kingsguard that file in. Until he sees her.

Draped in a cerulean cloak, trimmed with grey fur, she seems as though she is floating, rather than walking as she approaches. Her ivory skin is tinged with the faintest of pink against her cheeks and the curls of her ebony hair are braided down her back.

Aemond’s throat runs dry, his heart pounding quickly against his ribcage, and he realises he is holding his breath. The last time he felt such a powerful combination of fear, awe and longing had been the night he had first laid eyes upon Vhagar. It unsettles him, and he is grateful that his hands remain behind his back, otherwise he is certain that she would be able to see how they tremble.

“Lady Lorra of House Stark,” comes the announcement to the Hall, but it sounds distant and far away to Aemond as he stands, transfixed by her.

His blood pumps like liquid fire through his veins. Her eyes, so blue they could almost be sapphires, meet his and he feels a shiver run through him. After a lifetime of resonating in the warmth of flames, he is chilled by the ice that is reflected back at him.

[themotherofhorses]

masterlist | part one

Aemond Targaryen, who needs to be held back by Ser Criston Cole, as well as two additional kingsguards, when he confronts his mother. The prince yells and screams and demands answers, all but brandishing his own blade. But Alicent Hightower just stares at him with the same face she wore when he was ten and still dragonless and stubborn and constantly around the beasts. Her lips twist in a frown as she lets out a heavy sigh.

“My dear son, you should have known that this was going to happen. Did you really believe that I allowed you to marry the wretched girl for love? The same girl whom you suffered such terrible abuse at the hands of?” She shakes her head, “In the animal world, pray tell me which beasts are the ones most feared by men. Mothers. The princess would have been wise to remember that the very moment she rooted herself within our family.”

Noticing her son’s face, she soon adds, “But the debt has been paid now, and it is my promise to you that she will be left alone.”

He cannot do anything, he realizes, when his eye meets Ser Cole’s. He cannot avenge his wife or their lost child, no matter how desperately he wishes to. His mother remains the Queen Dowager, and to inflict such harm on her very being is a death sentence, and the prince cannot risk such foolishness and idiocy when his wife still needs him during her recovery.

With a venomous glare thrown her way, he leaves the room, but not without his mother making one final remark.

“And Aemond, my love, I am sorry about the babe. Would you believe me if I said that it was not my intention for her to lose it? We tried to save it, truly.”

He chooses not to answer.

Aemond Targaryen, who finds himself a pathetic witness as his dear wife grows into a shell of the young woman she once was. No longer does her lips curl into that bright smile that could rival the sun above, nor does she fling herself into his arms and kisses his face and neck and knuckles while declaring how much she loves and adores him.

Instead, she flinches whenever he nears and casts her lone eye downward, refusing to meet his gaze as if a lowborn girl. She refers to him as his royal titles only, and never the ones he gained when he became her husband and lover. When he kneels before her to change the bandages each morning and evening, and daubing the wound with the ointment the maesters provided him with, she mumbles out apologies, and the quietest begs for his mercy and forgiveness.

He never thought it was possible, but this pains him more than when she slashed his eye out all those years ago.

When it is all done, he pulls her to his chest and rocks her back and forth as if she was a new babe in the world. “My darling wife,” he mutters into her silver hairline, “My sweet girl. Oh, my beautiful girl. I will never forgive myself for leaving you behind that day. Forgive your damned husband, my love. Forgive me, I beg of you.”

He is met with only silence.

Aemond Targaryen, who has not spoken to his mother in weeks. It is a refusal on his part, despite Alicent making her own attempts, having lost her favored child. The hours he does not spend by his wife’s side, he is with his older sister in the royal playroom, watching his niece and nephews play with their toys on the floor. It makes him think about his own child and what could’ve been. A pretty babe, perhaps, with silver hair and violet eyes, no doubt of the golden blood of Old Valyria. He wonders if there ever will be another chance.    

“She told her that there was never any love for her.”

He turns his head to his sister, who has paused her embroidery to look at him with sad eyes.

“Mother, she had told our niece that you never did love her. That her losing the eye was meant from the beginning, and that you knew about it, and kept up your part so it could eventually happen.”

“No,” he says, shaking his head. “No, it was never like that. Yes, I will admit, I wanted revenge, and yes, I did hate her for what she did to me when we were both children, but all that was before I learned how good she was. How sweet and gentle and loving. My sweet girl, my princess, she gave me all the love in the world. She-” he feels his chest tighten greatly, leaving him heaving out short gasps and wheezes, “I love her. I love her more than she could possibly know. I never…I never wanted this. I love her. I love her so much,” and he tries his best to blink away the tears.

Helaena scoots herself closer and wraps gentle arms around both his shoulders, drawing him close. And when he cries into her neck, she whispers in his ear, “An eye for an eye, a son for a son. When the war is won, all will be good and done.”

Aemond Targaryen, who enters his chamber to find the Princess Rhaenys Targaryen seated on the bed, cradling his young wife to her chest. Through the muffled weeps, he could hear her talking to her youngest granddaughter, trying to coax out a response from the girl. When she fails to do so, the woman flattens her forehead against hers and tells her, “You do not dare leave me, my child, do you hear me? I have lost both my children; I will not lose you either.”

“Let us take her to Dragonstone, then,” he says, making his presence known. “I agree that she should be with her family. Perhaps being there will help her spirit.”

Rhaenys shakes her head with a broken chuckle. “Ah, Aemond One Eye. You must be a proud man, having gotten your revenge, it seems, as my grandchild is now without her eye.” She is gentle when laying the princess back down on the bed before standing up to face him. “Tell me, does this make you feel good? Better about yourself? More of a man, now that your wife matches you?”

His mouth twists in rage, but he is quick to bite down his tongue. “She was pregnant,” he chooses to say instead, watching as her eyes widen at his words. “The maesters believed the babe to have been a boy, and I was so excited to finally be a father. Your granddaughter, my wife, she was the prettiest sight, such that made me fall in love with her more every single day that passed.”  

“You loved her so much, you claim, yet you still maimed her.”

“No. It was not I who did this. You must believe me, Princess Rhaenys.”

“Then pray tell who it was?”

“My mother.” He sees the look on her face, and the way her mouth flattens into a tight line. “She had sent me to the North, to the Starks for business, so that I would be unable to stop her. When I returned, it had been done, and our child long gone. I wish for nothing but vengeance now.”

Maybe she believes him; maybe she does not. But he knows that Rhaenys will take her away from him, back to her home at Dragonstone, and will very likely deny him the right to follow them, despite him being her husband. He just cannot accept the thought of being separated from her, the love of his life, no matter how selfish that might sound. He glances at his wife where she rests, with her good eye watching the two of them. Such little life left in her, he sees, and he knows that keeping her here would be considered cruelty on his part.

“Her mother misses her very much, and when she learns of the abuse her only daughter has faced while here at the Keep, there will be a war to be fought. You realize that, right, Prince Aemond? Will you be ready for it?”

He knows that, but it is not the war’s responsibility- nor anyone else’s- to avenge his wife and child but his own. It is why he decides to help the Princess Rhaenys sneak out of the Keep with his wife when nighttime arrives, asking her to hand his sweet girl over to his older sister, her mother, so that the maesters there will tend to her.

With a final kiss pressed against her lips, he bids her a goodbye, and promises a fond reunion when everything has been settled.

Before they leave, his wife brushes her hand against his. It is the ever most gentle touch possible, but enough to garner his attention towards her.

“I love you, husband,” she smiles. “And thank you. Come home to me, please, for I’ll be waiting for you.”

Aemond Targaryen, who later sits near his siblings when their grandsire and mother receive a raven from Dragonstone, carrying the Princess Rhaenyra’s response to her daughter’s mutilation:

“An eye for an eye, a son for a son. My daughter and her babe shall be avenged.”

notes: show of hands for part three?

[wisteriaw0rld]

-ˋˏ ༻muichiro x reader༺ ˎˊ- (fem! reader<3)

||synopsis: you and Muichiro both share a close friendship as you visit him by the river alongside your foster mother, lady Amane. Your friendship with him only gets strong until the young boy finds himself forgetting about you. He thanks a maroon haired boy that reminds him much of his dad for making him remember you again.<3

Muichiro x Fem! Reader, Forget-Me-Not

“Darlin’ I fall to pieces when I’m with you, I fall to pieces.” -Lana Del Rey

Tokito never had good memory. But you were there with Lady Amane that day to save Muichiro. Sadly, it was too late for his brother. You were able to save Muichiro though, and as the adoptive daughter of the Ubuyashiki family, it had been your job to watch over Muichiro. You made sure to take him under your care, despite the two of you being the same age. He was grateful to have you there.

But slowly as time passed, he began developing memory problems that slowly but surely got worse. You tried your best to have him remember most things. You kept a planner on the wall of his room with small notes reminding him of things to do. Though the planner hadn’t been enough. He had quickly forgotten of his own past which led to him soon after forgetting you, even though you made sure to visit his estate every day.

The first time he had forgotten you, you felt heartbroken. You entered his estate for your daily check up with him. Although the moment he saw you, he turned around swiftly, staring at you with his soulless eyes. 

“Who are you? What are you doing here?” The boy questioned, taking a small but intimidating step forward. Your heart dropped slightly at his words and his cold voice.

“Muichiro, it’s me. Y/n. I’ve been taking care of you for a few weeks.” You smiled gently, trying not to show the sadness you contained from him forgetting you. You knew it wasn’t his own fault but it still hurt.

“It’s Tokito. And I don’t know anyone named Y/n.” He replied while glaring at you. “I’d like for you to leave.” 

A small sigh left your lips. It hurt that he had forgotten you, especially with the friendship you formed with him. “I can’t leave. Ms. Amane sent me here to check up on you. How are you feeling?” Muichiro ignored your question, picking a Bokken that was on the table beside him. He walked past you without a word.

You followed behind him silently. The two of you walked out of the estate. Muichiro ignored your presence, walking over to the training dummy, hitting it repeatedly without looking back at you. It didn’t take long for you to see the signal. So you left.

Just as every other time you visited Muichiro, you always reported back to Lady Amane. She would always ask how he was doing and you would give a full report. Of course, she was able to tell how sad you had been about him losing all his memories of his time with you.

But even with her gentle voice telling you that he would remember, you had little hope. He had already forgotten all the important people in his past. You were sure if he couldn’t remember them, there would be know way he would remember you.

After the incident that had occurred that day, you began bringing small flowers to him every time you visited. Days before Muichiro had forgotten about you, the two of you were sitting in a small field of forget me not flowers. That day, Muichiro’s memory began getting worse. And as a random promise, he held a forget-me-not flower to you, telling you that he hopes he wouldn’t forget you. That he swore he wouldn’t forget you. The promise was meaningful but he broke it.

Your efforts of hoping to get Muichiro to remember you remained hopeless. He couldn’t even remember you from the day before. And when you gave him a single forget-me-not flower, he simply threw it on a nearby table, not caring for it one bit. Then as before, demanded you to leave.

It became a habit to visit Muichiro daily. Lady Amane had told you that you no longer had to visit him, seeing as he fully recovered. But you continued the visits. And every visit you would bring forget-me-not flowers. Each one he would throw on the same table. Soon enough though, they piled up.

Muichiro began getting harsher. You remember how kind he had been before when you would visit him with Lady Amane as she told them more about the demon slayer corps. Now he had stolen the personality of his brother. He was cold and harsh. And he didn’t seem to care about anyone.

With his newly found behavior, he began also getting more irritated with you. Your constant visits while claiming the two of you know each other for him annoyed. He especially hated the way you would bring those forget-me-not flowers that just took over his un-used table.

But something deep inside of him told him not to throw those flowers away. And do he didn’t. He just let them pile up there. He would wake up every morning seeing that same pile of blue flowers. He couldn’t remember you. But whenever he looked at those flowers, you appeared in his mind. He couldn’t tell if he enjoyed it or disliked it. The feelings were conflicting.

However one day you stopped bringing the beautiful blue flowers. In fact, you stopped visiting him all together. He didn’t realize that you stopped. Something in him felt weird as it something was missing. But he didn’t once realize it was you. It had been the flowers that he noticed first. The way they stopped multiplying and the way some of them became wilted.

You would have continued your visits to the mist pillars estate. But the man you would buy your forget-me-not flowers from stopped selling them. He found it confusing that you’d visit daily and only buy one. But he was an old man and had already passed away. And his grandchildren weren’t ready to run his flower shop. With the flowers gone, you saw it as a small hint to give up on making him remember.

So instead of simply going to his estate empty handed, you returned to the Ubuyashiki estate. Amane had asked you why the visit was quick. You told her you gave up. The girl felt saddened. She knew how deeply you cared for Muichiro. But at the same time it pained her more when you would come back from your daily visits to head straight to your room. Silently crying as only a few tears left your eyes. After every visit hope slowly drained from you. The harsh words Muichiro told you not leaving your mind once. 

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀ ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀ ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀ ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀ ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀ 

“Will he be alright?” You asked the insect pillar while giving her a small glance. She only inspected the injured Muichiro more. He had come back from Swordsmith Village, getting caught up in a battle while visiting. Thankfully he had beheaded an Upper Moon. But now he was laying on the bed in Kocho’s estate. He was only resting but he seemed to be in such a good sleep, you weren’t sure if he’d ever wake up.

Shinobu gave you her usual smile, only more of a genuine one. She knew you cared for the other pillar. When you stopped visiting Muichiro, you began visiting her. She enjoyed your visits and she knew much about your past with the young hashira. “He’ll be fine. He’s already gotten enough rest so when he wakes, he should be feeling completely well.” Shinobu finally replied after looking over at you.

Even with her reassuring words, your worried face remained. It soon softened as the girl put her hand on your back in a soothing way.

“Well…I should get back to family now before Tokito wakes up and sees me. He already dislikes me enough.” You grimace, remembering the last time you talked to him being your very last visit. Which ended in him as usual telling you to leave while poking fun at you by calling your harsh names.

Shinobu just nodded at your words, waving goodbye as you walked out of the estate.

Suddenly, Muichiro sat up from the bed with wide eyes, startling Shinobu in the slightest. “Y/n?” The mist pillar questioned, his eyes traveling all around the room hastily searching for you.

“She’s already left. She’s heading to her estate. Kanroji informed me that you’ve regained your memories back. That’s a relief. But you better go get Y/n and apologize.” Shinobu smiled gently as Muichiro was quick to thank her. She wasn’t used to his new personality but she was glad to see him happy.

Muichiro was quick to run off to the Ubuyashiki estate. Even with his low stamina, he was focused and getting to you as soon as possible. Until he got distracted. While on his way over, he noticed a singular flower growing on the ground near the Butterfly Estates garden. A mesmerizing blue flower that he knew all too well.

Running over, he picked the small forget-me-not flower from the ground before continuing his way to the estate. 

He was quick to end up right outside the estate. And outside the estate was a large garden, mainly there as you loved to tend to flowers. His eyes darted around the garden, eventually landing on you. He missed you. He missed you more than anything.

You didn’t even notice him. You were focused on watering a small bush of pink and yellow roses while humming to yourself. Muichiro felt his eyes water. He lost everyone. You were the only one he didn’t lose. And he felt horrible for treating one of the only people there for him so badly.

The moment you set the water pail to the side and dusted off your clothes, you were enveloped in a warm hug. With the amount of speed Muichiro used to run over to you, both of you ended up on the floor while you let out a small scream in shock. You assumed it to be one of your siblings. Until you looked at the person on top of you, face buried in your neck as small sobs left him. 

His black and turquoise colored hair was sprawled over the grass as his hold on you got tighter. You noticed that in his right hand he was tightly holding a blue forget me not flower.

Your eyes widened before trailing back to Muichiro who finally brought moved his face away from your neck. “Tokito..?” You asked in complete confusion. 

“Y/n, I’m sorry! I remember. And I’m sorry.” He spoke in a sad and practically shaky voice before bringing his right hand to you, giving you the forget me not flower. You felt tears brim the corner of your eyes. A sad smile formed on your lips before you hugged Muichiro tightly, him hugging you back but tighter.  ⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆

[spinningwebsandtales]

Vita Nova

Orm Marius X FemReader

Rating: T

Warnings: Spoilers, mentions of death, crying, hurt/comfort, reader has some trauma, suggestive themes, angst, and fluff

Word Count: 4.2k

Fic Swap with @the-marshals-wife

(A/N:) Happy (belated) New Year everyone! And my first fic of 2024 and it turned out to be a whopper! My lovely best friend and I just adore the Aquaman movies and in light of the new movie that dropped around Christmas we decided to do a ficswap together! This bad boy is my contribution and you lucky readers get to read it! I hope I can make the other Orm fangirls happy with this as I honestly had way too much fun writing it as you can see! Over 4,000 words of just Orm goodness! I look forward of sharing more writings in this new year and I'm glad I could open up with this! Until next time happy reading! ~Countess

Reader's POV is in italics.

SPOILERS FOR AQUAMAN AND THE LOST KINGDOM BELOW

DO NOT CONTINUE AHEAD IF YOU HAVE YET TO SEE THE MOVIE!

Orm stood upon the beach, his toes buried in the warm sand as the setting sun painted his features in orange and pink hues. His heart longed for Atlantis once more as homesickness always reared it's ugly head when he was feeling alone. While tension still remained between him and his older brother, deep down he was grateful for Arthur, giving him a new chance at life. With Atlantis finally revealing themselves to the people of the land, he no longer had to be so secretive about himself, except when it came to Atlanteans. He had burned too many bridges that most likely would never have the chance to be rebuilt. He sighed deeply as the warm salty foam washed over his feet.

Orm turned, leaving his regrets and longing to drown in the crashing waves. While he could see why his brother loved the land dwelling humans, Orm normally avoided them as much as he could. Especially when it came to his time on the beach, he rather not be bothered. And despite the world knowing, he still swam in deserted parts of the beaches he visited. His favorite places were around the docks where the shade kept him cool and various sea creatures stuck around. The fish and small crabs made him feel a little less lonely and made everything feel more like home.

Orm's bare feet padded against the planks of the dock as he tugged his shirt over his head. The breeze rippled his blond locks and whispered promises of a good evening swim. His vision staying straight ahead, Orm was preparing to run and dive into the bright blue water when a yelp caused him to stumble and he fell to the dock. He almost slid off when a slender hand caught his wrist and kept him from rolling off and slamming into a boat.

"Are you okay?!"

A feminine voice had him blinking against the pain in his skull before he finally got his eyes to focus. Orm sat up quickly, backing away from the woman looking at him with genuine concern. It was an emotion Orm was unacquainted with.

"I'm sorry I wasn't paying attention," the woman blushed getting to her feet and brushing the front of her shirt and shorts off. A quick flash of annoyance had him glaring before Orm sucked in a deep breath and calmed the raging tide threatening to overtake him. She offered him a hand up and old him would have swatted it away with a snarl, but new him remembered his older brother and took her offered hand. She shuffled her feet before him awkwardly, refusing to look up in embarrassment. Though Orm was worried he was intimidating her, though he wasn't trying at the moment.

"Sorry again," she apologized once more only to break the silent tension between them.

"I wasn't paying attention," it was the most polite thing he could say. "Though I can't help but ask. Why were you laying across the dock?"

Her cheeks flushed bright crimson, a pretty red color, and now she really refused to look up at him, more interested in her bare feet. This in turn made Orm feel more awkward, like he had pushed across some threshold that he should have never even touched.

"You'll laugh," she mumbled. Her gaze quickly darting up towards him before once again looking away. When she noticed that he wasn't going to say anything else her shoulders sagged in defeat.

"I like watching the fish. They feel like they're my friends and they're so peaceful living their lives without a care in the world," she whispered. "I've also always dreamed about Atlantis and going there and now that it is truly real I can't help but long for it even more. Silly huh?"

Orm shook his head and smiled remembering his home fondly, "No it's not. I think it's a wonderful dream."

Though home always brought a smile to his face, in this moment of his life it brought a pang of sadness with it. One mistake had taken his chance of ever seeing that beautiful city ever again. And here he just met a mere human upon an empty dock longing for the same as him. Maybe he had more in common with the humans of this side of the world than he had first realized. She smiled and nodded, happy to have someone not laugh at her for a change. She walked away moments later leaving him to ponder upon the dock as the waves whispered softly against the sand. Then Orm dived in.

Usually Orm moved around a lot. If he liked a place more than others he'd normally stay for a few days. But for reasons he didn't want to know he had stayed in this particular spot for weeks. And it wasn't because the food was anything extraordinary nor was the beach one of the most beautiful he's seen. If he dug down deep inside he knew it was because of that one moment, where he had seen a glimpse of that beautiful humanity that Arthur was always talking about to him. So Orm did what every normal man would do, he kept his distance and watched her from afar. She visited the dock he had found her at nightly, just to talk to the fish and to watch the sun set behind the horizon of the ocean. She would hum tunes, almost stroking the water with her gentle hands. She would hide sometimes as people would come to the beach calling out a name he had never heard. What would shatter his heart more than anything was when she would come some nights crying. His heart would clench as her salty tears dropped into the ocean. He shook his head fighting the urge to go towards her. But she was different, she wanted to know his world, that she had no idea he was from. That he had once been a prince, let alone a king of that world but it didn't matter, not anymore. He was dead to that world and he had to find his place in this one.

It didn't take many times of him watching the lone girl sob on the dock before Orm concocted a plan. Atlantean technology to help humans make the trip undersea had yet to be brought to them. Except for the scuba gear the humans already had invented, but Orm wanted his plan to be perfect. So he would do something that would make his older brother proud and possibly bring an end to his life. To get what he needed he would have to venture back to the Sunken Citadel and hope that the pirates that still lived didn't kill him at first glance.

You didn't know what kept bringing you back to this particular beach, though you had a inkling that it was in false hope of finding that same blond haired man that you had tripped. He was a complete stranger and yet you found yourself hoping to see him once more. So every night you came, no matter how bad things got at home you escaped bringing yourself to this little place of serenity, hoping, waiting, that you would see him again. But every night became a disappointment, though you enjoyed seeing the fish. The sun quickly set seeping the warmth from the Earth but the ocean water still held those waning rays of warmth. The lights of the dock quickly blinked on illuminating the surrounding water so you could still watch the fish swim peacefully by. You hummed a quiet tune as the waves lapped against the barnacle crusted wooden posts. A shadow darted by causing you to suck in a quick breath. Sharks would sometimes come up or a curious dolphin but this creature was too fast to be one of them. Your heartbeat quickened but against your better judgement you stuck your hand back down along with your head, trying to find this mystery that had suddenly come upon you.

Orm had a difficult time in the Sunken Citadel and he had gotten into a few brawls, but he did get what he searched for. It had cost him, but if his well thought out plan worked as well as he hoped, it would all be worth it. He made his way back to the normal spot and he had timed his return just right. As his mystery woman he had begun to adore made her way out onto the normal dock. She was light on her feet and she greeted some of the boatmen, who were leaving, politely before going to her same spot Orm could always find her. She stuck a hand in the water tracing the patterns of the fish below as they swam close to the surface. She had a small content grin on her face as she enjoyed the creatures below the surface. Orm moved his arms slower, trying to keep from interrupting this moment as he was more than happy to watch her for a little while. She hummed a tune while tucking strands of untamable hair behind her ear, only for a breeze to send them back to fluttering. He sucked in a breath letting the peace of her presence wash over him. And then he went under the surface and swam close by and quickly. He heard her gasp and he grinned to himself. He could have a moments fun at her expense, especially with the gift he was bringing her. Despite not knowing what he was she braved the unknown and he had to admire that about her. She was proving his theory of humans being a cowardly race wrong every moment he watched her.

You searched timidly for any sign of the shadow you had seen. Your eyes darting across the eerily still waters. You were about to pull yourself back up onto the dock when an arm breached the water and grabbed onto your wrist. You screamed yanking yourself backwards and the person attached to the hand around you came up with your panicked movements.

Orm laughed loudly at your terrified face while he treaded the water. He had never been one to play tricks as he had been trained as a prince of Atlantis, but he found it quite fun. The woman he had yet to put a name to a face laid on her back panting, trying to regain some form of control.

"Why did you do that," she screeched once she finally found her breath.

"Think of it as payback for making me fall on my face the first time we met," Orm smirked as he lifted himself from the water easily.

She took in the fact quickly that his upper torso was bare and the form fitting pants only seemed tighter by the fact that they were dripping water everywhere. She looked away, pink coming to her cheeks.

"You come out here every night," Orm said after a few moments of awkward silence.

Her head whipped around and her eyes widened in surprise.

"How did you know that? I never see you around!" Those moments of wishing to see him again, hoping he'd be around, and he had been hidden from her the entire time.

"I was," Orm paused. He knew he couldn't just tell her that he had been watching her from afar. But he didn't want to lie. "I was swimming."

"Swimming?" Now she was suspicious of him. As she rightly should, though they had already met once he was still a stranger.

"I'm a decent swimmer." Understatement of the century Orm thought to himself.

"I can see that," she gestured towards him before darting her gaze away once more.

Orm chuckled. He liked that little of color that would pop up in her skin. He found it endearing and despite himself his heart began to pick up speed. He offered out a hand and she glanced at it warily.

"I'm Orm," he offered in greeting. "Orm Marius. I should have introduced myself that first day we met."

She laughed, taking his offered hand. "(Y/N). And I should have thought of it too. But I did almost make you faceplant into the water. Though it seems like it wouldn't have bothered you so bad if you had."

Orm shook her hand, reveling in how smaller it was compared to his. "Do you mean to tell me that you wish you had let me fallen into the water now? Instead of rescuing me?"

"Well after you just basically scared the daylights out of me, yes."

Orm pouted playfully, "And here I brought you a gift."

"A gift?!" Once again those beautiful colored eyes glowed in delight. It sent his heart a flutter and he could have sworn it skipped a beat. Is this what his mother had possibly felt when she looked upon the man that fathered Arthur?

"I think I am rather partial to it now," he teased. "Maybe I will just keep it for myself."

"You can't just say that you brought me a gift and then keep it for yourself. That's mean," she whined.

Orm couldn't keep stringing her along though he was finding it fun just to get a rise out of her. He brought the gift from behind his back and he wasn't expecting her to jump up and down. Her confusion was to be expected and he found himself grinning once more. She was so expressive, he found it endearing.

"Your dream of seeing Atlantis stuck out to me and their technology is above what your people have. I wanted to show you a part of that life even if it is just a small glimpse."

He was revealing himself. His heart was almost leaping out of his chest. He had kept his identity a secret, revealing nothing to the humans he had contact with. She would be the first and he didn't know what to do if she didn't accept. She placed her hands on the oxygen helmet, a question on her lips. But without a word he once more grabbed onto her wrist and lead her to the end of the dock. She wordlessly tugged the pirated good on her head and with no hesitation followed Orm into the water.

Orm dived down, keeping a good grasp on her hand, their fingers interlaced as he didn't want to hurt her by tugging on her joints by the speed he could swim at. The oxygen mask was working like a dream and despite the time of the evening the moon was doing a good job of lighting the sea life below the ocean. She gasped in awe at the sea creatures and plant life below. But mostly she gaped at him.

"You are," she hesitated saying the word.

Orm nodded. "I am."

You absolutely couldn't believe your eyes. A true Atlantean. It was everything that you could have ever dreamed of and as he kept you from floating away this moment was more than you could have ever dreamed of.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you before," Orm didn't want anything left unsaid. This was his chance. His chance to be himself and to stop being so alone in this world that he was learning more about every day. His time in Atlantis was done and now he was going to have to start anew. Maybe you were that new chance that he had been needing for a long time.

"It's okay," she answered. Her voice muffled in the helmet. Fish swam by coming near to Orm, pecking at his arm. He shooed them away gently causing her to laugh. "You don't have to explain yourself. We had just met that day and even at this moment we are still basically strangers. But I'm glad I met you Orm and your secret is safe with me."

"Thank you," he choked. Gratitude had been lost on him long ago but as he looked at this young woman, so genuine and beautiful in his eyes, that feeling was no longer a stranger. "Would you like to see more of my world?"

"Absolutely!" No hesitation and no fear. Orm kept her close, keeping her safe as he swam them further out into the sea.

Back on dry land you couldn't believe what your eyes had beheld. The world under was far beyond anything you could have ever imagined as Orm helped steady you. Spending that much time in the water had left your legs a little wobbly and you glared at Orm walking perfectly though he did have to take a moment to cough up water. You held out the helmet towards him but he shook his head pushing it back into your chest.

"Keep it," Orm insisted. "I want to take you out more now that you have it. There's so much more I wish to show and tell you. I hope that you don't mind."

She shook her head, stepping towards him. "I would like that so much."

Without a second thought she embraced him, squeezing Orm tightly before backing away, that familiar blush coming back to her cheeks. Reaching out Orm brushed a stray droplet of sea water off her cheek.

"Until tomorrow," he whispered and she nodded quickly.

Days had followed that moment before it had turned into weeks. Orm met with her daily, the helmet in tow every time as they explored together. She the underwater world he had grew up in and him emotions never before explored. Orm knew he couldn't take her far below the surface as he wished. He was trying his best to get a suit that would keep her from being crushed by the water pressure or freezing from the depths, but it would take some time. The helmet was easy to obtain, well easier than the suit. But she didn't complain nor did she beg him for more. Always content with their outings he began to realize that he looked forward to every second they spent together every day. It didn't take Orm long to figure out the emotions he was feeling and everything seemed to fall into place. She was beginning to swim closer to him as every day passed. Gentle touches and encounters that would leave her in awe and him trying to not overstep his bounds.

She swam closer keeping to his side as the day began to wan and like everything good in life their time together was ending that day. Orm always took his time bringing them both back to shore whenever it was time to head back in. She never seemed to be in a hurry herself and it had Orm wondering on things that he couldn't ask her when they first me. He wondered why she came by herself every day and those moments she had hid on the dock as several people had come searching, yelling her name. He wondered at the days that she had came crying as if she could no longer smile. And now that he had gotten to know her more it was something he could no longer keep himself from asking about.

Back on shore she removed the helmet and rung the sea water from her hair. Orm stayed near as he gathered up the courage to ask her. He was about to ask her about something she had yet to give up willingly and he didn't want to cause her to shut him out. He honestly didn't know if he could take losing her. He breathed in deeply gathering up all his courage, he stepped closer and grasped onto her shoulder to gain her attention and steady himself. She grinned up at him before it fell at the seriousness in his blue eyes.

"What is it," she asked covering his hand with hers that still laid upon her shoulder.

"Why do you come to the docks every day? And why do you hide from the people that call out to you and cry on some days?"

There he asked and he felt faint as she looked down at the waves lapping at their bare feet.

"You saw those moments too?" She whispered.

"I did," Orm confessed. " I've come to care for you these past few weeks and I can't help my curiosity getting the best of me. Knowing that you hurt or have any reason to hide is too much for me to bear."

She paused for a moment, gathering her strength. "I was in a bad relationship. I got out of it but the pain is still there and some days are worse than others. I find peace out here and that's why I always come and then I met you. And despite me telling you why that day, you didn't laugh at me like he and several other people did. I was really glad. You made me happy. Part of me was hoping that I'd get to see you again and yet I was afraid of getting hurt again too."

"That was brave," Orm cooed bringing her into his arms. He was warm despite the lack of shirt and all the time spent in the water. She shook from the cold and from telling things that had been hard on her. "You're the bravest and kindest person I have ever met."

"I'm not really," she answered.

"You really are," Orm breathed. "I'm the coward. I didn't like this part of the world at all. I tried to destroy it because of my older brother. I blamed him for a lot of things and I hated him. I still don't love him as a little brother should but my hatred cost me. I was prince of Atlantis once and I was even it's king for a short spell. But that was taken from me and now I am thought of as dead. I cannot go back there because I have officially been killed in action." Orm sucked in a deep breath as he feared what you would do now that you knew about his darkness, though he kept going. "This is both my punishment and my new life. This is both my brother's way of blessing me and cursing me. But I don't see it as a curse anymore, not that I know you now."

"Orm," she sniffled.

He tugged her in, her trembling body pressed to his as he tried to will any form of comfort into her smaller body. He felt lighter and more at peace than he had ever felt and while she held onto him tightly, Orm lost the battle on his emotional restraints. Holding her out he took in the sight of her, clearly seeing everything about her for the first time. And for the first time in his life, he felt truly loved. Not for being royalty of Atlantis or because they had to. Genuine love that asked for nothing in return. He leaned down towards her his stature always towering over her and it wasn't until his lips met her warmer ones did the fireworks start shooting off in his head. She didn't shove him away and she didn't protest so Orm pulled her closer. Deepening the kiss as he could taste the salty water still on her mouth and the scent of the ocean breeze on her skin. In that moment she was everything to him and he could want for nothing else as long as she stayed. She cupped his cheek, stroking his skin before Orm finally pulled away. His chest heaved and he couldn't bring himself to give her up just yet. He continued to hold her against his chest, not ever wanting this moment to end.

"Is it okay that we start a new life together," her voice quivered in uncertainty. She felt like she was going too fast or overstepping her bounds.

"I think I would like that more than you know," he agreed. This was when his life started. That new beginning he wanted for so long, that he dreamed about in that prison cell. This was the moment he longed for and had no idea. That moment he met her had been fate and had lead him to this moment. Their days together didn't have to end when their feet touched the shore, it was only the start of something on the shore. While he was her guide in the water, here on the land and in the midst of people it was her turn to guide him. She took his hand, taking the responsibility for teaching and leading in stride. They would learn together what this life meant and what it meant to know each other and keep together through thick and thin. Orm had baggage and come to find out she did too. But Orm didn't see that, he saw a woman who could light his way. She saw a man that had found redemption and was looking for a way to claim it. The sun had set behind them on the beach but the dawn was rising before them as they left hand in hand towards the life they would find together. Like two ships destined for each other, a new life was just beginning.

[chimcess]

Afterglow || jhs

Pairing: Hoseok x Reader Other tags: Vampire!Hoseok, Vampire!Reader Genre: Supernatural!AU, Vampire!AU, Twilight Universe, established relationship, fluff, smut, pwp Word Count: 4.5k+ Synopsis: "A loud crack of lighting boomed in the distance followed by a low rumbling. The storm was here. My love was not. I kept watching and waiting." Warnings: Character death (brief), mental illness (not reader and very brief), penetrative sex, oral sex (f receiving), vaginal fingering, lots of licking, kisses, slow and deep, Hoseok is a vocal boy, they are so in love, edging, over stimulation, hair pulling, man handling, growling, body worship, breast worship, unprotected sex (stay safe), vampire/animal sounds, implied outdoor sex, they are honestly so freaking cute, let me know if I missed anything A/N: So, I recently rewatched the entire Twilight Saga and couldn't stop myself. I promise they have nothing to do with the Cullens. I'm simply borrowing S.Meyer's universe for a second. Thanks for reading.

Staring out of the second story window, I frowned. There was a thunderstorm on its way and the wind was harsh. Still, I stayed put. I would not move until I knew he was coming back.

The first few droplets that landed against my cheeks were freezing and as the rain started coming down, I got soaked. There had been a window here once but after a rather unfortunate night, one where mama had shouted and threw a candlestick holder at my head, the glass was all but gone. Only one singular piece along the very bottom of the trim remained.

She was dead now, well, as dead as I believed her to be. Daddy, too. Only I remained. The house had been suffocating at first, my body unable to handle the loneliness. My memories of the attack were weak and dimly lit, but I could never forget the moment the burn began. I will never forget what led up to it.

At the ripe age of nineteen, my father was planning to marry me off to a local boy called Percival Hobbs. Mr.Hobbs was a fine gentleman, his sensibilities and wit uncharacteristically gentle and kind for a man of the era. We were both middle classes, his family only slightly richer than my own, and well matched. I was happy to be marrying him, especially when he told me his plans of expanding his father’s business out of Virginia. I hated this place back then; I could recall that fairly well despite the thick film which covered my old life.

My mother was an unusual woman of which I had gotten my own set of quirks. When I was young, I could remember her singing as she cooked, weaving flowers through her greasy hair as she doted on my father as if he were a king. We never went without, and her joy was contagious. My mother, for all intents and purposes, was a happy person. Perhaps a bit odd, she was more outspoken and considered rather rude to the other women in Richmond, but no one could truly say anything bad about her.

It was only after a particularly nasty accident that her behavior changed. We were on our way to visit her sister in Norfolk when our horses were startled by something out in the woods. Our carriage took a fall and my mother hit her head on a rock. We were all lucky to have survived the ordeal, something my father praised God for, but mama was never the same. She never smiled, hardly spoke, and could never find the melodies of the songs she had loved so dearly. It was as though a switch had been flipped and the light within her was turned off.

Daddy was nervous, as was I, but childish worries and adult sorrow were different. I believed she was sad, but my father knew she would never return back to normal. His work became more demanding after that. As a lawyer, my father was held in high regard at the time and worked long days and nights in order to provide for the three of us. They never bore another child. I believe it was because my mother could no longer stand to be touched and my father could never hurt her, even if it broke his heart.

Years passed that way until a sudden change began to occur. No longer was she silent, but the songs she sang were very different. Her eyes were more alive than they had been in a long, long time, and her voice had come back. The joy of this was short lived, however, as her delusions started soon after. Men who were not really men, monsters who could love, and things that would reflect like diamonds in the sunlight. All of it rubbish, all of it insane, but all of it real in her fragmented mind.

Daddy was planning on getting her committed after she said there were people living in the walls of our home. He might have killed her for declaring her love for a man who shined in the sun if he had not believed her to be completely psychotic. All the while I watched as the woman I held dearly began to hate and resent the both of us. That was when the shouting started, the violence, and then father had no choice but to call the doctor.

He had no way of knowing the chain of events that could cause, nor the dire consequences it would have on me. The doctor came to the house a little after midnight to take my mother away. She screamed and thrashed violently as she went, calling out to her monster to come and save her.

His name had been Louis and I only remember it because of what happened next. She had only said his name once, a broken and terrified cry for help, when the figure appeared. He was a beautiful man; his skin so pale it shined in the carriage’s lantern light. I do not remember if his hair had been brown or black, it was too dark to make out, but I did know his eyes were red. Bloody, dripping with hatred, and trained on the hands of the doctor holding my mother.

The doctor was dead in the next breath he took, my mother curling into the beast’s chest in complete hysterics. Louis then looked at my father, his intentions clear, before finding me. I was crying, my nightgown thin and exposing, and my own horror was reflected back at me. Whatever he saw that day made all the difference. Killing my father was easy for him to do. If he was my mother’s lover, then he would have hated the man who bore her children. I don't remember screaming but I could recall my mother telling me not to be afraid. Louis would make it quick. My death, she said, would be painless.

It was not. When Louis’s teeth sank into my neck, I only felt the slightly pinprick of pressure before I grew tired and weak. I knew I would die, and I did not fight it. I was either too weak or shell-shocked to put much behind it. Then, he was off of me, and I was fighting to keep my eyes open.

“You will be magnificent,” He whispered, kissing my cheek. His voice was soft, presumably to keep my mother from hearing us. I would never know why. “I will take care of her. You take care of yourself, little one.”

Then they were gone, Louis and my mother both. I had barely managed to crawl back inside, my hand clutching the wound on my neck, when the burning started. It lasted for three days and when it was over, I woke up afraid and starved. My father and the doctor were still outside, but I did not care who they were. I drained what was left of them before realizing what I had done. Ashamed and mortified, I put them both in the carriage and set it on fire. No one could know what had happened, of that I was certain.

The next few years of my life were spent in the forests of Virginia staying out of sight and hunting. I lived off of animals mostly, their deaths did not weigh down on my conscience as much as a human's did. My family home was vacant, untouched, and our names were forgotten to time. In 1875, I finally emerged from my isolation in the forests and moved back in. By 1900, I was able to venture into town on a rare occasion when the sun was well hidden beneath a thick layer of clouds. The house had gone through very few changes and the room I stood in now had been my father’s study. I hated the thought of touching anything in it, but I knew I would need to fix this issue. I could feel how weak the wood around it was becoming.

A loud crack of lighting boomed in the distance followed by a low rumbling. The storm was here. My love was not. I kept watching and waiting.

I met Hoseok through coincidence. My friend Seokjin, a Korean immigrant who traveled across the world as a nomad, had stumbled across the boy when he was dying from tuberculosis on the streets of New York. Jin, feeling sorry for the young man, changed him as he had done so five other times. All of his children were nomads, two of them finding their mates, and I got along with them rather well. Hoseok was no exception.

Jin had come to me after Hoseok had taken a swipe at his sire’s own newly transformed mate, Evelyn. The boy needed someone to help him with his temper and dealing with two newborns was rather difficult. I remembered my own early years with distaste. We acted more like animals than people.

Hoseok arrived on my doorstep in 1953, angry, hungry, and completely irrational. He was just over a year old and while the worst of it was over, he had a gift that took its toll on him. Not all of our kind had an extra sense. Jin, for example, was completely normal. His beauty was unparalleled, but even in his human life he was the most handsome man one could have met. Hoseok, however, was not as lucky.

The boy was incredibly powerful, his ability to hypnotize anyone with the sound of his voice was something the Volturi, the leaders and rulers of our kind, would love to get their hands on. For Hoseok, it made his thirst grow quicker and he lacked control of it. He could easily manipulate those around him without meaning to, which was why his brothers did not want to deal with the task. I was Jin’s last resort and the only reason he had come to me was my own gift.

I lived in my world in a sort of bubble. Gifts, no matter the kind, were ineffective against it. The bubble was invisible, elastic, and malleable, but impenetrable. I could choose to remove it from myself and take the brunt of whatever ability was being thrown at me, but I had only done it twice. Both times had been when Jungkook had come to see me and wanted to know if his gift, to make fake clones of himself, could throw me off. He won the first round, but I came out on top the second time. Being the sore loser he is, Jungkook never asked for a rematch.

Hoseok and I took some time to warm up to one another. The pull toward him was instantaneous but he was too young and wild for either one of us to explore what that could mean. The first five months was spent chasing him down before he could attack the unsuspecting townsfolk in Richmond. Then it was showing him the way I hunted. When his eyes changed from red to amber to gold, his mood stabilized. Our friendship was finally able to take root and before long our love bloomed.

After our first kiss under the stars in the trees that surrounded my home, we were connected so deeply that removing one would surely bring death upon the other. When I was a child, I had been disappointed to grow up in the East. We were in the more rural part of Richmond and all of the girls at school made fun of me for being a ‘country bumpkin.’ As a vampire, however, my little ranch was a paradise. Hoseok and I could make love for hours and no one would hear a thing.

Right now, during this thunderstorm, would be prime time for us to lose ourselves within one another. It was a shame he had decided to go hunting alone today. Hoseok liked having space far more than I did, but I understood his wants and needs and gave him what he asked for. I could only hope his delay was from him getting distracted and not an unfortunate slip up. He had them more than I did, and they ruined his mood for weeks.

Finally, I saw him. His black hair was slick and stuck to his forehead from the rain, the linen pajamas he had worn out transparent and heavy. Elated to finally have him home, I jumped out of the window and crashed into him. The sound was thunderous.

Hoseok laughed, “Hey there, Sunshine.”

On top of him, I sighed, holding him close to me. The rain was cold, but it would not bother me. I could not get sick. Capturing his lips, I finally felt at ease. I did not like it when he was gone. The house was too quiet.

“I love you,” I sighed, feeling my body hum to life with need. “I missed you. Touch me.”

This aspect of our love life had been difficult for me at first. I was from an era when a woman did not speak this way, but after gentle coaxing from my lover, I had gotten over the prudishness of the 1850s. We were, after all, more connected than any human couple could hope to be. Gripping my hips, Hoseok licked my bottom lip.

“Can we go inside?” He asked, nipping at my chin as my hands shredded his shirt. “The rain is distracting.”

I nodded and he scooped me up, carrying me back inside at our natural speed. We were fan, faster than any living thing on the planet, and able to see the world clearly as we passed it by. Hoseok ripped the front door of its hinges, making me laugh. He was always so impatient when it came to sex.

We ran up the steps, passing the study on the way to our bedroom. The door was still open, the rain pouring into it. I wondered briefly what my father would have thought of Hoseok. Then his lips were attached to my ear and all thoughts of my father were gone.

He was less aggressive with the door to our bedroom. A creak inaudible to the human ear sent a chill up my spine as I clung to his wet body. His skin felt hot under my hands despite how cold we both were. Hoseok was panting like a dog, more from his excitement than any real need for air.

He laid me down on our bed gently before tearing off my dress. The chemise pulled apart as easily as a piece of paper. Hoseok’s mouth found my chest as soon as it was exposed to him, mouth finding a nipple as a hand fiddled with the other. Whining, I buried my hands in his hair and held him close to me.

“I missed you so much,” I cried out.

Hoseok bit down on the little nub before letting it go with a loud smack. Fingers still twisting and brushing my right nipple, he smiled down at me. Topaz eyes were pitch black with desire and a low purr reverberated through his chest. I felt it in my groin.

“I missed you more,” He replied huskily.

I smiled shyly, reaching out for him. Hoseok leaned into my touch, purring increasing as I caressed his face. Pouting my lips, I begged him to come closer with my eyes. He smiled; his eyes soft.

“I wish you could see how beautiful you look right now.”

He sucked on my chest for what felt like hours, grinding his hips down to meet my own, and purring like a cat the entire time. He had always embraced the more animalistic aspects of our life. My breathy sighs spurred him on, my hands increasing their wandering across his torso, as I silently pleaded with him for more. Hoseok only made me wait a few moments more before sloppy kisses descended down my stomach.

A thin pair of cotton underwear separated us, but he simply licked over the fabric. I cried out, the pleasure sending shockwaves through my body. Long, hard swipes of his tongue had my writhing, his breath so hot and warm against me it felt like I was taking a scolding bath. With every lick and suck I felt myself grow hotter. Hoseok lost himself to his own pleasure, rubbing himself against the mattress as he held my legs apart.

Sex was not always so brazen. Our first few times were more primal, the need to be close after months of dancing around the issue making the release all the more powerful. After that, I had grown slightly shy. Hoseok had taken to leaving my top on during those days, letting me grow more comfortable in his presence, and taking me so gently I cried. The next 70 years have taught us a great deal about one another, and now sex was just a part of who we were. Not a day went by that we were not lost to it, each time bringing out a different part of us, before going back to our respective hobbies. In a storm like this, however, I imagined we would not leave this bed.

“Please,” I whined. “More.”

Finally, the thin piece of cotton was removed, and his tongue was on me. Long and broad at first, he liked to play with me for a few moments before diving in. Unlike myself, my love had enough patience to watch and wait. Savoring it, he said. I think he just enjoyed being the only person who could see my eyes roll back in ecstasy.

I felt the ghost of his fingers trailing down my leg at the same time his mouth found my clitoris. I hissed, back arching off the bed as he swirled his tongue around the bud. His finger pressed against my opening. I gushed around it, grinding my hips down and forcing the tip inside of me. Hoseok groaned, tongue becoming more aggressive. I cried out, pushing down again and swallowing more of his finger. Finally, with a deep growl, he pushed it the rest of the way and added another immediately after.

I had never felt more alive than when we were in this bed. With Hoseok on top of me, eyes hungry and watching my every move like I was the most beautiful thing he has ever seen. The monster within me was finally asleep as I became all consumed with his touch. Finding the soft bundle of nerves within me, Hoseok purred. I sobbed, the pleasure overwhelming.

“Look at you,” Hoseok rasped, moving from my sex to watch me. His fingers stretched me out as my hips raised to meet his thrusts. “So pretty and warm.”

He kissed my neck, “Your body is so beautiful.”

Languid kisses down across my throat, teeth gently grazing the skin, before trailing back down to my breasts. They had always been his favorite part of my body. He licked down the swell before kissing my nipple. His fingers sped up their menstruations making me mewl.

“God,” He croaked, voice deeper than normal. “You love this, don’t you?”

I nodded, body twitching and convulsing. “Yes.”

“Tell me how much,” He sucked on my left nipple.

I struggled to find words. My body was on fire now, my stomach tightening and expanding, and I knew I was close. My thighs were shaking so violently I would be embarrassed if it was anybody else, but this was Hoseok, and I knew he was happy to see my body singing for him. Somehow, I managed to speak.

“So much,” I breathed. “I love it so much.”

Sitting back on his ankles, he smirked. His shirt was gone and his toned body was on full display. I would never get bored of looking at him. Hoseok was the most beautiful person I had ever seen.

“You’re so messy,” His voice was like velvet. “So wet for me.”

His thumb found my clit and I was cumming before I could really savor the feeling. With a loud shout, I fell apart with Hoseok’s eyes on me. I was wired up and so desperate for more I began to beg. My pleas came out without a single thought behind them. I was drunk on pleasure and yearning for more.

“Just relax,” He finally said, hovering over me once more. His fingers were gone now and I began to tear at his pants. They were still wet and his skin had cooled the rain even further. “I’m going to take care of you.”

My hands were all over him. With his pants disposed of and his cock out, I held it tightly as I began to work my hands in a rhythm I knew he loved. Hoseok let out a guttural sound, a mix between a bear and a mountain lion, as he began to fondle my breasts again. Flicking my nipples, he fucked himself into my hand as he panted.

“Stop,” He grunted, grabbing hold of my wrist. “Grab your legs.”

I did as I was told. It had been difficult to let go of my control in the beginning. I was such a tightly wound person, my need for schedules and sameness a byproduct of my upbringing. I was raised to be prim, proper, and well put together. Even if I did not feel well, I was to be washed, dressed, and smiling all day long. Father would not accept anything less.

When my sexual relationship with Hoseok started, that was still a large part of who I was. When we changed we were frozen in time. It took a lot to cause great change within our kind. For myself, I had only had two since the burning stopped. The first was my decision to stop hunting the humans in my area. Animal blood helped calm the raging anger and depression I carried over from the last night I was alive. The second had been Hoseok’s arrival. Our mates changed us in the most profound way, and his existence made the looming sadness I carried with me fade. It was not gone, it would never fully heal for that was impossible, but he made the gaping hole in my heart three times smaller.

The other thing that changed was my horrible habit of controlling the people around me. Jin and the others all commented on my inability to relax or let go. Jimin, the first person Jin had ever changed, had joked that I was the only vampire in existence with wrinkles. I laughed at the time, but after Hoseok came to me I realized he had been right. I was always stressed, always striving for perfection, and always disappointed when it never came to fruition.

Laying underneath him, I was in awe at how easily I pushed my legs up against my chest. My arm pinned them down. There was not a worry about how improper I looked or if my hair was splayed out nicely. I did not care if this was perfect because I knew we were. Hoseok pressed himself to my entrance and I smiled. I did not need perfection so long as I had him.

Pushing himself into me, he cried out in pleasure while I chanted ‘yes’ over and over and over again. Buried to the hilt, Hoseok took a moment to hook my legs around his hips and kissed the tip of my nose. With a soft declaration of his love, he began to move.

I held onto his arms with everything I had. Hoseok was stronger than I was so I did not need to worry about my own strength bothering him. Outside the storm raged on while we rejoiced in our pleasure. Hoseok’s thrusts were hard, steady, and hit my deepest spot with precision. After so long we had one another memorized.

“S’good,” Hoseok slurred, his hips pistoning into me roughly. “You feel so good.”

I whimpered, “Baby, please.”

He grabbed my hair, roughly shoving my face into the mattress as he lifted his leg onto the bed. I wailed, his cock pounding into my g-spot making me see stars. His own sounds grew louder, growls and snarls filling the space as the sounds of us coming together grew louder and louder.

Fire was pooling in my lower abdomen, so hot it rivaled my change. I could feel Hoseok pulsing inside of me, his grip on my hair still hard and strong. Then he tugged, my head lifting off the bed as he manhandled me. He forced our mouths together, a clashing of teeth and tongue as he chased his own high. Time began to slow before fading, the fire all consuming, and I could no longer respond to Hoseok’s kisses. He let go of me then and I fell back onto the bed.

Everything faded into white, hot, searing sparks shooting up my entire body and licking my bones on their way out. I could vaguely hear the sound of something being torn as my body convulsed with the weight of my orgasm. Above me, Hoseok stuttered.

“I love you,” He said, his own pleasure closing in.

I hardly paid him any attention. Our kind would never tire, never sleep, or sweat, but I was positive I was at least two of them at this moment. I felt like I was in a trance as I watched him fall apart, his eyebrows pulled together and his mouth agape. His grunts and groans were more like cries now, higher and pitch and breathless. Then, with one final thrust he was spilling into me.

We stayed that way for a while, Hoseok inside of me as we looked into one another's eyes. Neither one of us was particularly tired but I knew we would take a break before our next round. The both of us enjoyed the human charade of cuddling and pretending to sleep for a time. Eyes closed and breathing evenly before finally one of us would break. Outside a particularly loud rumble made him grin.

“How would dancing in the rain sound?” He asked.

I laughed, heart full now that he was here.

“What kind of dancing?” I teased, already knowing my answer.

“Well, it will not require clothing.”

I pushed him away, sending his body back toward the other side of the room. With a wicked grin, Hoseok jumped to catch me, but I was already gone. If Hoseok was the strongest, I was the fastest. I ran down the hall, into my father's study, and out of the window with Hoseok fast on my trail.

My change had always seemed so meaningless before Hoseok came. Years spent wondering Louis’s reasoning and subsequent abandonment. I had never seen nor heard from either Louis or my mother since that night, and that left so much time for me to grow angry and bitter about this life. I hated what I was and who I was forced to be.

Now, running in with Hoseok in the afterglow of our love I realized something that would cause a third change within me. Everything that had led me up to this moment was worth it. All of the pain, loneliness, and heartache I had gone through was not a curse. It was a precursor. Every memory leading to the very reason for my existence closer still. A smile stretched across my face, one of my rarest, largest of smiles, and I let Hoseok catch me.

As long as he was here, nothing else mattered.

© chimcess, 2024. Do not copy or repost without permission.

[dollfaced-erin]

𝔻𝕣𝕒𝕘𝕠𝕟'𝕤 ℂ𝕣𝕒𝕕𝕝𝕖 (Blade x F!Reader x Jing Yuan)

PART 7

PART 1 , PART 2 , PART 3 , PART 4 , PART 5 , PART 6

Taglist : -

@rebeccawinters , @nayukiyukihira , @pix-stuff , @fluffy-koalala , @swivy123 , @starxao , @kaoyamamegami , @kimura-uzuri , @rsvye , @seikouryuu , @just-here-reading , @matsulovesyou, @sincerely-aaronette , @prettyliliy, @chibiduck

To anon who posted about reader being injured from battle, i'm sorry but you'll have to wait a little longer until i find out what the heck is going on with my tumblr.

Authour's note :

And i'm really sorry for being gone for quite a long time. I was feeling under the weather and i had a lot of things on my plate recently ! But now that i'm okay now, i'm bringing you a new chapter !! I MEAN, HAVE YALL SEEN THE NEW KAFKA COMPANION QUEST ?!?!? ITS SO GOOD AND I ONLY SAW SNIPPETS OF IT HELPPPPP (Obviously there will be a chapter dedicated to the companion mission hheheheheh)

"You are a star that fled home, aren't you...? An outworlder, some would say." a tender feminine voice voiced out.

A masculine hum resounded from behind the female. "Yes. That's right." he said, his coarse and calloused hands caressing her beautiful soft hair with a resin comb in his hands.

"Do you suppose I would've had a different name should I be born in your homeland ?" the innocent female voice asked back, the horned lady turned around to meet tender red eyes.

"I suppose that may be the case. But why change your name ? Dan Jia is a perfectly beautiful name." the male asked back, his hands stopping from running them through those beautiful locks.

"But I suppose...if you want another name, your name would be..."

"(Y/n)..." the tender voice whispered.

And everything warped from her eyes, as if someone had wiped away the drawing of a beautiful scenery before her. And in its place, was a storming day, where left and right was surrounded by lifeless bodies of knights and Mara-struck soldiers.

She ran and ran and ran, gripping a crystal fan tight in her hold. (Y/n) didn't know where she was headed. Her heart was thumping, her head was pounding, but she never stopped running.

She just followed her heart, letting it bring her to wherever she was heading in this dream. It seems that she knew she was supposed to run somewhere, but where...?

No matter...keep running.

And in the distance, was a puff of smoke. It was puffing up in the sky, contaminating the air with its burnt smell, accompanied by the musty smell of rain.

The rain was hindering her sight, but she kept pushing on.

Snippets of pictures came to her mind. Everything was just...happening too fast. She barely remembered anything. It was...so blurry. But she could feel everything.

A body of a man lied lifeless on the ground, being held by another man tenderly in his arms, his back facing her.

Even her current self knew who that was, lying in the embrace of the Imbibator Lunae.

The dragon's fangs bared in her heart the moment she saw the limp body of the one she loved. The one she was about to tie herself to. The one she promised that no matter what, they would be together, for as long as his short life promised them.

The claws dug into her heart, as it teared at her inside out with fury and pain. She had never felt such powerful emotion running through her veins. She had never been this overwhelmed.

She remembered she saw herself swinging her fan. With fury running through her veins, she kept attacking, enemies were being frozen, then broken to the ground like broken glass and sharp icicles.

She couldn't remember much after that. And before long, she was holding the body of her fallen beloved in her arms. And as she still felt the pain in her lower back, it was nothing compared to the searing rage that was bubbling from her chest as it formed tears in her eyes.

"The elixir....it failed, sister." the Imbibator Lunae woefully whispered out. And despite the heavy rain that showered, his voice was as clear as day.

Memories resurfaced in her mind. Dan Jia was looking through the archives with the fallen, and stumbled across a scroll. A scroll of forbidden knowledge. That scroll had indeed gone missing a few days later, and she was heavily penalized for it.

And it all made sense to her.

They had taken it, now knowing its position when the young lady had accidentally pulled it.

"Please Dan Feng ! You must do it. We cant leave him to die ! Not like this ! Please, take my bone marrow !" a familiar female voice sobbed, holding the body close to herself.

"We cant leave him to die. Not when it was our fault to begin with !"

Right. They were both held accountable for what has transpired. This all happened because she showed her lover where it was, although he was forbidden from ever stepping into the archives.

She should've protected the scroll with her life should she known what were the two planning to do today.

The guilt of Dan Jia was so strong, even (Y/n) could feel it, herself crumbling to her knees and sobbing at the memory.

"I..." he whispered. He looked sorrowfully at the body of the man before them, growing lifeless as they spoke. Then he nodded.

"I understand. For you, I shall endure all punishments." Dan Feng replied, daring not to look at his sister who was weeping over the loss of her lover. For it was partially his fault for lending the man two hours to scour through the archives, to search for the remedy of death.

"Please...when I reincarnate, give me this jade pendant. It shall remind me of who I was and who to find..." she said, taking off a single jade pendant from her belt, and handing it to him.

Her memory began to blur even more, static filling her ears, and it was as if she was looking at an old screen...

Dan Feng took the pendant from her. And all she remembered then...was the teal eyes of her brother, the smell of the rain, the grey skies...

And the burning pain that ripped through her back without warning.

And the searing sensation that tore through her chest.

Her body fell, eyes beginning to blur even more.

Dan Feng stood above her, those teal eyes...colder than the ice she could ever dream of conjuring. And in his hand...was a chunk of white bone and a beating heart.

Though she had no power left, no energy left, no will left...

Those sweet words from her brother...wasn't meant for her. But for the lover that rest in between them.

(Y/n) screamed as loudly as she could, though nothing came from her lips.

"(Y/n) !"

(Y/n)'s eyes snapped open, her heart beating like crazy. Her forehead was sweating as her chest heaved up and down.

Warm and concerned honey colored eyes gazed into her own, worry swimming in them as the bearer leaned over her laying body, hands holding her down by her shoulders. Then one of the hands moved and cupped her cheek, taking in how cold she was at the moment.

"J-Jing Yuan..."

"Are you alright...?" the lion quickly interrupted, as he slowly pulled (Y/n)'s hand, letting her sit upright, trying to let her get more oxygen to calm down.

(Y/n)'s head was swimming with horror and realization. What she had just witnessed...was too vivid to be a dream. Too familiar to be a gore fantasia.

Those were her memories. Memories of her past. Before she called herself (Y/n).

"You were screaming in your sleep. I tried to wake you up, and you finally opened your eyes, (Y/n)..." Jing Yuan softly whispered, his hand holding her dainty own as another hand rubbed her back.

"(Y/n)..." the warm voice of her memories called out before the nightmare begun. That deep voice. The voice of the beloved swordsmith.

Her eyes filled themselves with uncontrollable tears, biting down her lip as she relived those horrible...horrible memories.

The man in the alley...and her beloved in her dreams...

Were the same person, had she not realized sooner.

Was that why she had a strong sense of longing...?

(Y/n) bent down, putting her face in her hands as she began to sob. Everything was beginning to feel too much for her. Everything was coming back too fast to her, and she couldn't do anything to stop it.

Jing Yuan was a little surprised at her sudden breakdown. But who was he to complain...? Who was he to say anything when he didn't understand what was going on ? He could only rub her back soothingly as he put his lips close to her ear.

"(Y/n)...what happened...? What did you see...?" he spoke, as (Y/n) nodded, wiping away her tears.

"I saw...everything. Snippets of my past...my death..." (Y/n) said, looking up at Jing Yuan.

"It hurts...it hurts so much...how could...how could he pull out my heart ?"

Her back hurt, but her chest even more. It was as if what she had just seen in her dreams, had just relived that moment.

"(Y/n)...princess..." Jing Yuan softly said, as (Y/n) looked at him with those pained and traumatized (e/c) eyes. With only that description, he knew exactly what she saw.

He raised a hand, and caressed her silky (h/c) hair. He was conflicted, unknowing what to do in this situation, for what he had hoped to avoid for the most came back to her in times where she wasn't ready.

"I...I thought I was punished...?" (Y/n) asked, her hoarse voice scratching through her throat as she talked. Jing Yuan moved his hand to cup her cheek, wiping away those broken crystal tears that ran down (Y/n)'s face without her controlling them.

Jing Yuan didn't know how to explain this. But he thought that it was only right she knew bits and bits of herself. When the time was right, he was sure that he would tell her everything. But now...? The dragon girl before him was bawling her eyes out, having seeing horrific things, feeling them.

"Your punishment...was your unlimited sleep and losing your privilege as a former High Elder for losing the heart. You were gravelly injured when I found you. Even after we returned you to the shell...you never woke up. It was odd, really." Jing Yuan said, his voice soft as to comfort her.

"Honestly we didn't know when you would wake up, since it seems that your power was abruptly taken away from you. Your body couldn't handle it, and you fell into a deep sleep. Even when you hatched after years of resting here, you...were still this size. Though you no longer had the injuries you once sustained, and it seemed that the egg just...healed you." Jing Yuan replied.

"That's enough for now, princess. It's all in the past now. We can talk later in the morning. Can you sleep ?" Jing Yuan kindly asked with a smile.

(Y/n) shook her head, as she gripped the sheets that covered her lower body. She looked like a little child, really. With how she was pouting, trying to recollect herself that everything that happened was just in the past.

Jing Yuan couldn't help but chuckle as he saw (Y/n) like that. He lifted his hand, and pet her hair soothingly. "I know just the thing that might help you."

The general walked down the hallways of his large estate, tenderly holding (Y/n)'s hand. He was still a little tired, and the darkness of the hallway was more than enough to rouse his sleepiness. He was called the dozing general for nothing.

Turning around a corner, he brought her to a room. And as he opened it, it was a large and spacious bedroom. It was tidy, minus the disheveled sheets, the clothes strewn across the ground, and the number of scrolls that littered one small table in the corner of the room. A glaive was set high on the wall, his personal choice of weapon for years he passed through.

It was his personal bedroom.

"Come in, princess." Jing Yuan said, comfortingly, pulling her hand in. As he shut the doors behind him, (Y/n) was standing there, admiring the deco of his room.

"A-are you sure it's alright for me to be here...? Wouldn't anyone be...suspicious...?" (Y/n) timidly asked, her hands together as she looked at her long-time friend behind her.

She regretted, as a furious blush crept up her cheeks by the sight behind her.

She had never realized this before since she was in a state of shock and trauma, but she never really took in the appearance of her friend. He was wearing a loose silk robe with a simple red belt around his waist, tied loosely with a bow by his side. Though it was beautiful, fitting his muscular form perfectly, running over his toned muscles like water, the fact that it was just a loose robe with such little security, meant that his chest was wide open for her to see.

He stood there, with a knowing smirk on his face as (Y/n) was watching him stand there in all his half-naked glory. There wasn't anything for him to hide, rather there was much for him to show. That toned six pack he usually hid behind his attire was there right open for her precious innocent eyes to feast on.

"J-Jing Yuan ! Have some decency !" (Y/n) exclaimed, facing front immediately, a hand over her eyes to cover her from the quite revealing sight she was just exposed to.

Jing Yuan merely let out a hearty laugh, as he got closer to her petite form. His large hand went to her hair, admiring the silky strands that hung from his calloused fingers with a soft gaze in his golden eyes before he leaned in to her ear.

"Not to worry, princess. You shouldn't be ashamed to see something I wasn't meaning to hide~" he purred deeply into her ear, laughing again as he saw her face grow redder by the minute, up to the point where the tips of her ears had turned red.

"No no, I didn't mean to do that." he said, walking away from his flustered companion and walked to the corner of his room, where there were clear sliding doors.

Jing Yuan opened the door, revealing the view of a beautiful and spacious oriental garden, enclosed by the other walls of the estate. It was hard to see, but with the light provided by the moonlight, she could see all the plants and pathways that were manicured and shaped to form this traditional art. Small lion statues were placed around, along with little bridges that crossed over small streams.

"Mimi~!" Jing Yuan called out from his door. (Y/n) was on the floor, seated on the matted floorings of Jing Yuan's room, admiring the garden before her. That was before her (e/c) eyes were met with shining sapphire eyes with slits.

"A...lion...?" (Y/n) asked, eyes blown wide by the majestic creature that appeared before her. Jing Yuan laughed as the beast came to the wood platform, moving aside to let her in.

The lion, of Mimi as Jing Yuan called, pranced right in, as it was a norm for her to appear in her master's room. She looked curiously at the woman who sat close to her master's feet, slowly approaching the woman in a curious way.

"Hold your hand out to her like you would a kitten, (Y/n). Don't worry, Mimi never bites." Jing Yuan said, smiling warmly at the interaction between his companion and the beautiful dragon lady.

So (Y/n) did as she was told, holding her hand out to the majestic creature. Mimi tilted her head slightly as she approached the woman that had no fear towards her, her muzzled close to the small hand. It was so small, it was smaller than Mimi's face.

Mimi took one sniff with her black nose before she pounced on the dragon lady. (Y/n) yelped loudly as the lion leapt on her, her tail whipping in the air affectionately as she pushed (Y/n) to the ground, purring like a cat.

"It seems that she likes you !" Jing Yuan said heartily, sitting on the ground next to (Y/n) who was laughing and running her hands through Mimi's majestic snow mane. Mimi loved (Y/n) so, rubbing her large face against (Y/n)'s face, like a companion that had long last seen their master.

"I brought you here to play with her, if you couldn't sleep. So, spend the night here. I'm sure no one would mind, knowing who you are." Jing Yuan said, as he stroked Mimi's back.

"Are you sure ?" (Y/n) asked, looking at Jing Yuan from the floor, her beautiful strands of (h/c) hair, disheveled on the floor, shining silver beneath the moonlight like the most precious silks. He picked up a few strands from those beautiful locks gently in his hands, leaning down to kiss them.

"I'm sure. You have nothing to worry about. When your on these grounds, you shall be safe from all harm." Jing Yuan whispered, as (Y/n) began to get distracted when Mimi demanded more attention from her by resting her entire bodyweight on (Y/n).

"I promise you, my princess. So do not worry, and play and laugh to your hearts content. Sleep so soundly and sing so cheerfully, as if you have no other care in this world."

Jing Yuan smiled as he watched his princess laugh so melodiously as she played so carefreely with his feline. He had never seen her smile so freely, so enchantingly as she bathed beneath the pale moonlight.

He would do anything to protect that smile on (Y/n)'s face.

"You look troubled, Bladie. Are you sure seeing her once is enough...?" the voice of a beautiful woman rang through the deserted docks.

The man who was previously looking at the moon turned to look at his companion, who had unexpectedly awakened from her slumber as he stayed up.

"Being able to hug her once...was more than enough for me, Kafka." Blade quietly responded, surprisingly calm even after seeing someone so closely related to his past.

"Are you alright ? No feeling of the Mara stirring up in you ?" the woman asked, as she sat next to her companion who held something in his hands in his lap as he sat crossed legged on the ground.

"Surprisingly, no. Seeing her makes me calm. Honestly, I never thought I'd be able to see her, ever again. Not after how I saw her..." he responded quietly, trailing off as he refused to say it. Then, he unfolded his fingers from their tight grasp. And there, was a pair of beautiful glass earrings.

"If its stirring up again, what are the chances of it calming down once you see her ?" Kafka asked, taking a simple guess as she glanced at her partner in crime.

"She has always been...calm. Jia. In the native language of Xianzhou, it means home." Blade said, looking down at the earrings he once made for a beloved once. He turned up, looking at the moon, the same moon he knew she was sleeping peacefully under.

"And that's what she has always been. My home."