#her beaconed-hand glows

[shamballalin]

The New Colossus from IN THEIR IMAGE AND LIKENESS subtitled THE RED BAG OF COURAGE SURVIVAL WISDOM ~book 3 in this series not yet published

“Social justice became another life contract I made. I was to have a very busy life standing up for the life, liberty, and justice for all that the United States of America was supposed to stand. “Much of humanity at the turn of the century claimed to stand for the flag, life, liberty, and freedom while ignorantly supporting those with racist, xenophobic, and authoritarian ideologies. I thought…

[idkyetxoxo]

Cregan Stark - Devotion

Summary - Cregan's obsession with his wife is obvious, constantly showering her with affection and praise, making sure she always feels his unwavering devotion. Even amidst the grandeur of her brother's wedding, he struggles to restrain himself, after all, she is his, forever and always.

Pairing - Cregan Stark x Strong reader

Warnings - Sexual content (smut!)

Word count - 2302

Masterlist for Cregan • House of the Dragon General Masterlist.

"You look absolutely beautiful," he murmured, his breath warm against my cheek as his face hovered inches from mine. I smiled, a faint blush spreading across my cheeks at his intimate compliment. 

His arms wrapped around me from behind, the touch both reassuring and affectionate.

I was dressed in a delicate grey gown, chosen for its simplicity and ease of travel. It was perfect for our journey to Dragonstone, where we were to attend the wedding of my brother Jace and his betrothed, Baela. 

Despite its understated elegance, the dress shimmered subtly, catching the light as I moved.

"I've been told," I whispered, leaning back to place a soft kiss on his cheek. 

Cregan was never shy with his affections, always finding ways to remind me daily of how much he cherished me. His compliments were a constant comfort, his words a balm to my heart.

"Now, come," I said, slipping my hand into his. "We must hurry. I do not wish to delay our travels any longer." The excitement in my voice was palpable, a mixture of anticipation and eagerness to reunite with my family.

The journey, which usually took around a month had been shortened to just under three weeks, thanks to my fervent eagerness to reach Dragonstone. 

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a golden glow over the rugged coastline, Dragonstone emerged from the mist like a majestic sentinel. The castle's towering spires and weathered stone walls loomed against the fading light, blurred into a series of excited memories as we approached.

As we finally arrived, the sight of my mother waiting for us was like a beacon. Her face lit up with the brightest smile, a warmth that instantly melted away any lingering fatigue from our travels.

"Your Grace," I greeted, my own smile matching hers.

"Come here," she whispered, her arms opening wide. 

She enfolded me in a long, tender hug, holding me as if she could keep me forever. When she finally drew back, her hands gently cupped my face, her touch a soothing balm.

"I have missed you dearly," she said, her voice a soft murmur that wrapped around my heart like a comforting embrace.

Her gaze softened as she placed a gentle hand on my stomach, a radiant smile lighting up her face. 

"You're going to be an incredible mother," she murmured, her words brimming with affection. I smiled widely in response, the news still fresh in my mind. The maester in Winterfell had said I was barely a moon along, now, after our journey, it was almost two moons.

Jace was next. As I moved towards him, he pulled me into a hug so tight that I could hardly breathe.

"I trust you would like your sister and niece or nephew alive?" I joked, my voice muffled against his shoulder. 

He chuckled, loosening his grip with a sheepish grin as his eyes wandered to my still-hidden belly, where the babe was growing though not yet visible.

Turning to Baela, I found her beaming at me with a warmth that matched her smile. "The beautiful bride," I murmured, drawing her into a hug as well. 

"Where are the little ones?" I asked, glancing around for my younger brothers, eager to see them.

"Inside, eagerly waiting to greet their older sister," Rhaenyra replied, linking her arm with mine. Her voice was filled with the same warmth that defined our family's gatherings.

I looked back at Cregan, who stood nearby, his face alight with the joy of the reunion. The sparkle in his eyes reflected the enchantment he felt witnessing these heartfelt moments. 

I beckoned him towards me with a smile, and he moved to my side, walking in step with me as we proceeded together.

─── ✦⋅♡⋅✦ ───

I thanked the handmaidens as they finished dressing me, their hands moving with practised grace as they adjusted the final details of my attire. The red and black beaded gown I wore was nothing short of ethereal. 

The delicate beadwork shimmered in the candlelight, and the sheer material, coupled with the plunging neckline, made me feel both beautiful and slightly hesitant. 

The gown was daring, exposing more skin than I was accustomed to, and the subtle curve of my barely visible bump was hidden beneath the fabric.

"Gods be good," a deep voice mumbled from behind me. I turned to find my husband standing in the doorway, his jaw dropped and his eyes wide as they roved over me.

"Is it okay?" I asked, my voice tinged with uncertainty. His silence stretched on, and I shifted nervously, my fingers playing with a strand of my hair before settling on my stomach.

"I know, I think it looks rather scandalous. Perhaps I should change," I rushed out, my insecurities bubbling to the surface. 

Before I could move, he closed the distance between us in quick strides, taking my hands in his.

"You, my sweet wife, are a vision," he began, his voice filled with awe. "The epitome of grace and beauty." His hands moved gently up and down my arms, his touch soothing my nerves. His fingers then traced the curve of my stomach with a tender reverence.

"I can already tell that our little one will be as beautiful as their mother," he added, his eyes soft with affection. 

I visibly relaxed under his tender attention.

"A true dragon, in dragon colours," he continued, his fingers brushing lightly down the exposed skin of my chest. The heat of his touch sent a shiver through me, and I felt my breath catch in my throat.

I grabbed his hand, interlacing my fingers with his. "We should really be off. I do not wish to miss a moment of the celebration," I said, my voice soft but firm. 

He exhaled deeply, stepping back as if he had to physically restrain himself from drawing me closer.

"Of course," he murmured, a mix of longing and admiration in his eyes. 

He offered his arm, and I took it, the touch of his hand a comforting anchor as we made our way towards the grand hall where the celebration awaited.

The wedding was grand, a magnificent celebration to commemorate the union of Jace and Baela. The air was thick with the mingling scents of fresh flowers and the rich aroma of roasted meats. Laughter and music swirled around us, a living, breathing entity that seemed to pulse with the energy of celebration.

The festivities stretched late into the night, with joy, melodies, and merriment filling every corner. 

Amidst the revelry, I noticed Cregan growing increasingly fidgety, his usual composed demeanour slipping.

As the musicians struck up a lively tune, we took to the dance floor. His hands gripped my waist firmly, and I wrapped mine around his neck, feeling the tension radiating from his body.

"Are you alright?" I asked, tilting my head slightly to catch his gaze. He took a deep breath, nodding, though his eyes betrayed his unease.

I placed a hand on his chest, furrowing my brows in concern. "Please tell me if something is bothering you," I urged softly, wanting to ease his distress.

He leaned closer, his voice low and intimate, sending a shiver down my spine. 

"I do not think I can restrain myself any longer," he confessed, his hands travelling up and down my sides with a possessive urgency.

"I need you," he murmured, his tone tinged with a desperate whine. "Please."

His words and the intensity of his touch sent a wave of heat pooling between my legs. I bit my lip, struggling to maintain my composure as my own desire mirrored his.

"Lead the way," I whispered, giving in to the need that coursed through me. A victorious glint sparked in his eyes as he stepped back, taking my hand and rushing us toward my chambers.

Once inside, the door barely closed behind us before Cregan's lips were on mine, his kiss urgent and demanding. His hands roamed over my body, pulling me closer as if he couldn't bear even a moment's distance between us.

My fingers tangled in his hair, matching his fervour as our bodies pressed together. The weight of the evening's formality melted away, leaving only the raw, unrestrained need we felt for each other. He backed me toward the bed, his lips never leaving mine, and we fell onto the soft covers in a tangle of limbs and desire.

"I've wanted you all night," he breathed against my neck, his voice a ragged whisper. "Seeing you in that gown, so beautiful, so perfect... I couldn't think of anything else."

"Now I want it off," he growled, tugging at the material. I laughed, gently pushing him back as I carefully slipped out of the dress, placing it aside with deliberate care.

"Have me then," I teased, my voice low and inviting, leaving myself naked and exposed before him.

"I will," he promised, his eyes burning with an intense desire. He quickly discarded his own clothes, his movements hurried and eager, not wanting to waste another moment.

I scooted back on the bed, watching as he knelt before me, his gaze locked onto mine with a fervour that made my heart race. His hands slid up my legs, the warmth of his touch igniting a fire within me.

"You're breathtaking," he murmured, his voice filled with awe as his fingers traced the curves of my body. "Every inch of you."

His words sent a flush of heat through me, and I arched into his touch, craving more. He leaned in, his lips finding mine in a searing kiss that left me breathless. His hands continued their exploration, each touch leaving a trail of burning desire in its wake.

I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him closer as our bodies pressed together.

"Cregan," I moaned softly as his lips travelled down my neck, leaving a path of fire in their wake. 

"I need you," he whispered against my skin, his voice thick with desire. "I need all of you."

"Take me," I replied, my voice barely more than a breathy plea. "I'm yours."

My words were all the confirmation he needed. He adjusted himself, positioning his body above mine, his eyes locked onto mine with an intensity that made my heart race. 

Slowly, deliberately, he entered me, his movements controlled and purposeful. A soft groan escaped my lips as he filled me, the sensation overwhelming and intoxicating.

He started with a slow, measured rhythm, each thrust deliberate and deep. His eyes never left mine, the connection between us palpable and electric. I clung to him, my fingers digging into his shoulders as I arched my back, meeting each of his movements with my own. 

The pleasure built gradually, a slow burn that intensified with each passing moment.

As the heat between us grew, his pace began to quicken. His thrusts became more urgent, more desperate as if he couldn't get enough of me. The room was filled with the sounds of our lovemaking, soft moans, breathless gasps, and the rhythmic slap of skin against skin.

"Cregan," I moaned, my voice barely a whisper, filled with raw need.

His hand moved from my legs to the sensitive spot between us, his fingers finding my clit with practised ease. "Cum for me, princess," he groaned, his voice a deep, gravelly command.

The sensation of him inside me, the feel of his body moving against mine, combined with the skilled movement of his hand, sent electric shocks of pleasure through my entire being. 

My eyes rolled back, lost in the overwhelming ecstasy that built within me.

With a final, deliberate thrust, the cord in my stomach snapped. I cried out, the pleasure crashing over me like a tidal wave. My body convulsed, shuddering as the orgasm tore through me, his name a desperate plea on my lips. 

Cregan followed soon after, his own release leaving him breathless and trembling. 

As the waves of pleasure subsided, we lay together in the aftermath, our bodies still entwined, slick with sweat and the remnants of our passion. He held me close, his arms wrapped protectively around me as if he never wanted to let go.

"We should return," I said, attempting to pull myself away from Cregan's embrace. "Cregan, come on," I added, laughing as he finally relented.

He helped me get dressed, his hands lingering for a moment longer than necessary, savouring the feel of the gown's fabric against my skin. 

Once I was clothed, I smoothed down my hair, trying to make myself look presentable despite the flush in my cheeks and the sparkle in my eyes.

Hand in hand, we made our way back to the celebrations. The laughter and music seemed brighter, more vibrant, as if our shared moment had infused the celebration with a deeper sense of joy.

"There you are," Rhaenyra said, her eyes lighting up as she saw us approaching. I could feel the heat rising to my cheeks, and I nervously giggled, trying my hardest to keep our recent activities a secret.

"I needed a moment to myself," I lied, patting my stomach and hoping my mother wouldn't notice the lingering flush on my face or the slight dishevelment of my hair. I settled into my seat, Cregan sitting close beside me.

My eyes met Cregan's, and he gave me a knowing smile, his hand finding mine under the table.

"Are you enjoying yourselves?" she asked, her gaze flicking between me and Cregan.

"Very much," Cregan replied, his voice warm and genuine. "It's a beautiful celebration."

My mother nodded, satisfied with his response. "It is," she agreed, her eyes softening as she looked at me. "I'm glad you're here."

I leaned into Cregan, feeling the warmth of his presence beside me. His eyes met mine, and a wide grin spread across his face.

"I love you," he whispered, his voice filled with a fierce tenderness that made my heart swell. "I will always love you."

"I love you too," I replied, my voice equally soft and sincere. "Forever and always."

A/n - Editing this rn and there was originally no pregnancy and then I had a very sudden impulse to add it could not tell you why lmaoo

[itsswritten]

finally.

Pairing: Azriel x fem reader, Nessian (platonic) x reader, fluff

Word Count: 3.5K

Warnings: Pregnancy reveal, mentions of infertility/struggles falling pregnant, symptoms of pregnancy.

Summary: After years of trying and learning to let go, you are finally gifted your beautiful baby miracle miracles.

Wings Universe - More from this world.

“Gods you really are looking radiant today, Flower!” Elodie beamed, nudging you gently with her shoulder. 

The sun was bright among the wild blossoms, sunlight filtering down to touch your skin with a feverish kiss. The season was slowly shifting from Spring to Summer. Plants were growing larger, petals spreading wider, the pollen in the air stronger. There was a buzz among the land of the Night Court, as nature geared itself for this transformation. You had felt the change in temperature, noticed how the rays licked your skin. Leaving yourself and your friends glowing, sunkissed, glimmering from working in the meadows all day. 

But radiant? That was not the word you would use.

Elodie’s compliment had your brows furrowing gently, bringing your dirt covered hand to wipe the bead of sweat that threatened to roll down your cheek. You weren’t sure how to take the compliment. It described the opposite of everything you were feeling.

Perhaps bloated, and sluggish was more accurate. Out of sorts? You couldn’t quite figure out why, there had been no changes to your routine. Yet everything about you felt, well, just different.

Even Azriel had noticed some subtle changes. Ever the Spymaster noticed everything, especially about his precious mate. Or so he thought. He had mentioned the other day that your scent was sweeter than usual. The typical tones of vanilla and honey were weaved in with a hint of something else he couldn’t quite decipher. Azriel had taken it upon himself to touch every inch of your skin to uncover what, only to come to no answer. 

That had been a long night. A night of caresses and grazes. Not that you were complaining.

Glancing down at your fingers spread within the cool damp soil of the meadows, they flexed under the sponginess of the dirt. You could feel the vitality pulse beneath your fingertips before pulling them out. Glancing upon the skin that hadn’t been touched by dirt yet. Radiant? Perhaps. You always had a glow to you, all fairies did. That unexplainable aura that lit up any room. But maybe just maybe, you had been shining a little brighter. 

Maybe.

Casting a fertilising charm within the ground had been today’s task. Along with your usual working group you had headed to the meadows and woodlands on the outskirts of the Night Court. This particular part of your job, the more physical aspect, was one you usually relished in. The ache of your muscles and bones at the end of a hard day of graft, usually, gave you some kind of instant gratification. But fatigue was plaguing you.

You had been sleeping more than usual. Being a Fairy meant you were always rose with that hot shining beacon in the sky, but there had been numerous mornings recently where Azriel had to coax you from your slumber. The sunshine no longer acting as your alarm. Azriel would rouse you with whispered compliments and gentle kisses. Sometimes, his shadows would stir you too, brushing your skin with their cooling touch.

There had even been times when Azriel had let you sleep in. Never a working day of course. Gods be damned, Azriel knew better than that. A day missed at the meadow was the end of the world. Or at least your world. Azriel learnt in the early years of friendship that you took your duty very seriously. So on the days where he knew you had nowhere to be– nowhere other than his arms. He let you sleep.

“Honestly y/n you have this glow about you…” Elodie continued, turning fully to you now her own hands pulling out of the soil. She gently brushed them down her honey coloured dress, her apron picking up the soil as she wiped them. The sun cast a gentle glow across her deep skin, golden eyes glinting with curiosity. A curiosity you wanted to question but before you could, the call for lunch was bellowed across the meadow. 

Food wrapped in little gingham cloths were passed round, a parcel finding its way to your lap. You were starving you realised, as your tummy made a small groaning noise. Hastily you unravelled the packed lunch, the sweet recognisable scent filling the air around you, a smile spreading on your plump lips at today’s choice.

Cake and jam. Your favourite.

The little parcel was packed with nuts, berries, and veggies. But your sweet tooth had your fingers itching to pick up the sponge cake. Licking your lips gently, you brought the sweet slice, covered in a slab of strawberry jam to your lips. Taking a bite of your favourite sweet treat. 

Only it wasn’t sweet.

Instantly you gagged.

The chewed up cake quickly came rolling out of your mouth as you discreetly caught it in your hand.

“Is the food off?” Elodie hushed quietly, turning to you as she inspected your lunch. 

Your group always took turns bringing in food for the day. And you truly couldn’t knock your friends baking. Perhaps a little stereotypical, but fairies were very domestic. Not only great with plants and gardening, but also sewing, crafting, and of course baking. Gus in particular, whose cake you had just spat out was probably the best baker of all the Hollow. 

Shaking your head quickly, you secretly hid the chewed up cake underneath your berries. Your tongue swilling the metallic taste the cake had filled your mouth with. You couldn’t bear Gus finding out you’d spat out his food. The poor male would be heartbroken. 

“No, no it isn’t. It’s fine I promise. I don’t know what came over me,” you hurried out a whisper. “I’ve been feeling a little off recently. Maybe I’m under the weather.”

Placing her lunch to the side, your friend looked at you with her deep warm eyes, concerned etched into her brows as she gently pressed the back of her hand on your forehead.

Chewing your lip you let your friend examine you. “You don’t have a temperature…” she muttered, more to herself than to you as she began to fuss.

Leaning closer then, her hands clasped around your cheeks. Her grip was slightly firm as your lips were squished into a pout. She didn’t notice though, not as her eyes began to quickly flicker over every line and curve of your face. Her meticulous scrutiny not letting up. A glimmer of something winked across her face, catching her off guard if only for a second before her brows furrowed.

Then she began to sniff you.

“El, what are you doing?” You asked, tone annoyed and bashful, as you swatted her looming face away lightly. She was naturally quite a tactile fairy, but even this was a bit much for her. 

Elodie had sat back now, her eyes widening. It was as though you could see in her eyes the pieces falling into place, but for a puzzle you weren't aware of.

“Thank the Mother,” she whispered, her lips stretching to a smile, before she clasped your hand pulling you away from the group.

“El?” You were annoyed now. Your fingers were flexing at your sides, as she had pulled you into a field filled with tulips. The pink and orange hues swayed gently in the breeze, as an uneasiness began to roll over you. 

“It all makes sense now. How you were so emotional when you saw those baby hedgehogs the other day–”

Shaking your head, you lifted your hands in confusion. You didn’t understand.

“Your scent, your glow…your wings!”

There was an uncomfortable rising feeling under your skin at the signs your friend began to mention, the symptoms you knew all too well that were rolling off her tongue. You knew them so well because for a period of time you had analysed every part of yourself hoping to see these aspects, only to not ever see a glimmer.

It couldn’t be?

Quickly glancing over your shoulder, you squinted to take a hard look at your wings. Furling the iridescent membranes closer to you, as you examined the very appendages your friend was peering so intently at.

There was nothing really different…except maybe there was. You squinted harder.

The tips. 

They’d turned a darker pink.

Your heart was in your throat, an audible gasp leaving your lips as you turned to get a closer look. Spinning in a circle, round and round. Only to find the exact thing Elodie had noticed.

“Wait, Elodie. No, it can’t be?” your lip quivered as realisation began to sink in.

You and Azriel had decided two years ago that you wanted to expand your family. Especially seeing your loved ones with their own growing families. Feyre and Rhys had Nyx and Selene. And of course, Nesta and Cassian recently had their little Athena.

Over the years you had tried everything, taking tonics, eating certain foods, you had even scheduled a very meticulous conceiving plan. But nothing worked. There had been numerous appointments with Madja, and even the healers and midwives of the Hollow. But everything you did was futile. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t fall pregnant.

There was a period of time your mind tore you apart. Speculating and obsessively analysing the possibilities of why you couldn’t conceive. That perhaps it was you and Azriel that weren’t compatible. Biologically. That the Mother had made a mistake with you. That maybe things would have been different if you were Illyrian, not ‘lesser’ fae. That your own body was not strong enough to nurture his offspring. Defective somehow.

That duration of your life had been hard, and even harder to move on from. But with time, and endless love and support from your mate you eventually let go of that dream.

But now, that slither of hope was growing brighter than the summer sun beaming down on you.

Eloide, your longest friend. Had her hands clasped around yours. Her own eyes filled with a watery brim, mirroring your own.

She nodded with a smile.

You were pregnant.

𓇢𓆸

Azriel stood darkly behind his High Lord who was seated casually at the head of the meeting. Azriel was positioned on the left, Cassian on the right. The perfect guards to the Night Court. The large obsidian table stretched across the room. High Lords littered down the long ornate slab, all wearing the colours of their respective court. A few of Rhys’ closest alliances had joined for this gathering, discussing borders and peace treaties.

The meeting had begun in the morning, and by the stacks of documents officials were passing round it didn’t seem to be letting up anytime soon.

Azriel was focused, stood clad in his Illyrian leathers, blue syphons gleaming as the muscles in his jaw flexed. Despite this being an era of peace, with so many High Lord’s and emissaires in the room he was on high alert. His shadows gently grazed along the floor of the room as Azriel stayed attuned to the room's conversation.

One of his shadows seemed restless though, vibrating slightly behind his wing before curling up to his ear. Revealing nothing but nervous energy. 

With a subtle jolt, Azriels wings unfurled slightly as he felt a small ripple down the bond. It was skittish and nervous, unease seeping from you down the thread.

Cassian gave Azriel a sideways glance, an unspoken question if everything was okay. But Azriel only stood straighter for his answer, reclaiming his composure as he sent a gentle vibration down the warm glowing bond.

Is everything okay, my love?

You were quite a passionate soul, an empath. Oftentimes, involuntarily, Azriel would feel all types of emotion spill down the bond. It was one of the reasons he loved you, a quality he found endearing. How open to love you were, how you felt the sorrow and joy of others wholeheartedly. But this uneasiness left him unsettled.

Azriel was only met with silence on your end. Spurring him to send another ripple. His shadows started to become more restless, spreading and striking behind his wings subtly, as if displaying the uneasiness of their master or perhaps they were twitching out of eagerness for something else– for someone else.

Azriel was usually quite a composed male, cool and collected was the blueprint of his facade. Yet, when it came to you and your welfare, any patience went quickly out the window.

He was about to send one of his shadowy tendrils to look for you, to check you were okay in the meadows. Also on the verge of sending another question down the bond. Only for the large oak doors to swing open with a force that flushed the room with a gust of wind.

You.

It was you, his beautiful shining mate. 

A very beautiful dishevelled mate, however.

You were flushed, cheeks hot and rosy as you stumbled into the large meeting room. Your lovely pink dress was covered in soil, the lacy strap hanging off your shoulder. The flowers you’d braided into your hair that morning were hanging limp only by a few strands. Pink hues of light flickered across the room, as it became obvious to everyone your beautiful wings were unfurled behind you.

There had been no stopping you once you’d got your confirmation, you had flown urgently to River House. Storming through the hallways with a haste one wouldn’t usually associated with such a delicate fairy.

But you needed him. You needed your mate.

You needed Azriel, and no meeting, no court officials or High Lords were going to stop you.

Your eyes instantly found those hazel beacons, eyes locked in on your handsome shadow of a lover. If you weren’t so encaptured by him, you may have noticed the panicked scrape of Rhys’ chair as he stood in concern, or how Cassian left his post towards you. Hand twitching by his sword, ready to strike at any recognition of the danger that must have caused this display by you.

If you’d been listening you might have noticed how the room had fallen quickly into a silence, all heads snapping to you. Momentarily, eyes glazing over the iridescent lights that were now reflecting off your wings.

A very rare sight.

“What a beauty…” someone purred, although you didn’t hear them.

Azriel was beside you in mere seconds, his shadows consuming you protectively moving you slightly into the pocket realm. The tendrils coiled on the corners of your vision so you could only see Azriel, who tenderly had a hand pressed against your jaw, thumb gently grazing the dirt spread on your face. His other arm protectively wrapped around you pulling you close.

Something must have happened Azriel concluded. Fear seeped into his mind as he began to imagine the worst.

Your energy, the vulnerable look in your eyes and tousled appearance had Azriel reeling. Itching to figure out what had caused this. Had a danger broken into the court? Had his shadows missed something? Were you hurt?

“My love, what is it? What’s wrong?” there was an urgency in his tone.

You shook your head, tears rolling down your cheeks. Azriel was confused. You were in a state of disarray, but he could feel nothing of the sort through the bond. Instead there was an overwhelming feeling of joy and love rippling through.

“There is nothing wrong, love…finally everything is right,” you cried through your smile.

These were not Azriel’s choice of words, but later on when Cassian and Rhys relayed the scenario to the rest of the family they said you looked a little mad. Deranged even. Your tangled appearance and abrupt entrance was unlike anything they’d seen from you.

Azriel was quick to move you from here, his shadows engulfing you both as they transported you to a small lounge in the house. He wanted you away from prying eyes, and needed to check you were safe. That you weren’t hurt. His hands were still cupped around your face as he began to inspect you carefully. His eyes analysing your expression, shadows circling around your ankles to check for anything that might explain your distress– no it wasn’t distress, it wasn’t madness, it was joy.

“Breathe my little butterfly, what’s got you so worked up that you barged into a High Lord’s meeting?” Azriel cooed, his expression softening as he recognised the vulnerability in your eyes. Large scarred hands lightly brushed your unrurly hair, his fingers delicately bringing the dress strap back over your shoulder as he tried to soothe you with his touch.

“Everything is finally right Azriel,'' you whispered, repeating the words from earlier. For a moment Azriel couldn’t understand. The disarray, the vulnerability, the uneasiness. How could everything finally be right?

But then he felt it, the rippling down the bond. That unconditional love again, joy, delight…but also relief. Relief that something had finally happened. Something you had both been waiting, praying and dreaming of.

The Shadowsinger tilted his head, his hands dropping from your face, not daring to breathe the words himself as the emotions he felt began to paint a vivid picture.

“I’m pregnant.”

In that moment Azriel crashed down onto his knees, an overwhelming sensation consuming him as he digested the truth you spoke. It was as if at that moment, everything slowly slotted into place. The clues he hadn’t even known were clues sung to him. Your scent, your temperament and emotions, your wings. Everything he had acknowledged subconsciously, had been tucked away in his mind because he couldn’t phantom the possibility– the possibility of being wrong. Getting your hopes up.

His hands softly came to your hips, drawing you closer as he rested his forehead against your stomach.

“We’re having a baby?” Azriel’s voice broke, the words barely audible.

“Babies.” You whispered back.

𓇢𓆸

Cassian had been pacing back and forth outside the lounge for well over an hour now. He’d desperately called down the bond to Nesta, who had arrived in a hurry with their little Athena in her arms. His reaction may have been slightly over dramatic. But Cassian assured her that if Nesta had seen the state you’d run into the meeting room earlier, she would be behaving the same way.

Nesta didn’t really believe him, her mate had a way of being quite theatrical in situations.

There had been no danger, Azriel had spoken into Rhys mind and it had been passed onto Cassian. So Cassian spent the time speculating on what could have brought such an uncharacteristically reaction from you. He’d seen you when things didn’t go the plan in the meadows and assumed something at work must have gone array.

Nesta sat lazily in a chair outside the lounge, book in hand. Every now and then, glancing up at her mate who was wearing a mark in the stone floor from his pacing. Cassian held his little baby while he patrolled outside the room, whispering theories on what possibly could have happened to Auntie y/n.

“I don’t know Thena…maybe the ladybirds lost their spots again?” He mused, recalling a previous drama you had shared with him once, that had sent you a little haywire last year.

“All spots are accounted for,” your voice sang. Cassian hadn’t even noticed you and Azriel had stepped out of the room.

“Sorry brother I didn’t know you were waiting for us” Azriel smiled softly, giving his brother’s shoulder a gentle squeeze.

Cassian’s expression softened, as Nesta came to his side. Her arm looping around his free side while she kissed her little babe on the head. “Is everything okay though?” Cassian asked, concern still lingering.

“More than okay,” you beamed, tears quickly filling your eyes again.

Cassian and Nesta glanced between you both. Their expressions desperately trying to figure out what was happening. The penny dropped for Nesta first. Her own lips pulled into a genuine smile.

“Thank the Mother” she grinned, stepping forward to embrace you tightly.

The tears were spilling then, as you hugged your friend back. Little sobs racking through your body. You thought you’d cried it all out in Azriel’s arms, that there were no more tears left to give. But now, in the embrace of your friends– your family. Reality sunk in much deeper.

It only took Cassian a few moments and a glance at Azriel’s overjoyed but emotional expression to understand what was happening.

“Truly brother?” He beamed. Azriel nodded, a small tear running down his face as Cassian bear-hugged his friend, making sure Athena wasn’t squished between the giant Illyrians. 

It didn’t take long for Cassian to start shouting it from the rooftops, bellowing down the halls of River house that two baby Shadowsingers were on their way. And of course, naturally, the day turned into a celebration, a gathering with your loved ones to toast your beautiful miracle babies. 

Later that night, after Rhys and Cassian had drowned themselves in whiskey with a competition of who would be the favourite uncle.

Azriel joined you in bed, you were propped up by plush pillows against the large headboard, night dress adorned as you gazed down at your tummy. Your hands resting lightly on your stomach.

“Finally” you whispered, as Azriel laid beside you, his own hand covering both of yours as he nuzzled into your neck. Inhaling your scent.

He breathed deeply against your throat, relief and joy rippling through every inch of his skin, “Finally.”

a/n: Here is is!!! So sorry this took so long, I've been so busy with lots of interviews and prepping, which has eaten into a lot of my energy recently. But I hope this was worth the wait! I think the next scene that was voted for was the truth or dare/drinking games which would be set pre bond snapping/in the friendship era! So I'll try write that next unless there's something else first you'd like? Anyway I love writing about these two, their my little fluff couple <3 - Lottie x

Forever tags: @sleepylunarwolf @daily-dose-of-sass @amberlynn98 @marscardigan @illyrianbitch @lilah-asteria

[deunmiu-dessie]

ⅸ▬ ⁽ 𝑔𝑜𝒷𝓁𝒾𝓃𝓈 ⁾

𝓌𝑜𝓇𝒹 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉 ♡︎ : ₂˖₇ₖ ˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡

𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈 ♡︎ : unedited, short, gangbang (??), NSFW,  explicit content, teratophilia, goblin/human, unprotected sex, creampie, overstimulation, dubcon, rape/noncon elements, sloppy writing, rushed.

૮ ˙Ⱉ˙ ა ʳᵃʷʳ ⁿᵒᵗᵉˢ : this is literally the shortest one-shot in the entire monster fucker series of mine, and that's because it's rushed. i didn't feel like adding plot at all either. but hey, if it got my coochie wet, it should get your coochie wet. ( feeding ya'll so you guys don't starve waiting on the dragon one-shot )

𝓈𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎 ♡︎: after the death of your brother, it's now your sole duty to provide for you and your mom--- but the woods can be a very scary place.

꒰male!goblins₊⊹ afab!reader꒱

"𝑀other! I'm leaving! "

Silence draped itself over the house, as if time itself had come to a halt. Your mother's voice remained absent, and the absence of anyone bidding you farewell left you with a heavy heart. A gentle sigh escaped your lips and with a tender touch, you closed the weathered wooden door, shouldering the weight of the knapsack upon your back. As your eyes met the foreboding darkness that veiled the forest, a disconcerting feeling settled within the depths of your chest.

In the absence of your brother, who had always been the pillar of support for both of you, you found yourself embracing the role of a caretaker. Your mother, overwhelmed with grief, was unable to fulfill the basic necessities of sustenance and safety. She remained motionless on the bed, her tears flowing ceaselessly, as the days and nights blended together. It was now your turn to rise above the despair and take charge, to bring solace and stability.

With a firm grip on the handle of your short dagger, you fortified your nerves and ventured into the gloomy forest, your knife clenched tightly in a state of restless eagerness. Although the weight of your backpack was as light as a feather, it bore down upon you like an immense burden. Swiftly pivoting, you remained on high alert, ensuring your guard was steadfastly upheld.

Into the heart of the sprawling forest you ventured, your footsteps dancing upon the moss-covered ground, carrying you further away from the gentle glow that had guided your way. The once comforting sense of security dissipated like morning mist, leaving you engulfed in an eerie darkness. The comforting sense of security that had embraced you earlier now vanished into thin air. 

  The path you had treaded upon vanished, leaving no trace of retreat, yet your determination remained unwavering. You pressed on, driven by the desire to reach the berries nestled amidst the dense foliage, and then eventually find your way back home.

As you ventured deeper into the woods, your brother's words echoed in your mind like a haunting melody. He warned you about the goblins, elusive creatures that supposedly roamed the shadows, waiting for unsuspecting intruders to cross into their domain. Despite the ominous tales, he assured you that they were harmless. The image of a goblin, with its peculiar shade of green and diminutive stature, danced in your imagination. How strange it was to think that such creatures existed in the same world as you, yet remained hidden from your sight.

Ever watchful, your gaze remained fixated upon the intricate engravings adorning the tree trunks. A circular insignia defiantly marked with a decisive strike, served as your guiding beacon. Hopeful, you pressed on, faithfully tracing the trail laid before you. 

As the gentle breeze whispered through the foliage, a symphony of rustling leaves enveloped the air. Time seemed to slow down as you cautiously pivoted toward the bush, your trembling hands betraying your anxious state. A surge of adrenaline coursed through your veins, igniting your nerves like a blazing inferno. 

 Suddenly, a deep growl pierced the tranquility, resonating through the very core of your being. Despite the weapon clutched tightly in your grasp, an inexplicable terror seized your heart, threatening to consume your every thought. In an instant, instinct took over, propelling you to turn swiftly and flee, your nimble form weaving through the dense forest, effortlessly evading the entangling vines and treacherous rocks that dared to impede your escape.

You're unsure of how long you've been running but the searing pain in your lungs prompted you to slow your pace, seeking refuge by leaning against a sturdy tree. Your hand brushed against a peculiar marking, distinct from the familiar circle with a slash. You look up quickly, this time, an imposing 'X' catches your eye, accompanied by a haunting message etched jaggedly below: 'go back'. A shiver runs down your spine as the unsettling awareness of being observed, hunted even, envelopes you.

In a moment of desperation, you tightly shut your eyes, as if trying to shield yourself from the malevolent forces that surrounded you and pray. Whispers of wicked laughter dance through the air, reverberating within the depths of the expansive forest. With a quick swivel, you scan your surroundings, hoping to catch a glimpse of any flicker of life amidst the shadows.

   Suddenly, a jolt of pain shot through your body, causing you to gasp. Your eyes widened as you felt a sharp object pierce your ankle, momentarily stealing your breath away. In a reflexive response, you released your grip on the dagger, allowing it to fall to the forest floor. Bending down, you gingerly extracted the needle-like object.

 Yet, as if a veil of mist had descended upon your eyes, your once clear vision became hazy and indistinct. With a determined shake of your head, you attempted to dispel the fog that had insidiously infiltrated your thoughts. Grasping the dagger once more, you struggled to regain your balance, stumbling clumsily as you rose to your full stature.

Alas, the forest floor seemed to twist and twirl in a dizzying dance before your eyes, causing you to succumb to its disorienting spell. In a sudden and unexpected motion, you found yourself sprawled on the ground, the knife slipping from your grasp and soaring away from your reach.

As the atmosphere grew thick with sinister chuckles, it became evident that you had unwittingly stumbled into the realm of the mischievous Goblins. Overwhelmed by frustration, tears of despair trickled down your cheeks, while your determination urged you to inch closer to the gleaming blade.

Suddenly, a force seized your trembling leg, causing you to cry out in fear. Frantically, you thrashed about, employing erratic kicks in a desperate bid to dislodge the mysterious grip.

 It seemed that whatever the Goblins had put on that needle was finally kicking in. Gradually, your valiant resistance waned, your feeble attempts to resist their hold proving futile. A haunting laughter reverberated near your ear, causing you to cautiously shift your gaze towards the sound, tears streaming down your face as you found yourself ensnared by the gaze of large black eyes.

Abruptly, the creature's mouth parted, emitting a series of chitters that harmonized with the surrounding Goblins, creating an otherworldly symphony of communication. You plead with them, your tears cascading down your face and finding solace in the crevices of your hairline. The Goblin closest to you inches forward, its head tilting inquisitively, while its its gaze fixated on the shimmering trails of tears.

The soft murmur of their conversation is the sole sound that penetrates the deafening thump of your heartbeat. You have no clue what they're saying but the delicate caress of a hand on your cheek offers solace as it brushes away the tears that stream down your face.

In total, it appears that there are four figures surrounding you, two positioned near your feet and one on either side. Despite the fact that they are armed, they exhibit a sense of nonchalance, keeping their weapons idle by their sides.

As you begin to relax a bit, a glimmer of hope flickers within you, and you that they perceive you as harmless and decide to leave you here. A gentle warmth caresses your cheek, prompting you to slowly turn towards its source, only to recoil in fear at the looming presence of the monstrous being.

Its mouth, without warning, descends upon yours, planting a sloppy kiss that catches you off guard. Your eyes widen in shock, and you instinctively attempt to pull away, tears welling up in your eyes.

As if in a surreal reverie, a slimy appendage gently prods against your quivering lips, the creature displaying an unsettling indifference toward your futile resistance. Abruptly, a hand gropes your breast, its jagged nails tearing through the delicate fabric.

A gasp escapes your lips, mingling with the invasive kiss, and the intruder's long and thick tongue slides down your throat effortlessly. Paradoxically, this unwelcome intrusion only serves to ignite a fierce determination within you, intensifying your struggle against its grip.

  Like a peculiar elixir, the mingling of the goblins' sweet saliva and your own descends upon your flushed cheeks. In that fleeting moment, you relinquish your futile attempts to escape their clutches. Your limbs refuse to obey your commands, and you find yourself overwhelmed by their sheer numbers. After all, if their intention was to end your life, they could easily do so, just like they had done to your brother.

 Amidst the haze that clouds your sight, you find solace in the notion that this situation could have been far more dreadful. This kiss, though not your first, stands out among the many others you've experienced from the boys in the village who seem to always disregard your lack of consent. Hell, it might be the drug affecting your thoughts, or perhaps it's the overwhelmingly sweet taste of its saliva, but you don't particularly object to your current state.

 Your eyes pop open at the sound of your bindings being ripped, exposing your breasts to the crisp breeze. Your nipples perk up and harden, as if beckoning one of the mischievous creatures to come and taste. Your thighs clench, clit pulsing as a hot mouth descends around your areola, suckling strongly, teeth delicately grazing your tender skin.

A wave of pleasure crashes over you, your moans escape into the Goblin's mouth. Your eyes remain shut, lost in a world where only the sensations matter. The impish creature, with clumsy hands, explores your other breast, teasing and coaxing your nipple. 

  You realize briefly how aroused you are, how slippery your cunt is ( so much so that it’s almost uncomfortable) and your cheeks flush in embarrassment. It's a secret that you'll hold dear forever, how these monstrous beings awaken a desire within you that far surpasses anything that men from your village could ever offer.

Riiiip

You quickly break away from the kiss, gasping for air, only to find yourself staring at the two Goblins by your feet. Your pants are torn, the hasty stitching coming undone effortlessly. Your knickers, worn and slightly tattered, had not been replaced in some time, but you always made sure to keep them thoroughly clean. 

  Your head is turned back, and before you can react, those lips are on yours once more. Your heart races as you feel your knickers being tugged down your thighs, your legs pushed up, exposing your dripping cunt.

Your pussy quivers as a rough tongue swipes across the expanse of your slit. It has you grinding wantonly against its eager mouth shamefully. The Goblin seems to like the way you taste because it grabs your thighs and heaves them over its small shoulders, burying its face deeper into your cunt, lapping excessively and for a moment you're seeing stars.

You arch your back, offering yourself up to its insistent mouth, lost in a haze of bliss. It devours you with a fervor that leaves you breathless, each lick sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. At that moment, nothing else exists but the overwhelming sensation of being consumed by pure, unadulterated lust.

Your eyes flutter closed, and the relentless flick of its coarse tongue against your throbbing clit makes you pulse needly. The kiss stops momentarily and you take that time to breathe deeply, chest heaving as the other Goblins take their time suckling on your breast and eating you out. 

A wet sensation brushes against your lips, prompting you to extend your tongue and savor the warm, bittersweet taste. With a soft moan escaping your lips, you gaze upwards, feeling your cheeks flush at the sight of the Goblin's cock hovering above your mouth.

The girth is thick but it's not long, a good 4 inches at best. Slowly, it guides itself into your hot mouth, and you savor the intoxicating sweetness of its precum on your eager tastebuds. You obediently bob your head, your cheeks growing even hotter as the Goblin's hands entwine in your hair, dictating the rhythm at its own whims.

  A surge of electricity courses through your hips as your clit is slurped on harshly, your eagerness taking over as you gyrate your hips with increasing fervor against the skilled tongue, craving more of its enthralling touch. The sudden, forceful thrust of the other Goblin’s cock down your throat elicits a mixture of sensations, from a deep gag to an overwhelming sense of pleasure and your legs tremble uncontrollably, wrapping around the Goblin's head, as you cum with a soft, high-pitched moan.

With a hint of jealousy, the other one shoves the Goblin away and eagerly plunges his tongue into your throbbing core, chittering at the taste of you. You find yourself utterly vulnerable, incapable of reaching down to push his head away, cunt sensitive and pulsing.

  You suddenly heave as its cock hits the back of your throat, bittersweet thick, sticky cum shooting into your mouth. You gulp it down, the viscosity coating your tongue as you eagerly suck on the bulbous tip to get every last drop of it. The Goblin lets out a guttural moan before pulling away, collapsing onto the lush greenery.

 A gentle breeze caresses your sensitive nipples as the other mischievous Goblin frees them from its warm mouth, straddling your stomach and pressing your breasts together, sliding its cock in between the valley and thrusting. Your lips part, eagerly enveloping the swollen tip as it reaches your mouth.

The Goblin that had decided to eat you out first had maneuvered itself to your head. With a perverted gaze, it pleasures itself, mesmerized by the sight of its tribe member's pulsating cock disappearing into the velvety embrace of your breasts and then past your fleshy lips.

 You let out a squeal of surprise as a painful thickness pushes into you, tears immediately wetting your cheeks at the discomfort. You attempt to move your hips back, trying to get away from the intruding cock. The goblin grabbed the fat of your hips, anchoring itself. Its clumsy fingers dance over your clit, soothing the ache with each teasing stroke. Pushing in until its small balls rest against your plump ass.

  And as soon as it noticed your body relaxing, it began to thrust, its head thrown back in wicked laughter, before glancing downwards, captivated by the sight of its green cock disappearing inside you, marveling at how tight your pussy was gripping him. Oblivious to its actions, the Goblin intensified its circular caresses on your clit, overstimulating your bundle of nerves. You cried out, cunt spasming and quivering around its cock, you came once more– leaving a pearlescent ring of cream around the base of him.

The mischievous creature nestled between your breasts finally cums, tiny hips faltering as its seed trickles down your chin and breasts. Succumbing to temptation, you welcome the tip into your mouth, savoring every last drop of. Its taste was nothing short of addictive.

A thick warmth fills your cunt, coating your gummy walls in a sticky fluid. Your eyes roll to the back of your head, you feel so full and sated. The weight of the two Goblins pressed against your skin, sends a shiver down your spine. Darkness creeps in, but you welcome it, too lost in the moment to care, and whatever they gave you hadn't worn off yet.

The moment your eyes fluttered open, a blanket of darkness surrounded you, the gentle chirping of crickets filling your ears and the icy touch of the night air jolting you awake. Sitting upright, you realized you were situated at the forest's edge, your cozy dwelling just a short distance away. 

Gradually adjusting to the lack of light, you discovered an array of food spread out before you, your hunger pangs intensifying as your stomach rumbled. Without hesitation, you indulged in the succulent berries, pondering whether it was all a mere dream. However, the lingering sensation of the cold breeze caressing your exposed nipples and the stickiness clinging to your thighs contradicted that notion. 

Gathering as much food as you could carry, you stood up and made a swift exit, calling out for your mother. You looked behind you, the feeling of being watched overwhelming. Tomorrow, you vowed to return and express your gratitude to those unseen eyes.

[moonselune]

Hello! Could you write all the origin companions reaction to a tav who sacrificed themselves to save them? Whether or not tav gets revivified is up to you. Thank you! I hope you enjoyed your break!

yes yes yes, so this is going to be quite similar to the silly sacrifice one but I tried to focus more on the revivfy section kind of

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Karlach:

The battle had reached its peak, the air thick with the scent of blood and the clashing of steel. You and Karlach fought side by side, her infernal rage blazing like a beacon of hope amidst the chaos. But then, in a split second, you saw the demon's sword arching towards her, aiming for a fatal blow. Without a second thought, you threw yourself in its path, the blade biting deep into your flesh.

The world seemed to slow as you fell to the ground, your vision darkening. Karlach’s roar of anguish cut through the din of battle. She fought with a renewed ferocity, dispatching the demon with a series of powerful blows, her eyes never leaving your fallen form.

“No, no, no!” she cried, dropping to her knees beside you, her hands shaking as she held your lifeless body. Tears streamed down her face, her fiery aura flickering as despair threatened to consume her. “You can't leave me like this! You can't!”

Desperation gave her strength as she pulled out a revivify scroll from her pack. Her hands were unsteady, but her resolve was ironclad. She chanted the incantation, pouring all her will into bringing you back. For a moment, nothing happened, and her heart nearly shattered.

Then, your chest heaved with a ragged breath, and your eyes fluttered open. Karlach's tears flowed even harder, but now they were tears of relief and joy. She cradled your face in her hands, her touch gentle despite her overwhelming strength.

“You scared me so much,” she sobbed, pressing her forehead against yours. “I thought I’d lost you for good. Don’t you ever do that again, you hear me?”

You managed a weak smile, lifting a hand to brush away her tears. “I’m sorry, Karlach. I couldn’t let anything happen to you.”

She held you close, her body shaking with the force of her emotions. “I love you so much,” she whispered fiercely. “And I need you with me. Always.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Minthara:

The night was filled with the sounds of battle, the clash of swords and the screams of the dying. You and Minthara moved as one, a deadly dance of blades and magic. But then, you saw it—the assassin, poised to strike Minthara from the shadows. Instinct took over, and you flung yourself in front of her, the blade intended for her plunging into your chest instead.

Minthara's eyes widened in shock and rage as you collapsed to the ground. She dispatched the assassin with ruthless efficiency, her movements swift and lethal. But as she knelt beside you, her expression shifted to one of desperate fear.

“No, you fool,” she hissed, her hands trembling as she reached for you, only to find your lifeless body. “Why did you do that?”

Minthara’s eyes flashed with anger and sorrow. She pulled out a revivify scroll, her voice steady but urgent as she recited the spell. The magic flowed from her fingertips, enveloping your body in a soft glow.

For a moment, everything was silent. Then, your chest rose with a shuddering breath, and your eyes opened. Minthara’s relief was palpable, but she quickly masked it with her usual stern expression.

“You think death can take you from me so easily?” she asked, her voice laced with mockery to hide the desperation she felt. “You’re mine, and only I decide when you go.”

"Wouldn't dream of it" You smiled weakly, the warmth of life returning to your limbs. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Minthara's stern facade cracked slightly, and she leaned down to press a fierce kiss to your lips. “Good,” she murmured against your mouth, her voice softening for a brief moment. “Because I need you by my side. Always.”

She pulled back, her eyes burning with a fierce possessiveness. “Do not ever think you can leave me so easily. Death itself will bend to my will if it means keeping you with me.”

You chuckled softly, wincing at the pain but finding comfort in her words. “I know my love,”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Lae'zel:

The battlefield was a chaotic swirl of violence, the clang of steel and the cries of the wounded filling the air. You and Lae'zel fought side by side, a formidable team. But in a split second, you saw an enemy warrior, poised to strike her from behind. Without hesitation, you lunged forward, taking the blow meant for her. The pain was excruciating, but you gritted your teeth, determined to protect her. As the world around you faded to black, the last thing you saw was Lae'zel's horrified expression.

When you opened your eyes, you were met with Lae'zel's fierce gaze, her hands pressed against your chest where the wound had been. The magic of the revivify scroll was still fading from her fingertips. Relief flickered in her eyes before it was quickly replaced with anger.

"Fool!" she snapped, pulling you up to a sitting position. "You call that battle technique? Throwing yourself in front of a blade like a reckless child?"

You couldn't help but chuckle, despite the pain still lingering in your body. "Nice to see you too, Lae'zel."

Her glare intensified, but you could see the worry in her eyes. "Do not mock me. Your survival is not a joke. You are to be better, to fight smarter. I will not lose you to your own stupidity."

"Yes, ma'am," you said, a smile tugging at your lips. "I'll try to remember that next time."

She sighed, her expression softening ever so slightly. "See that you do. I need you alive and by my side, not dead on the ground." She reached out, brushing a lock of hair from your forehead with surprising tenderness. "Promise me you will fight smarter."

You took her hand in yours, squeezing it gently. "I promise, Lae'zel."

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Shadowheart:

The battle raged around you, guts and gore everywhere, but your focus was solely on Shadowheart. She was cornered, surrounded by enemies, and in that moment, you knew what you had to do. You threw yourself in front of her, taking a vicious blow that would have ended her life. The pain was immense, but you didn't regret it for a second. As your vision blurred and darkness closed in, you heard her scream your name.

When you awoke, the first thing you felt were her tears on your face. Shadowheart was leaning over you, her hands glowing with the last remnants of a revivify spell. Her eyes were red, tears streaming down her cheeks as she looked at you with a mix of relief and frustration.

"You idiot," she choked out, her voice trembling. "Why did you do that? Why would you sacrifice yourself for me?"

You tried to smile, but it came out as more of a grimace. "Because I love you, Shadowheart. I couldn't let you die."

She sobbed, her tears falling onto your face. "You reckless fool. You can't just… just die like that. I can't lose you." She tried to scold you, but her voice broke, and she buried her face in your chest, her body shaking with sobs.

You reached up, gently stroking her hair. "I'm sorry, Shadowheart. I didn't mean to make you cry."

She lifted her head, her tear-filled eyes meeting yours. "Don't you ever do that again," she said, her voice filled with a mixture of anger and desperation. "You hear me? I can't… I can't go through that again."

"I promise. I'll be more careful." You nodded, pulling her close and holding her tightly. She clung to you, her sobs gradually subsiding as she calmed down.

"I'm just so glad you're alive," she whispered, her voice still trembling. "I can't bear the thought of losing you."

"I'm here," you said softly, kissing the top of her head. "And I'm not going anywhere."

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Jaheira:

The clashing of swords and the shouts of warriors filling the air. You and Jaheira fought side by side, her presence a comforting and motivating force. But then, you saw it—a blade aimed straight at her back. Without thinking, you threw yourself in its path, taking the blow meant for her. The pain was sharp and overwhelming, and you fell to the ground, the world fading to black.

When you opened your eyes, Jaheira was kneeling over you, her hands glowing with the light of a revivify spell. Her expression was calm, though you could see the concern in her eyes. She finished the spell, and the pain began to ebb away as life returned to your body.

"There you are," she said, her tone brisk but affectionate. She pulled you to your feet with surprising strength, and before you could fully process what was happening, she leaned in and pressed a firm, warm kiss to your lips.

"You'll need to be quicker next time, you would have easily been able to deflect that blade," she said, a hint of a smile playing at her lips. "But thank you."

You managed a weak smile, still a bit dazed and in awe of how calm she was. "Anything for you, Jaheira."

"Good," she replied, giving you a pat on the back. "Now, back to the fight. We have work to do."

With that, she turned and rejoined the fray, leaving you with a sense of awe and gratitude. She had seen death and resurrection enough times to take it in stride, but her kiss had been full of warmth and reassurance, a silent promise that she would always be there to pull you back from the brink.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Gale:

The air crackled with magical energy as the battle raged on. You saw Gale, his focus entirely on casting a powerful spell, unaware of the enemy creeping up behind him. Without hesitation, you darted forward, taking the lethal blow meant for him. The pain was excruciating, and darkness quickly consumed your vision.

When you awoke, you felt the tingling aftermath of a powerful spell. Gale stood over you, his hands still glowing with the energy of the revivify spell he had just cast. His face was a mix of relief and exasperation.

"Really? It was that easy" he said to himself, shaking his head in disbelief. "This was disturbingly easy by comparison, you could just ressurect any odd fool.."

Gale continued to ramble to himself until you blinked back to conciousness and managed a weak chuckle, your body still aching. "See? And the things I have to do for you, purple string and all that."

His expression softened as he realized you were awake he was about to retort when he realised why you were bother there in the first place.

"You shouldn't have done that," he scolded, though his tone was gentle. "Sacrificing yourself like that was reckless."

"I had to," you replied, your voice hoarse. "If you died, the Netherese orb would have gone off and killed us all. Someone had to protect you."

Gale sighed, his frustration melting into acceptance. "You have a fair point," he admitted. "But that doesn't mean I have to like it." He helped you to your feet, his grip steady and reassuring. "Just… try not to die again, alright?"

"I'll do my best," you said, smiling up at him. Gale's eyes softened, and he pulled you into a gentle embrace.

"Good. Because I don't want to go through that again." He held you close for a moment before stepping back, his hand lingering on your shoulder. He knew you had reason on your side, and it killed him but for now he would keep some revivfy scrolls to himself, just for you.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Astarion:

The battlefield was a chaotic blur, the clash of steel and the cries of the wounded filling the air. You saw Astarion, his back turned as he fought off an enemy, completely unaware of the assassin creeping up behind him. Without hesitation, you launched yourself in front of him, taking the lethal blow. The pain was searing, and darkness quickly overtook you.

When you came to, the first thing you saw was Astarion's face, his expression a mix of shock and relief. He had just finished casting a revivify spell, the magic still shimmering around his fingers.

"You idiot!" he exclaimed, his voice a mixture of anger and worry. "What were you thinking, throwing yourself in front of a blade like that?"

"I had to protect you," you managed to say, your voice weak. You groaned, the pain from the wound still lingering.

Astarion's eyes softened for a moment, but then his usual dramatic flair took over. He placed a hand on his chest, striking a theatrical pose.

"I suppose I should thank you for your valiant sacrifice," he said, his tone dripping with mock grandeur. "After all, you did save my life, and now you owe yours to me. Consider me your god, darling."

You couldn't help but chuckle, despite the pain. "Oh, great. Now I'll never hear the end of it."

Astarion leaned down, pressing a surprisingly tender kiss to your forehead. "Don't think this means you can make a habit of dying on me," he murmured, his voice softer now. "I quite like having you around."

"I'll do my best," you replied, smiling up at him. "But maybe next time, try to keep an eye on your surroundings? You supposed omniscient god."

He smirked, helping you to your feet. "Deal. Now, let's finish this fight so I can properly express my gratitude later."

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Wyll:

The battle was fierce, and in the midst of the chaos, you saw Wyll, his focus entirely on fending off multiple attackers. Suddenly, an enemy appeared from the shadows, aiming a deadly blow at him. Without thinking, you threw yourself in front of him, taking the hit. The pain was overwhelming, and darkness quickly enveloped you.

When you woke, you felt a familiar warmth and the tingling of healing magic. Wyll's face hovered above you, his expression a mixture of relief and overwhelming joy. He had just cast a revivify spell, bringing you back from the brink of death.

"Thank the gods," Wyll whispered, his voice trembling with emotion. "I thought I'd lost you."

You smiled weakly, your body still aching. "Couldn't let that happen," you replied softly. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, thanks to you," he said, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. "But don't you ever scare me like that again."

Before you could respond, Wyll pulled you into a tight embrace, his arms wrapping around you as if he would never let go. He peppered your face with kisses, his relief and love evident in every touch. "I'm so glad you're alive," he murmured between kisses. "I don't know what I would have done without you."

You rested your head against his shoulder, feeling his warmth and the steady beat of his heart.

"I had to protect you," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. "I couldn't bear to lose you either."

Wyll pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, his expression serious. "We're in this together, remember? Next time, we'll protect each other."

"I promise," you agreed, a smile tugging at your lips. "But you better be ready for a lot of hugging if you ever scare me like that again."

He chuckled, his eyes crinkling with genuine happiness. "I'll take that over losing you any day," he said, giving you one more firm kiss before helping you to your feet.

With Wyll's arm around you, providing support and comfort, you both turned to face the rest of the battle, ready to continue fighting side by side.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Halsin:

The battlefield was a frenzy of chaos and bloodshed. Amidst the turmoil, you saw Halsin, his powerful form surrounded by enemies, but his focus on the frontline left him vulnerable. An enemy archer, hidden in the shadows, took aim at him. Without a second thought, you dashed forward, throwing yourself in front of him just as the arrow was released. The searing pain hit you, and darkness quickly swallowed your vision.

When you came to, you were lying on the ground, Halsin's face hovering over yours, his expression one of frantic concern. His hands were glowing with healing magic, and you felt the warmth and energy seeping into your body, bringing you back from the brink of death.

"Don't you dare leave me," Halsin murmured, his voice a mixture of command and desperation. His eyes were intense, filled with worry and relief as he saw you stir.

"Halsin…" you managed to whisper, your voice weak. "You're okay?"

He let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding. "Thanks to you," he replied, his tone softening. But then his expression shifted to one of fierce protectiveness. "But that was incredibly reckless. I can't lose you."

Before you could protest or even fully process what was happening, Halsin scooped you up into his strong arms, lifting you effortlessly from the ground. The battle still raged around you, but his focus was solely on getting you to safety.

"Halsin, put me down," you said, trying to sound firm despite your weakened state. "I can still fight."

"No," he replied, his voice unyielding. "You've done more than enough. Your place now is to recover."

You tried to wriggle free, but his grip was ironclad, and his pace didn't falter as he carried you away from the chaos. "Halsin, listen to me. We need every hand we can get out there. I can't just—"

"Enough," he interrupted, his tone brooking no argument. "I cannot bear to see you hurt again. Let me protect you this time."

The sheer determination in his voice, coupled with the tenderness in his eyes, made your protest die in your throat. You sighed, resting your head against his chest, feeling the steady, reassuring beat of his heart.

"Fine," you conceded, wrapping your arms around his neck. "But once this is over, we need to talk about your definition of 'teamwork.'"

A small, relieved smile tugged at his lips. "Fine," he said softly, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. "But for now, just rest. Leave me to taking the hits for now."

As he carried you to a secure spot, away from the battle, you couldn't help but feel a mix of frustration and gratitude. You were a fighter, but having someone like Halsin care so deeply for you, willing to protect you at all costs, was a comfort you hadn't expected. And as he set you down gently and continued to shield you with his presence, you realized that sometimes, letting someone else take the lead wasn't always a sign of weakness.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Hope you all enjoyed it !

[ja3yun]

Royal Sacrifice | S.JY

prince!jake x maid!fem reader warnings: fluff, angst, smut (mdni), unprotected sex, cream pie, heartbreak, my attempt to write posh-ish, anti-monarchy vibes throughout, mentions of violence, petnames (my love, sweetheart), not proofread, anything else lmk! wc: 7.1k synopsis: your secret relationship with prince jaeyun is all you could have dreamed of, however, you're rudely awakened when your lover tells you some devastating news.

part 2 a/n: surprise! you're all sick of me i know, but i wanted to post this before it sat in my drafts too long and i overthought to the point of never posting it </3 i changed up my writing style a little to fit the aesthetic of it all and idk if it worked but enjoy anyway! also, this is for the people asking me to post more jake <3

"Tonight demands nothing short of perfection from each and every one of you. Not a single mishap or slip-up will be tolerated. Should I catch so much as a hair or button out of place, rest assured, I will personally request your head." The Chamberlain's voice, firm and commanding, spreads through the grand corridor, her gaze penetrating the maids and footmen.

As she paced back and forth, the bright torch cast a soft glow against the polished marble floors, illuminating the intricate patterns etched into its surface. Each uniform was meticulously inspected, and every seam and crease was subjected to intense scrutiny. The weight of the impending event hung heavy in the air, thick with anticipation.

Tonight, within the confines of the castle walls, the royals and social elite would congregate for the year's largest gala. It was an exhibit of greatness, with the chosen guests flaunting their rank and power.

For the last seven months, you have wandered the castle's hallways as an insignificant maid to the Royal family of Glengyre. Your hands were battered from hours of labour and your spirit dwindled to the hardships of the job, but you had to do it.

You weren’t exactly invited into the castle, in fact, you had snuck your way in through the war tunnels underneath and begged the head housekeeper, Miss Son, to place you on her team.

Being born into a working-class household, you were all too familiar with the misery of poverty. With your parents absent and your siblings relying on your meagre earnings from the bakery, you carried the burden of duty from an early age. Survival had been your main priority, with every move controlled by the never-ending search for food and security; this was the job you needed. 

Once you convinced Miss Son to give you a position, you were mindful to keep a low profile, sticking to your duties and never causing trouble. You dare not even breathe too loud next to the monarchy, each of them vicious and gruel in their own ways.

Yet amidst the icy family, there existed one beacon of warmth and compassion - Prince Jaeyun, the only heir to the throne.

He was the kindest man you had ever met, his values and ideals so drastically different from his fathers; all he ever wanted was peace and equality for the kingdom of Glengyre. His opinions echoed your own, his vision for the kingdom a testament to his noble character.

Everyone adored him, captivated by those puppy dog eyes and his wide, wholesome smile. Jaeyun had a magnetic charm that drew people to him effortlessly.

And yet, amidst the throngs of admirers, he reserved his heart only for you.

Jaeyun was familiar with all the staff, each face and name etched into his memory. So, when you suddenly appeared to clean the Library, he took immediate notice of you.

“I don’t believe we have met,” Jaeyun bows his head slightly to you, causing confusion to spread over your face. Men of his status shouldn’t be talking to you, let alone show you this level of respect, “Has The Chamberlain begun to hire new staff for that god-awful ball already?” he chuckles.

You’re transfixed by his question and his beauty, it’s not every day a Prince speaks to you, let alone so casually.

With this being your first job at such a level, you don’t know what to do. Typically, all maids get training and lessons on how to approach any member of the Royal Court, however, due to the nature of your employment, that part was skipped.

Jaeyun raises a brow, “Miss, are you alright? You look dreadfully pale,” he shows concern for you, even when he has no need to.

Quickly, you bow, “I am so sorry, Your Highness. I-I have been here for a while. Perhaps I have just blended into the background,” you offer as an explanation.

“A woman as beautiful as you could never blend in with this dreary decor” he smiles, holding out his hand, “Can I push you for your name?”

He waits expectantly, his palm outstretched as it waits for you to place your delicate hand into his. You didn’t need training to know you should never touch a member of the Royal Family, so you stay stagnant.

Noticing your apprehension, Jaeyun smiles and reaches his hand down to grab yours. You don’t want to say you felt a spark as soon as his hand graced yours but between you both, you could easily power up the castle generators.

He feels it too, the pull you had on him has been cemented by this moment, “I’m Prince Jaeyun,” leaning down he kisses your knuckles, maintaining eye contact with you as he does so.

The Prince is mesmerising.

“Y/N, Your Highness. My name is Y/N,” your voice is wavering as your body is shaken by his act. You aren’t scared of him, you’re just shocked by his kindness.

“Y/N…a name as breathtaking as its owner.”

Since that day, Jaeyun hasn’t left your side, his presence constant as he finds any excuse to be in the room you’re working in, his conversations tailored to draw out your thoughts and passions.

To him, your background was irrelevant; he saw the depth of your character and your mind's brilliance. Every exchange deepened his admiration for you, weaving an unbreakable bond between you both.

Secret notes and clandestine meetings became the norm, each encounter is a stolen moment of shared laughter and intimate conversation. Jaeyun was captivated by your wisdom and fascinated by your unique perspective on the world.

In your second month at the castle, on the moonlit balcony of his bed chambers, he kissed you, declaring his love for you in the same breath. From that moment on, he was not just a prince but your prince, devoted entirely to you.

The Chamberlain gives you all one final check before sending you out, her excitement palpable as she practically squeals, "Places everyone, this is a big night!"

As far as you and the rest of your team are concerned, tonight is just another ball, one hosted nearly every month. But The Chamberlain's demeanour suggests otherwise - someone vastly important must be attending. The air crackles with anticipation, and whispers ripple through the servant ranks, speculating on the identity of the esteemed guest.

As you all fall into line at the entrance, you wait for the party to begin.

The sight of everyone's extravagant gowns and suits is awe-inspiring. Each guest seems to sparkle, adorned in riches that could feed your family for years. It serves as a striking reminder of the kingdom's vast disparities. Meanwhile, the servants stand in their modest uniforms, hardly visible amid the sea of finery.

It irks you to know that these people, who all have some power in ruling your home, could not care less about the people within it.

“You two, come with me,” The Chamberlain beckons you and the girl beside you to follow her, snapping her fingers as she hurries you along to the kitchen.

With little instruction, she thrusts a tray full of champagne into your hands. “Once empty, you come right back. I do not want to see one moment where you are not serving some form of beverage. Understood?”

“Yes, Madam Chamberlain,” you both say in unison as you bow and make your way to the Great Hall. The palace is now teeming with people from all corners of the kingdom, the room resonating with laughter and chatter. You'd find it enjoyable if you deemed any of these people tolerable. Drinks disappear and reappear from your silver tray, and not a single word of gratitude is uttered.

Finally, the Royal family enters the hall, with the King standing strongly at the front and his Queen elegantly alongside him, their presence commanding attention as they survey the gathering with royal poise, looking for the most important person in the room beside themselves.

However, Jaeyun is not like the others. Amidst the pomp and its beauty, his sight is drawn to a person considerably less notable.

In an instant, his attention falls on you, a delicate smile gracing his lips as he lifts his brow in discrete acknowledgement, a silent greeting in a noisy environment. The difficulties of being in a secret relationship with someone so far above your social status weigh hard; even in the same area, being seen with Jaeyun is a luxury you cannot afford.

Excusing himself from his family, he greets people on his way over to you, captivating the whole room as he does so. To everyone else, he appears to be merely working the room, exchanging pleasantries with ease, but you, standing in quiet anticipation, know better.

In that moment, it's as if the entire hall fades away, leaving only you and Jaeyun in your own private world. He moves closer, each step filled with purpose, each smile and gesture meant only for you.

As he approaches, his every move exudes royalty. It’s impossible to deny that Jaeyun was born to be king.

"Can I take one of these to lighten your workload?” Jaeyun asks with a playful glint in his eyes, already reaching for a flute of champagne.

You dip your head in a respectful curtsy, mindful not to spill the drinks as you balance the tray precariously. Miss Son's strict instructions echo in your mind - no engaging with royalty at events, let your body speak for your tongue.

But sometimes, Jaeyun takes that directive too literally.

“Thank you, Y/N,” Jaeyun says, his voice low and intimate. You hear a collective sigh from some nearby girls, their attention momentarily diverted from their own conversations to admire the Prince and his effortless charm.

Walking to stand next to you, his arm brushes yours as he looks in the opposite direction to you, he whispers just loud enough for you to hear, “Should I tell them I’m happily taken or would you like to put them in their place after hours?” his tone is laced with playful mischief. 

“I would much rather occupy my time after hours with someone else,” you reply with a smirk, keeping your head facing forward to maintain composure.

You can't see it, but you feel the shift in Jaeyun's expression, a flicker of excitement, a hint of anticipation. His eyes dart briefly to yours, a silent exchange of mischief passing between you.

“Well, tell him he’s the luckiest man in the world,” Jaeyun responds, his voice tinged with amusement.

“Doesn’t he already know that?” you retort, a lively glint dancing in your eyes.

Jaeyun's hand lightly grazes your back, “Believe me, he will never forget,” he says wistfully as he turns away, seamlessly slipping back into his role of mingling with the guests. The lingering warmth of his touch leaves you breathless, your heart pounding with excitement at the thought that despite the separation now, he will be tangled in your body and soul later on.

The rowdy girls behind you giggle, their voices rising over the bustle of the hall as they discuss the Prince's past escapades with their cousins and sisters, whispering about how they hope they could spend just one night with him.

Jaeyun's reputation spread beyond the castle gates. He was renowned as a charming playboy, a Casanova whose dalliances sparked chatter across the kingdom. Every week, a new maiden appeared, talking about their alleged "hot affair" with the heir. It was enough to make anyone apprehensive, and you were no different. You maintained your guard up at first, rejecting his advances, refusing to become just another conquest in his succession of women.

But the more you spoke with him, as you shared moments and secrets in the quiet corners of the palace, you came to realise that the instant flurry of admiration you felt was not one-sided. Jaeyun's heart beats for you and you alone. 

You discovered in him a love that went beyond gossip and whispers, a love based on trust and understanding. With that realisation, your reservations vanished, replaced by a deep assurance that Jaeyun was yours, and you were his, now and forever - or for as long as you could keep this illicit affair going.

The bell sounds, its loud chime cutting through the murmurs and whispers of the gathered guests, signalling you and the others to proceed to the main door of the castle.

"May I please introduce King James and Queen Elizabeth of the Lethamhill Kingdom, and their daughter, Princess Mia," the Master of Ceremonies declares, his voice full of power.

The announcement strikes like a thunderbolt, bringing the audience to a profound silence. Nobody had expected the arrival of the Royals of Lethamhill and the astonishment is evident as you look around to see a sea of stunned faces. Whispers spread like wildfire across the crowd as each visitor grapples with the implications of this unexpected situation.

Lethamhill and Glengyre are currently involved in delicate discussions about the possible unification of the kingdoms, a topic of enormous political importance. According to what Jaeyun has told you, these conversations have been stressful, with no definite agreement reached so far. The presence of the Lethamhill Royals at this gathering signifies a historic point between the two kingdoms.

The struggle between the two kingdoms has caused irreparable destruction, including starvation, poverty, sickness, and a staggering loss of life. It would take something genuinely extraordinary for both parties to put aside their differences and work together in peace.

Your eyes meet Jaeyun’s across the room, and you can see the fury simmering beneath the surface of his composed facade at the sudden intrusion. Yet, even as anger flashes in his eyes, you can sense the weight of responsibility pressing down on him.

No one knows quite how to react to this unexpected turn of events, each guest grappling with their own thoughts and fears as they await the next move from the Lethamhills.

“Please, do not stop on our account, continue the festivities,” King James proclaims, his voice carrying a jovial tone, a vibrant smile gracing his features.

As the party continues and dinner is served, guests settle into their assigned seats, laughter and conversation filling the air as they merrily drink the castle dry. Surprisingly, the presence of the Lethamhill Royals doesn't disrupt the flow of the event, instead, it seems to enhance it. Many see this as a reconciliation party now, eagerly awaiting the announcement that could potentially solidify peace between the two kingdoms.

Your role for the evening is clear: shut up and stand to the side, only interacting if called upon. It's undoubtedly the most tedious part of the night. Being on your feet for hours on end, catering to the whims of the guests is exhausting enough but enduring the occasional push or intentional spillage of drinks on your uniform from some of the more unruly guests adds insult to injury. 

The other worst part of the evening was the sight of Princess Mia draped all over your lover, her hands roaming possessively over his chest and arms as if they were hers to claim. Each touch felt like a dagger to your heart, stirring a tumultuous mix of jealousy and hurt within you.

Jaeyun attempted to gently remove her, pushing her away with as much politeness as he could but she stubbornly refused to listen. Occasionally, his eyes would flicker to you with a sympathy, silently communicating his regret at the situation and how you must be feeling. He would never wish for you to be hurt.

Telepathically, you reassure him that it's okay, that you understand and trust him implicitly. After all, it's not his fault that another woman - a tall, beautiful, rich, and powerful woman at that - feels entitled to touch him. His efforts to remove himself from the situation already speak volumes, and you take some solace in his unwavering loyalty.

But despite your attempts to rationalise, the bitterness lingers, a bitter pill that's difficult to swallow.

Standing on the sidelines affords you the opportunity to observe the dynamics of the entire top table, not just Jaeyun. The Kings engage in whispered conversations and the Queens gossip amongst themselves. It's as if no blood had ever been shed between their kingdoms.

The casual camaraderie displayed by those responsible for the devastating conflicts between their kingdoms makes you sick to your stomach. How can they be so chummy, so nonchalant, when their irresponsible fighting has caused so much pain and suffering to countless lives? It's a reminder of the callousness of those in power, their indifference to the consequences of their actions leaving a bitter taste in your mouth.

Suddenly, you see your King rise and tap Jaeyun on the shoulder, ushering him into an undisclosed location. The urgency of the gesture sends a ripple of apprehension through you, and you can only presume that he is finally letting Jaeyun in on the reason for the Lethamhills' unexpected presence.

“Why do you suppose they are here, Y/N?” Heejin, the girl to your right, asks in a hushed breath, her voice tinged with concern.

“I can’t say for certain, but I fear it won’t be for the champagne and escalope,” you reply, turning to face her, your expression mirroring her worry.

And when Jaeyun re-enters the hall, you know that your apprehension was not unfounded. His face is devoid of the charismatic expression he had worn for most of the night. 

The king wears a stern expression, clearly unamused with whatever his son has to say in rebuttal to his conversation. 

Something is deeply wrong

You scream at him with your eyes, silently urging him to look at you, but he doesn't, his gaze fixed straight ahead. It's clear that whatever transpired in that conversation has deeply unsettled him, and you ache to know what happened.

“Excuse me, Miss Son, but may I please go to the lavatory?” you ask your head maid, hoping to slip away unnoticed. Her disdainful scoff is the only response, urging you to return quickly.

With a bow of gratitude, you glide towards the exit, silently willing Jaeyun to notice your movements and follow you. Your eyes briefly meet his, and he nods, understanding your need for a private conversation.

You arrive at your usual secret spot - the Council Chamber - a place where every decision is made and policies are signed. It's a room steeped in history and power, but also secrecy and intimacy. Old men come here to dictate the fate of the kingdom they supposedly love.

Jaeyun recommended this particular room as a defiant ‘fuck you’ against societal norms of hierarchy and privilege. It's ironic, considering he's made love to you on every surface of the place, turning his statement from metaphorical to literal.

Tracing your fingers over the spine of the old book laid on the desk, the door swings open suddenly, causing your heart to race with surprise. You quickly straighten up, trying to compose yourself as Jaeyun strides into the room.

“Did I frighten you, my love?” he asks softly, a hint of amusement in his voice as he approaches you.

You shake your head, “No, not at all,” you say trying to ease yourself, straightening your uniform and brushing the dust off your front. He always laughed when you tidied yourself for his presence, a habit when you’re faced with Royalty. You’re hardly unacquainted, the portraits hanging on the room walls can testify to that.

Finally reaching you, Jaeyun's hands find their way to your hips as he traps you between him and the oak desk. His eyes glance behind you to see what you were looking at, his chin resting on your shoulder.

“Ah, the old laws that have kept this country from falling apart. To be lived and breathed by,” Jaeyun's voice carries a mix of sarcasm and despair.

“Laws that keep the rich rich and the poor poor,” you respond bitterly, your thoughts drifting back to your family and friends struggling back home.

Jaeyun's hands move up to your back, offering a reassuring rub. “I hate it too, Y/N,” he admits, his heart heavy with the weight of his people's suffering under his father's rule. He hugs you tighter, a silent reassurance of his solidarity and commitment to change, commitment to you. 

Leaning back, he strokes your face adoringly with his middle finger, “You look so delicate tonight,” his voice conveying his love for you. Even dressed in rags, he still thinks you’re the most beautiful girl in the world.

“More delicate than Princess Mia?” You don’t mean it to come across as bitter, yet, it does.

Jaeyun shakes his head disapprovingly, a tiny glint of amusement in his eyes, “My darling love, are you jealous?”

“She is ravishing,” you reply. Princess Mia is everything you are not, it wouldn’t be misplaced for you to be slightly envious of her. You know the Princess could have anyone she desires, and if circumstances were different in which Jaeyun wasn’t hopelessly in love with you, she could probably have him too. That information would unsettle any lover to know.

Jaeyun places a feather-light kiss on your forehead, “She doesn’t hold a flame to your light, Y/N,” he says with such genuine love that you might believe him if you weren’t clad in a spilt-on uniform and tired eyes that reflect the brutality of being a measly servant.

But Jaeyun would never see you that way.

His lips swoop down to yours, capturing you in a breathtaking kiss, planting his deal of assurance on your lips. The way his mouth is melting into your own is enough to make your knees lose their strength. Jaeyun’s thumb rubs your hips tenderly as he deepens the kiss, trying to make the taste of you last the rest of the night.

Pulling back for a breath, you recollect yourself, smiling at him happily but as you gaze into his eyes you see something sorrowful hiding behind him. It wasn’t until this moment you forgot why you even snuck away to see him in the first place.

“The King seemed displeased,” you state the obvious, hoping he will enlighten you somewhat to the reason for the private discussion.

“He is an idiot, nothing more,” he spits back, eyes avoiding yours as if he’s scared of you suddenly. You have never seen him so angry yet sullen.

Reaching your cold palm to his warm cheek, you begin to pry further, “Jaeyun-” 

Your query is cut short by his lips once again enveloping yours, the intensity of his kiss a silent plea for you to cease your questioning. It's unlike Jaeyun to keep secrets from you; usually, even the most classified information finds its way past his lips and into your ears. So naturally, his reluctance to share the details of his conversation with the King sets off alarm bells in your mind.

But as his touches grow more insistent, his lips trailing fiery kisses along your neck and his fingers daringly inching up your skirt, your thoughts become increasingly muddled. It's difficult to focus on anything other than the intoxicating sensation of his tongue against yours, the warmth of his body pressed against yours.

You hate that he won’t confide in you, that he's keeping you in the dark about something so significant. Yet, at this moment, you find yourself unable - and unwilling - to complain. Not when every touch, every caress, sends sparks of desire coursing through your veins.

“Jaeyun, I don’t have time,” you manage to groan out amidst a wave of pleasure, the urgency of the situation gnawing at the back of your mind. Miss Son could come looking for you at any moment, and you've already pushed your luck by leaving your duties unattended. There's simply no way you can disappear for long enough to satisfy Jaeyun's desires.

But he seems determined to ignore your protests, his fervour only intensifying as he continues to explore every inch of your body. In this stolen moment of passion, time seems to stand still, the outside world fading into insignificance as you lose yourself in the intoxicating embrace of your forbidden.

With each caress, each whispered endearment, you feel yourself falling deeper under his spell, unable to resist the magnetic pull of his affection.

But as much as you crave the blissfulness of his embrace, a nagging voice in the back of your mind reminds you of the consequences of your actions. You can't afford to be caught in such a compromising position, not when the stakes are so high and the dangers so real. Just down the hallway is a room full of people who would kill either of you for this affair.

"Jaeyun, we can't," you finally manage to gasp out, your voice tinged with desperation as you push against his chest, trying to put some distance between you. "Someone could walk in at any moment."

For a fleeting moment, Jaeyun's passion seems to falter, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his features. But then, with a determined glint in his eyes, he pulls you closer, his lips claiming yours in a desperate kiss.

"I don't care," he whispers against your lips, his voice husky with desire. "I need you, Y/N. Now more than ever."

The tone of his voice dings your attention, it’s pleading and needy which would be normal if his words didn’t waver, lip quivering slightly. The conversation with his father had affected him more than you know, and he dared not confess what it was regarding.

With a sense of urgency in his veins, Jaeyun hoists you onto the desk, his hands promptly pushing your skirt up and yanking down your underwear, revealing your core to him in all its delicious glory. His breath stops in his throat at the sight, and his need for you becomes stronger than ever.

He licks his lips hungrily, wishing he could taste you, savouring the wetness that gleams between your thighs like morning dew. He wants to drink you in and lose himself in your folds.

But time is not on his side, he knows this, nonetheless, the throbbing between his thighs, the thumping want for release, is too strong to ignore. He was so desperate for you to suck in his cock with your heat, he didn’t think he had the restraint to wait for it any longer.

His need for you is mirrored in your face and body as you edge yourself closer to the end of the desk, spreading your legs as he undoes his ivory dress trousers and lets his shaft spring free of its constraint.

“Can I please?” he asks softly but with urgency, the tip of his member already primed to enter you, the question just a matter of formality at this point.

“Please, Jaeyun, have me,” you whisper into his mouth and with a low groan of need, Jaeyun surrenders to his instincts, his desire overwhelming as he slips inside you with effortless ease. No matter how many times he makes love to you, the sensation of being so intimately connected to you never fails to amaze him. It's as if you were made perfectly for each other, two souls destined to intertwine. He thanks God every day for bringing you to his side. 

His thrusts are pointed, to make this quick while also giving you both the release you desperately needed. Your tight pussy grasps every inch of him deliciously, accommodating his size yet giving him just enough resistance to squeeze the tip of his cock.

Gripping his shoulders tightly, you anchor yourself to him as he picks up the pace, his movements becoming more frantic with each passing moment. You moan loudly through your bitten lips, trying your hardest to stay quiet; he was pounding into you so good you just can’t help the noises leaving your mouth, completely rending you dumb to his touch.

The sound of your gasps and mewls fills the air, a symphony of pleasure that drives Jaeyun wild with desire. Each cry, each whimper, only serves to fuel his drive, pushing him further into the depths of ecstasy as he loses himself in the rhythm of your bodies moving together as one. 

Arching your back leaves the nape of your neck exposed, inviting Jaeyun to sink into it with his teeth, easily leaving a red mark. It’s the first time he has ever done something like this, to leave physical marks on your body that aren’t the bruises from his tight grip; those were easy to hide, but this one wouldn’t be.

“Ah, Jaeyun, what are you doing?” your bated breath whisps past his ear yet he doesn’t hear you, lost in the feeling of fucking you silly. He sucks and licks at the base of your throat, possessed by his need to claim you as his.

“My love,” he brings his face up to lock your eyes together once more, his cock hammering into you still with force, “Tell me you'll be mine forever," he begs, his words hanging in the air between you like an urgent vow. The intensity of his stare and the sheer emotion in his speech leave you breathless, your heart racing in your chest as you try to find the words to answer.

Tears fill his lashline, and his eyes are unexpectedly vulnerable. In that moment, you can see the depth of his love for you and also his sudden fear that he might lose you. The sudden change in emotion takes you by surprise, your Jaeyun who is usually confident and strong in moments like this is now yearning for confirmation of your love.

"Yes, Jaeyun," you say, your voice barely audible as you completely yield to him, "I'll be yours forever,” It’s a truthful answer, the only one who you can see yourself being with for the rest of your life, long or short, is him. Your Prince Jaeyun.

He shakes his head and screws his eyes shut, seemingly shaking his internal thoughts out of his brain to make way for your reassuring ones. “I can’t lose you, my love. I can’t…I won’t,” he rambles, the rhythm of his thrusts depleting, signifying that he’s close to the edge.

To distract him from his inner monologue, you cradle his face, kissing all over his lips and cheeks. If you can do one thing for him, it’s to instil in him the fact that you will always be his love, until death do you part.

“Y/N, my sweet love,” he whispers sadly, “Don’t let me go,” his plea is muffled by his lips kissing your palms. 

You have no idea what could cause this sudden cast of doubt in his mind.

Jaeyun’s right hand moves to your sensitive nub, circling it with his thumb as he tries to coax you to completion. His hips buck sloppily, overwhelmed with the raw emotion and need to cum inside of you. 

The bubbling heat between your tummy and pussy consumes you, the climax Jaeyun has worked so hard out of you finally spilling over his shaft and down yourself. Your legs shake violently as he continues to rub your clit in earnest. 

The way your body contracts and walls clench around him also sends him to the brink, his seed filling you up quickly, each spurt dripping down your canal and onto your inner garments. The Prince keeps himself stuffed inside you as he pants, unsure of when he will finally be done.

Resting his head on your shoulder, he breathes out softly, trying to calm his panting and heart rate down. He knows he shouldn’t have asked you to stay with him forever, to promise to love him for eternity, but he couldn’t help himself. He needed to hear it almost more than he needed to find his release. 

With a final kiss on your lips, he removes himself from you, retrieving his handkerchief from his pocket to catch the cum falling from you. While he does so, you can see his mind shouting so loud you could almost hear it, or maybe it was just because you are both so attuned to one another.

You have to find out what is happening and why he is acting so strangely.

As Jaeyun tucks himself back in and discards his handkerchief, you watch him closely, your heart heavy with concern. There's a weight in the air, a silent tension that hangs between you like a thick fog, and you can't help but feel the ache of his unspoken fears.

Jumping off the desk, you fix your underwear and approach him slowly, your movements deliberate as you reach out to straighten his jacket. Your touch is gentle, “Please, Jaeyun,” you implore softly, your voice barely a whisper as you search his eyes for answers, "Let me in. What are your worries?"

But Jaeyun remains silent, his gaze averted as he avoids your questioning eyes. You can see the pain etched into every line of his face, the fear and uncertainty that threaten to consume him whole. And yet, he can't bring himself to speak the words that weigh so heavily on his soul, scared that if he does. It’ll all be too real.

You can sense his hesitation, his reluctance to confront the truth that lies buried deep within him. But you refuse to give up, determined to stand by his side no matter what challenges may come your way.

Gently, you place a hand on his cheek, guiding his gaze to meet yours as you speak from the depths of your heart. "Jaeyun," you whisper, your voice filled with love and understanding. "You don't have to face this alone. Whatever it is, we'll face it together. I promise."

“That’s just the thing, Y/N,” he begins, voice trembling, “the King has put me in a predicament I cannot get out of,” he leans into your touch, craving your comfort.

Tilting your head, you stroke your thumb over the flushed apple of his cheeks, “What are you talking about?” you ask nervously.

Swallowing the thickness of his turmoil, he speaks lowly, “He has arranged my marriage to Princess Mia of Lethamhill.”

As Jaeyun reveals the truth of his arranged marriage to Princess Mia of Lethamhill, a heavy silence descends upon the room. Your heart sinks at the revelation, a knot of pain and disappointment tightening in your chest. This isn't the news you wanted to hear, the realisation crashing down on you like a wave of icy water.

"Oh..." The word escapes your lips, your mind reeling with the implications of Jaeyun's confession. It's a bitter pill to swallow, the knowledge that your secret love is soon belong to another, bound by duty and obligation.

Retracting your hand from his face, you take a step back, the distance between you a painful reminder of the barriers between you. But before you can retreat any further, Jaeyun reaches out to stop you, his eyes pleading for your understanding.

“My beautiful girl, I told him no,” he implores desperately, hoping you don’t think that he didn’t fight against this preposterous idea, “How could I ever marry her when my true love is already by my side?”

His words offer you a sense of relief, however, you know the King wouldn’t let him away with a simple ‘no’ in regards to this marriage, “I surmise he did not take it well?” 

"Of course, he didn't," Jaeyun's voice is bitter and cold, his body tensing as he recalls the conversation with his father. "If I do not marry her, the proposed treaty between our kingdoms will be broken, and there will be conflict."

He was the glue to bond the kingdoms, it was all on him to marry this woman he didn’t know in the name of unification. He is being used as a pawn in this game of power and manipulation and it makes you wonder whether Princess Mia is also going through the same distress, although, with how she was groping Jaeyun earlier, you doubt it.

“A conflict, you mean a war?” you dare ask.

He nods shallowly, remorse etched in his features, “And our King has made it perfectly clear that I will be on the front line.”

Your heart shatters into a million pieces, the pain of it like a dagger to your chest. How could the King do this to Jaeyun, to offer him up as a sacrificial lamb in a game of politics and manipulation? It's cruel, it's unjust, and it's utterly heartbreaking.

"Your father cannot do that," you say slowly, your mind reeling with the enormity of the situation. "It's... it's unthinkable."

But Jaeyun shakes his head, his expression filled with bitterness and resentment. "That man is no father of mine," he declares, his voice filled with anger and defiance.

Opposite to his anger is your sadness, eyes leaking salty tears at the thought of losing your love. No matter the choice Jaeyun makes, he will never be yours. That is something you should have known from the beginning of your relationship.

You and him can never live in love or peace, it will always end in heartache and loss.

The Prince sees your sobs and pulls you in, circling his arms around you tightly, “My love, please don’t shed tears, I hate to see you cry like this.” he mutters into your hair, kissing the crown of your head gently. 

But how could you not cry? You’ve just in this instant lost the love of your life. 

The room is so silent all you can hear is the raucous laughter and music echoing from the grand hall. It gives you the opportunity to think about how the war would pause all laughter for every citizen of Glengyre, how the only sound you will hear is guns and screams of those desperately seeking escape and safety. You cannot allow that to happen.

“Marry her.”

“Excuse me?” Jaeyun pulls away, disgusted that you would even dream of proposing such an idea. He was yours and only yours, he wouldn’t even dream of lying with another.

You know that you must make him see reason, that there may be no other choice if you are to prevent the looming catastrophe that threatens to tear your world apart.

"It is the only noble thing to do, Jaeyun," you insist, your voice trembling with emotion, "We cannot allow our love to stand in the way of peace, of saving those people from the horrors of war. If marrying Princess Mia is what it takes to prevent bloodshed, then it is a sacrifice we must make.”

He doesn’t register your words, only hearing his heartbreak at the thought of you not being by his side, “But I will lose you, it will be impossible to be together if I marry her,” he begs you with his eyes to change your mind.

“You will lose me either way, Jaeyun,” you release yourself from his grasp, taking a step back to create the inevitable distance that is about to become your reality, “The people of this kingdom need you, Jaeyun. You are the only one that can make a difference to those less fortunate,” you begin, your eyes locked onto him as you portray the seriousness of your words, “If you go to war then there is a certainty you will die and you are no use to the cause of change if you are dead.”

The words get stuck in your throat, the idea of uttering such horror makes you feel sick to your stomach but the lives of hundreds must take priority over your love, no matter how painful.

"But-" he begins, his voice tinged with desperation.

"You cannot be selfish, Jaeyun," you interrupt firmly, your gaze unwavering as you meet his eyes. "I couldn't look at you the same if you sacrificed the welfare of our people for the sake of our love."

The truth of your words lands heavily between you, a painful reminder of the sacrifices that must be made in the name of duty and honour. And though your heart may ache with the prospect of losing him, you know that it is a sacrifice you must be willing to make.

Jaeyun ponders your words, recognising that you are correct: his people are his primary concern. He wishes he could do more to keep your relationship alive, to make you his Queen. As he stands before you, staring at you with loving eyes, he wishes you were the ruler of Glengyre, for your qualities and ideals already shine as if you are.

Suddenly, the bellow of your name echoes the castle halls, Miss Son shouting erratically to find you. It brings Jaeyun to realise that his fantasies of you being his queen are just that - fantasies.

Clasping your face in his big hands, he shakes his head, signifying his defiance to the idea but succumbing to his duties, accepting this fate, “I will always love you, and I will do everything in my power to make it back to you. Even if it’s in another lifetime,” he whispers the words onto your face, sealing them with a final kiss, his tongue now craving to remember you for a lifetime, rather than just a night.

You curtly nod, trying to bottle the emotions you are feeling, scared that if even one drop overflows, you will take back everything you have just said, sacrificing the people you love for the man you love. You could never win in this situation, and neither could Jaeyun.

“I love you too, my sweetheart,” you confess for the last time.

Miss Son’s footprints are right outside the door, putting your own feet into action as you leave Jaeyun to return to your post as a maid, the delusions that you could ever be with Jaeyun for a lifetime are crumbling away with each patter of your feet on the marble floor.

“Ah, there you are! What on earth are you doing in the Council Chamber?” she shouts at you while still being mindful of the guests only a hallway away. 

You bow, offering no explanation and slip back into your role, smoothing yourself down to seem presentable. The togetherness of your exterior is the complete opposite of the shattering of your interior, your heart shattered in fragments as you stand back, overlooking the people you made an eternal sacrifice for. And none of them would ever care. The promise you made to love Jaeyun forever is the only peace of your heart left in place.

Jaeyun comes back into the hall a few moments later, poised and stoic, the only change in his face is when he looks at his father with an angry glare and a nod to follow, much to the delight of the King.

Abruptly, the King stands, “Ladies and Gentlemen, my esteemed guests. I have some exciting news to share!”

[sayoneee]

☆ I WANNA BE YOUR MAN

“his band is playing tonight, at seven,” annabeth reminds you, with the knowing air of someone far wiser, and far older, “you should go.” (1.7k)

contains: loser older brother luke castellan x fem! reader. mortal au. pt 2 of parent trap but can be read standalone ish. guest appearances! rock / metal music references.

kashaf’s note: i think i can call myself a melomaniac now

LUKE CASTELLAN HAS always occupied that in-between space, the no-man’s-land between something and nothing — his indecipherable gaze as his cold, black, and blued knuckles grazed your cheek when he tucked a lock of your hair behind your ear swims around your mind endlessly. despite how each thought, each expression, each breath is as familiar to you as your own, you have never quite known where you stand with him, regardless of how quickly he seemed to inhabit a piece of your soul.

the familiar weight of the mixtape that luke made you feels unusually burdensome in your hands, mirroring the heft of the songs on it that you have painstakingly committed to memory, each sleepless night’s offerings of tossing and turning becoming a reoccurring ritual. 

you had popped the tape in your walkman immediately after luke had handed it to you, incognizant of the way his eyes softened as you concentrated on the music, trying to identify the first song. 

“this is that band you like — l.a. guns, right?”

“you’re a regular sherlock,” luke had said, smiling and sarcastic, twisting his silver rings.

“shut up, no i know this song,” you say, tilting your head and snapping your fingers. “its — um — i wanna be yours? nono, don’t make that face at me, asshole, hold on… i wanna be your man?”

hues of pink crept up his cheeks, and you basked in the warmth of his answering crooked grin, the feeling wrapping around you like the caress of a summer night. 

you uselessly stirred the spoon in your now stone-cold cup of chai, leaning across the kitchen table with your head propped up in your other hand. the phone taunts you from its corner on the counter, sitting just by the clear jar of blue cookies, its black hue a beacon among the sea of greens (the cabinets, the tiles — you liked to tell sally that she should try her hand at interior design one of these days) — as of late, the jacksons’ kitchen has become somewhat of a refuge for you. 

you set a steaming china cup down in front of him, listening to the sounds of percy, annabeth, and grover in the living room, pulling out the chair in front of him with a slight creak on the slightly worn wooden floors, and watching him as he taps his fingers along to bob marley’s soft crooning, “little darlin’, stir it up”, lost in his own world.  

“luke,” you say, breaking him out of his revelry.

luke sits up straight, meeting your amused gaze, “yeah?” he asks, reaching for his chai, and mumbling a quiet thanks as he sips it.

“you look kinda stupid when you think,” you say, watching him blink before taking the bait, and hiding your smile of satisfaction behind your cup.

“y’know, this is why you have a black hole for a heart,” he says, grinning crookedly, filling you with an indescribable longing to reach out and trace his grin. 

“what?” you laugh, “what does that even mean?”

“just that you’re mean,” luke says, and the afternoon sun chooses that specific moment to encompass him in its glow, like a kiss from apollo. “and that you’re emo.”

“you literally say this every time, oh my god, i’m not mean or emo.”

“because i’m literally right?”

“you like him,” annabeth says, sympathetically, standing in the doorway, arms folded across her chest, her braids resting across her shoulders, glancing from your untouched cup to your face, an expression of pity gracing her features. her presence caught you so off guard that you don’t even question where percy ran off to, who was usually attached to annabeth like a conjoined twin. 

“i know,” you say, shivering slightly, the revelation feeling strangely empty, although you suppose the same part of your soul that recognized him had always known, a small inkling reappearing with every argument, and every nudge. 

“he likes you,” annabeth adds matter-of-factly, interrupting your stream of consciousness. 

“i know,” you repeat, picking at the lint on your sweater, and while this revelation is supposed to be shocking, it is also hollow, as you suppose your soul also knew this with every hushed conversation in the dead of night, and the slips of silence that only spoke volumes around him.

“his band is playing tonight, at seven,” annabeth reminds you, with the knowing air of someone far wiser, and far older, “you should go.” she turned and stalked back toward the living room.

you sat still for a minute or so, before sighing and putting luke’s mixtape (even in your misery, he is somehow always there) in your walkman, putting your headphones on as axl rose trilled, ‘i said, baby you been lookin' real good’ in his voice that took a while to get used to — something luke gave you a heads up on.

you sighed, conceding to annabeth’s attempts to rewrite whatever fate had pushed the two of you apart, from the hours-long phone calls that dwindled into short, clipped conversations, you can’t necessarily blame annabeth for trying to fashion a phoenix from the ashes of your friendship. 

you stood up, grabbed your jacket off the back of the chair you were sitting upon, and walked into the living room, pausing for a few minutes to watch the scooby doo episode on the screen along with percy, grover, and annabeth, who were currently sprawled across the softly carpeted floor, arguing over monopoly.

“you’re literally cheating,” percy was saying.

“i’m the banker, i’m supposed to be innocent,” annabeth argued back.

“percy, i saw you steal a couple dollars behind annabeth’s back,” grover added, rolling the dice.

“guys,” you said, interrupting their three-way argument, “put on your jackets and shoes, we’re going to the fair in five minutes.”

you ignored the way the troublesome trio exchanged glances, walking through the hallway covered in framed photos of percy and sally, going to wait by the door for them.

“so,” percy says, all-too-innocently, “why the sudden change of plans?” once the four of you are a couple of blocks away from his apartment.

“no reason, just wanted to see what was so hot about the fair,” you say, digging your hands in the pockets of your jacket. once more, you ignore the glances the trio exchange. 

“so it doesn’t have anything to do with a certain curly-haired individual that we’re currently seeing less and less of?”

you keep walking, trying to feign ignorance, although the question was so pointed even you were concerned with percy’s audacity, “what’re you talking about?”

“oh, nothing,” percy smiles. “just the way —”

“— the two of you —”

“— were inseparable —”

“— for a disgustingly long time —”

“— and now you’re not —”

“— but we’re going to the fair because —”

“— his band is playing —”

“— and you’re going to try and fix —”

“— your troubles in paradise.”

you blinked slowly, as the three of them did jazz hands, matching shit-eating grins on all of their faces, “how long did it take for you guys to rehearse that?”

“a week, give or take,” grover says, and annabeth shoots him a glare.

“not the point, the point is, we support you.”

“gee, thanks, all i really needed was the support of three twelve-year-olds.”

“three twelve-year-olds that know you’re stupidly in love with luke castellan,” percy points out.

“okay, y’know what…” you trail off, frowning.

annabeth nudged percy, “not the point here, again.”

“fine, fine, fine,” you huff, as the four of you approach the brightly illuminated fair, looking for the ticket-selling booth, “i’ll buy you guys tickets so you can go hang out on the rides and i’ll go to the concert.”

the three of them nodded happily, making a beeline for the cotton candy stand a few feet away. you shook your head before pushing through the bustling crowd to look for the concert stage. when you finally do find it, after three excuse me’s and four sorry’s, the concert is already in full swing, with what looks like a mini moshpit already forming somewhere near the center.

once you’ve pushed your way to the absolute front, the darkening night sky serving as a backdrop, the harsh lights illuminate all five individuals on the stage, with a gorgeous girl with shaggily-cut hair and a raspy voice singing as lead (thalia? you think you remember luke telling you on the phone late at night once). however, your gaze almost immediately fixed on luke, who was playing a riff on his electric guitar, looking as hot as ever, his crooked grin on full display.

the band is covering l.a. guns’ ‘i wanna be your man’ at the moment, and you’re suddenly very grateful to annabeth for her unsubtle nudges, because you would’ve missed out on this sight of luke castellan, the view of his muscled arms bulging out of his band tee is permanently seared into your memory.

you’re almost sad when the show is over though, finally realizing why luke liked concerts so much, from the crowd surfing to the drumstick tricks during solos (beckendorf, you think the drummer’s name was — luke had mentioned him before) to the lead’s insane vocals, to the girl with long curly hair that stood next to you for most of the concert (probably the band’s most enthusiastic fan), you savored every minute of it. however, you’re glad for the chance to corner luke afterwards, climbing onto the stage as the crowd begins to disperse in waves, and realizing the curly-haired girl was already among the band members packing up their instruments, helping the curly-haired bassist pack his things. 

luke barely looks up at your sudden arrival. “what’re you doing here?” he asks, packing away his guitar.

“i’m here to see you,” you say, trying to drive the hint home.

“i told you that you didn’t have to come see the band if you were busy,” luke says, uncomprehendingly, making eye-contact with you. 

“i like you,” you say insistently.

“c’mon, let’s not kid ourselves right now, you said we’re friends so you don’t have to try to make me feel better,” luke says, shrugging and looking away from your face, rubbing the back of his neck.

“i listen to your dumb mixtape every night, luke castellan. does a person who’s not into you do that?”

there is something so raw about the way he looks right now, with his expression stilling as his cheeks are colored in swathes of red. 

smiling at his dumbstruck expression, you surged forward to kiss him, ignoring all the wolf whistles and “get some, castellan” enveloping the two of you, tangling your fingers into his hair, his hands coming to rest upon your hips.

© sayoneee on tumblr. do not repost, plagiarize, translate or claim any of my works as your own.

[kentobb]

‘I hate you’

Character: Husband!Iwaizumi x Wife!Reader

Warning: Angst with no comfort (I know you guys hate me at this point).

A/N: I am a fan of angst w/ no comfort in case you guys didn’t notice. I will be releasing more angst and different scenarios. Be free to send a request babes!

The night was dark, the only source of light being the faint glow of the the city’s skyline as Iwaizumi parked his car in front of his home. The weight of a grueling practice session hanging heavily on his shoulders. His muscles ached, his mind was a whirlpool of strategies and his heart was filled with unspoken longing for the comforts of his home, but hey, nobody said that training the Japan’s Men’s Volleyball Team was easy.

As he opened the door, the warm glow of the living room light washed over him, a stark contrast to the cold darkness outside. You, his lovely wife, a beacon of love and support greeted him with a tired smile.

However, your six-year old daughter, Yuki, a bundle of energy and joy, ran towards him, her tiny arms wrapping around his tired legs.

Dinner was a quiet affair, the only sound being the clinking of cutlery against the plates. Yuki, however, was a chatterbox, her excitement about her upcoming ballet recital bubbling over. “And we will be doing the Swan Lake!” “I have been practicing a lot daddy!” She spoke animatedly, her eyes sparkling with anticipation, her voice filled with hope. She turned to her father, her innocent eyes searching his. “Daddy, will you come to my recital?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Iwaizumi looked at her daughter, his heart aching at the hopeful look in her eyes. He wanted to be there, he really does, to watch his little girl twirl and dance, to be the father she deserved. But he knew the harsh reality of his schedule, the relentless demands of his career. “We will see,” he said, it’s all he says, his voice heavy with regret.

Your smile faded, replaced by a look of disappointment. You knew your husband words for what they were— an unfulfilled promise. Yuki’s face fell, her excitement replaced by a quiet sadness that you were quick to notice. It was a scene all too familiar, a bitter pill you had to swallowed many times before.

After dinner, you cleaned the kitchen, the silence of the house echoing the heaviness in your heart. But you were determined to make this right, as you ascended the stairs into your shared bedroom, you made a silent vow. To take manners into your own hands. To ensure that your daughter recital would not be another missed milestone, another broken promise.

You husband may be a national hero, a symbol of strength and resilience, but to your daughter? He was simply ‘Daddy’. And she deserves to have her ‘Daddy’ cheering for her from the audience, not from miles away. She deserved to have her hero by her side, not just in spirit but in person.

The bedroom was bathed in the soft glow of the bedside lamp, casting long shadows on the walls. You sat on the edge of the bed, hands folded in your lap. You turned to look at your husband, eyes reflecting the turmoil in your heart.

“Hajime,” You spoke, voice steady despite the storm brewing in your heart, “We need to talk about Yuki.”

Iwaizumi, still in his practice clothes, looked at you, his brows furrowing in confusion, “What about her, babe?” He asked, his voice betraying his exhaustion.

“You know she needs you there, Hajime. She needs her father,” You replied, voice barely a whisper.

Iwaizumi just sighed, raking a hand through his hair, “I’m here, aren’t I? I’m working hard for her, for us.”

You shook your head, a sad smile playing on your lips, “That’s not what she needs, Hajime. She doesn’t need the money, or the fame, or the glory. She needs her father. She needs you to be there for her, to support her, to love her.”

Iwaizumi’s eyes hardened, his patience wearing thin. “There will be a million recitals, I’ll go to one of them.”

His words hung in the air, a harsh reality you both had been avoiding. Your eyes welled up in tears, heart aching at this indifference. “You haven’t been to any of them, Hajime. Not one.”

Iwaizumi scoffed, his frustration clearly boiling over. “What am I missing? Kids twirling for three minutes and twenty five seconds? It’s stupid, honestly.”

His mean and harsh words echoed in the silence of the room, a stark reminder of the widening chasm between you two.

“Hajime, how could you say that? She has worked very hard.” You said in disbelief.

Unbeknownst to both of you, a tiny figure stood outside the door, her heart shattering at her father’s words. Yuki, your little ballerina, had heard it all. The argument, her father’s indifference, your heartbreak. She clutched her ballet shoes to her chest, heart soaking the satin fabric.

The harsh words continued to fly between the two of you, voices rising in the quiet of the night.

“You’re being mean, Hajime.” You said, voice trembling with emotion.

“I don’t have time for this,” Iwaizumi retorted, his exhaustion seeping into his words. “I’m too tired to argue.”

And with that, he turned and walked away, leaving you standing alone in the middle of the room. As he made his way to the bathroom, the argument continued, both of your voices echoing off the cold tiles.

Meanwhile, Yuki had silently made her way downstairs. With a heavy heart and tear-streaked cheeks, she threw her beloved ballet shoes in the trash, a silent testament of her shattered dreams.

The morning after the storm was always the calmest. Iwaizumi woke up, his body aching from the previous night's argument. It was his day off, a chance for him to rest and recover. Despite the tension between the two of you, you greeted him with a kiss, almost like a silent promise that you would speak about it later.

"I'll make breakfast," Iwaizumi offered, hoping to ease the tension. You nodded, attention focused on preparing Yuki's bag for ballet class.

As he entered the kitchen, he saw Yuki sitting at the table, her eyes devoid of their usual spark. Her small shoulders were slumped, her spirit seemingly crushed.

"Morning, Yuki," Iwaizumi said, his voice soft. "What do you want for breakfast?"

"I'm not hungry," Yuki replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

He couldn’t help but notice the change in his daughter’s demeanor. Her usual bright and bubbly personality was replaced by a quiet sadness that seemed to weigh her down. He found it odd, considering she was usually excited about her ballet classes.

“You’re okay bub?” He asked, concern lacing his voice.

But his question was met with silence. Yuki simply looked away, avoiding his gaze. He decided not to push her, instead focusing on preparing breakfast.

As he was cracking the eggs into a bowl, he heard your frantic voice from the other room. “Hajime, have you seen Yuki’s ballet shoes? I can’t find them anywhere. I swear they were here.”

He glanced at his daughter, but she was still avoiding his gaze. A sense of dread washed over him as he opened the trash bin to discard the eggshells. His heart sank as he saw the familiar pink ballet shoes nestled among the trash.

Realization hit him like a punch in the gut.

She had heard it all.

Fuck.

Was it possible? It couldn’t be!

“Honey,” he called out, his voice strained. You rushed into the kitchen, eyes wide with worry. He pointed to the trash bin, the discarded ballet shoes. The sight of it, it felt like a dagger into your heart. You turned your gaze to your daughter, your eyes pleading for an explanation.

“Yuki, why did you throw your ballet shoes away?” You asked, voice barely a whisper.

“I hate ballet! It’s stupid!” Yuki yelled, her voice filled with a bitterness that was far too heavy for her young age.

The harsh words hung in the air, a painful echo of the argument from the previous night. Iwaizumi felt guilt, realizing the impact his words had on his daughter, he didn’t know what to do.

“Yuki! Don’t speak to your mother that way!” He yelled, trying to regain control of the situation.

But Yuki’s next words cut through the air like a knife, “I hate you, Dad!”

The room fell silent, the harsh words echoing off the walls. You gasped, hand flying to your mouth. “Yuki, don’t say that…” You whispered, but it was too late.

Yuki was already running up the stairs, the slam of her bedroom door echoing through the house.

Iwaizumi stood there, stunned. The words ‘I hate you’ echoed in his mind, each repetition like a punch on the gut. He turned towards you, desperation in his eyes. “Fuck, I swear I didn’t mean any of it baby. I was just tired…” He said, but his words fell on deaf ears. Already making your way up to the stairs, attempts to coax your daughter out of her room, but you were only met with silence.

He was left alone in the kitchen, the guilt gnawing at him. He had hurt his daughter, and he didn’t know how to fix it. Has he destroyed his daughter dreams?

Reblogs, notes and comments are appreciated!

[p0orbaby]

You’re Tired of Moving, Your Body’s Aching

summary: after a loss, you’re there to ease the pain

warnings: all the feels

a/n: something small and soft

word count: 1k

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The night is sweltering, a thick humidity hanging in the air like an unwanted guest. Paris, usually dripping with charm, feels oppressive, each winding street and picturesque facade mocking you with their indifference. The Eiffel Tower glows in the distance, a cruel beacon in a night you’ll never forget. It’s as if the city itself is holding its breath, waiting for you to make your move.

You’ve spent the past hour navigating bureaucratic labyrinths, slipping through cracks in the system with well-timed smiles and carefully chosen words. Getting into the Olympic Village isn’t easy, especially now, but you’ve managed it. Your heart hammers in your chest as you finally make it to the Spanish team’s floor, your shoes barely making a sound on the polished tiles. It’s too quiet, the kind of quiet that buzzes in your ears and makes your skin prickle.

Alexia’s room is at the end of the hall, a sliver of light spilling out into the corridor like a weak beacon. The door is slightly ajar, and as you push it open gently, it creaks, the sound almost deafening in the stillness. She’s there, sitting on the edge of her bed, still in her kit, her face buried in her hands. Seeing her like this, broken, vulnerable, makes your chest ache. A dull, persistent pain that settles behind your ribs.

“Alexia,” you whisper, stepping inside and closing the door softly behind you. She doesn’t look up, but you know she’s heard you. The room feels too small, the air thick with unspoken grief. You cross the room and kneel in front of her, your fingers trembling as you reach for her hands.

She lifts her head slowly, her eyes red and puffy, tears tracing silent paths down her cheeks. Her face, usually so fierce and determined, is a mask of despair. The sight twists a knife in your gut. You wish you could take her pain and make it yours, to bear the weight she’s carrying.

“Hey,” you murmur, cupping her face in your hands. Her skin is warm and damp, her tears mixing with the sweat of the match. “I’m here”

Her eyes, usually so full of fire, are dull and distant. She leans into your touch, closing her eyes as if trying to shut out the world. You brush away her tears with your thumbs, your heart breaking with every hitch in her breath. The silence between you is heavy, each breath a struggle.

“It’s not fair,” she whispers, voice cracking. “We were so close”

“I know,” you acknowledge, because what else can you say? Words feel inadequate, useless. You slide onto the bed beside her, pulling her into your arms. She comes willingly, burying her face in your neck, her body trembling with sobs.

You hold her tight, fingers threading through her hair, murmuring soothing nonsense into her ear. The room is filled with the sound of her crying, the harsh, ragged breaths that speak of a pain too deep for words. Each sob feels like a blow, a reminder of her shattered dreams.

You’re not allowed to stay in the Village, but you’ve made arrangements to be here tonight. It took some doing, a few favours called in, but it was worth it. You’d have done anything to be here for her. The logistics and politics are nothing compared to the sight of her, broken and needing you.

As the minutes tick by, her sobs begin to subside, her breathing evening out. You press a kiss to her temple, lingering there, feeling the warmth of her skin against your lips. The taste of her tears lingers, a bitter reminder of her heartbreak.

“I love you,” you whisper, because she needs to hear it, because you need to say it. “I’m so proud of you, Alexia. So, so proud”

She pulls back just enough to look at you, her eyes searching your face. “I let everyone down,” she says, her voice barely more than a breath, laden with self-recrimination.

“No,” you say firmly, shaking your head. “You gave everything you had. You fought with everything in you. That’s not letting anyone down. That’s being a leader. That’s being a champion”

A fresh wave of tears spills over her cheeks, but there’s something else in her eyes now. A spark of the fire you know so well. You lean in and kiss her, softly at first, then deeper, pouring all your love and reassurance into that one kiss. The taste of salt and sorrow mingles with the heat of your desperation to make her feel something other than pain.

When you finally pull back, you rest your forehead against hers, your breaths mingling. “You’re not alone,” you tell her. “You’ve got one match left, and you’re going to win that bronze. I can feel it”

She nods, a small, fragile smile curving her lips. “Thank you,” she whispers. “For being here”

“Always,” you promise, the word a vow that echoes in the quiet room.

You spend the night wrapped around each other, the darkness outside the window a stark contrast to the soft glow of the lamp beside the bed. You talk, you cry, you kiss when she wants to. You hold her as if your very presence can stitch her broken pieces back together. Each touch, each whispered word, is an attempt to rebuild, to heal.

As dawn begins to break, casting a pale light over the room, Alexia finally falls into a restless sleep, her head on your chest, your fingers still tangled in her hair. You stay awake, watching over her, knowing that this is where you’re meant to be. The early morning light paints her face in soft hues, the remnants of her tears glistening like dewdrops.

In the quiet of the early morning, with the world slowly coming to life outside, you make a silent vow. To stand by her, to lift her up when she falls, to be her rock in the storm. Because love is more than just the good times; it’s the strength to face the bad ones together. You press a final kiss to her forehead, the gesture a silent promise.

[corrupte3d-mindz]

Sleepless Nights

Thomas Shelby x Pregnant Wife Reader

Summary: Thomas cares for his wife.

Wordcount: 2.3k

Warnings:

soft Thomas!, kissing, soft talk, lovely husband things.

Thomas prowls the grand corridors of Arrow House with a mixture of determination and unease. The mansion is a labyrinth of opulence, each corner dripping with the wealth he’s fought tooth and nail to secure. Yet, tonight, none of that matters. His mind is solely focused on one thing—finding his pregnant wife.

The house, with its vast rooms and endless hallways, feels both protective and suffocating. The heavy silence is broken only by the distant ticking of an antique clock, a stark reminder of time slipping away. Thomas’s polished shoes echo on the marble floors as he moves through the dimly lit spaces, his keen eyes scanning every shadow and crevice. The opulent decor, a testament to his success, now seems to mock him with its cold grandeur. He enters the library, where shelves upon shelves of leather-bound books line the walls, their spines gleaming in the faint light. The room smells of old paper and cigarette a sanctuary for his restless mind on many nights. But tonight, it offers no solace. He moves on, his pace quickening, his heartbeat mirroring his urgency.

As he strides through the dining hall, the long table stands like an island in the middle of the room, set for a feast that never seems to be eaten. The chandelier above it sparkles, casting prismatic reflections around the room, but Thomas’s eyes are unseeing. He is a man on a mission, driven by an anxiety he rarely allows himself to feel.

Finally, he reaches the living room, a vast space dominated by an enormous fireplace. The flames within flicker and dance, casting a warm, golden glow over the room. And there she is. His wife, his beacon in the storm of his life, sitting on the couch in an awkward yet somehow comfortable position. The sight of her instantly softens his stern expression, though worry still shadows his features. She’s nestled into the corner of the couch, her swollen belly making her position look ungainly to anyone else, but Thomas knows better. He sees the way her hand rests protectively over her stomach, the way her eyes are half-closed in a state of meditative calm. She’s wearing a loose, flowing nightgown that accentuates her maternal glow, the fabric cascading around her like a gentle waterfall.

“Love,” Thomas says softly, his voice a gravelly whisper that cuts through the silence. “Y’alright there?” His thick Birmingham accent adds a rough edge to the tender words, a contrast that defines him so well.

She looks up, her eyes meeting his with a tired but loving gaze. “Tommy,” she replies, a small smile curving her lips. “Just needed a moment. The baby’s been restless tonight.”

Thomas nods, understanding immediately. He crosses the room in a few strides, his presence a mix of power and protectiveness. He sits beside her, the couch dipping slightly under his weight. Gently, he places a hand over hers, feeling the life within her. It’s a moment of connection, grounding him in a way few things can.

“Been lookin’ for you,” he murmurs, his eyes scanning her face for any signs of discomfort. “Worried me, y’know.”

She chuckles softly, the sound like music to his ears. “I’m fine, Tommy. Just... needed to be alone for a bit.”

Thomas’s eyes soften further, the hard lines of his face easing as he takes in her serene expression. “Y’should rest more, love. Don’t want you overexertin’ y’self.” His voice is firm yet gentle, the protective husband surfacing through the tough gangster exterior.

She nods, leaning her head back against the couch and closing her eyes. “I know. It’s just... there’s so much to do. So much to prepare for.”

Thomas sighs, his hand moving to gently caress her cheek. “Leave it to me. I’ll handle everythin’. You just focus on our little one, yeah?”

He could see the strain in her eyes, the toll the pregnancy was taking on her. His heart ached for her, wishing he could take away her discomfort. "I wish I could do more," he said softly, his voice tinged with regret.

She smiled again, squeezing his hand. "You're here, Tommy. That's enough."

But it wasn't enough for him. He wanted to do more, to alleviate her pain in any way he could. His mind raced, trying to think of something, anything, that might help. Then she spoke again, her voice hesitant.

“Tommy, Ada said if it gets too heavy, you can lift my belly a bit with your hands. It might help.”

Tommy's brow furrowed as he processed her words. It was a simple gesture, yet one that could provide her with some relief. He looked into her eyes, seeing the vulnerability there, and he knew he had to try. "Alright, love," he said, his voice firm with determination. "Let's give it a go."

He moved closer, positioning himself in front of her. His hands, rough and calloused from years of hard work, gently interlaced under her belly. He could feel the warmth of her skin through the fabric of her dress, the gentle rise and fall of her breath. Slowly, he lifted, supporting the weight of their child. She let out a sigh of relief, her body relaxing into his touch.

"Better?" he asked, his voice soft.

She nodded, her eyes closing once more. "So much better. Thank you, Tommy."

He held her there, his strong arms supporting her, providing the comfort she so desperately needed. In that moment, all the worries and burdens of their world faded away, leaving only the two of them. For the first time in a long while, he allowed himself to simply be present, to cherish the moment.

"You're incredible, you know that?" he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "Strongest woman I know."

She smiled, a soft blush creeping into her cheeks. "I have to be, married to you."

He chuckled, the sound low and rough. "Yeah, I suppose you do." His gaze softened as he looked at her, his eyes reflecting the depth of his feelings. "But I wouldn't change a thing. Not a bloody thing."

They stayed like that for a while, the silence between them comfortable and reassuring. Tommy's thoughts drifted to their future, to the life they were building together. It was a life filled with uncertainty and danger, but it was theirs. And as long as they had each other, he knew they could face anything. Eventually, he shifted, carefully lowering his hands and easing her back into a more comfortable position. He smiles, before cupping her face; his hands calloused from years of work, are surprisingly gentle as they cup her cheeks. He brushes a few stray strands of hair away from her face, tucking them behind her ear with a care that belies his hardened exterior. The feel of her skin under his fingertips is a reminder of all that he has fought for, and all that he stands to lose.

“Love,” he murmurs, his voice a low rumble, thick with his Birmingham accent. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” The words are simple, but they carry a weight of sincerity that is unmistakable.

She looks up at him, her eyes filled with a mixture of love and fatigue. Pregnancy has been both a blessing and a challenge, but in this moment, with Thomas so close, she feels a sense of peace. He leans in, closing the small distance between them, and presses his lips to hers. The kiss is intense, filled with a passion that speaks volumes of his devotion. It’s not just a kiss; it’s a promise, a silent vow that he will always be there for her.

His hands move from her face to her shoulders, sliding down her arms and resting on her swollen belly. He can feel the life growing inside her, their child, the future of the Shelby legacy. The thought fills him with a fierce protectiveness, a determination to shield them both from the dangers of his world. He pulls back slightly, resting his forehead against hers, his breath mingling with hers in the quiet intimacy of the moment.

“You’ve got to know,” he whispers, his voice husky with emotion, “I’d do anything for you. Anythin’ to keep you safe.” His words are punctuated by the gentle movement of his hands, caressing her belly as if to reassure both her and their child of his unwavering commitment.

Thomas stirred from sleep, his body instantly alert despite the lingering remnants of exhaustion. The warmth of the morning sun filtered through the heavy drapes, casting faint, golden lines across the bed where he lay. His hand reached instinctively to the other side, expecting to feel the familiar form of his wife beside him. The cool, empty sheets met his touch instead, sending a wave of unease through him. He sat up abruptly, the fine sheen of cold sweat on his forehead catching the light. He ran a hand through his dark hair, pushing it back from his face as his sharp blue eyes scanned the room.

The clock on the mantel ticked softly, marking the time as just past nine in the morning. Thomas swung his legs over the edge of the bed, the chill of the wooden floor against his bare feet grounding him. He rose to his full height, stretching out the tension in his muscles. He was dressed only in his boxers, the morning air cool against his skin. The bedroom was silent, save for the sounds that nature produced in the waking hours of the morning.

His mind raced through possibilities as he left the bedroom, each step measured and deliberate. The house was vast, and his wife could be anywhere, but his instinct told him to check the usual places first. The corridor outside their bedroom was dimly lit, the heavy curtains drawn against the morning light. Thomas moved with purpose, his eyes darting to each doorway as he passed. He checked the nursery, but it was empty save for the soft glow of the morning sun filtering through the window. The sitting room was similarly deserted, the furniture untouched and the air still.

Thomas’s worry deepened with each empty room. He descended the grand staircase, his hand trailing along the polished banister. The ground floor was no different – the study, the drawing room, all empty. He paused at the doorway to the dining room, listening intently. The faintest clink of cutlery reached his ears, a sound so subtle it could easily have been missed. Relief washed over him, but he kept his composure as he moved toward the kitchen, the source of the noise.

The kitchen was a contrast to the rest of the house – warm, filled with the rich aroma of freshly baked bread and other culinary delights. The sight that greeted Thomas made him pause in the doorway. His wife was at the counter, her back to him, completely absorbed in her task. She was preparing her favorite pregnancy craving, a look of contentment on her face as she worked. Her hair was loosely tied back, and she had her loose, flowing nightgown, made of soft, breathable fabric, was adorned with delicate lace and ribbon trims. He had it made especially for her.

A soft chuckle escaped Thomas’s lips, the tension in his shoulders easing. "Hungry, eh? For whatever you're eatin' at what... nine in the mornin'..." His voice was low, the thick Birmingham accent adding a familiar roughness to his words.

She turns to him, a small smile playing on her lips. Her eyes are bright, despite the early hour, and there's a certain glow about her that he finds both endearing and reassuring. "Well... I originally woke up because I had to throw up... but then it wore off and I just sat there for a bit before I actually did throw up..." she explains, her voice trailing off as she takes another bite.

He crosses the room to her, his worry giving way to a tender affection. He reaches out, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face, his touch gentle and careful. "You alright now?" he asks, his voice softening. "You and the little one?"

She nods, placing the bowl on the counter. "Yes, we're fine. Just one of those mornings."

Thomas wraps an arm around her waist, pulling her close. He can feel the slight swell of her belly against his skin, a constant reminder of the new life growing inside her. "You should've woken me," he murmurs, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

She laughs softly, resting her head against his chest. "You need your rest too, Tommy. Besides, it’s nothing I can’t handle."

He holds her for a moment longer, savoring the quiet intimacy of the moment. The kitchen, with its warm morning light and the comforting presence of his wife, feels like a sanctuary. A stark contrast to the chaos and violence that often defines his life outside these walls. He pulls back slightly, looking down at her with a mixture of love and concern. "If you need anythin', you come get me. Don’t try to be too strong on your own."

She nods, understanding the depth of his worry. "I will, I promise."

They both stood there looking at each other.

"Any plans for today?" he asks, breaking the comfortable silence.

She looks up at him, a thoughtful expression on her face. "I was thinking of organizing the nursery a bit more. And maybe take a walk in the garden if the weather holds."

He nods, appreciating her simple plans. "Sounds good. I’ve got a meeting later, but I’ll be back by lunch. We can go for that walk together."

She smiles, the idea pleasing her. "I’d like that."

Author’s Notes:

Credit for the smol sparkle divider: CafeKitsune

[mechaknight-98]

No Tomorrow (NSFW) FT Jihyo Park

Series Masterlist Here

Operator’s notes: Please not while there is a lot of plot and fluff in this story there is an insane amount of smut. Also my current longest posted fic so enjoy more Jihyo.

The lights dimmed, and the crowd's roar filled the arena, a wave of energy that sent shivers down Jihyo's spine. As the music started, her body moved effortlessly, each step, each note, perfectly synchronized with her group. But this time, something was different. There was a fire burning within her, a drive that pushed her to give more than she ever had before.

Voljune's presence was strong, their memories and emotions intertwining with hers, fueling her performance. With each beat, Jihyo felt Voljune's pride and determination course through her veins. She wasn’t just performing; she was leading, and guiding her group with a newfound strength that seemed to resonate with the very essence of the music.

As the chorus hit, Jihyo glanced out into the crowd, her eyes scanning the sea of faces. And then, she saw him. Dio, standing near the front, his smile radiant as he danced along with the music. His presence was a beacon, a source of light that filled her with warmth.

*“Look at him,”* Voljune’s voice echoed in her mind, soft and admiring. *“He’s so happy, so free. We need to protect that, Jihyo.”*

*“We will,”* Jihyo replied internally, her heart swelling with emotion. *“No matter what it takes, we’ll keep him safe. He deserves this happiness, and we’ll ensure he keeps it.”*

The thought of Dio, his laughter, and his joy, gave Jihyo a renewed sense of purpose. She could feel Voljune’s memories of survival, of pushing through impossible odds, blending with her own desire to succeed. It wasn’t just about being the best; it was about being the best for them—for Dio, for Twice, for everyone who believed in her.

With a final burst of energy, Jihyo led the group into the climax of the performance, her voice soaring, her movements more powerful than ever. The crowd responded, their cheers vibrating through the stage, a tangible confirmation of the connection she had forged with them.

As the final note lingered in the air, Jihyo stood tall, her chest heaving with exertion, but her heart full. She glanced at Dio one last time, and his beaming smile was all the reward she needed.

*“We’re stronger together,”* Voljune whispered, the warmth of their shared bond enveloping Jihyo.

*“And we’ll keep getting stronger,”* Jihyo thought back, determination burning brightly within her. *“For him, for us, for everything we’re fighting for.”*

After the performance and a few celebratory drinks with the other members, Jihyo headed home, her body buzzing with the high of the night. The energy from the stage, the cheers of the crowd, and the warmth of her group’s love still swirled in her chest as she entered the code for their small place.

As the door clicked open, a wave of something unexpected surged through her—desire, anticipation. Voljune stirred within her, not just an idle whisper in the back of her mind but a powerful presence, closer than usual. Jihyo paused at the doorway, her hand gripping the handle as an unspoken sensation coursed between them.

Voljune’s voice broke through, her tone unsteady, *“I... I’m feeling something strange. Your hormones, Jihyo... they’re spiking.”*

Jihyo blinked, slightly amused by the reaction. *“What do you mean?”*

*“You’re about to start ovulating,”* Voljune responded, her voice husky, edged with something unfamiliar. *“I’ve never felt anything like this before... this intensity. I don’t know if I’ll be able to control myself around Dio.”*

Jihyo chuckled softly, her hand relaxing on the door. *“Oh, I think he won’t mind. You know how he is.”* The thought of Dio brought warmth to her chest, a feeling of safety and love that grounded her. She pushed the door open fully and stepped inside, quieting her footsteps as she walked down the hallway to their shared bedroom.

The soft glow from the moonlight filtered through the curtains, casting a gentle silver hue across the room. Dio lay peacefully asleep, his broad frame sprawled comfortably across the bed. His breathing was slow, rhythmic, and calming, and Jihyo’s heart swelled at the sight of him. For a moment, she just stood there, watching him. His presence felt like home—a grounding force amidst the chaos of her life.

*“He looks so at peace,”* Voljune murmured, her voice softer now, full of wonder. *“You’re right... he shouldn’t be alive, after everything. But... I’m happy he is.”*

Jihyo smiled, her heart warming at Voljune’s admission. *“Me too,”* she whispered.

She quietly set down her things and tiptoed to the bathroom, slipping into the shower. The warm water cascaded over her, easing the lingering tension in her muscles from the performance. As the steam enveloped her, she reflected on the conversation with Voljune. She could feel how Voljune’s emotions were intertwined with hers more deeply now—the shared pulse of excitement, desire, even curiosity. Voljune had never experienced these human urges in such a raw, immediate way. It was as if their bond was evolving, becoming something more intricate, more unified.

Jihyo stepped out of the shower, dried herself off, and slipped into something comfortable. Quietly, she padded back into the bedroom, the soft shuffle of her feet barely disturbing the stillness.

Sliding into bed beside Dio, she felt the familiar warmth of his body against hers. The moment she pressed herself against his back, a deep contentment settled over her. She spooned him gently, her arm draping over his waist, her fingers resting against his chest. Dio stirred slightly in his sleep, his hand unconsciously moving to rest atop hers. Even in his dreams, he sought her out.

*“You know,”* Jihyo whispered internally to Voljune, *“I’ve thought about this a lot. About how he defies everything we know. He’s stronger than he should be. He’s survived things no one else could.”*

Voljune hummed in agreement, their shared thoughts rippling between them like waves. *“It’s more than that though, isn’t it? There’s something about him. Something... beyond us, beyond even my kind.”*

Jihyo’s fingers tightened slightly on Dio’s chest, her mind drifting as she buried her face into the curve of his back. *“Whatever it is, I’m just glad he’s here. Alive. With us.”*

*“So am I,”* Voljune replied softly, her tone full of conviction. *“We’ll protect him, Jihyo. No matter what.”*

As Jihyo’s body relaxed against Dio’s, she felt the subtle, quiet connection between the three of them—herself, Dio, and Voljune—all bound together by something stronger than mere survival. It was love, in its most primal, most protective form.

And in that moment, as she drifted closer to sleep, Jihyo knew that no matter the challenges ahead, they were stronger together. There was nothing she wouldn’t do for the man peacefully resting beside her—and nothing Voljune wouldn’t do either.

As she embraced him she felt a bizarre texture on his chest. She traced the pattern and a memory flashed into her mind:

As Jihyo’s fingers traced the bizarre pattern on Diabolos’s chest, a sudden wave of foreign memories crashed through her mind, sharp and vivid. She felt Voljune stirring, pulling her consciousness back, and before she could react, the world around her shifted.

The scent of iron and blood filled the air. The echo of ragged breathing and distant screams rang in her ears.

It wasn’t her memory—this was Voljune’s.

Jihyo blinked, disoriented, but the scene before her was all too real. She was no longer in the comfort of her shared bedroom with Dio. Instead, she stood in a cold, dimly lit room—a sterile, metallic chamber that hummed with faint energy, like a place where no warmth could survive.

Diabolos stood at the center, his body hunched over in agony. His skin was pale, and slick with sweat, and his breath came in uneven gasps. His chest, once powerful and broad, was heaving as though something was trying to tear its way out from within. His eyes, normally so full of life, were wide and wild, as though he were trapped inside his own body, fighting against an invisible force.

Voljune, or at least a younger version of her, stood helplessly at the edge of the room, bound by the laws of her kind. She could only watch as her sibling, Ruhan, ripped through Dio’s flesh in a grotesque display of parasitic horror.

Jihyo, feeling every bit of Voljune’s fear and disgust, was frozen in the memory. Her mind screamed, No, not him!

Diabolos’s body convulsed violently, his muscles spasming as the skin on his chest bulged unnaturally. With a sickening crack, something inside him shifted—something dark, monstrous. And then it happened. His chest split open with a wet, gruesome tear, blood splattering the floor as Ruhan, Voljune’s sibling, began to force their way out. He sensed the power of the chained Narset nearby and craved it so he did what he always did he found a new host.

Ruhan wasn’t a being of grace like Voljune. They were savage, and feral, driven by the need to bond with something more powerful, something that could feed their endless hunger for strength. Narset had called to them—promised them dominance, power beyond imagination—and Ruhan had answered.

As Ruhan’s form writhed free of Diabolos’s body, they were like a mass of sinew and tendrils, a horrifying amalgamation of parasitic flesh. Dio’s screams of pain echoed through the chamber, reverberating off the cold metal walls. The sound was pure agony, a sound that could tear through even the most hardened hearts. Narset watched the fire rage inside of her pupil's eyes as he fought to stay alive.

Voljune, still bound by the laws of their kind, watched in horror as her sibling abandoned the man she had grown so attached to. She had known this moment would come—had felt the tension building for weeks as Narset’s presence grew stronger—but she hadn’t been ready for the sheer violence of it. Ruhan had used Dio, fed on him, and then discarded him like a broken vessel.

Narset stood at the far side of the room, her eyes gleaming with twisted terror as Ruhan slithered to her Chained body. She tried to run away and hoped that she could do anything but Ruhan was moving closer.

“No!” Voljune screamed within Jihyo’s mind. “Dio... don’t let them... please... fight it...” But even as she begged, she knew it was futile. The Severing was nearly complete. The process was supposed to kill the host, leaving nothing behind but an empty shell.

But Diabolos—he wasn’t like anyone else. Even in his weakest moments, his will was indomitable.

Ruhan fully detached from Diabolos, their grotesque form slithering toward Narset. The room was silent for a moment, save for Diabolos’s labored breathing and the gagging of Narset as Ruhan forced himself into Narset. Dio's chest was a ruin of blood and torn flesh, but he was still alive. He shouldn’t have been, but there he stood, his body trembling as he fought to stay conscious.

And then, with a strength that shouldn’t have been possible, Diabolos pushed himself up from his knees, his hand gripping his chest where Ruhan had torn free. His eyes blazed with fury, cutting through the haze of pain. His entire body radiated with an unnatural force, something deeper than physical power—born of his sheer will to survive.

He staggered forward, toward Narset and Ruhan, his lips curled into a snarl.

“I’m not done yet,” Diabolos growled, his voice hoarse but filled with venom.

Narset turned, now fully merged as one surprised to see him still standing. For a moment, even she faltered. She had underestimated him—underestimated the force of his spirit. But before Diabolos could make another move, his body collapsed, his strength finally giving out.

Voljune rushed forward, her own form stretching toward him, desperate to stop the bleeding, desperate to help him survive. But Narset’s laugh echoed through the chamber, cold and mocking. “You see, Voljune? He’s already lost. He’s nothing without me.”

Voljune couldn’t respond, couldn’t even speak. She could only focus on Diabolos, on keeping him alive. She pressed her essence into him, trying to heal the worst of the damage, trying to save what little was left of the man she had grown to care for.

As the memory began to fade, Jihyo was pulled back into the present, the familiar warmth of her bedroom returning. She found herself lying beside Dio once more, her hand still resting gently on his chest where the faint scars of the Severing remained. The horror of the memory lingered in her mind, but so did one undeniable truth:

He had survived, and that was enough for now as she snuggled closer to him, and found comfort in his warmth.

The next morning Dio got up early and went over his website to manage any of the recent orders then sent the confirmation and payment to his embroiderer so the clothes could be ready to ship. After that, he decided to make breakfast for Jihyo. Jihyo and Voljune woke up a little later to the smell of cooked meat and a few other sweet-smelling scents, but they couldn’t process that as Jihyo’s body was deep in the throes of desire and lust. She got with a ravenous hunger that food couldn’t fill. She needed dick. Luckily for her, her favorite one was just outside.

She stripped down to her bra and panties before walking outside where she watched Dio with rapacious eyes. Dio was so caught up in cooking though that he didn’t notice the gaze of a hungry lioness watching him. He didn’t notice her inching closer as he finished until she pounced on him when he had finished the dishes.

He was startled when Jihyo grabbed his shoulders before turning him around and violently kissing him. She smelled good to him almost irresistibly so. This was in part due to Voljune knowing Dio and what made his heart race, and making Jihyo’s pheromones mimic it.

“God you smell so good,” Dio said as his head swam with lust. Jihyo smiled as his eyes lost focus. She rubbed her thighs together in anticipation, before grabbing him and bringing him into another sloppy kiss. Voljune couldn’t hold back anymore as she dialed up her and Jihyo’s sensitivity to as high as it could go. When she broke this kiss and stared at Dio he didn’t see Jihyo or even Voljune he saw his woman radiating sex as she beckoned him back to their bedroom. Jihyo smiled before locking the door.

“You’re not leaving this room until you can’t get it up.” She said before finding his box of condoms and throwing them out of the room. Dio gulped terrified and turned on. His dick painfully erect peeked through his pants. Jihyo smiled as she closed the distance while taking her bra off. When she climbed on the bed the only thing on both of her minds was draining Dio dry.

“Are you ready?” Jihyo said in an almost lullaby tone which reached the dazed Dio. He nodded slowly making Jihyo smile as she pulled down his sweatpants freeing his cock. Jihyo began to lick the underside of his shaft going from base to tip. Slowly she would trace his cock’s silhouette with her tongue and he’d watch the excruciating torture tear his brain apart and mend it barely back with the pleasure she granted.

“Fuck Jihyo just ride me I can’t take it anymore!” Dio growled as his erection became painful from her work. Jihyo smiled accepting his readiness. She crawled to his face and looked into his eyes. All she could see was a deep lust that mirrored how she felt. She smiled and said,

“Oh, you really want me. You must love me,” she said happily. Dio eyes rolled back as she aligned him with her pussy and slowly sank down. When their hips became flush Jihyo moaned in ecstasy. “Fuck!!! you fill me so well,” Jihyo screamed before slowly bucking her hips trying to adjust how her walls cling to Dio’s cock and she can barely contain the pleasure radiating off of her. It was too much and after three bounces she was cumming all over Dio’s cock, but lucky for her Voljune had her back and her body was ready to go in seconds.

“Okay Dio Fuck me,” Jihyo said and Dio began thrusting into her. His hands rested on her sexy hips and abs as he thrust in and out of her. Jihyo was a sodden wailing mess, as she fell deeper and deeper into the ocean of pleasure Dio and Voljune were giving her. Voljune was also delirious from it all as she felt all of what Jihyo felt. Dio in a weak attempt at revenge reciprocated the same slow tortuous pace Jihyo had subjected him to as she could barely keep it together while he pounded her deep.

“Fuck you’re hitting my G-spot,” Jihyo moaned as she came again. She looked down and pulled Dio to be on top of her, as she wrapped his legs around him.

“Fuck me, please!” Jihyo begged Diabolos.

“Please fucking cum in me,” Jihyo says as her pussy contacts tighter massaging a potent large load out of him. Jihyo is heaving trying to catch her breath but Voljune takes over and for the first time truly feels Jihyo's body as her she wraps her hands around her chest and slowly drifts to her clit.

“Fuck this body is so lewd,” she says

“These swollen plump breasts. This firm soft ass. Fuck this sopping sodden mess between my legs.” Voljune moans. Her words force another erection in Dio and Voljune loses it.

“God yes. Fuck make us serve no other purpose than to be your semen repository. Drown my pussy in your cum. Voljune watches with lusty glee as Dio plows into her. She watches the way her breasts jiggle and reaches out to suck on the left one while Dio continues plowing her pretty pussy. Voljune convulses as another orgasm takes her body. Unable to go any further she tries to convince herself that she can milk another orgasm out of Dio but her body is too tired to and heaving for breath. She smiles along with Jihyo at Dio who’s still hard staring at her magnificent body. Just as she tries to mount another round Jihyo’s phone goes off. Jihyo groaned softly as she looked at her phone, the familiar name lighting up the screen: Dahyun. She glanced over at Diabolos, his presence still filling the room with the lingering intensity of their earlier moment. His body, all burly and imposing, was still poised, but there was something different now. His sharp, almost predatory gaze from earlier had softened considerably. He was smiling at her, but this time, it wasn’t the fierce, consuming look that had sent heat coursing through her veins. Instead, there was a boyish sweetness to his expression—a gentle, almost shy joy that seemed to settle into the lines of his face.

"Hey, Dubu," Jihyo answered, still catching her breath from the earlier tension, "what's going on?"

Dahyun’s bright voice came through the speaker, full of energy as always. "Hey, unnie! DJ, Chewy, and I are going to that restaurant we were talking about—you want to join with Dio?"

Jihyo ran her hand through her hair, eyes drifting back to Diabolos. He was still watching her with that same tempered smile, the type of smile that made her heart squeeze in a completely different way than his fiery, more possessive looks did. It was warm, and content. His energy now was far from the imposing presence he so often carried. He seemed soft, relaxed—almost childlike in his joy like he was perfectly at peace just being here with her.

A soft sigh escaped her lips, her gaze lingering on the scar that was etched across his chest. It was a stark reminder of the battles he had fought—both the physical ones and the internal wars she could only imagine. And yet, here he was, his fierce nature temporarily melted into something far more innocent, far more gentle.

“We have unfinished business with him,” Voljune’s voice purred in the back of her mind, her presence filled with immense desire. Jihyo could feel the yearning, the deep pull Voljune had towards Diabolos. It mirrored her own, but there was something more primal in Voljune’s desires, something raw that echoed through their shared bond. Jihyo nodded internally, fully aware of what both she and Voljune wanted to resume. But she was also acutely aware that they hadn’t hung out with their members in what felt like forever.

I want this too, Jihyo thought to herself, her eyes flicking back to Diabolos, who was now stretching lazily, his muscles flexing in a way that made her breath catch again. But there was something equally important in reconnecting with her friends. The love she had for her members was a different kind, but no less essential.

"Sure, we'll be there," Jihyo said happily into the phone, and even though Voljune grumbled internally, there was a sense of agreement. There would be time later for their unfinished business.

Diabolos’s inquisitive gaze followed the shift in her mood. His expression was curious as if sensing the subtle tug-of-war happening within her. "What is it, Yo-yo?" he asked, his voice soft and affectionate, using the nickname that always made her smile.

Jihyo’s heart fluttered at his gentle tone. "Well, Chewy, DJ, and Dubu are going to that K-BBQ restaurant we’ve been talking about," she explained, watching his reaction closely.

His face lit up instantly, a look of pure joy and excitement spreading across his features. The fierceness that was always just beneath the surface melted away completely, replaced by an almost childlike enthusiasm. It was such a stark contrast from the Diabolos she had first met—the one who had been all sharp edges and unrelenting intensity. Now, he was like a kid hearing his favorite friends were coming over to play.

“Oh really?” he said, his tone full of that soft, appreciative joy that always made Jihyo’s heart swell. Voljune stirred within her, the feeling of their connection rippling with warmth as they both observed Diabolos’s shift. His excitement wasn’t just for the food—it was the idea of being with people he cared about, being part of something light and easy.

He is so innocent sometimes, Voljune remarked with gentle affection, her usual hunger tempered by a kind of adoration Jihyo hadn’t felt from her before. It was as if the two of them—Jihyo and Voljune—were seeing a side of Diabolos that softened their edges, made them feel as if they, too, were capable of loving in this childlike, almost pure way.

Jihyo giggled softly, both she and Voljune feeling a surge of playful fondness. "Well, we are. They invited us, so let's get clean and get ready."

Diabolos grinned at her, his joy radiating through the room, and without hesitation, he got up to head for the shower. But before he could disappear into the bathroom, Jihyo reached out and grabbed his arm, pulling him back gently. There was a flicker of something deeper in her eyes now, a smoldering heat that hadn’t fully disappeared despite the shift in mood. She knew that even in these tender, innocent moments, there was always something stronger, more primal beneath the surface between them.

Her gaze locked with his, and she smiled, her voice dropping to a lower, more seductive tone. “We will continue this later,” she promised, her words laced with an unmistakable intensity. Voljune echoed her, their voices harmonizing in unison within her mind, both filled with the same burning desire.

Diabolos’s eyes darkened briefly, a flicker of that familiar fire returning, but he only smiled, leaning down to kiss her forehead softly. “I’m holding you to that,” he murmured before slipping away into the bathroom.

Jihyo watched him go, her thoughts still buzzing with the silent conversation she shared with Voljune. The two of them were so aligned in this moment, both feeling the same deep love for the man who had somehow become their everything. Even in the playful, childlike joy that Diabolos exuded, there was a part of them that wanted to protect him fiercely, to hold onto this tenderness they shared and keep it safe from the darkness that often threatened to consume them all.

As the sound of the shower started, Jihyo smiled to herself, knowing that tonight, they would laugh, eat, and share joy with their friends—but later, there would be time for more. Time to continue what had been so deliciously interrupted.

Jihyo stood in front of the mirror, fixing her hair as she heard the soft hum of the shower water in the next room. Her reflection caught the warmth in her eyes, the lingering blush that hadn't quite left her cheeks after her earlier exchange with Diabolos. The excitement of seeing her members—her other family—combined with the quiet thrill of being with Diabolos like this made her feel a warmth deep in her chest.

“He has softened, hasn’t he?” Voljune mused, her voice cutting through Jihyo’s thoughts. “He was once all fire and intensity. But now... look at him. He’s so content with just being here with us, with you.”

Jihyo smiled, nodding as she dabbed a bit of perfume on her wrist. “I’ve noticed,” she replied internally. “It’s like he’s a different person when we’re alone like this. There’s still all that strength, all that power, but it’s so... gentle now.”

“And he’s so in love with you,” Voljune said with a soft chuckle. “It’s adorable. That energy of his used to be so imposing, so aggressive. Now? He just radiates joy when he’s with you, almost like a little kid.”

Jihyo laughed aloud as she glanced back at the closed bathroom door. “Yeah, it’s kind of cute how he lights up around our friends, too. I think it reminds him of something simpler, something more innocent.” She leaned against the dresser, arms folded, thinking about how Diabolos had changed since they’d started dating. It was as if being around her, and by extension, her members had chipped away at some of the harshnesses he’d built up over the years.

The water stopped, and a few moments later, Diabolos emerged from the bathroom, his hair still damp, beads of water clinging to his broad shoulders. He was wrapped in a towel, steam trailing behind him as he entered the room. His eyes found Jihyo immediately, softening with that boyish joy she had come to love.

“You look beautiful, Yo-yo,” he said, his voice deep and affectionate.

Jihyo blushed, smiling at him through the mirror. “Thank you. You should get dressed—we don’t want to be late.”

Diabolos laughed lightly, his smile widening. “Right, don’t want to keep the crew waiting.”

As he got dressed, Jihyo watched him out of the corner of her eye. There was something about how easily he moved now, how comfortable he seemed in his skin. It was a stark contrast to the rigid, almost guarded way he had carried himself when they first met. Now, his presence was still powerful but tempered with a softness that matched her energy. She could feel it, the way their energies intertwined so seamlessly now.

“He’s more like us than I ever thought,” Voljune remarked. “That playful love of life, how he cares so deeply for the people around him. It’s different from his old intensity, but it suits him.”

Jihyo nodded, internally agreeing with Voljune’s sentiment. Diabolos had always been strong, and intense, but it was this new side of him—this softer, more open version—that made her fall in love with him even more.

Finally ready, the two of them left the apartment and began their walk to the restaurant. The streets were buzzing with the usual evening energy, the soft hum of cars, and the chatter of people filling the air. Jihyo reached for Diabolos’ hand instinctively, lacing her fingers through his. His hand, though much larger and rougher than hers, fit perfectly, the warmth between them so natural.

As they walked, the conversation flowed easily.

“Do you think Chewy will challenge the chef tonight?” Jihyo asked with a laugh, thinking back to their last dinner where Tzuyu had, with her signature deadpan expression, offered her cooking suggestions to the head chef.

Diabolos chuckled. “I wouldn’t put it past her. She’s got that quiet confidence. It’s like she knows she’s the best at whatever she sets her mind to.”

Jihyo giggled, nodding. “You’re right. But Dahyun’s going to egg her on, for sure. You know how she is—always stirring up trouble just to see Chewy get flustered.”

Voljune interjected, her tone light and amused. “Dahyun’s mischief is delightful. I think she secretly loves how riled up she can make Tzuyu. They’re such a fun pair to watch.”

Jihyo agreed, smiling as she squeezed Diabolos’ hand a little tighter. “I’m so glad we get to see them tonight. It feels like it’s been forever.”

Diabolos glanced down at her, his eyes full of warmth. “Yeah, it’s been too long. I’ve missed hanging out with them too.” He paused for a moment, then added softly, “I like how they make you laugh. You always seem so light and carefree around them.”

Jihyo’s heart swelled at his words. “They do, don’t they? I think it’s because we’ve all been through so much together. They know me better than almost anyone else.”

Voljune hummed in agreement. “They ground you, in a way. It’s good for both of us—being around them. And it’s good for Diabolos, too. They bring out this pure joy in him, something that we both cherish.”

As they walked, the conversation shifted to lighter topics, reminiscing about past moments with the members, and laughing at shared memories. Jihyo and Voljune, internally, marveled at how Diabolos was so effortlessly in sync with them, how his softer side blended perfectly with Jihyo’s energy. Even as they joked and teased, there was an unspoken flirty dialogue weaving between the three of them—a shared connection that needed no words.

Diabolos caught her looking at him and raised an eyebrow. “What is it, Yo-yo?”

Jihyo just smiled, shaking her head slightly. “Nothing. Just... happy.”

He grinned, squeezing her hand. “Me too.”

They continued walking in comfortable silence, enjoying the cool evening air and each other’s company. As they neared the restaurant, the neon sign glowing in the distance, Jihyo felt a deep sense of peace wash over her. She had her members, her friends, and this man—this man who had become her everything.

Voljune’s presence buzzed warmly within her, echoing her thoughts. “We’re in a good place. I like where we are, Yo-yo.”

Jihyo smiled internally, feeling Voljune’s contentment mix with her own. “Yeah, we are.”

Jihyo stood in front of the mirror, fixing her hair as she heard the soft hum of the shower water in the next room. Her reflection caught the warmth in her eyes, the lingering blush that hadn't quite left her cheeks after her earlier exchange with Diabolos. The excitement of seeing her members—her other family—combined with the quiet thrill of being with Diabolos like this made her feel a warmth deep in her chest.

“He has softened, hasn’t he?” Voljune mused, her voice cutting through Jihyo’s thoughts. “He was once all fire and intensity. But now... look at him. He’s so content with just being here with us, with you.”

Jihyo smiled, nodding as she dabbed a bit of perfume on her wrist. “I’ve noticed,” she replied internally. “It’s like he’s a different person when we’re alone like this. There’s still all that strength, all that power, but it’s so... gentle now.”

“And he’s so in love with you,” Voljune said with a soft chuckle. “It’s adorable. That energy of his used to be so imposing, so aggressive. Now? He just radiates joy when he’s with you, almost like a little kid.”

Jihyo laughed aloud as she glanced back at the closed bathroom door. “Yeah, it’s kind of cute how he lights up around our friends, too. I think it reminds him of something simpler, something more innocent.” She leaned against the dresser, arms folded, thinking about how Diabolos had changed since they’d started dating. It was as if being around her, and by extension, her members had chipped away at some of the harshnesses he’d built up over the years.

The water stopped, and a few moments later, Diabolos emerged from the bathroom, his hair still damp, beads of water clinging to his broad shoulders. He was wrapped in a towel, steam trailing behind him as he entered the room. His eyes found Jihyo immediately, softening with that boyish joy she had come to love.

“You look beautiful, Yo-yo,” he said, his voice deep and affectionate.

Jihyo blushed, smiling at him through the mirror. “Thank you. You should get dressed—we don’t want to be late.”

Diabolos laughed lightly, his smile widening. “Right, don’t want to keep the crew waiting.”

As he got dressed, Jihyo watched him out of the corner of her eye. There was something about how easily he moved now, how comfortable he seemed in his own skin. It was a stark contrast to the rigid, almost guarded way he had carried himself when they first met. Now, his presence was still powerful but tempered with a softness that matched her own energy. She could feel it, the way their energies intertwined so seamlessly now.

“He’s more like us than I ever thought,” Voljune remarked. “That playful love of life, how he cares so deeply for the people around him. It’s different from his old intensity, but it suits him.”

Jihyo nodded, internally agreeing with Voljune’s sentiment. Diabolos had always been strong, and intense, but it was this new side of him—this softer, more open version—that made her fall in love with him even more.

Finally ready, the two of them left the apartment and began their walk to the restaurant. The streets were buzzing with the usual evening energy, the soft hum of cars, and the chatter of people filling the air. Jihyo reached for Diabolos’ hand instinctively, lacing her fingers through his. His hand, though much larger and rougher than hers, fit perfectly, the warmth between them so natural.

As they walked, the conversation flowed easily.

“Do you think Chewy will rechallenge the chef tonight?” Jihyo asked with a laugh, thinking back to their last dinner where Tzuyu had, with her signature deadpan expression, offered her own cooking suggestions to the head chef.

Diabolos chuckled. “I wouldn’t put it past her. She’s got that quiet confidence. It’s like she knows she’s the best at whatever she sets her mind to.”

Jihyo giggled, nodding. “You’re right. But Dahyun’s going to egg her on, for sure. You know how she is—always stirring up trouble just to see Chewy get flustered.”

Voljune interjected, her tone light and amused. “Dahyun’s mischief is delightful. I think she secretly loves how riled up she can make Tzuyu. They’re such a fun pair to watch.”

Jihyo agreed, smiling as she squeezed Diabolos’ hand a little tighter. “I’m so glad we get to see them tonight. It feels like it’s been forever.”

Diabolos glanced down at her, his eyes full of warmth. “Yeah, it’s been too long. I’ve missed hanging out with them too.” He paused for a moment, then added softly, “I like how they make you laugh. You always seem so light and carefree around them.”

Jihyo’s heart swelled at his words. “They do, don’t they? I think it’s because we’ve all been through so much together. They know me better than almost anyone else.”

Voljune hummed in agreement. “They ground you, in a way. It’s good for both of us—being around them. And it’s good for Diabolos, too. They bring out this pure joy in him, something that we both cherish.”

As they walked, the conversation shifted to lighter topics, reminiscing about past moments with the members, and laughing at shared memories. Jihyo and Voljune, internally, marveled at how Diabolos was so effortlessly in sync with them, how his softer side blended perfectly with Jihyo’s energy. Even as they joked and teased, there was an unspoken flirty dialogue weaving between the three of them—a shared connection that needed no words.

Diabolos caught her looking at him and raised an eyebrow. “What is it, Yo-yo?”

Jihyo just smiled, shaking her head slightly. “Nothing. Just... happy.”

He grinned, squeezing her hand. “Me too.”

They continued walking in comfortable silence, enjoying the cool evening air and each other’s company. As they neared the restaurant, the neon sign glowing in the distance, Jihyo felt a deep sense of peace wash over her. She had her members, her friends, and this man—this man who had become her everything.

Voljune’s presence buzzed warmly within her, echoing her thoughts. “We’re in a good place. I like where we are, Yo-yo.”

Jihyo smiled internally, feeling Voljune’s contentment mix with her own. “Yeah, we really are.”

As the group talks Jihyo begins to feel lightheaded as her hormones start striking again. She looks to Dio and says, “Hey babe I need to go the restroom can you help me,” every people pleaser he follows when Jihyo locks him in and forcefully grabs his cock he understands. Jihyo and Voljune are barely coherent enough to have his dick go in the right hole as Jihyo bends over the sink

“We have to be quick!” Dio asserts

Jihyo nods at her lust-addled brain. Dio quickly rams into her tight hole. Jihyo can only whimper as he takes her. Enraptured by her body he secures a tit and massages it spiking both their pleasure.

At this rate, Jihyo and Voljune don't last long before they cum again. Dio exits her and cleans them up a bit when Jihyo’s mind returns.

Her gaze is possessive as she says, “I'm going to need more from you when we get back home.” Dio smiles as they head back out. The rest of their little date is pretty brief after that. After the date, Jihyo Voljune and Dio were exhausted and instead of counting their fun they got a good night's sleep and hoped to release some more tension tomorrow

It was a rare lazy morning at Jihyo and Diabolos’ small, cozy apartment. The sun streamed through the windows, casting a warm glow across the living room. Diabolos was sprawled out on the couch, absentmindedly flipping through channels while Jihyo leaned against him, scrolling through her phone. Their bodies fit perfectly together as if they were always meant to be in this peaceful bubble.

*“I wish we could stay like this all day,”* Voljune whispered in Jihyo’s mind, the warmth of contentment wrapping around them both. *“No interruptions. Just us.”*

Jihyo couldn’t agree more. After the whirlwind of their dinner last night, she was hoping today could be quiet—a much-needed day of rest with just Diabolos. She smiled as she watched Dio drift in and out of sleep next to her.

But then, the doorbell rang.

Jihyo groaned softly, knowing full well who it could be. Only one person rang the doorbell with such enthusiasm. Voljune sighed in unison with her, a ripple of frustration passing between them. Diabolos glanced down at Jihyo, sensing the shift in energy.

“Who could that be?” he asked, sitting up.

Jihyo gave him a knowing look. “Take a wild guess.”

The doorbell rang again, followed by a series of playful knocks. Diabolos chuckled as he stood, pulling Jihyo up with him. “Let me guess—Nayeon?”

“Yup,” Jihyo replied with an exasperated smile, but there was affection behind it. *“She always knows when to show up at the worst possible time.”*

Voljune huffed in agreement. *“We were supposed to have the day to ourselves.”*

As Jihyo opened the door, she was greeted by a beaming Nayeon and her equally cheerful boyfriend, Mark. Nayeon wasted no time, pushing past Jihyo into the apartment.

“Hey, Jihyo-yah!” Nayeon exclaimed, her voice full of energy. “Mark and I were in the neighborhood, and we thought, why not drop by?” She grinned mischievously. “You weren’t busy, were you?”

Mark offered a sheepish smile from behind her, clearly used to Nayeon’s spontaneous visits. “Hope we’re not interrupting.”

Jihyo crossed her arms, trying to maintain a facade of annoyance. “Well, actually—”

Diabolos, ever the gentle giant, stepped forward and offered a warm smile to the pair. “It’s fine, really. Come on in.”

Jihyo shot him a look that said *Really?* but her irritation quickly faded. Nayeon was already making herself at home, tossing her bag onto the chair and plopping down on the couch next to Diabolos. Mark followed suit, though with a bit more hesitation, clearly aware of the unspoken tension in the room.

Voljune chimed in again, a hint of amusement creeping into her tone. *“You know what? It’s fine. Let’s just let it go. Nayeon brings a certain... chaotic joy, doesn’t she?”*

Jihyo sighed but smiled inwardly. *“Yeah, I guess she does.”* She couldn’t stay mad at Nayeon for long, and besides, her best friend’s presence was infectious. As much as she craved peace, she also loved how Nayeon always brought life and laughter wherever she went.

“So, what are we doing today?” Nayeon asked, completely oblivious to the plans Jihyo and Diabolos may have had. “We should totally have a movie marathon! Or maybe play some games!”

Diabolos chuckled, clearly entertained by Nayeon’s boundless energy. “A movie marathon sounds good to me.”

Jihyo rolled her eyes playfully, giving in to the inevitable. “Alright, fine. But *I* get to pick the first movie.”

Nayeon gasped dramatically. “Jihyo picking the movie? That’s a dangerous game, Dio. She’ll have us watching tearjerkers all day.”

Jihyo swatted at Nayeon’s arm, laughing. “You act like my taste is that bad.”

Mark, always the calm voice of reason, chimed in. “I don’t know, Nayeon. I think Jihyo has pretty good taste. What about a compromise—something everyone can enjoy?”

As they bantered back and forth, Jihyo’s initial frustration melted away, replaced by a warm sense of belonging. This was her family, her people. Nayeon’s chaotic energy, Mark’s calming influence, and Diabolos’ quiet presence all balanced each other out in the best way possible.

*“See?”* Voljune murmured, her earlier frustration now completely gone. *“This is why we love them. It’s never quiet, but it’s always fun.”*

Before Jihyo could respond, her phone buzzed on the coffee table. She glanced down at the screen and groaned inwardly.

“Speak of the devil,” she muttered as she saw the group chat light up with notifications from the rest of the members. Dahyun, Mina, Chaeyoung, Sana, and Jeongyeon were all chiming in, asking if they could come over too.

“Oh no,” Jihyo said, eyes widening as she realized what was happening. “Nayeon, did you tell everyone we were hanging out?”

Nayeon shrugged nonchalantly. “I might’ve mentioned it in the group chat...”

Jihyo facepalmed, but she couldn’t help but laugh. *“Well, there goes our quiet day.”*

Diabolos laughed softly, wrapping an arm around Jihyo’s shoulders and pulling her close. “It’s alright. The more, the merrier, right?”

Jihyo leaned into him, smiling despite herself. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

Within the next hour, the apartment was buzzing with energy. Dahyun showed up with DJ and Tzuyu in tow, carrying bags of snacks and drinks. Jeongyeon arrived with a mischievous grin, already scheming some sort of prank with Dahyun. Sana arrived latched to Broly’s hip with her trademark bubbly personality and champagne. Momo brought Daizohan. Chaeyoung and Mina were the last to arrive, holding hands and giggling like they were in on a secret as their boyfriends followed behind with quiet appreciative smiles.

As the apartment filled with laughter, conversation, and the smells of takeout, Jihyo looked around at her members, their partners, and Diabolos beside her, her heart swelling with warmth.

*“It’s chaotic,”* Voljune said softly, her tone full of affection. *“But it’s our chaos.”*

Jihyo nodded internally. *“Yeah. It really is.”*

Diabolos wrapped his arm around Jihyo to ground himself.

“Is someone anxious?” Jihyo asked as she looked up at her boyfriend.

Diabolos smiled as he looked down at her before kissing her forehead, “not anymore,”

Despite the unexpected visit and the way the day had spiraled into a full-on party, she couldn’t help but feel grateful for the life she had built with Diabolos, her members, and her extended family. They were loud, spontaneous, and a little over the top, but she wouldn’t trade this feeling for anything in the world.

Diabolos caught her eye, giving her a soft, knowing smile. Without words, they shared a moment of quiet understanding amid the noise and laughter.

It was perfect, just the way it was.

As the evening wore on, the apartment buzzed with conversations in different corners, and everyone relaxed and enjoyed the impromptu gathering. Jihyo found herself sitting on the couch with Mina, Diabolos, and Mina’s boyfriend, Richter, a soft-spoken but kind-hearted man who had a natural talent for blending into the group despite being relatively new to their circle.

The four of them were speaking English, a comfortable language for Mina and Richter, and something Diabolos seemed to switch into effortlessly. Jihyo was doing her best to keep up, her English was solid but slower as she worked through her sentences. Diabolos, on the other hand, spoke it fluently, though there was a noticeable difference in the way he sounded compared to Richter.

Mina tilted her head, her curiosity piqued by the way Diabolos' voice carried through the conversation. “Dio, your English... it sounds so different. It’s not like the Americans I know.”

Richter nodded in agreement. “Yeah, I noticed that too. Most Americans have a more nasal, higher tone, but you… yours is deeper. Almost throaty.”

Diabolos chuckled softly, his voice rumbling in that low, gravelly way. “I guess I’ve always sounded like this. Not much I can do about it.”

Mina squinted playfully at him and then laughed. “You sound like a bear! So gruff and deep. It’s like your voice comes from the earth, not your throat.” she said as she made herself appear bigger as if mimicking a bear.

The joke caught everyone by surprise, and Jihyo laughed along with them, but as Mina’s words sank in, they triggered something deep inside her, something Voljune had been quietly holding back.

Suddenly, the room around her seemed to blur and shift. Jihyo’s heart skipped a beat as a flood of memories—not hers, but Voljune’s—rushed into her mind. She was pulled back into the past, to a moment long before she had ever met Diabolos.

In the memory, Jihyo (or rather, Voljune) was flying through space in a small, dimly lit ship. The atmosphere was tense, thick with uncertainty and dread. Diabolos sat in the co-pilot seat beside her, silent, his face pale and drawn. He hadn’t spoken since the Severing. His chest rose and fell with shallow breaths, but his eyes were far away, distant. There was an overwhelming heaviness in the air—Voljune could feel it even now through Jihyo’s senses.

She looked over at him, at the man who had survived the impossible, who had endured Narset’s brutal Severing. His face was etched with pain, and yet, he was alive. But something was different, something was lost. His voice, when he spoke, had changed. The man she had once known had been replaced by someone else—someone quieter, sadder.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he broke the silence.

“Thank you... for saving me.” His voice was rough, deeper than it had been before. It came from somewhere deep within him as if it had been dragged from the depths of his soul. And the pain in his eyes, that raw, untouchable hurt—it cut Voljune to the core.

At that moment, she realized just how much Diabolos had lost. Not just his voice, but a part of himself. He was no longer the same person she had known before. And neither was she.

The memory faded, and Jihyo blinked back to the present, the warmth of the apartment and the laughter of her friends washing over her like a wave. But the echo of that memory lingered in her chest, heavy and heart-wrenching. Unconsciously, a single tear slipped down her cheek.

Diabolos, who had been quietly watching her, noticed immediately. His expression softened as he reached over, gently wiping the tear away with his thumb.

“Don’t worry,” he whispered his voice that same deep, gravelly tone that both Jihyo and Voljune had come to love. “It will be okay.”

Jihyo’s heart swelled as she looked into his eyes, and for a moment, the line between past and present blurred. Voljune’s memories, the weight of their shared experiences, and the love they both had for this man—they all converged into one undeniable truth.

*He survived. And he’s still here.*

She smiled up at him, the tear already forgotten as she leaned into his warmth. “Yeah,” she said softly. “I know.”

Voljune, too, stirred gently within her, no longer holding onto the pain of that memory, but instead embracing the comfort of the present. The two of them—Jihyo and Voljune—felt a deep sense of peace at that moment. They had each other, they had Diabolos, and they had their friends.

As the conversation around them resumed, the three of them—Jihyo, Voljune, and Diabolos—shared a quiet, unspoken connection, one built on love, resilience, and an understanding that ran far deeper than words.

As the party wore on fatigue and yawns spread through the group like a plague, but Nayeon in her foresight said, “Sleepover!” Jihyo sighed but Dio relented as the rest of the girls quickly all agreed. She went to her car and pulled out all the matching pajamas she had bought. Everyone laughed except Dio as he began to notice cracks in her smile.

As the party began to wind down, laughter and conversation faded into a comfortable lull. Dio, always quietly observant, noticed Nayeon slipping away from the group, her usual sparkle dimmed by something only he seemed to notice. Jihyo, ever in tune with him, followed his gaze. Standing beside her, Mark also noticed, shifting uncomfortably. But Jihyo placed a gentle hand on his arm, smiling warmly.

“Dio’s got this,” she reassured him. “Let’s give them some space.”

Mark glanced at Dio, who was already making his way toward Nayeon with the quiet, steady calm that had become second nature to him. There was a strength in Dio that wasn’t about physical power, though it was easy to mistake it for that at first. It was in the way he carried himself, a quiet presence that made people feel safe like they could lean on him without being judged.

Dio found Nayeon sitting in a quieter corner of the apartment, staring off into space, her shoulders slightly hunched as if weighed down by unseen thoughts. He approached her slowly, not wanting to startle her, and gently tapped her shoulder.

“Hey, Nay,” he said softly, his voice full of warmth and care. “Is everything alright?”

Nayeon turned, her face breaking into a forced smile, though the tightness around her eyes betrayed her. She was trying so hard to appear fine, to keep up her strong facade, but Dio could see through it.

“Yeah, everything’s great,” she replied, too quickly, her tone guarded. “Why do you ask?”

Dio studied her for a moment, his eyes kind and patient. He wasn’t the type to push people to share what they weren’t ready to, but his mere presence often encouraged others to open up. He chose his words carefully, not wanting to pressure her.

“It’s nothing,” he said softly, with a reassuring smile. “Just checking in.”

Then, without hesitation, he enveloped her in a gentle hug. Nayeon froze for a second, her defenses wavering, before she finally let out a shaky breath. In his arms, she felt his warmth, his steady heartbeat, and the sense that she didn’t have to carry everything on her own. That was what Dio did—he made you feel safe like your burdens were shared, even if only for a moment.

And that’s when Nayeon broke. Her walls came tumbling down, and she clung to him, burying her face in his chest as her tears spilled over.

“I’m so scared, Dio,” she sobbed. “What if… what if Twice isn’t forever? What if ten years is it? What if… we don’t last?”

From her vantage point, Jihyo smiled gently as she watched Dio comfort Nayeon. She had been in that exact position many times herself, seeking solace in Dio’s quiet strength. There was something about him that made her feel seen and understood in a way no one else could quite match. She turned to Mark, who looked like he wanted to rush over and comfort Nayeon himself, but Jihyo shook her head slightly, her eyes twinkling with reassurance.

“He’s got this,” she whispered, and Mark nodded, settling back.

Out on the balcony, away from prying eyes, Dio led Nayeon to a chair and sat beside her, still holding her hand as she sniffled and wiped her tears. The cool night air helped to calm her, but it was Dio’s steady presence that truly soothed her frayed nerves.

“Twice is already forever,” Dio said, his voice calm but certain.

Nayeon looked up at him, confused and still wiping away tears. “What do you mean?”

Dio leaned back, gazing up at the night sky. “The legacy you’ve built—the hearts you’ve all touched—it’s something that goes beyond this moment, beyond this year, or the next. It’s already part of something bigger.”

Nayeon blinked, trying to process his words, but Dio wasn’t just being philosophical. He knew, better than anyone, how far their impact truly reached. There were worlds, literal worlds, far from Earth where Twice’s music had found its way, where “One” gathered and celebrated the group that had become a universal symbol of love and hope.

“As long as there are stars in the sky, there will always be Once. And as long as there’s Once, there will always be Twice,” he continued, his voice low and soothing. “It doesn’t matter what happens to the group—whether you’re on stage together or not. That love, that connection, will last no matter what. You’ve already created something eternal.”

Nayeon’s tears slowed, his words sinking in as a warm sense of comfort filled her. She smiled, a little watery still, but the fear that had gripped her heart began to ease.

“So… you’re saying we’ve already won?” she asked softly, a bit of her usual sass creeping back into her tone.

Dio chuckled, a deep, warm sound. “Yeah, you’ve already won. No matter what comes next.”

Nayeon sniffled again, this time out of relief, and wiped her eyes. “When did you get so soft-hearted?”

Dio shrugged with a playful grin. “I always was.”

Nayeon laughed, a real laugh this time, and the sound filled Dio with quiet satisfaction. Jihyo had told him once that Nayeon needed these moments of reassurance, to feel grounded when her insecurities flared up. And he had learned, from his own pain and struggles, how important it was to remind others of their worth, their impact.

From the balcony, Dio and Nayeon could hear the soft hum of the party continuing inside, but for this moment, it was just the two of them and the silent assurance that everything would be okay.

As they walked back inside, Nayeon shivered in the cool night air. Jihyo’s smile lingered as they rejoined the party, but something stirred within her. The room seemed to shift, subtly at first, as if the air grew thicker, heavier. Then, the sensation deepened, and she felt a pull—Voljune’s presence awakening inside her, memories unfurling like a delicate, intricate web. Her vision blurred slightly, and suddenly, she was no longer in the present.

The scene around her morphed, transporting her into a memory not her own.

---

It was a long time ago, in a strange, desolate place. Voljune's memory opened up fully before Jihyo’s eyes. She saw the room—sterile, cold, and dimly lit. In the center of it stood Diabolos. He was younger then, though not by much, but there was something raw about him, something unrefined. His tall frame looked tense, ready for a fight, but his eyes—his eyes told a different story. Beneath the hardness, Jihyo could see it: a quiet vulnerability, a softness that hadn't yet been buried by the years of torment to come.

Voljune had been wary, uncertain. It was her first time seeing him, sensing him. She could feel the power coursing through his veins, but it was more than that. There was something about the way he carried himself, something that spoke not of violence, but of care. He had been thrown into an impossible situation, and yet, his gaze wasn’t hostile. It was searching.

Their eyes met. He had been expecting another enemy. Instead, Voljune felt the unfamiliar sensation of calm, of warmth. Diabolos, though prepared for battle, didn’t strike. He merely stood there, waiting, observing.

“What are you?” his voice was soft, far softer than it should have been for a man of his size. The tone startled Voljune—gentle, almost questioning. It wasn’t the voice of a hardened warrior, but someone seeking to understand.

Voljune hesitated, unsure how to respond. She hadn’t expected this. She had expected brutality, cold calculation. But instead, she saw in Diabolos a strange, disarming kindness that caught her off guard. He wasn’t the monster she had anticipated.

“I’m here to observe,” Voljune had said, her voice tinged with both curiosity and caution.

“Observe?” Diabolos repeated, tilting his head slightly. There was a softness in his eyes now, a flicker of something almost childlike. “What do you want from me?”

That was the first time Voljune had felt it—his compassion. Even then, even in that strange, cold room, Diabolos had carried with him a heart that sought connection. His strength hadn’t been forged in cruelty or dominance but in a quiet, determined desire to protect.

Jihyo could feel the memory washing over her, flooding her with an understanding she hadn’t grasped before. The Diabolos standing before Voljune back then was the same man she knew now. The quiet protector. The gentle giant. He had always been like this, even when the world had tried to harden him.

And then the memory shifted. Jihyo felt it—Voljune’s rising feelings, the moment she began to realize that Diabolos wasn’t just another force of power to contend with. He was something different, something good. She had been drawn to him then, not because of his strength, but because of his heart.

---

The memory faded slowly, and Jihyo found herself back in the present, standing in the middle of the apartment as the party hummed softly around her. She blinked, trying to shake off the vividness of the past. It had been so real, so tangible.

Voljune stirred inside her, an odd sense of apology coming through.

“I’m sorry,” Voljune said quietly, her voice tinged with regret. “I didn’t mean to subject you to all of that. My memories... they can be overwhelming.”

Jihyo smiled softly, brushing it off as if it were nothing. “It’s okay. It helps me know our boyfriend better,” she replied, her tone full of warmth and affection. There was no resentment in her voice, no frustration. Only a deep understanding of who Diabolos truly was, both in the past and now.

Before she could say more, she felt a familiar warmth behind her. Dio had approached quietly, his arms wrapping gently around her waist as he pulled her close. His presence was grounding, his embrace filled with the same tenderness she had seen in that memory.

“Don’t worry,” he whispered softly in her ear, sensing the lingering emotions. “It’ll be okay.”

Jihyo leaned back into him, feeling his strength, but more importantly, feeling his love. They stood there for a moment, enveloped in each other’s warmth, connected not only by the present but by the shared understanding of who they had always been to one another. Eventually, the warmth flooded Jihyo’s core and she turned to Dio. “You my bedroom now,” she whispered.

- - -

Diabolos stood stone-faced as his mind fogged over, the world around him blurring into a distant hum. He could feel it creeping in—the familiar dissonance, the numbness that had plagued him ever since the Severing. A small part of him, the part that Narset had ripped away, left a scar deeper than the physical wound. Sometimes, it felt like a piece of him was still wandering, aimless, and disembodied, an echo of Ruhan’s presence within him. He shuddered.

It wasn’t just a memory, though. There were moments—fleeting, but unbearable—where he could still feel Ruhan beneath the surface, like a parasite never fully exorcised. A phantom, mocking and ever-present, digging into the darkest corners of his mind. He hated it, hated that there was a part of him that could never truly belong to him again. No matter how hard he tried, there was always something lingering, denigrating his thoughts, whispering things he’d rather forget.

Diabolos sighed, trying to shake the weight off his chest, but it clung to him. Then there was a knock. It startled him out of his trance, and he turned around, his brow furrowing as he crossed the room.

When he opened the door, Jiwoo stood there, her expression unreadable. "Hi, Dio," she said softly, “I needed to drop something off.”

Dio blinked, still disoriented from the fog in his mind. “Okay... what is it?”

Without warning, Jiwoo leaned in and kissed him. The suddenness of it jolted Dio, but before he could push her away, a sensation he dreaded washed over him—Ruhan.

For a split second, it was as though something foreign slipped through the kiss, like an invisible thread snaking its way into his body, reigniting the bond he thought he’d broken. His revulsion turned to horror, and his stomach churned as his body reacted, his muscles tensing. He clenched his fist so tightly that his knuckles whitened. A cold sweat broke out across his skin as he felt the ghost of Ruhan inside him, like a twisted form of possession.

Jiwoo stepped back, confused by his sudden change. “Dio, are you okay?”

He doubled over, struggling to suppress the invasion. His breath came in ragged gasps, and though Jiwoo reached out to help him, he waved her off. “Thanks, Ji. I’m fine. Just... have a good day.”

His voice was strained, but calm enough to keep her from asking questions. She lingered for a moment, her brow furrowed, but then she nodded and left, glancing back over her shoulder with uncertainty.

As soon as she was gone, Dio moved with purpose, heading straight to the mirror in his room. The moment his eyes met his reflection, he saw it.

Ruhan.

There, staring back at him, a twisted version of himself in the glass. Ruhan’s presence wasn’t fully corporeal, but it was unmistakable—his mocking smirk, his cold, calculating gaze. The parasitic twin who’d always reveled in his chaos.

"Hello, Dio," Ruhan greeted, his voice echoing through Dio’s mind as though it came from within the mirror itself. His tone was light, almost playful, but there was a darkness to it that Dio couldn’t ignore.

Dio’s eyes narrowed. His reflection glared back at him, the intensity in his gaze betraying the flood of emotions churning beneath the surface. "I should expel you right here, right now," he said coldly, the anger barely masked.

Ruhan’s smirk grew wider, and he raised his hands in mock surrender. "Please," he drawled, "you act like this is pleasant for me. You think I wanted to be back inside you? Trust me, Dio, if I had other options, I’d take them. But I need your help."

Dio’s jaw clenched, and his knuckles pressed against the edge of the mirror, the glass cool beneath his fingertips. "Why should I help you? After everything you’ve done—everything you took from me. You think I’ve forgotten?"

Ruhan's smile faltered, his expression hardening for just a moment before he composed himself. "I’m not asking you to forget," he said evenly, "I’m asking you to survive."

Dio’s body tensed, and for a long moment, there was nothing but silence between them. "Survive?" he repeated, incredulity lacing his words. "I’ve done that just fine without you."

"Have you?" Ruhan raised a brow, the weight of his presence pressing down on Dio like a heavy fog. "Tell me, how often do you wake up, the fog clouding your thoughts? How often do you feel the emptiness, the part of yourself that was stolen away?"

Dio’s glare sharpened, but Ruhan’s words had struck a nerve. He hated it, hated the truth in them. He could never be whole again, not without the part that had been severed. He could deny it all he wanted, but some nights, the absence was unbearable.

"You don’t need me," Ruhan continued, "but I need you. Orochi has returned."

Dio froze. The name hung in the air like a death sentence.

"Why should I care?" Dio finally asked, though his tone had shifted. His anger was still there, but the uncertainty was creeping in. "After everything, why should I help you—especially you?"

"Because," Ruhan said, his smirk gone now, replaced by something darker, more serious, "Orochi’s return doesn’t just mean trouble for me. It means trouble for you. For Jihyo. For every one you care about."

Dio's hands clenched against the mirror, the glass threatening to crack under the pressure. He wanted to reject it, to reject everything about Ruhan’s presence, but deep down, he knew the truth. This wasn’t just about Ruhan. It was about the bigger picture, the looming threat that had reared its head once again.

"And don’t worry," Ruhan added, his voice dropping to a low rumble. "I have no intention of severing you. I need your continued existence... for now."

Dio hesitated, his mind racing. He hated this. He hated the idea of working with the very thing that had destroyed him. But he knew better than to ignore the warnings.

"Fine," Dio said through gritted teeth, his fists unclenching as he let out a slow, controlled breath. "But after this... after Orochi, you leave. And you never come back."

Ruhan’s reflection gave a slow nod, though Dio could sense the amusement underneath. "As you wish," he said, though his smile didn’t fade.

Duo turned away from the mirror, the weight of what had just transpired settling heavily in his chest. The phantom presence of Ruhan still lingered, curling like smoke beneath his skin, making his body feel alien. The room seemed to tilt as his mind fogged over again. There was a plan—a necessary evil—but it still sickened him.

Steeling himself, Dio walked outside just as Jihyo arrived back at their apartment. She was still wearing her radiant smile, her energy as bright as the sun, but the moment her eyes met his, that joy evaporated. A strange, unsettling tension filled the air.

Voljune surged within her, alert and bristling.

"You," Jihyo hissed in unison with Voljune, their voices layering over each other with venom.

Dio—no, Ruhan—smirked in response, tilting his head slightly. "Ah, sister..." His voice was Dio’s, but it was off as if something deep within had shifted and was no longer aligned. There was a dissonance in his tone, a foreign rhythm. "Please forgive me, but I need to borrow Dio for the time being."

Jihyo flinched at the sound of his words, the way Ruhan twisted Dio's familiar voice into something uncanny. It was like hearing a favorite song distorted, played backward with the melody shattered. Her eyes narrowed as she felt Voljune stir inside her, recognizing the presence of her twin.

Ruhan.

It was impossible to ignore. Dio's usually calm and collected demeanor had been warped, replaced by something darker, more assertive. Even his posture had changed—the easy confidence that Jihyo loved was now edged with an eerie control. She could feel Dio fighting beneath the surface, locked somewhere deep inside himself.

Within Dio's mind, he remained silent, holding firm. Ruhan had pried into his body, but Dio was prepared. He guarded his most vital memories, locking them behind mental barriers. He had learned how Ruhan operated during their previous encounters, and he wouldn't allow the parasite to fully take over again. Still, Dio felt the pull, the struggle to maintain himself as Ruhan exerted more control over his body.

"I know what you're planning, Ruhan," Dio's voice echoed internally. "But I won’t let you sever me again."

Ruhan, nestled inside him, chuckled softly. "Such mistrust... I told you, Dio, I need you alive. Severing you again would be counterproductive to my goals. Besides, Narset—she would never forgive me."

Dio’s heart clenched at the mention of Narset. His mind flickered back to her, and he couldn't help but ask, "What did you do to Narset?"

Ruhan’s laughter died down, his tone shifting to something softer—almost regretful. "She is safe, locked away in a cell where she can't cause any more damage. But she misses you, Dio. She regrets involving you in this mess. She’s sorry for everything."

The remorse in Ruhan's voice was genuine, but Dio didn't trust it. Not entirely. Yet the mention of Narset stirred something in him—a longing he hadn’t allowed himself to feel for so long. He couldn't help but picture her, locked away, her sorrow weighing heavily on her. Still, he couldn't let Ruhan manipulate him.

Meanwhile, Jihyo watched as Dio’s expression flickered with tension. Her instincts screamed at her—Voljune’s energy inside her bristled with fury, ready to confront her twin, but Jihyo held back. She had to tread carefully.

"Dio," she said softly, her voice cutting through the space between them, hoping to reach him. "I know you're still in there."

Ruhan's smirk faltered slightly, but he maintained his control, tilting his head as if amused. "Dio is here, sister, but he is not in control at the moment."

Voljune seethed within her. "Ruhan, I swear, if you hurt him—"

Ruhan's voice came out with a mocking edge. "Hurt him? Why would I? He is valuable to me. I am only borrowing what I need, for the time being."

Jihyo’s heart pounded. She could feel Voljune’s fury building, but she kept her gaze steady, refusing to let Ruhan see any fear. "You don't get to take him, Ruhan. We won’t let you."

Ruhan’s eyes gleamed with something darker. "You act like you have a choice, sister."

Inside, Dio’s thoughts churned, but he remained silent, calculating. He knew Ruhan's power well enough by now and knew what it took to survive against him. But he couldn’t deny the strange truth beneath the surface—Ruhan needed him. There was a twisted logic there, and Dio had to play along, at least for now.

Jihyo took a deep breath, steadying herself as Voljune rallied inside her. Her connection with Dio, though strained by Ruhan's presence, still pulsed with life. And as she held onto that, she refused to let go.

"We'll get you back," Jihyo whispered, more to Dio than to Ruhan, her voice resolute.

Ruhan, still possessing Dio’s body, simply chuckled. "We'll see, sister. We shall see."

As the tension thickened between them, Jihyo felt Voljune’s resolve growing stronger inside her. No matter what it took, she and Dio would face this together—even if it meant confronting the darkest parts of themselves.

Dio—no, Ruhan—stood in front of Jihyo with a smirk that was both foreign and unsettling. The familiar warmth and softness she always saw in Dio’s eyes were buried beneath a cold, mocking glint that belonged only to Ruhan. Jihyo’s heart pounded in her chest, Voljune simmering beneath her skin with rage.

"You," Jihyo hissed in unison with Voljune, their voices layered with venom, their connection flaring as one.

Ruhan's lips curled into an amused smile. "Ah, sister... Voljune, how you’ve matured. But still so predictable. And you, Jihyo—Dio’s precious little companion. How quaint. But you must know, I’m only borrowing him for a while."

Jihyo's hand clenched at her side, her gaze sharp, but her emotions were a storm beneath the surface. She had learned, thanks to Dio, how to control that storm—to stay calm when faced with something as manipulative as Ruhan. But it wasn’t easy. She could feel Dio trapped somewhere deep inside, struggling, his presence flickering like a distant candle in a storm.

Ruhan took a step closer, tilting his head with a bemused expression. "I’ve always wondered... What do you see in him? Dio, I mean. What draws you to such a... subpar vessel?"

Jihyo’s brow furrowed, a flare of anger igniting in her chest. Voljune, ever in sync with her, pulsed within her consciousness, pushing against the boundaries of her control. Jihyo could feel the heat of her twin's rage, the ancient fury simmering just beneath her skin.

"You’re wrong about him," Jihyo said through clenched teeth. "Dio is more than you could ever understand."

Ruhan chuckled, the sound cold and dismissive. "More? Perhaps. But from where I stand, he is little more than a broken tool—a shattered relic of what he once was." He waved his hand nonchalantly. "Still, you’ve attached yourself to him, haven’t you, sister? Why?"

Jihyo held her ground, her eyes fierce as she met his gaze. "Because he’s more than just a vessel. He’s a person, Ruhan. He has a heart, a soul, things you can’t comprehend."

Ruhan narrowed his eyes, his smirk fading into something more calculating. "A heart, a soul..." His voice trailed off, almost bored. "How sentimental. I suppose that’s why you two are so... compatible." He gestured toward Jihyo and Voljune with a flick of Dio's hand. "Your bond is fascinating. Almost perfect synchronization. It’s admirable, truly. If only your dear Diabolos had that same potential."

Jihyo felt a ripple of indignation, her blood boiling as Voljune surged within her. She could feel her twin’s ancient power coiling and ready, her rage almost spilling over.

"We’re not perfect," Jihyo said, her voice calm but edged with steel. "But we don’t need to be. What we have is enough."

Ruhan’s eyes glinted with mock interest as he looked at her, his smirk returning. "Enough, you say? Hmm." He tilted his head as if considering her words. "What I see, sister, is wasted potential. You and Voljune are almost perfectly in sync—an extraordinary bond, truly. I can’t help but wonder... why lower yourself to Diabolos’s level?"

Jihyo flinched, feeling the sting of his words, but she stood firm. "You wouldn’t understand. It’s not about power, or strength, or even perfection. Dio and I... we complement each other. We make each other better, and stronger. You think he’s broken, but I see someone who’s survived the impossible. Someone who’s still kind, still loving, despite everything."

Ruhan let out a low laugh, his voice a dark hum of amusement. "Oh, sister, your sentimentality is charming, I’ll give you that. But you’re wrong if you think Diabolos is anything more than a tool. He’s a means to an end. He always has been."

Jihyo’s heart ached at Ruhan's dismissive tone. She could feel Dio’s presence, small but resilient, fighting beneath the surface. Voljune, too, bristled with anger, her twin’s energy surging through her like an electric current.

"Voljune," Ruhan said, his tone now more focused on his twin. "You’re stronger now. I can feel it. But you still tether yourself to this... human." He spat the last word with disdain. "Why?"

Voljune surged forward, pushing against the edges of Jihyo's consciousness as if she were about to burst free. "Because Dio is ours," Voljune growled through Jihyo's voice, their bond radiating through every word. "He’s not a vessel for you to control. He’s more than you could ever be, Ruhan. He’s better than you."

Ruhan's eyes darkened, his smirk fading into something far more sinister. "Better than me? Oh, sister... you really are delusional. But I’ll let you cling to your fantasies, for now. I have no intention of severing Dio—at least, not yet. There are... greater things at play."

Jihyo’s breath hitched, her mind swirling as she tried to keep her focus. But Voljune’s words rang true inside her—Dio was theirs, and she wouldn’t let Ruhan take him away.

"You think you can control everything, Ruhan," Jihyo said, her voice soft but filled with determination. "But you can’t. Dio’s not going to be your puppet. He’s stronger than you think."

Ruhan looked at her with a sneer, but his amusement lingered. "We shall see, sister. We shall see."

And with that, Jihyo felt Dio's presence flicker, as if fighting its way back to the surface. The shift in control was subtle, but she could sense it. Dio was still there, and he wasn't giving up.

As if sensing Jihyo’s unwavering resolve, Ruhan’s voice faded, leaving her with a parting thought. "Just remember, Jihyo. As synchronized as you and Voljune may be, Dio will always be one step behind. He’s never going to be what you need him to be."

Jihyo shook her head, feeling the warmth of Dio’s presence growing stronger beneath Ruhan’s shadow. "You don’t know him like I do."

A moment of silence followed, and then, as if in response, Dio’s familiar warmth returned—faint but present. The soft, gentle presence that Jihyo had come to love.

Suddenly, she felt Dio’s arms wrap around her from behind, his embrace firm and comforting. "Don’t listen to him," Dio whispered softly into her ear. "We’ve got this."

Jihyo relaxed into his touch, Voljune settling inside her. Ruhan’s words still echoed in her mind, but with Dio’s warmth enveloping her, she knew they could face whatever was coming—together.

Ruhan stretched, rolling his shoulders as he adjusted to the sensation of being in control of Dio’s body once again. It was almost amusing—how he could manipulate the physical form of his “vessel,” a body that had once been so imposing and powerful. But now, something simpler tugged at him, a small indulgence Dio had held onto. The refrigerator hummed softly in the quiet of the apartment as Ruhan pulled open the door, revealing Dio’s stash of treats.

Voljune stirred inside Jihyo, her presence shifting slightly as they both observed from the edges of Rohan’s awareness. They could feel it—the change in energy, the way Dio’s body seemed to react to Ruhan in ways only they could see.

“He’s indulging,” Voljune noted with a hint of surprise in her voice. “Not in power or conquest—but in something so... mundane.”

Jihyo watched with narrowed eyes as Ruhan plucked a milkshake from the fridge and studied it with mild curiosity. She had seen Dio savor these moments before—these small, personal joys that grounded him in ways Ruhan would never understand. As Ruhan took a slow, almost hesitant sip, Jihyo felt a ripple of Dio’s presence beneath the surface, faint but still there.

Voljune hummed thoughtfully. “He is more in touch with Diabolos than he realizes,” she observed. “Even now, he feels the connection to the vessel. He may not admit it, but Dio’s essence... still lingers.”

Jihyo’s lips curled into a faint smile. “Dio would appreciate the irony,” she murmured. “Ruhan, this cold and calculating being, indulging in something as simple as a milkshake.”

Ruhan, oblivious to their presence, sighed as he took another sip, his body visibly relaxing. There was something almost humorous about watching this ancient, powerful entity indulging in mortal pleasures. Voljune and Jihyo could feel the faint echoes of satisfaction that trickled through Dio’s consciousness—a simple joy in the taste, the texture, the momentary comfort.

“What does he get out of this?” Jihyo wondered aloud, her eyes focused on Rohan’s every movement.

Voljune’s voice grew softer, more contemplative. “Perhaps he misses it,” she mused. “The experience of life. Even the small things. After all, what use is power if you can’t enjoy the sensations of the world?”

Ruhan’s focus shifted to a bag of burgers sitting on the counter. He unwrapped one with an almost theatrical gesture, biting into it with a low groan of satisfaction. Jihyo watched, her expression a mix of curiosity and amusement, as Ruhan seemed to savor the taste more than she expected.

“He’s starting to appreciate it,” Voljune observed. “Even if he won’t admit it.”

Jihyo’s mind wandered to Dio—how he would smile so brightly whenever they would grab a quick burger or share a sweet treat. The contrast between Ruhan’s mechanical indulgence and Dio’s simple joy couldn’t be starker, but for a fleeting moment, Jihyo saw something else in Ruhan—a faint echo of what had been taken from him.

“He doesn’t understand it,” Jihyo whispered. “But he’s feeling it.”

Voljune’s voice deepened. “Ruhan is experiencing a part of Dio’s essence that he would never admit to craving. The sensations. The pleasures. The simplicity of being human.”

Ruhan finished the burger with a contented sigh, tossing the wrapper into the trash. He leaned back against the counter, letting the moment settle over him like a blanket of warmth. His eyes glinted as he gazed out at the balcony, a smug smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“For all his power,” Voljune mused, “Ruhan envies this—the mortal pleasures, the joy of living in the present. He envies Diabolos.”

Jihyo blinked, surprised at the thought. “Envy?”

Voljune’s presence swirled inside her. “Yes. For all Ruhan’s power and domination, he lacks the ability to truly enjoy the world. Diabolos can. That’s why he clings to these indulgences.”

Jihyo crossed her arms, watching as Ruhan ran a hand through Dio’s hair. The casual gesture, the ease with which he moved—there was something almost human about it. But the unsettling truth remained: it wasn’t Dio. Not fully.

“You mortals and your food,” Ruhan muttered to himself. “This is the only thing I might actually miss.”

Jihyo’s jaw tightened. Even now, Ruhan couldn’t fully admit it—couldn’t admit that he was starting to understand, even in the smallest ways, why Dio found joy in these moments. But there was something undeniable about the way Dio’s body reacted to it—the way it softened, relaxed, and surrendered to the sensations.

Ruhan turned toward the balcony, his gaze shifting to the sky. “Enjoy the quiet while it lasts,” he said, speaking to Dio as though the man was still present. “Once this is done, you can have your body back. But until then... you’re mine.”

Voljune’s presence stirred within Jihyo, her thoughts intertwined with her host’s. “What does he think he’s gaining from all this?” Voljune asked quietly.

Jihyo tilted her head, her eyes narrowing as she studied Rohan’s every move. “He’s trying to understand it,” she murmured. “Even if he doesn’t realize it, he’s trying to connect with what makes Dio who he is.”

Voljune’s voice softened with a quiet understanding. “And he never will,” she whispered. “Because he can’t see what we see.”

Jihyo’s heart ached with the truth of those words. Ruhan might indulge in Dio’s pleasures, but he would never grasp the depth of Dio’s heart—the way he cared for those around him, the way he found joy in the smallest things. That was something Ruhan could never take.

As Ruhan stood there, gazing out at the city lights, Jihyo and Voljune exchanged a glance. They knew Dio was still there, locked away but present, waiting for the moment to reclaim what was his.

Voljune’s voice was barely a whisper now. “He doesn’t understand the strength that comes from living through the heart.”

Jihyo nodded. “No. And he never will.”

And with that, they watched, knowing that, no matter how long Ruhan stayed in control, Dio’s essence would remain—quiet but unbroken, waiting for the right moment to emerge.

Dio’s mind flickered back to a time when his life had been a haze, trapped between pain and recovery, long before he’d set foot back on Earth. He remembered the distant planet—far on the edge of the universe, a place unlike anything he had encountered before or since.

It had been barren at first glance, a rocky wasteland stretching out toward the horizon with nothing but dust and jagged mountains. But beneath the surface, in hidden sanctuaries carved into the mountains themselves, lived a race of beings unlike any other. These creatures stood eight feet tall, their skin a muted gray, a perfect blend of earth and stone. Their bodies radiated strength, and their eyes glowed faintly with the energy of untapped power. Yet, there was no violence in them, no hunger for conquest or destruction, which caught Dio off guard.

The moment he crashed on their planet, broken and fragmented after being severed, he expected to be greeted by warriors—beings who might challenge his will or force him to fight for his survival. But instead, these giants, their voices deep and resonant, moved with an unexpected gentleness. Their hands, rough from battle and labor, tended to his wounds. They carried him to one of their great sanctuaries, a structure hewn from the mountains, where the hum of ancient power vibrated through the air. The energy was palpable, yet somehow, it was contained, controlled, and peaceful.

They called themselves the Ky’Rans, and despite their imposing stature and strength, they lived lives of quiet isolation, far from the reaches of ruin and conquest. The more time Diabolos spent with them, the more they revealed their history—stories of a people who had once been conquerors, feared across the galaxy for their might. But after centuries of war, something changed in them. They turned their backs on the destruction they had wrought, and instead of ruling through power, they chose peace.

Their culture revolved around balance and restraint. They no longer saw strength purely in the ability to conquer but in the preservation of what was precious. They believed that peace, true peace, required more strength than any battle. Their teachings baffled Diabolos at first, their ways alien to everything he had known.

During his stay, they showed him how they preserved their world—both physically and spiritually. They honed their bodies through labor, not combat, maintaining harmony with their environment rather than seeking to dominate it. Dio, as broken as he had been, found it hard to argue with the results. Their world thrived with lush, untouched forests hidden between the harsh rockscapes. Their people lived long, content lives, untouched by the brutal cycle of revenge and violence.

"You are strong," one of the elders had told him one day as they walked along the cliffs overlooking the vast landscape. "But strength is not just in what you can break. It is in what you choose to protect."

Diabolos had stared out at the expanse, pondering those words. It was an idea foreign to him—he had always believed strength was defined by overcoming challenges, by fighting back, by taking power into his hands. But here, the Ky’Rans thrived without that hunger, without needing to exert their dominance.

"Revenge," the elder had continued, "is like a treadmill—you run and run, but never get anywhere. The faster you chase it, the more you realize how empty it is."

Diabolos knew, deep down, that there was truth in those words. The Ky’Rans had helped him heal, not just physically, but mentally and emotionally. In their quiet sanctuaries, he had found peace for the first time in his life. It wasn’t the same kind of peace he had been taught to seek—the peace after victory, after battle, after silencing one’s enemies—but a peace that came from within.

And yet, as much as he respected their ways, Diabolos couldn't fully embrace their ideology. He understood their philosophy, but peace, to him, wasn’t the ultimate goal. He knew he couldn’t walk their path, as noble as it was. He still felt the pull of something more—a need to confront his past, to face the battles waiting for him on Earth.

His time with them had given him clarity and strength, but it also showed him that his journey wasn’t done. There were still forces at play—forces that would come for him and those he cared about, no matter how much peace he sought. The Ky’Rans might have conquered their inner demons, but Diabolos had a different fate awaiting him.

And so, one day, he left.

As he stepped aboard a ship they had helped him repair, he looked back at the towering figures that had nurtured him back to health. Their expressions were solemn but understanding. They knew he wouldn’t stay.

"Strength," the elder had said in parting, "is in knowing when to fight and when to walk away."

Diabolos nodded, but he had no words to offer. He couldn’t explain it—not then, at least—but he knew his battles were far from over.

Returning to Earth felt like waking from a long dream. He had been restored and renewed by his time with the Ky’Rans, but he didn’t feel at peace. That wasn’t his path. Peace, for him, was something that had to be earned—not by walking away, but by facing the storms that came his way.

Back in the present, Diabolos blinked as his memories faded, his mind drifting back to his body. he got up showered and got ready for his upcoming battle. As he did Jihyo and Voljune watched him intently.

“Do you think he ever regrets leaving them?” Voljune's voice echoed softly inside Jihyo as they watched Dio from a distance.

Jihyo's brow furrowed as she studied him, seeing the weight of his memories flickering in his eyes. “No,” she whispered. “He couldn’t stay. His path was always going to be different from theirs. But... I think they gave him something important. Maybe more than he realizes.”

Voljune hummed in agreement. “He carries their lessons, even if he disagrees with them. That kind of peace... it’s rare. And I think, in his own way, he’s always searching for it—even now.”

Jihyo sighed softly, her heart swelling with affection for the man she loved. He was strong, but not in the way most would think. His strength lay in his resilience, his ability to survive not just the battles outside, but the battles within.

And, maybe one day, he would find the peace he sought—on his own terms.

As Ruhan took hold of Diabolos's body again, his demeanor shifted. The once gentle and calculating presence of Dio faded, replaced by the arrogant and aggressive stance of Ruhan. His movements were sharp, confident, almost theatrical as he relished the control.

"Ah, good," Ruhan exclaimed, rolling his shoulders, feeling the stretch of muscles he hadn't used in ages. "Now we fight."

He made to leave, but before he could step through the door, Jihyo grabbed him by the arm, her grip firm yet full of concern.

“Can I have Dio back for a moment?” she asked, her voice steady.

Ruhan paused, clearly confused, and tried to suppress Dio further, pushing him down into the recesses of their shared mind. But something strange happened. Dio pushed back—more strongly than he had ever done before. Ruhan frowned. This wasn’t supposed to happen. He was supposed to have full control. Yet, despite his efforts, Dio’s consciousness rose to the surface.

Jihyo saw it too. The subtle shift in body language, the softening of his posture. A familiar warmth returned to Diabolos’s eyes.

“I love you, Yo-yo,” Dio said, his voice now his own. “And I love you, Voljune. I’ll be right back.” He gave her a reassuring smile, one that made her heart ache with worry, but she nodded and let go.

As Diabolos stepped away, his mind became a battlefield between him and Ruhan. Internally, they were locked in a struggle. Dio could feel Ruhan’s frustration brewing beneath the surface as the conqueror tried to maintain dominance, but it was Dio’s body—and he was done letting Ruhan run the show without questions.

Inside Dio’s Mind:

“Why are you doing this?” Dio’s voice echoed through their shared consciousness, reverberating in the space where Ruhan’s presence lingered like a shadow. “What’s the endgame, Ruhan? What do you actually want out of all this?”

Ruhan’s laughter filled the void. It was a low, sinister chuckle. “What do I want?” he repeated mockingly as if the question itself was absurd. “I want what I’ve always wanted. Power. Control. The kind of strength that transcends mortal limits. With Orochi back, and Narset neutralized, I can finally take what’s rightfully mine.”

Dio frowned, not satisfied with the answer. “Power for the sake of power? That’s it? You’ve been doing this for ages, Ruhan. Conquest after conquest. Planets have fallen at your feet. What’s the point? What’s the final goal here? More bodies? More worlds under your heel?”

Ruhan’s presence simmered in annoyance. “You wouldn’t understand, Dio. You’re soft. You’ve spent too much time worrying about ‘feelings’ and ‘relationships.’ Strength is all that matters. Control. The universe rewards the strong and devours the weak.”

“But to what end?” Dio pressed. “You’ve conquered worlds, and built empires, but you’re still here, inside me. If you were truly satisfied, you wouldn’t need to keep taking over my body, my life. What are you running from?”

Silence stretched between them, and for a moment, Dio thought he might have hit a nerve. Ruhan’s energy flickered, less stable than before. There was a pause, then Ruhan’s voice came through again, more subdued, but no less cold.

“I am not running from anything,” Ruhan spat, though there was a sharp edge of defensiveness in his tone. “I do what must be done. Those who are weak deserve their fates. Strength is survival.”

Dio let out a slow breath. “You’ve been saying the same thing for centuries, haven’t you? But deep down, you know it’s not enough. What happens when you’ve conquered everything? When there’s nothing left? Then what?”

Ruhan growled, his frustration boiling over. “You don’t get it, do you? There’s always something more to conquer, Dio. Power doesn’t have an end. It’s a cycle. You take, and then you take again. It’s the only way to survive in a universe that wants to crush you.”

Dio’s mind was calm, and contemplative, even as Rohan’s grew more volatile. “Survive... or thrive?” he asked softly. “There’s a difference, Ruhan. And you’re so focused on survival that you’ve forgotten how to live.”

The statement hung in the air like a challenge, one that Ruhan seemed unwilling to face directly. He deflected, shifting his tone. “And what about you, Dio? You pretend to be above it all, acting like you’re somehow better than me. But let’s not forget—you and I are more alike than you think. You’ve got that same hunger inside you. I can feel it.”

Dio’s jaw clenched, but he didn’t deny it. “Maybe. But I’m not afraid to face it. To admit that I want more. But unlike you, I don’t need to destroy everything around me to find it.”

Ruhan scoffed, but his grip on Diabolos’s body loosened slightly. “You’re a fool, Dio. You think peace will save you. That love and bond will make you strong. But when the time comes, and Orochi’s claws are at your throat, you’ll see just how weak those things really are.”

Dio didn’t flinch. “Maybe. But I’ll take that risk.”

In the Real World:

Jihyo and Voljune stood nearby, their shared consciousness attuned to the changes they sensed inside Dio. They exchanged a glance, knowing full well the battle raging inside him but trusting that he would come through.

“Ruhan doesn’t understand, does he?” Jihyo whispered to Voljune. “He only sees strength in conquest. He can’t comprehend what we see in Dio.”

Voljune’s voice resonated softly within her. “Ruhan is blinded by his own fear of weakness. He believes that vulnerability is a flaw. But Dio… he embraces it. That’s why he’s different. That’s why he’s stronger.”

Jihyo nodded, her heart swelling with pride. She watched Diabolos’s body, noting the subtle shifts in his posture. It was Dio again, she could feel it. But Ruhan lingered, a shadow in the background.

“He doesn’t see what we see in Dio,” Jihyo said quietly. “He can only see him as a vessel. A tool. But Dio is so much more than that.”

Voljune hummed in agreement. “That’s why we’ll win. Not because of brute force, but because we fight with our hearts, not just our fists.”

Jihyo smiled softly, her gaze fixed on Diabolos as he took a steadying breath, the internal dialogue with Ruhan still raging in the depths of his mind. She knew Dio would come through—he always did.

And when he did, he would show Ruhan just how wrong he was about what true strength really meant.

As Diabolos and Ruhan soared through the stars, the ship they were on hummed with an uneasy energy. The silence between them was thick with tension, the kind that could break at any moment. Ruhan was in control, steering the vessel toward the planetary ruins Orochi had begun to consume. Yet, despite his command over Diabolos's body, he could feel Dio's presence just beneath the surface—a coiled serpent, ready to strike if Ruhan let his guard down for even a second.

In the dimly lit corners of the ship, Ruhan’s soldiers whispered amongst themselves. Most of them had followed Ruhan through countless conquests, planets scorched, and civilizations reduced to ash. They were battle-hardened warriors, yet now, many felt a fear they hadn’t experienced in years. Diabolos, Ruhan’s most volatile and dangerous host, was back. And though they had seen him in action before, something was different this time. The usual raw chaos and fury that accompanied Diabolos had been replaced by a malignant calm—a terrifying stillness that hinted at something far more dangerous than brute strength.

A group of Ruhan’s lieutenants huddled near the back of the ship, casting uneasy glances at Diabolos. One of them, a seasoned warrior with gray streaks in his hair and a scar running down his cheek, turned to his comrade with wide eyes.

"I forgot how formidable they were together," he whispered, his voice barely audible over the hum of the ship.

The other, a captain with sharp, calculating eyes, nodded grimly. “It’s unnerving. It’s like their energies match so perfectly, but they despise each other. It makes no sense.”

The lieutenant glanced over at Diabolos, who stood at the ship’s helm with an eerie stillness, his eyes glowing faintly with the shared power between him and Ruhan. “I know, right? Ruhan’s always been obsessed with Narset, thinking she’s the perfect host, but it's not true. Diabolos—he’s the one. And it’s not even close. If it wasn’t for them working together, Ruhan would never have been able to build this empire.”

The captain’s gaze darkened. “Diabolos is more than just a host. He’s unpredictable. Even Ruhan can’t fully control him, and that’s what makes him dangerous. Narset may have power, but Diabolos… he’s something else. Something Ruhan fears, even if he won’t admit it.”

They both watched as Diabolos—Ruhan—stood, commanding the ship with an unsettling sense of calm. His body was poised, every movement deliberate, but beneath it all, there was a brewing storm, an unspoken tension between the two beings sharing the same vessel. Ruhan’s arrogance may have made him believe he was in control, but anyone who knew Diabolos well understood that he was biding his time, waiting for the right moment to strike.

Another soldier, standing a few paces away, joined the whispered conversation. “It’s strange, isn’t it? They’re more powerful together, but it’s like a ticking time bomb. How long before Diabolos breaks free?”

The captain sighed, rubbing his temple. “I don’t know. But I do know that when it happens, we’d better be far away from the blast.”

The planetary ruins loomed ahead, a vast wasteland consumed by Orochi’s relentless hunger. As the ship descended, the soldiers braced themselves, knowing full well that what lay ahead would be a battle like none they had ever fought before. But the real war, the one between Ruhan and Diabolos, was already underway.

As the landscape of desolation spread out beneath them, Diabolos instantly recognized the remnants of a planet he had once annihilated: Hebo, the sapient planet, whose cries for survival had echoed in his mind long after the destruction. Memories surged within him—fragments of lives extinguished, hopes dashed, and a vibrant world turned to ash.

"Surprised?" Ruhan’s voice cut through Diabolos’s reverie, his amusement masking a deeper concern. He could feel Diabolos’s distress radiating through their shared psyche. But silence greeted him, heavy and foreboding, amplifying Ruhan’s unease. Diabolos loved to talk, to connect. His silence now signaled something serious—either a strategic maneuver or an emotional upheaval. It was likely both.

Dio knew he was standing on the precipice of his worst-case scenario. The weight of his past actions pressed down on him, a suffocating shroud. He needed to be smart, to act prudently. Drawing on the energy that coursed through him, he summoned the Imagin Saber, its hilt warm against his palm. The blade shimmered with the potential of their combined power, but at this moment, it felt like a reminder of his burden.

As they landed on the planet's surface aboard a skiff, Ruhan’s curiosity pierced the heavy atmosphere. “How did you survive being severed twice?” he asked, his tone half-mocking, half-serious.

“It’s simple. I wanted to live more than you wanted me to die,” Dio replied, a hint of defiance in his voice. The comment earned a genuine laugh from Ruhan.

“God, sometimes I forget how stubborn you are,” Ruhan chuckled, but the mirth was short-lived.

As they approached the titan Orochi, laughter echoed through the barren landscape, cutting through the tension. “I have been expecting you,” the titan boomed, his form shifting and warping into something that was sure to wound them both: Aerith.

Diabolos felt a surge of fury, his body tensing as he instinctively dropped into a defensive stance. Ruhan faltered a flicker of sentimentality and lost love shadowing his expression.

“I knew this form would garner a reaction. Now let’s end this. I have a universe to consume,” Orochi declared, a predatory glint in his eyes. But before he could finish his sentence, before Ruhan or Orochi could even react, Diabolos surged forward, the Imagin Saber slicing through the titan in one fluid motion.

“Color me surprised,” Ruhan shouted, only for his exhilaration to quickly shift to terror as he felt something pull at him—a violation of the worst kind. In that moment of raw fear, Diabolos ripped Ruhan from his body, casting him aside like a discarded husk.

As Ruhan hit the ground, he felt cold, abandoned, and utterly helpless. Watching Diabolos, he saw a new light in his eyes—something he had never witnessed before. It was power, clarity, and a sense of purpose that made Ruhan crave retribution. He was filled with a need to reconnect, to reclaim what he believed was rightfully his.

“Wait!” Ruhan pleaded, moving toward Dio. “We are meant to be one. You are me, I am you.”

But Dio held him at sword point, the tip of the Imagin Saber glinting in the fractured light of the dying world. “Our deal is done,” he declared, his voice icy.

“B-but?” Ruhan protested, pain lacing his words.

Diabolos faced Ruhan and said, "I should kill you, but Riku wouldn't want that. So I will spare you this once with a warning: Leave me be and you'll live otherwise I will destroy everything you hold dear."

"Who cares about any of that garbage? it's all fleeting to what we had. that power. We were a God." Ruhan screamed in agony

Diabolos, unyielding, began to walk away, and as he did, Ruhan felt something shift within him—a hollowing, a deep sadness that threatened to consume him whole. At that moment, clarity struck him: he had mistaken power for unity. They had been at the top of the food chain together, but that bond had crumbled the instant Dio severed their connection.

“No, please don’t leave me,” Ruhan cried, desperation flooding his voice. “We are one! You’re everything I need! You can’t leave me behind!”

Dio turned his back on Ruhan, striding toward the skiff that awaited him. He signaled for Ruhan's empire to pick him up, his expression unreadable. It didn’t matter what the would-be conqueror’s change of heart was; Dio had made his choice.

As the skiff approached, the chasm between them widened. Ruhan’s pleas faded into the wind, a haunting echo that danced between the ruins of Hebo. The titan Orochi, once a looming threat, now stood in silence, witnessing the fracture of two beings who had once been bound by necessity and ambition.

In that void, Ruhan felt a profound loneliness settle deep within him, a weight heavier than any defeat he had ever faced. As he lay on the cold ground, the remnants of a planet he had once cherished, he realized that power alone could not fill the emptiness left by Diabolos’s absence. It was a lesson too late to learn—a truth swallowed by the shadows of ambition.

as his empire picked him up and brought him to Narset. Narset's eyes widened seeing the parasite alone.

"Where is diabolos?" she demanded?"

Ruhan groaned as his people put him back in Narset. What once felt like a fitting glove felt foreign and alien.

as his psyche overpowered and flooded Narset he lamented, "I finally had it all!" she yelled distressed. the power of infinity freedom from fear, and it's gone. now I am stuck, in this form. Ah, how could I have been so blind? Of course, he was hiding more power, but what kind? I have never felt anything like it. It was somehow whimsical but deeply ancient and terrifying. it was so uniquely him. I had it we had it, and it's slipped through my fingers again." Narset cried as she fell to the floor dismissing her people.

"What do I do knowing that such power exists? I can't live like this I need it Narset said as she clawed into her skin desperately searching her or Ruhan's memories for what could have given Dio that power.

Dio arrived back home later that night, stepping through the door with a quiet confidence that immediately caught both Jihyo and Voljune’s attention. He looked different—not just in appearance but in presence, like a man who had undergone a fundamental change.

The moment Jihyo spotted him, her eyes lit up, and she let out a joyful squeal, rushing to greet him. “You’re back!” she exclaimed, her voice filled with relief and excitement.

But as they drew closer, Voljune was the first to notice something unusual. Her keen eyes took in every detail—the faint glow in Dio’s eyes, the way his skin seemed more vibrant, healthier. Most notably, the twin’s presence was gone. She could no longer feel the subtle hum of Ruhan or the remnants of that alien parasite. His scars, the deep marks that had once been etched into his body like battle wounds, had mostly healed over, replaced by smooth skin. Even more striking was the intensity in the air around him, an aura that shimmered with power, like a star caught between implosion and explosion.

It wasn’t just power though—there was peace, a dangerous calm that made Jihyo blink in awe. She hadn’t felt this kind of energy from him before, something about it was… magnetic. Yet, despite the gravity of the aura, it didn’t push them away. In fact, both Jihyo and Voljune felt drawn toward him, as if he were the center of some invisible force field.

“This is… different,” Voljune murmured, a small frown creasing her brow as she stirred within Jihyo. “Something’s shifted. Ruhan’s gone… he’s gone. Completely.”

Jihyo nodded, her eyes sweeping over Dio, but instead of questioning it further, a soft smile broke across her face. “You look… incredible,” she whispered, her voice low with admiration. There was pride there, as if seeing him like this filled her with a sense of awe.

But before she could say anything else, Diabolos crossed the remaining distance between them in a heartbeat, his movements sudden yet graceful, almost like a predator approaching its prey. Jihyo gasped as he grabbed her, pulling her close. There was an undeniable heat between them now, something fierce and primal, radiating from him like the burning core of a star.

Without hesitation, Dio brought his lips to hers, and Jihyo melted into the kiss. There was nothing gentle about it—he kissed her with an intensity she had never felt before, the hunger and passion raw and unrestrained. His hands gripped her tightly, but not in a possessive way—more like a declaration, as if reminding her that he was there, fully present, fully alive. Jihyo responded with equal fervor, her arms wrapping around his neck, pulling him even closer as their kiss deepened. It was as if the world around them ceased to exist at that moment, and all that remained was the energy crackling between them.

Voljune felt surprised, a faint smirk tugging at the corners of her and Jihyo’s mouths. She hadn’t seen Dio this… free in a long time. The restraint he usually carried with him, the careful consideration of every move, was gone. He was living in this moment with nothing held back.

“Wow, okay,” Voljune muttered under her breath, catching her breath after the kiss. She stared into his eyes and felt his lust rise to the surface. The two beings understood in a moment and surrendered themselves to Dio. His crotch ground into hers during another kiss until they broke it and Diabolos said, “I need you both,” Jihyo and Voljune could feel the desperation in his touch. He needed her reassurance that she was there with him, and Jihyo/Voljune was ready to give it. She smiled as she took him in for another kiss she ground on his crotch where she could feel his bulge surging and ready to meet her folds. Jihyo yelped as he poked her

“Oh someone is very eager.” come on babe let's go to the bedroom. Dio followed her his eyes clouded by lust as she led him. She noticed a change in his touch the hesitancy was gone replaced by an implacable assertiveness and reverence for her that made Jihyo feel heat swell all over her. Dio brought her in for another kiss as they tumbled onto the bed. As they lay entangled in each other’s presence Jihyo smiled.

“With you by my side, I feel like I can take on the world and win,” Jihyo said as she started to take off her top emboldened by his presence.

“You can I know it,” Diabolos affirmed and Jihyo brought him to her chest. She moaned as his tongue swirled around her breast. They locked eyes as Dio switched to the other and Jihyo moaned. She pushed him deeper into her magnificent mounds hoping to smother him in her warm embrace as she continued to grind on his body. Jihyo moans content as Dio explores every part of her breasts and continues to lick massage and grope her mighty mammaries. When finally stops Jihyo pulls him up to her and says, “Let me fucking ride you.” Dio nodded as he opened his pants to her. Jihyo gets up to take her bottoms off. She straddles him and stares into his eyes. Where she sees a list of course but a renewed vigor for life. Jihyo smiled as she sank into his cock only for Dio to stand right up and begin thrusting into her. She moaned as she never knew he could so easily manhandle her like this. She groaned as his cock kisses her cervix with the tip before greedily taking him in for another kiss. She clung to him like a koala as he ravaged her insides with the vigor of an animal before he laid her gently on the bed and continued plowing her. He watched her delicious breast bounce as he fucked her until Jihyo screamed reaching her orgasm. Terrified he pulled out but Jihyo in the throes of violent pleasure grabbed him and said in unison with Voljune, “Put that cock back in me and cum in me or I will rip it off.” now even more terrified. (and aroused) by his girlfriend, he slammed back into her. Jihyo’s screams echoed through their apartment,

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” she groaned as Dio ravaged her and her eyes rolled back. Unable to hold back any longer Dio picked up speed and burst inside of her. Jihyo moaned as she felt him cum inside of her sending her into another orgasm. It was then that Dio realized that Jihyo had an impregnation kink. As every single time they fuck she wanted a creampie. Dio smiled and teased her saying, “You wanna be a mom so bad,” Jihyo’s eyes narrowed as she pinned Dio to the bed, and she began riding him. Her pace was ruthless as she took him in and out. Her eyes never left his as she rode him right past the refractory period into another arousal period. Her eyes filled with need as she demanded he fill her again.

“Please Dio give me a baby please,” Jihyo said as she rode. Diabolos for all his strength and power was helpless to stop her as she rode him again and again stringing out orgasm after orgasm until he passed out.

When the warmth in her core left Jihyo looked down to see Dio was unconscious. She chuckled as she got off of him. His cum having filled her womb with seed. She smiled as she lay next to the poor man sensually stroking his cock as he awoke jolting awake. Jihyo locked eyes with him as she never let go and kept nursing his rod back to life gingerly.

When they finally broke apart, Jihyo was breathless, her heart racing as she gazed up at him. “What… what happened to you?” she asked softly, her fingers brushing against his cheek as if to confirm that he was real.

“I moved on,” Dio said a bit perplexed and unsure of how he came to that answer but understanding it was the correct one. Jihyo and Voljune smiled as they lay next to Diabolos happy to see him so vibrant. He was different from the Dio he was before he was severed but the one that stood before them had a new glow to him that was undeniable.

[dewdropdinosaur]

Kinktober Day 26: Seduction

Summary: Lucifer hadn't flirted in centuries and by all senses of the word, is convinced he has lost his game. But when you look so pretty and sweet across the room, he can't help but shoot his shot. Not that you mind at all. Warnings: Seduction, oral sex, public sex, reader has a vagina. MNDI, 18+. You're responsible for your own media consumption.

Y'all only five more days of this?! Where did the time go?

The air was thick with laughter and the tantalizing scent of indulgence. Glittering lights danced around the room, casting a warm glow over the eclectic mix of demons and lost souls, champange flowed like rivers of unholy water, and n one corner, a piano played an enchanting melody, filling the space with a sense of mischief and allure.

Lucifer, the charming and devilishly handsome ruler of Hell, leaned casually against a grand marble pillar, his piercing eyes scanning the crowd. He’d seen all manner of beings throughout the ages, but tonight, one figure caught his attention: you. Charlie’s beloved mother figure, radiating warmth and kindness even amidst the chaos of the underworld. You had offered your services to the hotel not too long ago and quickly became a staple of the residents, offering a listening ear and aid wherever needed. While Lucifer had been introduced to you once before, rather awkwardly might he add, it did not deter him from admiring you from afar. You were chatting with a group of guests, your laughter like music, and Lucifer felt an unfamiliar tug at his heart—an emotion he hadn’t entertained in centuries since Lillith. As he watched you interact with Charlie’s friends, a playful smirk spread across his face. Perhaps this was a challenge he couldn’t resist. 

With a firm nod and puffing out his chest, he was ready. He hadn’t brought out any modicum of confidence in years, but why not try?  With a graceful stride, Lucifer approached, his presence commanding attention. The crowd parted as he made his way to you, his charisma lighting up the space around him. 

“Well, well, what do we have here?” he drawled, his voice smooth like velvet. Shit, was he really being that smooth right now? “A shining beacon in this abyss of despair. Tell me, what brings you to such a delightful gathering?”

You looked up, a mix of surprise and amusement dancing in your eyes. “Just keeping an eye on Charlie and her friends. They can be a bit wild.”

Lucifer chuckled, his gaze locking onto yours. “Ah, the ever-vigilant protector. How admirable. But surely, even the most dutiful guardian deserves a little fun?”

A playful glint sparkled in your eyes as you replied, “And what kind of fun do you have in mind, Mr. Morningstar?” A soft blush coated your cheeks, it was no secret to anyone but Lucifer himself that you had a huge crush on the King. That first awkward meeting, him stumbling over words and shouting wildly had you head over heels in love within seconds. Though you had never broached the subject, knowing that it might get complicated being with Charlie’s father. 

But it wasn’t a problem if he was the one that iniated the interaction, right?

“Why don’t we find out together?” He stepped closer, his gaze intense yet inviting. “I can show you a side of Hell that’s not so... overwhelming. Just you and me, away from the chaos.”

You hesitated, sensing the allure in his words but also the danger. “And what’s the catch?”

He laughed softly, a sound that wrapped around you like a warm embrace that had you letting out a dreamy sigh. “No catch. Just a chance to enjoy the night without the worries of the world. Besides, who better to share the experience with than someone who knows how to navigate this realm?”

Intrigued, you finally relented, nodding. Extending your hand for him to take, he grasped it with vigor and led you out of the room. “Alright, show me what you’ve got.”

Lucifer’s eyes sparkled with mischief as he led you away from the throng of partygoers. As you wandered deeper into the hotelm the air around you seemed to thrum with excitement. His grasp never left yours, a soft smirk playing on his lips. With each step and passing glance, the excitement turned to arousal slowing pooling in your pants. Finally, unable to bear it any longer, Lucifer halted abruptly and turned to face you. Pinning you against the wall, breath fanning over yours in short pants; his eyes flicked between your lips and eyes. 

“I—um—“ Bringing his hand to cup your chin, eyes boring into yours with a darkened lust, his lips slowly came to brush against yours. As if to give you an out, a chance to say you didn’t want this as much as he does. Seeing no hesitation, he encased you between his arms as closed the distance between them in a swift motion. Both yours lips were captured in a fervent kiss. Tongue and teeth clashed, your nimble hands traveling to settle at the nape of his neck and give a soft tug; illicting a moan from the shorter man. For the sin of pride, he might as well have been lust when he was kissing you with such emotion. 

Pulling his mouth away to trail wet kises down the valley of your neck, your hands continued to tug in his hair as breathy moans spilled past your lips in silent pleas for more. Nimble fingers traced up your waist, tugging softly on the waistband of your panties beneath your skirt before snapping the hem.

“May I? Can I take you right here, darling?”

“Fuck, please, Lucifer—“

 Sinking to his knees to pull down your panties from below your dress, leaving your bare cunt exposed to the cool air. Letting out a gasp of surprise that was quickly replaced with a lewd moan, Lucifer dragged his knuckle over your dripping slit. Marveling at how your body reacted to him, each moan and buck of your hips into his hand, Lucifer was nothing short of mezmerized by your perfect figure. Working his way down, his face ended between your thighs. Diving in, his tongue lapped up all the juices that spilled from your needy cunt. Sucking softly here and there while delving as deep as his tongue would allow(he would not admit to using magic to make it longer), your let out wanton moans and hisses of pleasure. Gripping the wall behind you as your eyes remaind squeezed shut in ectasy, you felt like you were in a dream. Was this really happening? Because if this was a dream, someone better never wake you. 

“Wanna see you cum on my face, ducky. Please, please cum on my face for me?” His eyes shown with hope, voice laced so sweetly despite the filth of his words. 

Good gosh, you were in for a perfect night, seduced by the devil himself. 

[azsazz]

Lost

Vampire!Azriel x Human!Reader

Summary: Azriel's worried he's drunk you dry.

Warnings: Angst

Word Count: 1,022

Notes: Woohoo, look at that. Finished it already. Directly follows Might Bite Back

_________________________________________

Azriel goes the only place he can think of.

He’s long since forgotten the feeling of cold. Of the wind spilling chills down his frail, human skin. Of the sting in his nose, the bite in his chest with every inhale of the crisp, winter air. Of the prickles of blood returning to frozen fingertips after spending too long in the snow.

But the night has always been his safe place, since even before he was turned. The familiarity of the moon looking over him would normally ease the knots in his stomach, the urge to flee in his veins.

 If he could feel right now, it’d be the rolling of his stomach with sickness. It’d be embarrassment, a white-hot lance of regret burning through his blood for the things he’s swore he’d never do to you, lying unconscious on his settee before the fire, your pulse slow and your breathing shallow, tow punctures in your neck.

It doesn’t take long to get where he’s going. It’s a path he’s taken many times, through the winding trees of the forest his home resides in. Deep in the thicket of the Night Court forest between the Steppes and Velaris, bordering the Prison. It’s up in the mountains where he belongs, the very same ones that house other wild beasts just like him; the ones who should never be let out of their cages.

He lost his cool tonight. Went too long without feeding because you hold his interest all too well. It’s been like that since day one, even though he keeps himself scarce for your safety.

Fucking fat lot it’s done tonight.

Azriel can still taste you in his mouth. Not your sweet little cunt, but your blood. He swipes his tongue over his lips, chasing the delectable flavor.

His marred hands shake, because with just one drop of you, he knows he’s addicted to you.

It settles in his bones just like it had when he had the realization that he’d become the very thing he swore he’d never become. Azriel has known that you are the very thing he’s been destined to find, and he’s been very strict on himself, keeping away from you, giving you nothing but the cold, empty shell he’s been for hundreds of centuries. He’s been addicted since you wandered into his senses, the thunder of your blood calling to him like a beacon, the unmoving heart in his chest rattling with a recognition only he seemed to feel.

Azriel’s not even had close to his fill. The nagahound he drained on the way hasn’t done anything to satiate his hunger, not like your blood had. He can’t stop thinking about it, about the warmth, its heady taste, it’s fruity scent. He’d felt like a man again, despite the irony of the situation.

He emerges from the trees, landing in the backyard of the towering home of his High Lord. Azriel stumbles on weak knees like an Illyrian babe just learning how to fly. Once he rights his footing, he sprints for the doors.

The warmth of the faelights spilling across the cobblestones are a welcoming view. They always are, especially when he feels like he’s spent years too long hiding away in his secluded home, away from the hustle and bustle of the City of Starlight. All of his other clan members reside here, but their company has never interested him. Not when they’ve all become respectable parts of the city of night.

Rhysand meets him at the door, the High Lord’s hearing keener than most. He already knows there’s something wrong by Azriel’s stature. The dilation of his pupils, eyes mostly black instead of the familiar and less-than-friendly hazel. The clear flush to his skin after a feeding, the pale glow of his skin golden with the obvious signs of ingesting human blood instead of animal blood and there’s a scent clinging to him that is utterly human.

“Azriel—”

“You have to help her.”

Rhysand startles at the rawness of Ariel’s request. His frantic gaze searches his High Lord’s, hands that he always hides reaching up to grasp onto Rhysand’s to drag him over the threshold. They hit the invisible barrier keeping him from moving into the house to shake his High Lord into action, having not have been invited into the house. Azriel bares his fangs, mind still a spinning loss of thoughts about you and your well-being.

“Help who?” Rhysand asks. He doesn’t bother inviting his friend inside. He stalks out into the night, joining his brother.

Azriel’s plea is broken. “Please.”

Rhysand has only seen Azriel like this one time. The night he was turned into the creature he is now. Pain fills his voice, tightening his throat, dark brows knitted together in a distressed manner. There are often instances where Rhysand wishes that his stoic friend would show some semblance of emotion, but this gut-wrenching one is not the one he wishes to see.

“Okay,” he consoles, using the way Azriel is clinging to him help with their trip back. His shadowsinger’s fingers are digging deeply into his skin, through his finely pressed jacket and nearly breaking his skin. There’s a pinch of pain when his blunt nail does break skin, but Rhysand refrains from saying anything. He will heal, and fast. The human Azriel is leading him to will not. “I will help you, Azriel.”

On a whisp of nighttime, the pair appear on Azriel’s porch.

Azriel growls at the magical powers that keep them from entering homes that they do not own.

“Get inside,” he spits, more to the house than his High Lord, leading the way through the door as quickly as he can. “She’s in the sitting room, before the hearth. She needs help,” he directs, leading the way to where he’s left you.

In Azriel’s haste to get inside, he’s failed to realize one very important thing. It’s the one thing Rhysand catches, halting in his tracks, trying to calm the hellhound that is his shadowsinger when he spins on his heel and snaps his fangs at him.

“Azriel, there is no one here.”

[sylusjinwoon]

{ 019 }

- musings for yandere! sung jinwoo -

disclaimers: dark content; manipulative behavior; mentions of m*rder; i do not condone such behaviors in real life, but this is a work of pure fiction, so anything goes.

DEFINITELY the type to fall hard at first sight for his darling. you can be a hunter, healer, or a mere civilian- it truly doesn't matter to him. for if you are unlucky enough to catch his attention, you will be subjected to his obsession and love- you will not escape from his love unscathed.

the day had been so utterly ordinary for sung jinwoo when he accompanied cha hae-in on what he assumed was her poor attempt at asking him out on a date.

he notices the way she smiles at him, appearing very much like a bright sunflower who's smile can match that of the sun's.

jinwoo was very much aware of her awkward kindness and beauty, yet what he felt for her was nothing more than a mere fondness. if such fondness were to ever grow into love, then he felt certain that such feelings would amount to nothing more than a familial type of love.

and despite how he knew hae-in was considered to be the perfect woman by many-

jinwoo's heart simply didn't burn for her.

after making some small talk, jinwoo waits patiently by hae-in's side for the light to flash, indicating that it was safe to walk across the street. he truly was not expecting for his life to change at all-

and oh, how wrong he was!

for once the light changed and he walked across the street with hae-in in tow-

that was the moment he saw someone that took his very breath away.

that was the moment he saw you.

as jinwoo appeared rooted on the spot, you remained blissfully unaware of the inner turmoil you had caused within the shadow monarch's heart. never once did he blink when you walk past him, eyes eagerly drinking in the sight of your hair and the way your eyes shone with amusement at your phone's screen.

even when you reached the opposite end of the street, jinwoo just couldn't bring himself to look away from you, doing all that he could to burn your image into his memory when he was suddenly pulled away from you and into the sidewalk once more.

the distance between you and him had gotten much farther, and jinwoo could feel his fists clenching in response. feeing annoyed and upset, his eyes began to flash purple in response, glaring down at the blond hunter who's eyes suddenly became wide with fear.

"i-i'm sorry, but i didn't wish for you to get run over." hae-in meekly gestures to the sight of incoming traffic, making him calm down almost immediately while unclenching his fists.

he supposes he should spare cha hae-in after all, since if he had been harmed or run over by a vehicle, then he would further delay his inevitable meeting with you.

looking away from her, he mutters a half-hearted 'thank you,' before shoving his hands within the pockets of his coat, counting down the minutes until he could end this outing with hae-in and bask in his thoughts of you.

no longer will gravity be the one keeping him grounded to the earth, but rather, YOU. it is your mere existence that will serve as jinwoo's purpose in life. YOU will be what keeps him grounded. as if you were a beacon of light that shone a path within his dark and cold world, he would become obsessed with you almost immediately, meticulously planning the day where you would be his while stalking your every movement.

the day he had ran into you, his shoulders harshly bumping into yours as he sent a plethora of his soldiers rushing into your shadow wasn't enough.

it was never enough.

when he purposely collided with you, he had watched you through glowing, purple eyes as you remained slumped against the sidewalk for several seconds from the impact. your eyes had watered a bit as unshed tears were seen glimmering within your gaze in pain-

the sight of it all nearly made him come to you and apologize while comforting you-

but jinwoo held back those urges, watching with pride when you slowly stood back up on your feet. you dusted off any stray dirt that remained on your outfit before walking forward with your head held high, going on with your day as if nothing had happened,

he deeply admires your strength, feeling his heart melt at the sight of you as his world was now bathed in a rose-colored hue.

even knowing that he could simply watch you from a distance, using the soldiers he had placed close to you as his eyes-

jinwoo still wanted more.

even when he spent hours upon hours looking through the eyes of his soldiers to keep track of you-

it wasn't enough.

instead, he uses his loyal soldiers to memorize your schedule, down to the very last second as he wrote down every single activity that you did.

[ weekdays ]

0800: my lover wakes up and gets ready for the day, sometimes making breakfast; sometimes skipping altogether.

NOTE TO SELF: cook for her a balanced and delicious breakfast every single day. it's what she deserves.

0915: darling leaves the apartment and heads to the station for work.

NOTE TO SELF: obtain a copy of her key soon.

1000 - 2100: darling works hard at her job before going home at 2130.

NOTE TO SELF: spoil her well with lavish gifts that she will love.

2225: arrives home to make a late dinner.

NOTE TO SELF: cook all her meals.

[ weekends ]

my darling has a very spontaneous schedule. sometimes she sleeps in; other times she wakes up early to explore the city. i am always trailing behind her, never too far, but never too close, either.

if she buys a ticket to a movie, i'll buy a ticket and sit behind her.

if she enters a restaurant and enjoys her lunch or dinner by herself, i'll pay for her bill with no questions asked.

I NEED HER.

I LOVE HER.

I AM OBSESSED WITH HER.

at the end of each page, he would continuously write your name over and over again, eyes going hazy the more he continued to write your name endlessly before it became nothing but scribbles against his page that looked oddly like a heart.

only when he was certain he knew every aspect of your life did he finally make his appearance, allowing himself to be placed directly before you as he began the process of making you belong to him and him alone.

jinwoo had waited tirelessly for this exact moment.

he spent at least 8 months getting to know each and every minuscule detail about you, forming himself into your ideal man.

when your nose bumped into his hard chest as you 'accidentally' ran into him, jinwoo swore that he could feel his heart racing in response. his arms nearly came around you, trapping you in his tight embrace-

but he had to fight back such powerful urges.

instead, he allows your hands to rest against his chest, pushing yourself slightly away from him. it takes jinwoo a herculean effort to not crush your frame to his chest, hiding his desires with an easy smile when he sweetly asks,

"are you okay?"

jinwoo swore that he could feel his heart soar with happiness at noticing the shift in your expression, turning more shy and embarrassed as you attempted to move away from him.

naturally, jinwoo stops you from going too far, resting the palm of his hand against your back while maintaining the unassuming smile on his face.

jinwoo basks in your voice as you murmured saccharine sweet apologies to him, managing to elicit a delightful chuckle from him as he leads you away from the street.

"if you're truly sorry and wish to make it up to me, then i suppose you can do so by joining me for dinner, right?"

jinwoo finds your stuttering voice and flustered expression to be extremely cute when you manage to give him a nod at his proposal.

now that he's had you where he wants you (hooklineandsinker), jinwoo places a possessive arm around your shoulder,

ready to wrap his tendrils of darkness around your heart-

ready to completely OWN YOU.

the days spent courting you while remaining by your side was such a blessing to jinwoo. never once did he get tired of your mannerisms and quirks, basking in them while spoiling you with his pure love and affections. when he had been with you for close to a year now, THAT was when he slowly allowed his true personality to show, preventing anyone from contacting you to ridding you of the males that dared to look your way...

jinwoo couldn't have been happier with his first relationship-

for it was simply so utterly perfect for him!

with you being so innocent (so trustworthy) of him and his undying love and devotion to you, it had left you blinded to the numerous red flags that surrounded his actions-

which was exactly where he needed you to be.

while you remain asleep in his arms, you were still aware of many things-

like how your cellphone had a strange, blue light hidden within the depths of your camera...

or the sudden disappearance of the male coworker you were assigned to do a project with...

and how the shadows seemed to grow deeper and stronger as what seemed like hundreds of eyes were watching your every move.

jinwoo lets out a low chuckle while whispering longingly to you, "i did it all for love."

as he presses a kiss against your temple, the powerful hunter leans back to reveal something shiny hidden within the palm of his hand. taking a hold of your left hand, he finds your ring finger before sliding the gorgeously crafted ring against it.

jinwoo takes a moment to admire the ring on your finger, in complete awe of it as it remained the sole proof that you now belonged to him.

happy with his surprise for you, he places your left hand back on the bed, falling back into bed with his arms wrapped possessively around you. letting out one last yawn, jinwoo allows himself to slumber as he waits for you to awaken...

once the morning came and you noticed the glittering ring settled against your finger, your heart became filled with love for him, making you awaken your lover with a series of kisses against his perfectly sculpted lips.

sung jinwoo ends up smiling against your kiss, being filled with joy as you remained completely and blissfully unaware of how the ring was simply a thinly veiled chain in disguise, forever tying you to him for all eternity...

a.n. - i have a little bit of a writer's block, but had some brainrots pertaining to yandere!jinwoo... this man is too beautiful to ignore, and i lowkey find myself not minding this darker version of jinwoo... 😭

all stories are written by rei; reposts, translations, and plagiarism are not allowed.

[moonselune]

How would Astarion, Gale, Lae'zel and Karlach (separately) react if they witnessed someone random insulting Tav and her only ignoring the offender? As if, no comeback, no fight, just 100% pretending not to hear anything.

Hehehe we love some protectiveness from our dearies don't we?

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Karlach:

The marketplace was alive with activity, the sounds of vendors shouting their wares and children laughing as they ran through the stalls. You and Karlach strolled through the bustling crowd, her large frame a comforting presence by your side as she slung an arm around your shoulders. The sun was beginning to set, casting a warm glow over the scene.

As you admired a display of colorful fabrics, a gruff voice cut through the pleasant atmosphere. "Look at her, thinking she belongs here. Pathetic."

You felt a flush of embarrassment but chose to ignore the insult, keeping your attention on the fabrics. Karlach, however, immediately bristled, her temper flaring up.

"Oi!" she barked, her voice commanding and loud enough to make several heads turn. "You got a problem with her?"

The offender, a scruffy-looking man with a sneer on his face, shrugged nonchalantly. "Just calling it like I see it."

Karlach stepped forward, her eyes blazing with anger. "And what you should see is a beautiful woman who has more strength in her little finger than you do in your entire body," she said, her voice dripping with contempt. "Buddy, you don't know who you're dealing with."

The man took a step back, intimidated by Karlach's fierce demeanor and the flames flickering from her skin.

"I didn't mean anything by it," he muttered, suddenly looking very small.

"Apologize," Karlach demanded, crossing her arms over her chest, her muscles bulging. You couldn't help but smile at her.

The man mumbled a quick apology before scurrying away, his tail between his legs. Karlach turned back to you, her expression softening as she saw the tension in your shoulders.

"You okay, love?" she asked, her voice gentle now.

You nodded, a small smile playing on your lips. "Thank you, Karlach. You didn't have to do that."

She grinned, wrapping an arm back around your shoulders and pulling you close. "Of course I did. No one gets to talk to my girl like that."

You leaned into her, feeling a rush of warmth and gratitude. "I'm lucky to have you."

"Damn right you are," she replied with a wink. "Now, let's get you something nice. I think you deserve a treat after that nonsense."

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Lae'zel:

The training grounds were buzzing with the sounds of warriors honing their skills, metal clashing against metal, and the grunts of exertion filling the air. You and Lae'zel were making your way through the camp, her presence a beacon of strength and determination. You walked beside her, your head held high despite the stern glares of the githyanki warriors around you.

As you passed a particularly burly githyanki soldier, he spat out a venomous insult, his voice dripping with disdain. "Look at her, pretending to be a warrior. She's nothing but a weakling."

You felt the sting of his words but chose to ignore him, your gaze fixed straight ahead. Lae'zel, however, stopped in her tracks, her eyes narrowing as she turned to face the offender.

"Repeat that," she demanded, her voice a low, dangerous growl.

The soldier sneered, clearly not intimidated. "You heard me. She's nothing."

Lae'zel's hand moved to the hilt of her sword, her posture radiating lethal intent. "You dare insult one under my protection? You question my judgment?" Her voice was like ice, each word cutting through the air.

The soldier faltered, realizing too late the gravity of his mistake. "I-I didn't mean—"

"You will apologize," Lae'zel interrupted, her eyes blazing with fury. "Or I will make an example of you."

The soldier, now visibly shaken, muttered a hasty apology, his bravado evaporating under Lae'zel's fierce glare. Satisfied, she turned back to you, her expression softening slightly. You offered her a shy smile in response.

"You should not have to endure such disrespect," she said, her voice still tinged with anger. "Do not think that ignoring them means you are weak. You have more strength than they could ever understand."

You nodded, appreciating her fierce protection. "Thank you, Lae'zel."

She placed a hand on your shoulder, a rare gesture of affection. "Come. We have training to do."

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Gale:

The evening sun bathed the city streets in a warm, golden light as you and Gale made your way through the bustling crowds. The smell of fresh bread and spices filled the air, and the chatter of people enjoying the end of the day created a lively atmosphere. Gale walked beside you, his hand occasionally brushing against yours, his eyes bright with the simple joy of your company.

As you passed a group of townsfolk, one of them, a burly man with a sneer permanently etched on his face, called out, "Look at her, all dressed up like she thinks she's something special. Pathetic."

You felt the brunt of the words hitting your insecurities but you chose to ignore them, focusing instead on a nearby stall displaying the most beautiful tapestries. Gale, however, immediately noticed the insult and the way you pretended not to hear it. His expression darkened, and he turned to face the offender, his posture tense but controlled.

"Excuse me," Gale began, his voice calm but laced with an edge. "I believe an apology is in order."

The man looked taken aback, his sneer faltering as he met Gale's intense gaze. "What? I didn't say anything to you."

"No, but you insulted her," Gale replied, his tone unyielding. "And that is unacceptable."

The man glanced at you, then back at Gale, clearly considering his options. Gale took a step closer, his presence commanding and his eyes blazing with quiet fury. His hands crackling with untamed magic. "Apologize. Now."

The man muttered something under his breath, barely audible, before turning away and disappearing into the crowd. Gale watched him go, his jaw clenched, before turning back to you.

"Are you all right?" he asked softly, his hand finding yours and raising it to his lips, giving it a small peck

"I'm fine, Gale. Thank you." You chuckle, you quite liked this side of Gale, but you couldn't give that away so easily, not if you wanted to experience the fullness of this side of your lover.

He sighed, his expression softening. "I can't stand by and let anyone treat you that way," he said, his voice filled with genuine concern. "You deserve better than their petty insults."

You leaned into him, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "I know. And I appreciate you standing up for me."

Gale smiled, wrapping his arm around your waist as the two of you continued your walk.

"Always," he promised, his tone warm and loving. You couldn't help but notice the way the tips of his fingers pressed to you so forcefully and it made you smile. Oh yes, this would have to happen more often.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Astarion:

The bustling market was alive with the sounds of merchants hawking their wares and customers haggling over prices. You and Astarion strolled through the crowd, his arm casually draped over your shoulder, a smirk playing on his lips as he whispered witty remarks about the various stalls and their goods.

You stopped to admire a table of finely crafted jewelry, a stranger's voice cut through the din, sharp and disdainful.

"Look at her, the harlot," the woman sneered, her words dripping with contempt. "As if she doesn't get enough gifts from her gentleman callers."

You stiffened slightly but chose to ignore the insult, your gaze remaining fixed on the jewelry, it was rather beautiful. Astarion's arm tightened around you, his eyes narrowing as he focused on the offender. He could feel the tension in your body and the effort it took to ignore the woman's words.Astarion stepped forward, placing himself between you and the stranger.

"Excuse me?" he said, his voice dangerously calm. "Care to repeat that?"

The woman faltered, taken aback by Astarion's sudden challenge. "Oh, I-I just said—"

"I heard what you said, hag" Astarion interrupted, his tone icy. "But I think you should reconsider your choice of words."

The woman's bravado crumbled under Astarion's piercing gaze. He took a step back, muttering something unintelligible before scurrying away. Astarion watched him go, his expression one of cold satisfaction.

Turning back to you, Astarion's demeanor softened. "Are you all right, my darling?" he cooed, gently cupping your face.

You nodded, a small smile playing on your lips. "Thank you, dearest But you know you didn't have to."

He leaned in, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. "Of course I did," he murmured. "Now I believe in fairytales such valiance is rewarded with a kiss."

You sighed and rolled your eyes, pulling him in for a kiss by the lapels of his jacket, knowing that the woman was watching you. Perhaps that's why you chose to deepen the kiss, putting on a show for her. She clearly needed something in her life.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Hope y'all enjoyed it - Seluney xox

[letorip]

i heard your name

"i heard your name and i'll never be the same”

===+++===

pairing: cairo sweet x reader

summary: after a life of fleeting things, you come to tennessee, and find someone you don’t want to be “fleeting” anymore, though she may come with ulterior motives

warnings: rivalry, references to sex, hints at student-teacher relationships, reader is being used (duh)

word count: 4.8k

A/N: i really really hate the concept of miller's girl as a whole, but i can't deny that cairo sweet is a captivating character psychologically, and that jenna does an absolutely amazing job. inspired by lolita, pale fire by vladimir nabokov, and the movie hot summer nights.

===+++===

You became aware of Cairo Sweet on a hot, sunny school day, one that almost seemed to mock your lack of enthusiasm for the new school in its beauty and the light breeze.

The high school was an ugly building, one that sat in limbo between southern charm and the studious American educational experience seen in the likes of pretentious New England. The decorator had clearly not known which one to pick, but no amount of fancy classrooms or bookshelves and Turkish rugs would make you forget you were in Tennessee of all places.

It would be just as unmemorable and brief as the last, and that’s exactly what you reminded yourself while you waited dreadfully early in the front office, in an uncomfortable yellow plastic chair that had one leg much shorter than the others.

The receptionist lady seemed nice enough, smiling at you all bright and wrinkly like old people did. “So sorry about the wait, dearie. Any minute now, she’ll be—”

“It’s no problem,” you shrugged. “I’m not really in a rush.”

The woman nodded, her eyes melting into little crows feet at the ends. There was a theory you had heard once, that the more wrinkles someone had, the more they had smiled in their life. It didn’t fit many of the crotchety old people you had met, who seemed to have frowns permanently stitched onto their leathery faces, but it definitely fit her. She glowed like a beacon, or twinkled like a chandelier of happiness.

“Are you excited about coming here?" She asked. "Starting the new semester has to be exciting!” The entire time the older woman kept sheepishly glancing over at the door, waiting someone to come in. Whoever was supposed to be guiding your tour was clearly very late.

You had long given up on hoping your mom would pick a spot and stay there. In two more months maybe, she would announce she 'wanted a change' again, and you wouldn't give this place a second thought when you left, just as you hadn't given the last places a second thought either. But you couldn't just say no.

You smiled back at her. "Yeah, kinda. This seems like a good school."

"Oh it's just splendid!" She assured you. "The kids love it here, it's just-" Before she could finish, the office door swung open, and a girl in crazy clothing bustled in, dropping her bag on the floor in the middle of the room and spinning to the receptionist.

“I’m so, so sorry!” She said, visibly dishevelled (though maybe that was just her nonsense outfit) and maybe sweating a bit. “I completely forgot I was supposed to do this!” She laughed. She seemed like one of those girls that were always drunk— not in a sad, alcoholic way, but like they were drunk on life (and maybe alcohol too).

“It’s alright, Winnie. They haven’t been waiting long.” Winnie spun around, noticing you where you sat, leaning your head back against the wall.

“Hi there, I’m Winnie,” she said, holding out her hand with a smile. You stood up and shook it in your own, smiling back. This would all be fleeting anyhow.

“Hi, yeah I heard. (Y/n)."

Winnie tilted her head, giving you a devilish smirk. She was absurdly energetic for it being so early. "Boy, aren’t you cute.”

“And aren’t you really forward,” you laughed.

She shrugged. “I think it’s more fun that way. You got a nickname?"

"Eh," you shrugged. You did, from your mom, but it wasn't worth mentioning when you wouldn't be here that long. "Not really."

"Nooo, you definitely should have one," she said, and you raised your eyebrows at her.

"I'm really good, I think," you said, grinning. "Not the most nickname—able name out there."

"Fine," she shrugged. "Suit yourself I guess. Now c’mon,” said Winnie, sticking her hand out to you. There was a certain glint in her eyes then. “I’m gonna show you every little place in this shitty little school.”

"Winnie, language!" The receptionist scolded her.

"Sorry," she winced.

Winnie dragged you around the halls like that, hand in hand and pointing into classrooms; she waved to the people that she passed. It was decent sized school, with a big cafeteria and gym, but not much else unique to boast except for the few sports fields outside. Your last school didn't have that, but it had been northern Alaska, so it made sense. It was probably hard, what with the snow.

“Boris!” Winnie waved over at a man in a track suit, with a whistle around his neck that all gym teachers seemed to wear. He rolled his eyes, waving back at her. "That's Coach Fillmore," she explained.

“What’ve I told you about that, Winnie?” He asked.

Winnie slipped her red-heart sunglasses over her eyes, flashing him a smile. “Still your favourite though, right?”

“Yeah yeah.” And he turned his attention back to the football field, coffee in hand. Winnie spun back to you, with an almost infectious aura.

"So, why'd you move?" she asked, grabbing your hand again and tugging you back inside. The metal door slammed shut behind you with a loud thud.

"Witness Protection Program," you shrugged as she pulled you around the corner. “On the run from the cartel." She looked at you like you were crazy for a moment, eyes all wide, then you laughed and ruined it. "I'm kidding. Not actually."

"OOooooO, I like you. Cute and unserious. I thought you were going to be all square, but it turns out you can joke," said Winnie, shaking her head at you. "What's your locker number, again?"

You handed her the paper. "She wrote it on here."

Winnie took it from your hand, holding it up to the fluorescent lights and examining it like a slide under a microscope. "Ah, damn. You're on the opposite side of the school from me. Like literally, the exact opposite side. That's good though, right? Your first block is Calc?"

"Uh, no. It's uh..." you stopped, leaning against a wall and sliding your backpack off. You pulled your schedule from the top pocket. "Creative Writing, with Mr. Miller."

Winnie's eyes lit up, and she punched you on the arm. "No, fucking way?! That's my first block too!"

You shrugged. "I'd honestly rather do that than calculus right now, so."

Winnie laughed. "Yeah, you and any normal person." She stopped for a minute. "Are you okay if I go off and get some breakfast before class? Winnie hungee," she said, rubbing her stomach. "I also kind of ditched my friend, and I told her I'd find her."

You nodded. "Go ahead. I'm just gonna find my locker."

"Okay!" She said, giving you a small salute. "See you in class."

===+++===

You found your way well enough, and after fumbling with the big metal lock and struggling to put the code in, could actually open your yellow locker and throw the heavy bag you had been carrying inside.

You could see other kids walking up and opening theirs around you. Their doors had metal magnets and small whiteboards, stickers and posters. You hadn't brought stuff to decorate your locker in four years. Instead, your backpack had everything you carried in it, ready to go at the drop of a hat.

The creative writing classroom was down a hallway that split off near the gym, and luckily seemed less ugly than the rest of the school. The room smelled of pine and paper, which was probably a good sign, and bookshelves and glass jars littered the walls with a bunch of other random things setting the scenery for the big chalkboard and wooden desk in the middle.

Most of the other students were already there when you arrived through the double doors, including Winnie. She stood at one of the front desks talking to someone. When she saw you, she waved, eyes lighting up like a Christmas tree even from afar. In her past life, this girl would have been a golden retriever. You waved back then turned away, heading to one of the back desks that put you firmly away from the teacher's line of sight.

Mr. Miller seemed like an alright guy, or just enough of one. He didn't do any cheesy introductions of people, or make you do one of those stupid icebreakers that made you want to die, no— he was straight to the point, with just a splash of drama.

"Hello everyone! This semester my main goal is to make you write. And I mean really write." He paused for dramatic effect, as if he thought it was Dead Poet's Society. "This is not like your other English classes, where you put minimal effort into a 'meh' essay and turn it in, and you're happy with a B. No, I want you to feel something."

After that, you couldn't help but tune him out. He wasn't bad, no. But he was just boring and unremarkable, and anything a high school writing teacher from Tennessee would be, in the way he stuttered or played with the lid of his plastic coffee cup.

He spent most of the class prattling off the syllabus and giving out the first assignment, due in a couple of days. You weren't especially interested in writing as a whole, and even less interested in the prompt of 'write about you,' but you shoved the paper into your backpack and figured you'd give it a shot.

"Mr. Miller?" asked a voice from the front.

"Yes, Cairo?” Mr. Miller said, and you raised your head up, looking to where he was speaking. The hand belonged to a girl with dark hair, and you immediately recognised her as the one Winnie had been talking to before class. She was clearly very smart, with a small stack of books on her desk in front of her.

“Are we talking about ourselves literally, as in our achievements, or as in our emotions and how we feel?” she asked. Cairo looked pretty when she talked, though you dismissed the thought as quickly as it came. This was fleeting. It was important to remember that.

“It’s up to you, actually,” he replied, shoving his hands into his pockets and leaning back against his desk. “Whatever really lets me know you.” Boy, how cliche.

When class ended, Winnie bounded over to you with a smile, her school bag tucked under her arm like it had been earlier. “Sooo, how was your first class?”

“It was pretty good, no complaints,” you said, fumbling with your folder and shoving it back into your bag.

“So, listen, do you want to sit with me at lunch? Me and Cairo sit together and you can totally join us if you want,” said Winnie, still as bubbly as ever. She gestured towards the door, and you could see the girl from earlier looking through the books on the bookshelf that stood next to it.

You shook your head. “Sorry, I got invited by a group to sit with them and I already said I would.”

Winnie frowned, pouting cartoonishly with her lower lip drooping. “No worries. If ever again though, me and Cairo would be happy to have you."

You gave her a tight-lipped smile. "Maybe tomorrow."

You ate lunch that day leaning against a concrete wall underneath the football bleachers, with no one else around, a thick paperback in your one hand and a sandwich in the other, headphones over your ears.

===+++===

"Thank you all so much for your submissions," Mr. Miller said, a stack of essays sitting under his arms as he passed them back to the class. The weather of that Friday was much more relaxed, with a smattering of clouds covering up the sun, the way you liked it.

The past three days had been just as uneventful as the last, and you went home each night only to wake up the next morning and stay equally as unenthusiastic, and attempt to bury your face into the fabric of your pillow for another five minutes.

He cleared his throat. "I've decided to do something fun, and kind of crown a 'winner' for the week, if you will." He shrugged. "It's just someone I really was impressed with, and want to recognise so, uh, we'll do this after every writing piece."

From behind the class with your head propped up on your palm, you saw Cairo tensing at his words. It had become clear even through disinterested observation that she cared way more about the class than literally anyone else— maybe even Mr. Miller. She raised her hand first, offered feedback on anyone made to read aloud, and always stayed after. She was probably itching for the recognition and you figured she deserved it too.

Which was why it shocked the hell out of you when Mr. Miller walked right up to his desk, put his hands in his pockets, cleared his throat like he thought it was a drum-roll moment, and announced, "this week I was incredibly impressed with (Y/n)'s writing."

There was no way. You froze, not entirely sure he was talking to you. Maybe he had just mispronounced someone else's name indistinguishably close to yours. Cairo's head whipped around, face equally as in shock. There was no way. Winnie was smiling at you, other kids were staring, and you wanted to die.

"Uh...thanks."

From the other side of the room, Winnie whooped for you, clapping a little, in an awkward way. Someone else let out a cough. Mr. Miller shook his head, and said, "No, thank you. Your writing was really impressive. It made me feel, in a way that was refreshing from some other things I've read."

Cairo whipped back around to gape at him for a moment and then back to you. Then, back to Mr. Miller as he continued. "I don't have much in terms of prizes, but there is a bowl of candy over there, and you can take one if you'd like."

You nodded, standing up and making your way over to the clear bowl. Why the hell not. Writing had never been something you thought you were fantastic at— you had never shared it with anyone since there had been no one to share it with. Your fingers went in, and out you pulled a grape lollipop, retreating back to your seat and popping it in your mouth.

From the front, you felt Cairo glancing at you from over her shoulder, but tried to ignore the raising hairs on the back of your neck with her focus on you. “Okay,” said Mr. Miller. “Turn to your textbooks.”

===+++===

The grape lollipop was still in your mouth at lunchtime, leaning against the concrete wall and feeling the hot Tennessee breeze ruffle against your soft shirt, moving it gently against your skin. It was quiet out, and you had your headphones over one ear, leaving the other one to listen to the trees and the wind.

That's how you heard the footsteps from around the corner, even through your music. You looked up from where your eyes had been tracing the cracks of the concrete and watching the ants walk by into their nearby hill, and there she was.

Cairo Sweet had found you.

She stood a bit down the way, on the path, with her arms crossed right over her chest. Her eyes were just as dark as before, and they bore into yours with a strange carnal desire. It sent a shiver down your spine.

"Uh, hi?" you managed. She didn’t even acknowledge it.

"So, how long are you going to keep lying to Winnie for?" Cairo asked, her voice as smooth as butter on your ears. It was a question that caught you completely off guard in its sincerity.

"Uh— I'm not— I haven't been lying," you stammered. Cairo wasn't convinced; her eyebrows lifted a little, creasing her forehead in disbelief. She took a step, one agonisingly after the other, closing the distance between you two until she stood directly beneath you, staring up through her lashes in a near haunting way. Subconsciously you took a small step back.

"I have a question," she whispered, like it was right in your ears. You could feel your blood rushing to them quickly, and it felt as if everything was happening in an almost sinful daze, slow and burning.

"Yeah?" you murmured back, fighting against the lollipop to speak. It made it harder to swallow.

"Can you smell my perfume?" Cairo asked, and your brain hung off every word that spilled from her lips.

"Yes," You clumsily nodded, eyes shooting down to her perfect mouth as it moved, then up to the freckled apples of her cheeks. You knew you were breathing loudly. "It's lavender, and—"

"—Good," she praised, barely audible in her sickly soft whisper. You nodded again, head feeling heavy. God, this girl. "Good," Cairo said again. You didn't know what to say.

"I want to read your essay," she continued, scanning the bleachers for a moment and then eyes shifting back to you in full force. She had you right where she wanted you. Under her thumb.

"Uhhhh, why?" you trailed off, confused as all hell and letting out an awkward laugh to cover.

"It's good, isn't it?" She asked, challenging you with her stare and a smirk, as if to say she knew exactly what she was doing to you chemically. "I haven't found many I want to read."

"Essays?" You mumbled.

"Good ones," she corrected you, whispering it slowly. Your gaze lowered to her lips again, her lower one caught between her teeth. Her own eyes flew to the lollipop, the stick hanging between you both.

Your breathing hitched when her hand came up, lightly grabbing the end and oh so gently pulling it from your mouth, some of your saliva carrying with it. She twirled it, never breaking eye contact with you as she placed the purple crystalline sugar on her tongue, closing her mouth around it for a moment. Cairo smiled, then pulled it from her lips and placed it back in yours.

You blinked slowly, unsure of what this was but finding it all too addicting to know how to stop it. At the sound of voices in the distance, the spell was broken, and Cairo looked back over her shoulder. You cleared your throat, realising the situation you were in.

"What're you trying to do?" You asked. It wasn't a gentle question, but it wasn't a harsh one either. Part of you wanted her to whisper back something cheesy and romantic. Or maybe you wanted something salacious to come from her all-too-plush lips, and the moment to end with hers on yours.

But instead she just blinked at you. It was like the question had taken her power away; she faltered completely. She frowned, almost frustrated by you asking, and she didn't have an answer. "Just let me know about the essay? I'd really like to read it."

Before you could reply, she turned around and walked away, as if going back to a drawing board far off in the distance. You watched her go, turning the lollipop over in your mouth.

===+++===

I should like to think that when I am older, the places I have been will make me cry. They will not meld together, in one long train; I will not move from car to car, blazing past what it may contain and never stopping to look out the window.

I will slide into a booth or take out a folding chair if I must, and watch the world go by. I will sit atop the mountains or amongst the grains of sand on a beach, and watch my eyes begin to water in the light of the setting sun.

Your eyes scanned over the essay in your hands, flipping through it and looking at all of Mr. Miller's notes. There were only four, and two of them were 'Wow!'. Even knowing he was impressed, you were at a loss for how this could be considered impressive. It was just words on a paper. Not difficult to write them, or copy them down. You were just talking, but on a page.

My mother seems to think I can’t hear her crying through the walls at night, wishing she were different. Her tears keep me up, and I trip and drown in the puddles of her despair, falling through the surface and into the depths hidden beneath, whenever I leave my room. I love her, and she always manages to convince herself I do not. She loves me, I always must convince myself she does.

It was this paragraph that made you hesitate, standing behind your locker door and rereading it over and over in your mind. There was no way you could show this to someone- and especially not Cairo.

And right there, like Cairo was conjured up by your mind, she was walking right past you, bag over her shoulder and book under her arm. You looked at her pass, the voice in the back of your mind whispering the word fleeting into your ear. It had been a week since your uncomfortable conversation (if you could even call it that) from underneath the bleachers, and she was acting weird.

She was almost avoiding you, and it was rather noticeable. Not to anyone else, who were unaware you knew each other existed, but to you, you knew. When Winnie said good morning and Cairo happened to be there, she would glance away, fully aware of you staring at her like a big idiot.

You found your way into the classroom, and Mr. Miller was writing something on the board in big white letters. It said 'MEANING,' and 'SYMBOL' in a smaller script underneath. He turned back when he was done, smiling over at Cairo and stuffing his hands into his pockets.

She always was the class favourite, and it made sense. Even if your writing was enchantingly fantastic, or some other amazing bullshit word Mr. Miller would write in blue pen that made you doubt he could actually read, Cairo was the one who actually tried. "I want everyone," he said, clearing his throat with a grunt, "to find a partner and sit down with them. This is going to be a partner activity."

You froze. Shit. These things sucked when you were the new kid who knew no one. You glanced over at Winnie, hopeful you'd find a partner in her, but she was madly gesturing towards Cairo to get her attention, and it made you smile a bit at the look on her face— until you saw who Cairo was staring at. You. Your smile went away in an instant.

Her brown eyes were staring at you again, sharp and intense. Then she picked up her bag, tucked the books she brought with her under her arm, and made due on her plan to pick you. You sent your glance away, as if to pretend you couldn't tell she was coming for you. And yet when her books landed on the table with a soft thud, you couldn't ignore her anymore.

"Care to partner up?" She asked, pulling the chair back to sit down before you could even answer. From the other side of the room, you could see Winnie staring at you, looking confused as all hell.

"Uh, sure," you managed. Was she just going to pretend you two hadn't shared whatever that was? It seemed to be the case, and it seemed she knew you were uncomfortable. Cairo Sweet almost seemed to relish in doing that to people.

"So, how'd you enjoy your first week here?" She asked, pulling out a notebook and flipping to a fresh page. She leaned forward, crossing one leg over her other.

You shrugged carefully. "It was good. Boring, but good."

Cairo nodded. "This is a really boring town, so that makes sense."

"Yeah..." you trailed off. She made putting sentences together incredibly hard for you.

Mr. Miller's assignment was boring beyond belief, but Cairo sat up straight the entire time he gave out directions, eyebrows lowering a bit or head tilting after every clarification, like she was making a mental reminder to remember that later. You attempted to ignore her, looking over to the bookshelf on your other side out of boredom.

They were all leather bound, in alternating shades of brown and green, and some hardcovers in sheathes intermixed. Finnegan's Wake and Scienza Nuova, Being and Time and Infinite Jest, you recognised and had read them all. Day-long car rides would do that to you, and it was within reading you found a particular solace from your mom screaming along to the radio.

"(Y/n), are you listening?" Cairo whispered over at you, pulling your gaze back towards her. You nodded, even though you weren't. Her leaning in seemed to fill your nose with her smell. It was lavender, and it was overpowering.

She raised her eyebrows at you like she knew you were lying again. "Really? What're we doing, then?"

You blinked. Shit. "Uh...I don't know, sorry," you apologised, feeling somewhat sheepish. Cairo gave you a judging look, and you were starting to feel like maybe she was regretting choosing you as her partner. She sighed.

"It's fine. Do you want to maybe come over on Friday? We can work on the paper," she said, playing with her pencil. You frowned.

"I thought Winnie said there was a party on Friday."

Now Cairo looked confused. "Are you going to that?"

"I thought you were?" You questioned, trailing off. She laughed at that, like it was a funny suggestion.

"No, it's not really my scene. Winnie's the partier," she grinned. "A party animal, even."

You nodded, feeling yourself relax a little bit. "That makes sense. You're probably writing or reading instead or something."

She seemed intrigued. "Is that what you think of me? A nerd?"

"Uh..." there was a certain heat flowing towards your cheeks, and it felt like the room was a million degrees. "A little, yeah."

"Wooow!—" Her voice rose in a mocking offence.

"—No, I don't— That's not!— I—"

"You think I'm a geek."

"Yeah, only because you're always reading and stuff, so," you argued, raising your hands up. She laughed.

"So if you read, that makes you a nerd?"

"That's obviously not what I'm saying, but the normal kids just go home and watch a show or something," you shrugged. A beat of silence passed between you, and you groaned, realising your mistake and dragging your hands down your face.

"'Normal', huh?" She asked. You sent her a glare, only to find her bottom lip caught between her teeth as she smiled at you, taking great fun in making you red. Then, within an instant, as if it had been flipped like a switch, the weightless look in her eyes shifted to something far darker.

"You know," she said, and you found your heart catching in your throat. "I don't only read in my free time. I find other things to do." She was back at a whisper, leaning in towards your ear. Each enunciation reverberated in your ear drums and filled your brain with sinful ideation.

"I actually like to do things over and over. Creature of habit, really," she continued and your eyebrows rose. The classroom felt even more humid than it had before, and some sweat was already forming on your forehead. Mr. Miller stood behind his desk, and you felt hyperaware of how he kept glancing towards the both of you, his arms crossed and a deep frown on his face at the almost voyeuristic display.

The bell rang, and just as if nothing had happened, Cairo stood up, gathered her things, and walked off like she had under the bleachers.

"Wait-" You were left frozen there, watching her go out the door and down the hall. It took another ten seconds of sitting there for the spell she had cast on you again to be broken, but when it did, you shot up.

Clumsily you threw your notebook into your backpack, slinging it over your shoulder and taking off as quickly as you could. You wouldn't let Cairo flee.

She was near her locker, where you found her a few halls down. From over her shoulder, Winnie saw you coming, and sent you a friendly wave. Cairo followed her eyes, turning towards you and eyes widening. She was clearly surprised, crossing her arms over her chest as you walked right up to her and stopped.

"I have a question," you said.

"Ask away," said Cairo.

You nodded, thinking for a moment. "Why'd you pick me as your partner in this?"

She scoffed at this, uncrossing her arms and rolling her eyes like you were missing something obvious. It hadn't mattered how loud the passing crowd around you was. You heard her loud and clear, and it filled you with a sense of warmth that you hadn't felt since "fleeting" was just another word in the dictionary and not a mantra.

"Because, I think you're special," she said, only to you in the crowd of passing kids. You couldn't see Mr. Miller watching you both intently from the far wall, one arm crossed over the other.

===+++===

okay so this may or may not be a series i'm starting, but i at least know there is a part two that's already halfway done. part of what took me so long and why i've been gone for like a month has just been me agonising over every damn word. so. enjoy this bad boy ig? not that much happens in this part, but i promise the next part will be kind of crazy.