#horse prince my beloved

[coronangelic1]

Does anyone else dont see themselves as the mc orrrr because personally the mc is NOT me. Like im here supporting her wanting to fuck that man as her last dying wish. Im just here to see everything either go downhill or get a happy ending!! The mc is the deranged one not me!!!

[hapalopus]

I was compelled to create a new OC today!

His name is Moussa (he/they). They're a shapeshifter who can be any combination of horse/human, from either/or, to centaur or theriocephal, to silenoi or tikbalang. He can also have anywhere from 4 to 8 limbs and he can generally decide where those limbs go, leading to some pretty freaky experimentation. Also they're a mage, unrelated to their shapeshifting.

Maybe I'll draw his human for some day, who knows. I'm done drawing for now xD

[mengy007]

If I had a nickel for every time I read a book with a little blonde boy that befriends a fox, I’d have two nickels, which isn’t much but it’s weird that it happened twice.

[philtstone]

i love it so much when lotr fics are super lore heavy but also clearly written with movie love in every word

[peachysunrize]

Corrupted by God ⥃ Prince Aemond Targaryen

Summary: after the battle of Rook’s Rest, Aemond comes back to King’s Landing as the heir to the throne with a newfound determination to make the Queen of the Seven kingdoms his queen as well.

Pairing: Prince Aemond Targaryen x Aegon’s wife/queen reader

Warnings: 18+ mdni! Smut, dark content!!!!!!!!! angst, post Rook’s Rest, post s2e4, p in v, porn with a very little plot, breeding, emotional manipulation/heavy manipulation, dark!Aemond, a bit dubcon, Aemond has a hugeeee god complex, mentions of Aegon’s injury, rough sex, reader is not a Targaryen (the pic was pretty so I used it lol), tell me if i’ve missed something. English isn’t my first language<3

Word count: 2.5k+

A/n: pleaseeeeee read the warnings! This was requested by my beloved @sylasthegrim ! I hope I did your idea justice and hope you like it<33 Reblogs & comments are most appreciated🩷

A god among men, that’s how Aemond feels when he closes his eye and lets Vhagar float in the air, flapping her wings once in a while to get to King’s Landing faster. He remembers the nights he prayed to the gods to give him strength, to change his destiny, and to give him a happy life, but today, with his she-dragon soaring through the clouds, he took his faith in his own hands and became a God himself.

A delicious ache in his muscles seeps through his bones, but it is nothing compared to the rush of euphoria he feels as he imagines himself on the throne with his uncle’s head beneath his foot and his queen by his side.

His queen, you, oh how he has done all of this for you. He has turned into a monster, soaked his hand in the blood of his kin while he thought of you, and how he deserves to have a queen befitting him and his reign.

He knows what he must tell the council and his mother, something that surely aligns with Cole’s words, but what he has to say to you has been worded out for so long that he cannot believe his plan has finally reached so far to this point to utter them to you.

He sighs as he feels his pants tighten — at the thought of you and the weight of the Conqueror's crown — and to his luck, the city comes into his view, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth while he guides Vhagar atop Visenya’s hill. He catches the sight of two Dragonkeepers and a horse ready for him, watching how they scurry away from the old she-dragon and wait for her to land.

Vhagar’s body shakes the ground as her feet keep her body secured, and Aemond rubs her scales softly before he climbs down the ropes of his saddle, jumping on the grass before he shushes the dragon again, mumbling a soft ‘Lykiri’ against her snouts.

He doesn’t spare a glance at the Dragonkeepers, he moves past them to the guard who hands him the reins of the horse, and Aemond swings his leg over the saddle before guiding the horse down the hill, bolting through the streets of the city.

The wind blows through his hair as he rides the horse to the Red Keep’s gates, lords and ladies move out of his way quickly, making room for their prince so he can lead his horse to the yard. The guards are fast on their feet to reach for the reins, stopping the animal so Aemond can step down.

He jumps down, patting the neck of the mare before he strides forward inside the castle, the court is already fussy with anticipation of what has befallen their king, but Aemond has one person in his mind that he wishes to seek out.

“Aemond!” The sound of his mother stops him on the stairs, and he looks up to see her running towards him with shock and disbelief on her face, “what’s happened?”

“We took the castle,” he says calmly, almost dismissively, “our king graced us with his presence on the battlefield. We won.”

He tries to move past Alicent with a shrug, but she grabs his arm tightly, forcing him to look her in the eyes before she asks what has been bothering her ever since Sunfyre took the sky earlier that day. But with the look Aemond gives her, she closes her mouth silently, nodding before she departs towards the main entrance of the castle, waiting for the hand to come back to the city.

Aemond scoffs and takes long steps toward the royal chambers on the upper floors, passing the servants who shield themselves from his gaze as he goes past them. 

He knows the path leading to the queen’s chambers like the back of his hand; through the stairs and Maegor’s tunnels — He has walked each way for many nights just to stay behind your doors and listen to your sweet voice talking to your daughter or handmaidens.

Aemond remembers the day you were wed to his brother, covered in a beautiful white and golden gown that brought out your curves to his eye. He was infatuated from the moment he laid his eye on you, and after such a long time, that infatuation has turned into something more primal and possessive, something that he thinks his brother does not deserve, that is befitting of Aemond and not the drunken fool who’s your husband.

Each step he takes adds more to the post-battle euphoria he’s experiencing — now that he’s the heir and the most powerful man, he deems himself fit to not just rule over the kingdom of ash and bone that is about to endure more battles, but to have his queen by his side. What better woman than the already beautiful creature that lies in an attached chamber to the king’s?

A ghost of a smirk forms on his face with each second that he walks within the hallways that lead to your chambers, his chin held high and his fingers itching with excitement in his leather gloves as he locks them behind his back.

Aemond licks his bottom lip, his blood rushing down to his core at the thought of the sight of you heavy with his child and the Conqueror’s crown atop your head. His queen, even the sound of it in his head seems right.

When he reaches your door, he pushes it without knocking, finding you already pacing with a wet handkerchief clutched in your hand.

Sweet sweet lady, the queen of his dreams, he basks in the way you carry yourself with worry for your husband. What a good wife he wishes to say, but no, a good wife to his idiot brother is not much better than a slur.

But to him? Oh, how much of a phenomenal bride-to-be you’d make for him, someone who is kind and deserving of his reign.

“My queen,” he says, standing straight when your head snaps in his direction, concern weaved into your features already. He takes in a deep breath as his eye runs over your form — a red long-sleeved gown with black dragons embroidered on it, your hair wild and free from your usual braids.

“Aemond!” You rest your hand against your heart as you take a few steps towards him, “What has befallen us? Aegon, he—“

“Shh,” he gently shushes you, his gloved hands coming to rest on your elbows, holding your body close to his, “we have won the battle. The castle has fallen and the false queen can no longer have a ground army.”

“That is great!” You utter, “But— what of our king? My husband? Aemond, is he alright?”

He smiles gently, a smile that does in fact reach his eye. There is a malicious look he has that it seems you fail to notice, because even his mother hesitated to let him go easily, but you? No, your soft and loving nature could never go past his mask.

“He is…”

“What? Please, Aemond is he—“ 

“No, no,” he replies quickly, one of his hands coming up to rest on your cheek, “he fought well, and he is alive,” he caresses your cheek as his eye meets yours, thinking how beautiful you look all worried about your husband, soon you’d be looking worried about him and not his brother.

“But…”

“But what? Is he hurt?” You grip his forearm tightly, looking up at him with tears stinging your eyes, “Tell me, please, Aemond, what’s happened to my husband?”

“He’s alive but on the brink of death. The traitor Rhaenys… your grace, such stories are not meant to be heard by a gentle soul like you—“

“I wish to know! What have they done to my husband?!” You demand him to tell you, and Aemond sighs deeply, but the buzz of excitement makes him even more determined.

Sweet lamb falling right into his trap.

“He took the skies quite suddenly, I had little time to meet him in the air. Meleys and her bitch of a rider had their claws in our king, and however fearsome he is, he could do naught.”

With each word that falls from his lips, more tears drop from your lashes, and he feels how numb you’re slowly getting in his arms.

“Sunfyre and Aegon… they survived Dragonfire, but—“

“Gods be good!” You gasp, a sob wrecking your body as he tries to shush you, a gloved finger reaching to wipe away your tears gently.

“I found him; burnt, broken but breathing,” he kisses your forehead, smirking against your skin, “he told me — had me promising him — to make haste and seek you out, to take care of your every wish.”

“Thank the gods!” You ask him, craning your neck to look into his eye, “What else did he say?”

He can’t answer you, not when you look at him with such a yearning, eyes full of tears and longing for condolences. He smooths his finger over your eyebrows, creasing your frown before he leans down and presses another kiss to your cheek.

“I could not say, he was weary, but…” his other hand comes to cup your face, “he told me to answer to your every whim, and that you should stay by my side until he has healed and help me rule.”

“But shouldn’t I take care of him?” You ask, eyes narrowing as he gently backs you up towards your bed, “Aemond, what are—“

“My queen, do you trust me?” He asks as he trails a path from your cheek to the column of your throat with his nose, “I will take care of you, all of your needs. That is what our king wanted, how cruel would we be if we do not obey his commands?”

“We would break his heart,” you whisper, inhaling sharply when he hovers his lips against yours, “we should do as he asks.”

“Hmm, yes, we should,” he closes the gap between the two of you, his lips moving along yours slowly for he feels how you quiver and meet his lips hesitantly.

He kisses you gently at first, hands moving down towards your waist to pull on the strings of your gown, long gloved fingers working on it until the red fabric loses its grip around your waist. Aemond pushes the gown off your shoulders, caressing your skin with the back of his hand before he lets your dress pool around your ankles.

His lips move against yours passionately, his tongue exploring your mouth for the first time, and he lets himself get lost in your taste — sweet with a tinge of lime, hinting that you’ve had lemon cake earlier.

He pushes you onto the bed after he helps you out of your shift, leaving you bare to his hungry gaze. He pulls his gloves off by his teeth, dropping each on the floor next to your discarded clothes, soon to be followed by his belt and dagger.

He can hear the rumbles of his men walking back to the city, but now all his attention is on you, and how he has to take what he has promised himself. 

Aemond doesn’t take his clothes off, he would if he were a lesser man, but now, he’s determined, ready to take the promised prize and faith the Gods have granted him — but no god is intelligent enough to set you as his prize. It’s always been him and his schemes.

He pushes his leather pants down enough to free his aching cock, swiping his finger across your wet slit, eliciting a moan out of both of you as he keeps rubbing your pearl firmly, basking in your whines of pleasure.

His free hand strokes himself to full hardness, thinking of your upcoming wedding night and how he’d take you in front of the council on the bedding from behind, chaining you to him like the religion that has chained his mother to the Seven.

You fist the bedsheets, back arching as soon as he covers your body with his and guides his cock to your soaked entrance. He watches how your lips part in a silent plea when he breaches your cunt, groaning as soon as your walls envelop his length.

“Oh, Aemond—“You reach for him desperately when he sheathes himself inside you completely, not letting you adjust to his size for more than a mere second before setting up his pace, bullying his cock deep inside you with each smooth stroke.

It’s empowering to see you all nude and luscious on your bed taking his cock like you were shaped just for him to do so — maybe you were made for him, molded into this perfect lady to be desired and cherished by him.

“Aren’t you the most beautiful queen the realm has ever seen?” He asks, his eye is hazy with lust as he fucks you harder, finding deep pleasure in how he’s fully clothed and you are bare as the day you were born. He takes pride in having you putty in his hands.

He cages you under him, his lips slotting against yours once more as he licks his way into your mouth while he slams his shaft inside your tight cunt with abandon.

“Gods, oh– I’m— ah!”

“You only have one god, my darling, and that is me,” he groans against your lips, his leather coat brushing against your heated skin while the tip of his cock nudges against your sweet spot that has you seeing stars, “Worship me at your altar, just as your husband wanted.”

You come with a cry of his name, sending him over the edge with your sweet moans of euphoria. He bruises himself to a halt, emptying his sack with ropes of his cum inside you, making sure to make the next king of the Seven Kingdoms with his queen.

The way your face scrunches in pleasure has him almost coming again, knowing it was him who gave you such a blinding peak that has you shaking in his arms.

The sounds of footsteps rushing past your door to the King’s chambers have the two of you scurrying and parting from each other. You are clumsy with how you put on your dress with Aemond’s warm seed dribbling down your thighs, but your husband’s home, your king.

Aemond tucks himself back into his pants, following you out of your chambers into his brother’s only to find the maesters and his mother already there, tending to his burns and wounds.

“Aegon, my love—“ he doesn’t listen to what you say as you try to make room for yourself among the men, wanting to reach for your husband.

“Someone has to rule in his stead,” Aemond exclaims as he leans on the headboard of the bed, looking down at his handiwork before he catches your eyes as you smile with teary eyes at him, nodding to Alicent in encouragement.

“The gods have blessed him with intelligence for he would make a fine ruler, and he shall take care of me, just as our king desired.”

[oddberryshortcake]

NEW LORE NEW LORE NEW LORE!!!

So Equestrian Club had one of their tournaments recorded and posted to magicam, Silver (and Sebek as well) were referred to in the comments are 'prince-like'

Since Silver and Sebek are both dummies, they immediately assume the prince comment is about their horses, wHICH WE FINALLY HAVE NAMES!

Silver has a white horse named Samson. The same color and name as Prince Philip's horse!

Sebek also talked about his horse named Tempest (who I hope is black because that would be so cool)

He calls Tempest his beloved and the "PRINCE OF HORSES!"

And then Azul's like "oh my god guys the comments were about YOU not YOUR HORSES"

They love their horses so much 🥺 Genuinely hope we get to see them soon.

and an extra hell yeah to another Sleeping Beauty reference, we love to see it.

[the-fiction-witch]

Little Bump

Media - House Of The Dragon Character - Jacaerys Velaryon Couple - Jacaerys X Reader Reader - Y/n Velaryon (Pregnant Wife) Rating - Sweet AF Word Count - 2288

Jace stood over the painted table in the great hall of Dragonstone he was going over his high valerian his mother had been assisting but she had been called away for other business leaving him alone at the large painted table featuring the map of Westeros. The sound of tender steps breaks him from his concentration and when he looks up he sees a beautiful sight that fills him with joy

About halfway down the steps to the hall, walks Lady Y/n, his wife. She wears a gown of blue velvet with black and silver details the colours of his house name Verlaryon. Her hair pushed back with a blue ribbon across the top of her head like a hairband, she's barefoot as she waddles slowly her hands on her baby bump "I'm not... Interrupting, am I?" She gasps in the middle as she gets her breath from the stairs

Jacaerys quickly hurries to her. “Y/n, my love!” He kisses her gently on the forehead, then moves a loose strand of his wife's hair out of her face. “How has your day been, beloved?” He brushes her soft curls back from her cheek.

"it's been slow, getting to the kitchens takes me half an hour these days" she chuckled as he helped her to the fireplace

“I can imagine. You are carrying our child, after all.” He places a hand protectively on the small swell of her abdomen. “Are you feeling well?”

"he's kicking away again. Always kicking."

“Ah, our son.” Jacaerys smiles at the thought of the new life growing in her womb. “I cannot wait to hold him in my arms.”

"I'm sure you can't, I cannot wait to see my feet again" she joked

Jacaerys laughs and sits down beside his wife. “I wish I could relieve your burden of pregnancy, however. For your sake more than my own.”

"I know you do" she smiled stroking his cheek "Remind me, to avoid your mother from now on"

Jacaerys chuckles and sighs. “My mother cares very much for you, but she can be... difficult.”

"she simply wishes to tell me stories, and her tales bring me little comfort. Of the pain. Of the stress. Of the loss. The injuries. I think she thinks she's helping... Honestly, she's just scaring me."

Jacaerys nods sadly. “I know she means to reassure but…” He places a protective hand upon his wife's belly. “My Mother's words may be dark but they contain a kernel of truth. The birth... will likely be painful. It is a fact we must both accept.”

"yes however this is our first child, she could at least attempt to offer kind words of sympathy"

Jacaerys sighs, looking at her with concern. “Perhaps... but my mother doesn't quite understand. It is not her fault, love. She has experienced so much pain and loss in her own life that I do not truly think she knows how to offer comfort.”

"I guess not. I suppose it doesn't help... There are so few good birth stories in this family of yours"

Jacaerys nods silently. “You're quite right about that. It's almost as though the Gods themselves have cursed the women of my family…”

"well I pray to them daily. So we can hope they shall spare us from this curse"

Jacaerys smiles and kisses her on the cheek. “If anyone deserves to be spared, my love, it is you.”

"ummm I have been praying to all of them, the old gods, the new, the seven, the drowned, just to hedge my bets"

“My sweet wife…” He sighs happily and strokes her stomach softly, his free hand finding hers. “Perhaps you are right in doing so... We shall know soon enough, my love. Whatever the Gods' judgement may be.”

she nodded "Maester says Only a few more weeks at the most."

Jacaerys smiles as he feels his son kick through her stomach. He grows every day, “I'm sure. Can you feel how strong he is?” He squeezes her hand fondly.

"he's very strong, I think he shall like to ride and run when he has grown, a proper little knight"

Jacaerys nods, proudly. “My little prince. I cannot wait to see his first steps, hear his first words, ride his first horse... There is much to look forward to.” He smiles, feeling the kicks in her stomach and squeezing her hand again. He leans in to kiss her on the cheek.

"Have you thought of any ideas for names?"

Jacaerys considers for a moment before shaking his head. “No, not truly. I have a few ideas, but I want him to be strong and proud of his name. Perhaps a Targaryen name... A small smile creeps onto his face....Or perhaps a Valyrian one. What do you think, my love?”

"not Aegon. Already far too many aegons in this family to keep track"

Jacaerys laughs and nods. “Fair point, fair point.” He smiles at her, a little nervously. “What do you think of Aemond?”

"Isn't that the same as your... Uncle... Cousin... Alicent’s son" she says trying to explain the Damn family tree,

“Ah, yes.” Jacaerys laughs. “I suppose that name cannot work.” He squeezes her hand again, and thinks for a second. “What of... Daemon? A strong name, no?”

"the name of your stepfather?"

Jacaerys looks a little sheepish as Y/n brings that up. “I had... forgotten of that.” He chuckles, scratching the back of his head. “It's true, there are too many names to remember in this family. Perhaps... what of perhaps Corlys, after my grandfather?”

"hummm corlys I like. I don't dislike Daemon but... I feel it would inflate the ego of your stepfather to a whole uncontrollable level"

Jacaerys laughs and nods. “Good point.” He squeezes her hand once more, and leans in to kiss her on the cheeks. “No doubt of this, my sweetest Y/n: however our son is named, whatever his personality may turn out to be like... you shall always be the apple of my eye.” More small kicks erupt from her stomach, and Jace giggles as he feels them.

"... Ohh I had an idea,"

Jacaerys smiles widely and leans forward even more, ready to hear his love's thoughts on the matter. “What do you have in mind, my dear?”

"What about Cregan? You and him have been such good friends since you met all those years ago"

Jacaerys is taken aback by the idea but warms to it the longer he considers it. “Cregan... That is... not a bad idea, my love. A fine name, certainly... I suppose it would depend a little on the nature of our son, but I do like the notion.” He smiles, considering it as he feels another kick in her stomach and squeezes her hand.

"I rather like it, or we could always make him after your little brother" she said tenderly bringing up the topic as she knew the topic of Luke was difficult for Jace

Jacaerys smiles at her, taking in her idea with his eyes sparkling. “After my sweet brother Luke, you mean?” He nods as he realizes what a sweet idea this is. “I like this even better, my love. Luke was a fine boy, with so much potential. I would be honoured to have our son hold his name, with all the honuor and prestige that title carries.”

"It's settled then. Lucaerys Verlaryon shall be his name. If if course he is a he"

Jacaerys smiles widely, wrapping his arms around his wife's stomach as he feels another kick in her womb. “A fine name, my love. He laughs a little. I suppose we would need to think of another name for our daughter, then.” He squeezes her hands and rests his head upon her shoulder. “But that is a problem for another day. We shall first see the fruit of our love born, before we plan for another.”

"umm.. I rather have visions of me being pregnant again before even Lucaerys is walking"

Jacaerys smiles and chuckles silently. “My love, I suppose I should not complain about your enthusiasm for producing heirs…” He runs his hands over her stomach, then places his hands on her hips. “How soon after little Lucaerys are you thinking?”

"I don't know see how birth treats me first"

Jacaerys nods, rubbing his nose a little sheepishly as he realizes the stupidity of his previous question. “You are quite right, love. I cannot help but get ahead of myself. Our son's birth is far more a priority than his potential sibling.” He smiles and presses his cheek to her hip, squeezing her hand once more. “And yet, it is rather exciting, too. I'm quite interested to see you with child again.”

"humm I have a feeling I need to get very used to being pregnant. I think someone likes me pregnant " she smirked stroking jace’s hair

Jacaerys blushes at her words, looking up at her and laughing. “yes, I must admit, I... really, really like you pregnant.”

she chuckled "well I best not disappoint my husband. Perhaps we shall have ourselves a branch of the family tree with many leaves have ten children"

Jacaerys laughs again, a wide smile forming on his lips as he places his forehead upon hers, gently kissing her on the cheek. “Oh, my sweet, sweet, sweet love. Ten children?” He raises an eyebrow as he chuckles again. “If you and the Seven are up for that challenge, my love, I certainly am…” He squeezes her hand even tighter.

"I'm sure you are" she giggled giving him a kiss

Jacaerys smiles and runs a hand through her hair, kissing her on the forehead and the nose before looking into her eyes. “But for now, my love, let us focus on raising our first child together. Let us revel in his presence before we concern ourselves with his potential siblings.”

"your right, speaking of Him. Have you gone out with Daemon yet? To find an egg for sweet lucaerys cradle?"

Jacaerys shakes his head. “No, not yet. I have... hesitated to leave you for any period of time, with your pregnancy. If he had to tell the truth, he had been rather terrified at the thought of leaving his pregnant wife alone, for any period of time at all.”

"you will only be gone for the afternoon. I'll be alright. I'm sure your mother and grandmother shall keep me company with scary birth stories while you and daemon go. You know you won't want to go looking for one once baby comes and you don't want Daemon to choose for us"

Jacaerys nods and smiles sadly. “Yes, I know it is a task I must complete. It is a father's role to look for his son's egg, I know.” Jace laughs quietly and looks away. “But I cannot help but have a certain level of anxiety about all this. I have never been away from you for so long since our wedding.”

"I'm sure some man bonding time shall be lovely, talk about... Dragons, dicks and swords. I don't know what men talk about. It'll be good for you. Ask him questions he's a father to five after all"

Jacaerys smiles, and nods at her words. “You're quite right, my love. You know, sometimes I forget that Daemon is a father too.” Jace laughs nervously. “I should pick his brains, you're right, to better prepare me for parenthood.”

"umm maybe he knows some secrets words husbands can say to their wives to help the labour pains"

Jacaerys laughs heartily at her ideas. “I shall ask him to do just that.” He shakes his head and squeezes her hands fondly. “You know, my love, I have been lucky to have such a woman as you by my side. Most men... have a more hostile relationship with their wives…”

"umm most hate their wives we are very lucky" she gives him a kiss "or perhaps the hatred will come after the children?"

Jacaerys laughs, wrapping his hands around her waist. “I have no intention of hating you, ever, my love. You brought up a good point, though. Perhaps there will be more... challenges after our son is born. But I hope, with all my heart, that there will never be true hatred between us. I could not bear that.”

"I know there wouldn't ever be" she cooed cuddling him before she stopped and grabbed his hand moving it to her bump as a strong movement came through "awe he's dancing for his daddy"

Jacaerys smiles when he feels the movement of their son, his face lighting up as he places a gentle hand upon her stomach, his palm flat against the bump with the fingers splayed out across the flesh. “Oh... I swear, I can feel his whole body moving from here…” His words are interrupted as he feels another kick in Y/n’s stomach. He giggles and leans forward again, pressing his face against the bump. He lets out a small squeak of happiness, feeling the child move once more. “Oh, I am looking forward to holding you, my son.”

"Im sure it shall be a very magic moment indeed"

Jacaerys cannot help but smile as he feels yet another kick from within his wife's womb. His son is extremely active today. He wraps his hands around her belly and presses his cheek up against her stomach once more. “You know, you're right. I think he likes his father... His movements feel quite vigorous now, as if he is happy I am here.”

"he's happy to see you, of course he's happy to see daddy." She giggled "say hello to daddy little Lucaerys" she cooed and just as she said that the baby kicked hard

Jacaerys laughs and gasps at the strength of the baby's kick within her womb. He smiles, stroking her stomach. “Hello, my sweet Lucaerys. Can't wait to meet you face to face…” Another strong kick emerges from her womb and Jace giggles again, squeezing her hand. He leans forward, and places his forehead against her stomach once more. “I can’t wait to be a dad.”

[proseandpretrichor]

Fateful Love; Sandor Clegane x Reader

Summary: Sandor had convinced himself is affections were only one sided, but as fate continued to entertwine the two of you maybe he would be proved wrong

Warnings: Smut! P in V, Oral female recieving. 18+

Never did you think you would be here right now. But when Caitlyn Stark took the time away from Bran’s bedside to beg you to go with Ned Stark, to help him look after her only daughters, to protect them. How were you supposed to refuse that? 

So here you were sitting on a horse, in the cold and sleet trailing behind the sniveling prince, Joffrey, who rode behind Lord Stark and the King. 

That is when you noticed him, Sandor Clegane, or the Hound as you quickly realized he was more frequently called. He was riding behind you, but close. Yet you did not hear a peep from the man, which struck you in awe since it was no secret the sheer size of him. Three days you had ridden in the same position along the procession and you wracked my brain for a single moment in which you heard his voice and couldn’t recall one time. This struck a cord of embarrassment through you causing you to shift in your seat towards him Seeing you in his peripheral he turned his gaze upon you and raised one of his thick eyebrows in question. You simply graced him with a small smile and dipped your head quickly as a sign of recognition of his presence. 

This was the first time you rendered the gigantic man speechless, but it was not the last.

Over the coming days, the King’s company grew to be comfortable around the Stark’s, and thus many of the King’s court grew fond of you. Quickly it became apparent to all who stayed in your presence even for a few moments, why you were so beloved by the Stark family. 

You had the innate ability to meet any and every individual where they stood. Ned Stark could be found walking with you, discussing the various policies that had now become his responsibility as the newly appointed hand. He would frequently ask for your thoughts on such matters, or how to inflict new motions without ruffling a large amount of feathers-it was no secret how poorly the King and his advisors dealt with such diplomacy. You would always give fair and wise counsel, which never seemed to surprise the Stark lord, but awed those who overheard including Sandor. You were always respectful and cautious with your words so that if you showed disagreement even the most arrogant, stubborn men saw your reason. 

Therefore, you often sat with the King and the Lord during meals. Mostly because the King found you beautiful, a refreshing face. That could also be apparent to all. Sandor secretly agreed, he appreciated the notion that you never refused food or drink when it was offered to you, thus you had many curves, and while he couldn’t see all of your skin, Sandor had no doubt it would be soft and pillowy to the touch. He shamefully thought of that simple fact too often when the cold, mushy, and wet ground kept him awake in the night. 

Eager to please his father, what once began as an obligation to entertain your presence, bloomed into genuine delight in your presence when Joffrey saw you. Which also in turn delighted Sandor, who thus could freely gaze upon you more throughout those days traveling. When Joffrey came to collect Sansa, you often would find yourself chaperoning the pair with Sandor. 

You would walk at least ten paces behind the two young teens, paying mind to giving their conversations the privacy you thought they deserved. 

One day, during such an outing, Joffrey stopped and turned to you. “Lady Sansa and I were in discussion about our dream lives. I have heard the Lady’s and shared mine, but I wished to know your’s, Lady Y/N.” 

“I will oblige in your discussion, my prince. Thank you for the thought of including me.” With that you turned and paused brows creased in deep thought. “I think I would like to live nowhere, as in completely isolated from anyone… maybe in the forest next to a meadow, or in a field next to some stream, lake, or river.” You then nodded very pleased with your decision. “Yes, my prince, that is what I desire.” 

“But Y/N...” Sansa exclaimed. “What of a husband or a family? Surely you have entertained such a thing!” 

“Yes, I will say I have.” Sansa rushed towards you, Joffrey close behind. She clasped onto your hand and drugged you to sit on a fallen tree with Joffrey placing himself on the other side of you. Sandor decided to lean against a nearby tree a little ways away, head turned to show his disinterest, but ear pointed to your figure. All waited in bated breath for your next words. 

“I suppose if I was so lucky,” you began a far away look beginning to gloss over your gaze, “I would like a big and strong husband, seeing as I am not a dainty woman myself.” You paused to pat your stomach earning laughs from the children. “However I would want to fatten him up a little, not enough to weaken his strength, but to just soften him up a little. That would be a nice cuddle, don’t you think” Nudging Sansa, who began blushing profusely. You continued, “And since we shall live in such a place he would need to find a way to work the land, so we may grow the food we eat, and to chop down wood for our modest cottage and firewood for the winter. Maybe we would come to collect a few animals, such as a goat, sheep, pig, chickens, maybe a dog so that we may rarely go into town except for the necessities. Then I would drag him to get such things as books, rarer groceries, and garments I cannot make.” 

“What of children?” Joffrey urged on. “Do you want children, Lady Y/N?” 

“Yes, sweet prince, I am fond of the idea. And of course if and however many my husband should wish for I will do my best to make it a reality. I have always been fond of children..” Pinching Sansa’s rosy cheek you brought her close enough to kiss her temple, who in return threw her arms around you. “Sometimes, I ponder what little versions of me and my husband I might nurture one day.” 

“I hope that will happen, Y/N!” Sansa all but shrieked, “I want to see and hold your little babes!” 

You paid little mind to the girl’s excitement, patting her on the head fondling urging everyone to continue on their walk. 

But Sandor couldn’t shake the picture you painted from his thoughts. He fit the description of a man you would like. He knew it was very unlikely to happen but that little nugget of hope spurred his affections to continue growing in size. And as he layed in bed that night, he fell asleep to the thought of coming home to you, children and dogs racing towards him and you beaming up at him and welcoming him back into your arms. 

❃゜・。. ・°゜✼ ゜°・ . 。・゜❃     ❃゜・。. ・°゜✼ ゜°・ . 。・゜❃ 

Life at the castle in King’s Landing was without a doubt more stressful than that on the road. It became very apparent of the disdain for the Stark lord, thus you made it your sole duty to keep a close watch on the little ladies. 

You would secretly taste a bite of their meals before they were served to the family. You would accompany Arya to her sword fighting lessons, and nurse any bruises or cuts she sustained. You would continue to trail behind any interaction between Joffrey, who became more insufferable by the minute, and Sansa. Often you would rarely be found in your chambers at night instead you would be in a chair bedside one of the girls. Body bend and arms propping up your head before you would find yourself asleep in the morning. 

Such was one of those mornings. You carefulling clasped sleeping Arya’s door shut and traveling down the halls towards your rooms to get yourself ready for the day. You really did need to find a better sleeping position, the creak in your neck becoming a problem for your stiff neck to be able to move till later in the morning. This ailment distracted you from the bodies moving towards you in the corridor. 

“Watch where you're going!” Joffrey’s shrieky voice snapped you out of deep thought. 

Looking up to see he had side stepped your trudging path. Causing you to very narrowly crash into Sandor before stopping in front of him.

“Damn! I am so sorry, your highness!” You quickly turned towards the prince offering him an especially low bow for your mistake. Seemingly pleased with your groveling, Joffrey snapped back his walk with a typical roll of his bulging eyes. 

“I am truly sorry Ser Clegane, forgive me,” you murmured to the man in front of you.

“Not a knight.” He gruffly supplied, eyes staring down at your shorter frame. 

“I am well aware of that. However, I respect you very much. Therefore, I shall continue to address you with such respect.” With that you maneuvered around him and carried on towards your chambers. Just before you turned the corner, you called over your shoulder, “I wish you a wonderful day, Ser Clegane!” before you disappeared from his vision completely. 

Thus you rendered Sandor speechless once again. He had never been treated in such a high manor being reduced down to nothing but a brute and an animal. He was at a war with himself. Part of him knew he should follow the prince and continue his task of protecting him, but the other part of him urged him to turn around and march after you. To scoop you up into his arms and pin you against the stone wall, demanding to know what your words meant. To implore you to share if you had affections for him as he did for you. And if you miraculously did, he would kiss you senseless and hold you for all of the time he had left on earth. He would unclasp his armor instantly, place you on a horse, and lead you away from the castle to build you to the life you dreamed to have. 

Yet he didn’t, Sandor instead glanced back once more in the direction you left and followed after the prince. 

❃゜・。. ・°゜✼ ゜°・ . 。・゜❃     ❃゜・。. ・°゜✼ ゜°・ . 。・゜❃ 

You were in a state of shock. The king died and Joffrey was immediately crowned king. Your beloved friend and lord was beheaded in front of not only your eyes but his daughters eyes. And thus since then King’s Landing has been rendered to a state of utter and complete chaos. 

Yet here and now you were faced with a monstrous choice. Sansa had chosen to stay both for the hope of a better life in the favor of the King, despite her name, and for the Stark name itself. 

But Arya now stood before you claiming she would no longer stay at King’s Landing and that she and Sandor were leaving and she needed you to come with her. That this was her turn to repay you for your lifetime of service. 

You felt as though your body, heart, soul and mind were being split, each sister taking your livelihood. You did not want to abandon Sansa in this wretched place with him. She still had much to learn and followed young and naive notions. Yet, Arya was littler than her and partaking in what could be a greater threat than Sansa. Her sword skills were not fully honed and Sandor couldn’t know very much of the ways of little stubborn girls. 

You did not know what to do. The battle completely evident in your eyes, so Sandor grabbed hold of you and shook you till you gave him your attention. 

“Come with me,” he begged selfishly. “Not for the girls, for yourself, for your dream!” 

All you could do was look into his soft brown eyes. You didn’t even feel yourself nod, you didn’t feel anything until Sandor tucked you into his side with his arm wrapped around your waist and led you behind Arya to the stables. 

Turning back one last time, Sandor watched you shed one single tear looking back at King’s Landing. That was the first tear he ever saw you give freely, before your chest heaved due to a massive breath, you shuddered and urged your horse forward. Away from the city and away from your past.

❃゜・。. ・°゜✼ ゜°・ . 。・゜❃     ❃゜・。. ・°゜✼ ゜°・ . 。・゜❃ 

You surprisingly loved wondering with Arya and Sandor. You found it completely freeing. 

Sandor also loved it, although his grumpy and growly demeanor portrayed otherwise. He was thrilled to be able to have a direct and constant hand in your health and safety. 

He was doing his best to give you all the food you could eat when you were starving, evenly dumping some of his portion into yours silently when he noticed you didn’t have your usual sleepy content post meal face he was familiar with. 

He always sat close by, when you laid down to sleep each night. He wanted you to receive all the rest you needed for the next day, knowing that while you were strong and could defend yourself when needed, you were still not nearly as skilled as himself or Arya, which caused him great unease and little sleep to your great dismay such as now. 

You were restless tonight, rolling over to give your shoulder a break. That is when you noticed Sandor sitting on a log above you staring into the slowly dying fire. “You should sleep too, Sandor.” 

For several moments the only response you received was a grunt, before he finally muttered. “I’m fine. Gotta keep watch.” That caused you to rise from your sleep matt. “Do you keep every night?” To which you received another affirmative grunt.  

You got up to sit on the log next to him closer than you ever had before-shoulder to shoulder and thigh pressed to his thigh. You then thumped your head against his shoulder, the crown of your head kissing the unbearded skin of his neck causing a shiver to set fire up his spine.

“I can watch sometimes too you know, if there was a threat I could hold them off long enough for you to wake up and take care of it. You shouldn’t have to shoulder all of the burden, Sandor.” 

“And you’re not going to take on any of the burden… end of story” he retorted with a tone of finality. 

“Very well, I will just have to take extra care of you then won’t I hon.” He just let your statement drift off into the air, not trusting his voice. You did not urge him to respond either, knowing him possibly more than any other human in his life. You were content with his presence and his silence, choosing to curl up into his side further. 

Sandor sighed to feign annoyance, but was all too willinging to wrap and arm around you and tuck you closer to him, his large body shielding you from the night chill, while he was lost in thought. You couldn’t have 

The next day and the days following you made good of the words you spoke to him. 

Sometimes mending his clothes, stitching the worn fabric into a whole garment again. You would never tell him that this was just a tactic to see him shirtless, and that it may have been worthwhile to just buy a new shirt when they reached town. 

When you noticed Sandor sliding into his seat stiffly or grunting while he moved, you were more than happy to offer to massage his sore and tired muscles. 

Thus he was now shoved to a sitting position on the ground as you stood in between his legs, brows furrowed as you removed what remained of his beat up armor. Triumphantly clapping your hands once the pieces were tossed onto the ground beside you. “Where does it ache?” You questioned. 

“Shoulders.” He all but growled not out of anger, but in disbelief that this was a reality and not one of his many fantasies. 

Humming you placed your soft hands delicately onto his broad frame and began pressing into his muscles, forming small circles to feel for the tense tissue below. Once you hit a sore spot you applied a slightly firmer grip as you began to work out the kinks and knots that had formed during Sandor’s consistent labor. 

After a few minutes, the giant of a man began to relax and lean into your touch, head bowing in relief as reprieve washed over his body. 

Before he could stop it, his forehead continued forward before it was stopped by your soft tummy with a thunk, causing you to sigh in content as you continued your ministrations. 

Another time he would have been embarrassed for such an action, but in this moment he just relished in being comforted by the woman he loved. 

All too soon you finished, brushing his hair behind his ear before stepping back. Sandor had yet to raise his head from its lowered position or make a sound. 

Face drawn up in worry, you grasped his scruffy chin and raised it so his eyes had no choice but to meet yours, “Are you alright, Sandor? Did I hurt you?” you questioned softly, eyes searching for any clue into his mind. 

“No, never. You could never hurt me.” Sandor allowed himself to lean into the warmth of your hand. “Thank you, love.” 

“I don’t need thanks from you, you know I would do anything in my power for you hon. Lay down and rest for me, I’ll get you if something requires your attention.” 

And for the first time in his life, Sandor obliged, heart warmed from your care. He laid down on the ground and closed his eyes. While the old him would have felt shame in forsaking his duty for his own needs, all he felt in this moment was your love and care. The last thought ringing in his mind before sleep overtaking him was that from this moment onward he would do everything in his power to earn more of it from you and greedily take any of it you freely offered him. 

This was the first time Sandor felt loved by someone, but you certainly made sure it wouldn’t be his last. 

❃゜・。. ・°゜✼ ゜°・ . 。・゜❃     ❃゜・。. ・°゜✼ ゜°・ . 。・゜❃ 

You were more frightened in this moment than you could ever recall being. When Brienne of Tarth managed to throw Sandor from the cliff you felt your heart fall with him. 

Without thinking you instantly turned your back to his assailants and raced down the hill to find him praying for him not to be dead. 

There you found him begging Arya to relieve him of his misery doing his best to goad her into his wishes. You stood frozen as she refused, simply choosing to take his coins and leave him for dead instead. 

You painstakingly waited till she and Brienne were out of sight before rushing to his side, mortified at the extent of his wounds he sustained in addition to the festering gash in his neck. But what crushed you the most was his eyes, there was no liquid golden fire in his brown eyes, they were dull and dark showcasing the true weariness he has carried all of his life. 

“Please love,” he muttered weakly, clasping the wrist that was petting his hair, you not knowing what to do to ease his pain at this moment, paralyzed with fear. “You must go, you must leave me. I believe this is as far as I am going to go.” 

You shook your head violently, fat droplets ever streaming down your face, “I cannot, I will not! You will make it Sandor, you have to make it!”

“Do not waste your efforts on me, Y/N. You have your whole life yet to live. You have dreams that are yet to be fulfilled. Go fulfill them, love.” 

“They have been fulfilled, daft idiot!” you yelled, grasping his face tightly between your hands, “You have fulfilled them. My dreams lie with you… they only exist because you do. And if you die-” a sob choking up your words, “My dreams die with you, my life dies with you, I will continue as a lifeless body, waiting for my fate so my soul may return to yours!” You stood up suddenly full with emotion chest heaving with distraught, “So you have to try, Sandor, you have to. If not for yourself, try for me, fight for me, live for me.” “Alright my love, alright! I yield for you.” Those were the only words he could muster, overwhelmed by your pleas and confessions. 

Indeed he did yield, over the following weeks he let you pester over every little thing. 

You cooked tirelessly to infuse bone broth with meat still left on the bone, more vegetables than Sandor would have preferred but still swallowed when you lifted it to his lips. 

You cleaned his wounds, stitched the larger gashes closed wincing every time you pierced his skin, applied salve and bandaged every little knick you could find. All while he stared wordlessly ahead not uttering a single complaint. 

When the sun set you demanded he rested whether he claimed he was rested or not, guiding his head to rest on your thick thighs while you stroked his hair, his scars, and his cheeks till his breath evened out. 

He let you remove his torn and bloody clothes, sitting perfectly still as you used a spare cloth to remove as much of the grime and dried blood as you could before dressing him in clean clothes once more. 

He even conceded to let you wash his hair, leaning back against a rock, head hanging off the edge as you poured water over his crown, eyes fluttering closed as you threaded your fingers through his hair combing knots out of his hair and cleansing his scalp of any filth that darken his locks further. 

It was because of you that a few short weeks later he was back on his feet sitting in an old tavern drinking mead in the warmth radiating from the fire in the hearth, looking more alive then he did before his battle and his fall. 

And you were glowing under the golden hues beaming across the room from the dancing flames. A small but radiating smile of content graces your features as you quietly sit beside him sipping from your mug as you watch the townspeople, talk and laugh and be merry. 

Feeling his gaze bore into the side of your face, you turned to Sandor, “Well, now that you are better, what do you wish to see or do, hon?” 

A pregnant pause laid over the pair of you causing you to wonder if you spoke loud enough over the cheers and conversations surrounding you. 

Finally his deep voice reached your ears, “I intend to show you my gratitude for your grace and patience. Then when I am satisfied with my performance, I am going to follow you till you find your paradise and once you do I will build you a house.” 

You dropped your jaw in shock at his blunt confession. This did not deter him from rising to his feet, swinging his leg around the bench and clasping his hand over your wrist and urging you to follow him to the room you both paid for upstairs. 

❃゜・。. ・°゜✼ ゜°・ . 。・゜❃     ❃゜・。. ・°゜✼ ゜°・ . 。・゜❃

After following you into the small room, he latched the door shut and moved to stand before you, eyes searching for any sign of discomfort or hesitation. 

When he found none, he slid one large muscled arm around your waist and pulled you against his chest, the other hand moving to cup the back of your neck angling your face towards him. 

Your breath hitched as he moved so his lips were only a few inches away from yours before he paused, “Do you wish for this? May I continue?” 

Instantly, you pushed onto your toes and closed the distance pressing your lips firmly against his as a response. 

This pulled a grunt of surprise from the man, but his surprise did not keep him from returning the kiss feverishly. 

Lips glide against lips, and you move your hands up his sides to rest against his firm, broad chest. 

The hand clasped against your neck moving to thread through the locks of hair and the base of your skull before tugging lightly to better angle your mouth to his. 

You gasp toward the sensation, Sandor using the opportunity to poke his tongue out and trace each of your lips before messaging against yours. 

With a groan, his hands left their respective places to slide against the back of your thighs before gripping the fat as he hoisted you effortlessly into his arms. 

You swing each of your legs around his thick waist in response, and your arms encircling his neck resting your biceps onto his shoulders and you press your lips harder into his. 

With a few large strides, Sandor crossed the room before resting your back gently onto the bed. 

You were too distracted by the feel of his body to unwrap yourself from him, causing a deep resounding chuckle to vibrate in his chest before cupping your face and pulling his lips from yours. 

You whine at the loss of contact trying to follow his lips, but he pulled his head too far out of your reach. 

“I know, my love,” He assured as he brushed strands from your face to rest along with the rest of your hair splayed out around your head like a crown. “Let me take care of you, as you did for me. Let me praise and worship you, so that you may know what I have to offer and what you shall receive for the rest of your life. Will you honor me with this, please love, let me do this for you.” He pleaded, causing the butterflies to dance around your stomach before fluttering their way to your core, lighting a fire to accompany the warmth already starting to pool in between your thighs. 

“Please Sandor, god yes please.” the words barely left your lips before he crashed to his knees pulling your hips towards the edge of the bed till the cups of your ass kissed the end of the mattress. 

He splayed his hands across your hip bones, as he looked at you with a questioning gaze. 

After you consented with a nod, he quickly pulled the laces of your pants from their ties and slid the form fitting fabric down your thighs and off your legs before launching the article across the room with haste. 

“Lift your arms, I will see all of you as I worship you for this blessed first time, darling.” he commanded, to which you happily obliged, arching your back and raising your hands above your head. He removed the tunic and tossed it in the same fashion as your pants, before sweeping his gaze across every inch of your skin. 

His large and warm hands gliding to your supple soft breasts tracing the curve they produced before squeezing the mounds into his palms relishing in the whimper you gave him in response followed by a soft “Please!”. 

“I know what you need my love, just have a little patience for me,” he urged, taking your hard nipples in between his thumb and pointer finger beginning to roll and pinch them earning him a louder whine as you pushed your chest further into his grasp. 

He dipped his lips to your left breast, poking his tongue out to swirl against the perky bud, teasing you a little before, taking your nipple into his mouth and sucking while twirling and lapping at your peak with a little more pressure. 

You mewled in pressure, the menstruations shooting straight to your core causing your hips to search Sandor’s in a desperate attempt to find some friction. “More!” you begged him as he released your boob with a pop before repeating the same treatment to the right, his hand coming to replace his mouth on your left tit. 

Once he was satisfied with his treatment he pulled back to look at his work. Your chest heaving as your breasts glistened from the coating of his saliva. “You are exquisite, Y/N.” he murmured against your skin as he placed hot open mouthed kisses down a path on your stomach. “I think, I’ll have to make you mine, don’t you think? All mine, all for me and no one else. Yes, and if they tried to take you from me I will cut them down where they stand and lay you down and fuck you in their blood.” He placed one last kiss on your skin, his bottom lip brushing against the soft curls at the top of your mound. He lifted his gaze to your eyes where you were watching him, lust and need swirling around the pools of your irises. “Don’t you think that is fair love. You want that?” 

“Yes, Sandor, please” you crooned for him. “Please!” you pleaded once more. 

“Please what, my love? Tell me and I shall do it for you.” He knew what you were asking but wanted to bask in hearing your words grace his ears for the first time. 

“Please touch me!” You cried. “But I have touched your love, is it not enough? Where do you need my touch, darling?” Sandor began tracing little patterns on the inside of your thighs testing your patience, skirting close to your folds before shying away. 

“I need your fingers or your mouth! I need them inside please, I need you inside!” tears started to well up in your pretty eyes causing Sandor to give in and stop his teasing. 

Torturously slow he spread your thighs, watching as strings of your arousal stretched between your wet folds. This sight alone caused Sandor to let out a deep guttural groan, his cock swelling against the seams of his trousers. But he paid no mind instead choosing to inch closer to your puffy pussy, close enough for you to feel his hot breath fanning against your aroused core. 

“Look at you! Isn’t she such a pretty perfect little pussy? Is this all for me, my love?” 

“Yes, for you! All for you!” You answered by lifting your hips in hopes of relief. 

“Thank you for this wonderful gift, lovely, I’m going to have to give it a taste.” With that he pulled your folds apart even further and took on lip into his mouth sucking as much of your arousal as he could before doing the same to the opposite fold, before gliding the flat surface of his tongue from your entrance to your seam causing a delish scrap against your clit. 

You threw your head back as you moaned loud for him, hands moving to grip his brown tresses. Spurred on by your noises, Sandor began prodding, sucking and licking at your swollen little bud trying to coax as much of your arousal as possible. Seemingly satisfied, he dragged one of his thick fingers through your fold before knocking it against the opening of your entrance. 

All at once he pulled your pearl into his mouth beginning to suck lewdly at it while he slid his finger into your wet cunt. 

“Sandorrr!” You moaned, shocked by the intensity of the sensations trying to rock your pelvis into his mouth, only to be stopped and pinned to the mattress by his free arm. 

“I got you love, let me have you.” he coaxed releasing your bud to give it a kiss before returning to alternating between licking and sucking on your bud working hard to coax your first orgasm for him. 

As you began climbing towards your peak he added another finger along with the first, giving you a delicious burn to the pleasure you were feeling that sent your reeling. A spew of moans and whimpers falling from your lips as Sandor set a rhythm between his mouth and fingers. 

“I gotta stretch you open, darling, I’m a big man. You gotta cum for me first if you want my cock love.”

Chants of his name in broken high pitched whimpers were given to him in response as you hurled up towards your release thighs clenching deliciously and core winding that knot impossibly tight. 

Sensing you were getting close, Sandor curled his fingers up into your cunt finding and massaging that gooey spot inside you with each thrust, causing you to reel and thrash against the bed. 

Finally, the cord inside you snapped as you tipped over the edge, your orgasm washing over you, Sandors name being the only thought and words in your brain and leaving your lips and you rode out your high. 

“God, you are squeezing me so tight, love. How is my cock going to fit in such a tight little cunt?” Sandor groaned, still slowly pumping his fingers aiding in milking you of orgasm for all it would give him before he slid them out of you with a loud squelching noise. 

You laid there trying to catch your breath as you watched in shock as he brought his fingers to his mouth and licked them clean before dropping them. 

Chuckling as he saw your surprised expression he told you, “You taste divine, darling, I will never let such a sweet nectar go to waste, I promise you.” 

Rising from his knees, he tore off his shirt and hastily untied his pants before shucking them down his legs. 

This caused his cock to spring from its confinements and slap against his stomach allowing you to get a glimpse of him. 

You gulped nervously. You knew he had to be larger than the average man just like the rest of him. But knowing it and actually seeing him in front of you were two completely separate things. 

Sensing your apprehension, he stroked your cheek lovingly. “I won’t deny that there will be some discomfort initially, but you have all my patience and more and I will go slow. You are in control and we can stop anytime it becomes too much, alright my love?” 

“Thank you,” you whispered, nerves fading slightly. 

He stroked himself a few times before sliding his dick against your folds collecting all the arousal you were willing to give him, making sure to tap your clit lightly a few times before lining himself up with your entrance. 

Sandor looked down at you and once you gave him a nod he slowly began sliding the tip inside your entrance. 

Although it was just his tip, the stretch was immense causing you to hiss at the filling and clutch your biceps. 

Sandor paused there for a moment, until you seemed okay and pushed in a little more. 

Finally after repeating the pattern a few more times, you looked down as he rested inside you while you grew adjusted to see that he was only about half way. 

“I’m going to push in all the way now, love. It will probably be easier for you, I need you to try and relax for me.You are clenching me so tight.” He groaned into your neck as he used all his strength not to just drill himself into you. 

You did your best to relax as he slid the rest in before he finally kissed your cervix with his mushroom tip.

“Take your time and adjust to love, let me know when you are ready.” 

After several moments, you whispered, “I’m okay, please move.” 

Placing both of his hands beside your head Sandor slowly dragged his cock out of you just a bit before sliding back. Repeating the slow rhythm a few times more for himself than it was for you. 

Soon you grew impatient and pressed your hips towards his before whining “More, Sandor, give me more! I need more!” 

This seemed to light something inside of the man because he then began picking up speed, his hips snapping against yours. Everytime he was fully seated inside you the roll of his hips brushed the wisps of hair at the base of his cock against your clit, sending you reeling with pleasure. 

Far too soon you felt the onset of your second orgasm, “Sandor, I’m close,” you warned before whining another “Please,” not entirely sure what you were begging him for. “So am I love, come for me, come with me. We will do it together.” he groaned from his place by your ear, his hips snapping as he started thrusting with a bit more force. He reached between your bodies and started thumbing your clit, causing your orgasm to crash over you with a moan, walls spasming around his length coaxing his orgasm, which he gave to you almost instantly. His hips sputtered as he tried to maintain his rhythm as he shot thick long ropes of cum into your gummy center filling you up. After a few more thrusts, he stilled inside you as he took a moment to collect himself and catch his breath. 

A few minutes later, he raised himself up onto his elbows and looked into your eyes, “Did I hurt you, my love? Are you alright?” 

“No, I am quite wonderful actually,” you huffed with a laugh. 

“Good, I am pleased to hear it. You look so beautiful like this.” He supplied before leaning down to capture your lips once more. 

Once you separated he slipped out of you and rolled over, pulling you to rest your head onto his chest while he twirled strands of your hair around your fingers. 

You looked up at him, causing him to meet your gaze.

“I love you, Sandor,” you told him, pressing a kiss to his chest. 

“I have loved you since we rode together from Winterfell.” He admitted to you before clasping one of your small hands into his own. “Marry me,Y/N. Become my wife, let me father your children, and build your  home. Let me cut down the wood for your fires, and always be there to eat the food you cook. It is what I have always wanted, please let it be me.” 

“It was always you, silly goose, from the moment that little prick asked me what I dreamed of, I will happily marry you, always.” 

Filled with excitement, Sandor sat up and thrusted you back in once more for a bruisingly sweet kiss. 

❃゜・。. ・°゜✼ ゜°・ . 。・゜❃     ❃゜・。. ・°゜✼ ゜°・ . 。・゜❃ 

Many years later, you realized you fulfilled your dream. 

Shortly after that night you and Sandor quickly got married. 

It was a short ceremony, no one you knew was there. Just you and Sandor and some random townsperson, Sandor gave a few coins to marry you two. 

Afterwards you set off to find the perfect place to build your house, and eventually you did. 

Some many miles away from any other people, there was a quaint little meadow on top of a hill, with a little lake laying at the bottom. 

And so Sandor got to work building a house to your exact specifications. Lots of windows, a porch so you could read and watch the kids play. A good size kitchen and a cozy fire next to the table. A modest bedroom for the two of you to share and a few extra rooms for the potential for future kids. It wasn’t the grandest of buildings nor was it the most humble, but it was yours and you love it. 

Shortly after the completion of the house, you found a pair of dogs completely different from one another in breed. One was big and mean looking although it was a huge sweetie, which Sandor claimed and named Reaper. 

Meanwhile your companion was a fluffy pointy eared little ball of energy in which you named Nylah. 

After a few years you finally became pregnant and gave birth to a daughter you named Aurora, and following your oldest you gave Sandor two more daughters Odessa and Hadleigh. 

Although Sandor did not picture himself a father he certainly did not anticipate being a father to three daughters, but alas they were the perfect gifts. 

And you never cease to find a kick out of watching the large beast that was your husband gruffly oblige almost instantly to your little girl's wishes for little fairy houses or play kitchens. Always caving into spoiling his little girls and never refusing a chance to join their tea parties or play family. 

Eventually you gave birth to a set of twins in which you decided would be your last. This time the twins are both boys, Cristen and Harper. 

At first, Sandor was petrified at the prospect of two sons, fearing he would raise them wrong and them growing in contempt like himself and his brother. 

But as both the boys grew, he quickly realized his father’s faults and recognized his boys’ differences and did his best to cultivate their strengths. 

You were given the perfect little life by Sandor and in return you gave him more love than he even deserved, surrounded by their beautiful childrens with a life you built with your own hands. Sandor will be eternally indebted to you and vowed to love you deservingly for all the days you had with him. 

[thebadboyfanclub]

Together As One (Daemon x Reader)

So this is more a twisted love type of hype, I hope you guys like the way I portrayed this request cause I wanted to give it more of a dark edge since Daemon is definitely a gray character. Hope you enjoy!

Mothers love their children, everyone could agree upon the unconditional love mothers held for their kind with no doubt in their hearts, songs, poems, plays, and any type of art one can think of have attempted to portray such devotion. None, however, could predict that some mothers have a certain type of fear for their child, like some whisper in the back of their heads warning them about the little glimpse in their eyes that was not like the stars but more of a scorching fire threading to burn everything.

That was the exact feeling Rhaenys had for her beloved daughter, the twin sister of Laenor, it would often baffle her how her husband could not see what was clearly there, (y/n) was always in competition with everyone about everything, the finest clothes belonged to her, she had to ride a dragon first, learn Valyrian faster.

Whilst Rhaenys prayed for her daughter's thirst to settle, the others praised her for her bravery, her determination, and her intellect, something that made (y/n) yearn for more.

“I would like to raise a toast to my dear brother, a married man to our future queen, may your wedlock be blessed with numerous children and a road paved with nothing but joy and success, Prince Daemon, hopefully you are next”

(Y/n) stood with a smile of triumph dancing on her lips before she raised her cup to gently take a sip, as she sat down Daemon's eyes followed her, he was well aware of her game, though he seemed unfazed and almost amused by her comment the truth laid somewhere deeper than the surface, not a single soul in this room would have been able to guess that the delighted twin of now future king consort was playing a game of cat and mouse with none other than prince daemon behind closed doors.

(Y/n) had been relentless in her ways to seduce Daemon, sneaking out at all hours of the night, sending people after him so she could know his whereabouts just so she could magically appear, the combination of sweet wine and her alluring voice was enough for Daemon to stumble and fall right on top of her, taking her for a ride to the addictive roads of lust.

She was stunning, flawless, a true Targaryen that screamed opulence and elegance with a face sculpted by the gods, the common folk would gush over the “oceans Angel” a nickname given by the realm for her angelic features, how would they know how dark her mind could get in order to make everyone yield before her?

-

“Mother”

“Dearest, how are you on this fine morrow?”

“I am well, the little one finally decided to let me get some rest”

“When I was pregnant with you I remember thinking you would kick your way out of my belly, the Apple does not fall far from the tree”

(Y/n)s daughter, Leora, leaned as much as she could to kiss her mother's cheek before she sat down next to her to break her fast, queen Alicent had already taken her seat along with her daughter Heleana and (y/n)s other son Elion, Alicent and (y/n) enjoyed each others presence, a mutual bond based on respect had been build over the years that was sealed by marrying Leora with Aegon and Elion with Heleana.

“The maester said you should drink more orange juice, it will help with the fatigue”

“As well as eat more meat, pregnancy is no easy task, you must be as strong as ever”

Alicent chimed, the birth of her second grandchild was one of the most important events, Alicent adored her first grandchild, beautiful Hael, a strong boy who was just now starting to learn how to walk, still, he had everyone wrapped around his finger.

“I appreciate your concerns but I am fine, healthy as a horse”

“It wouldn’t hurt, let us not risk it dearest”

“I thought once I get older I wouldn’t have to listen to my mother”

“Well I am sorry but that will never happen, drink”

(Y/n) had stepped up and appeared as the perfect mother, loving, kind, and caring, she did love her children, however, what she loved most was the things they could do for her, her firstborn daughter was now the wife of the king first born son, and her son was a strong, skill full knight that served the realm and came back in triumph, how could she not adore her perfect creations?

“How is the king?”

“I am afraid his health is decreasing, the maesters advise him to remain abed for the day”

“Rhaenyra will be questioned, he won’t sit this one out I am afraid”

“Ugh the precious Rhaenyra, I wish I could stay in my chambers until those god-forsaken days pass”

(Y/n)s smile was wiped from her face and in an instant it was replaced with an angry scowl, in a split second her hand had grasped her daughter, Leoras' eyes went wide with fear when they met the angry hues of her mothers.

“You mustn’t speak in such a way, I’ve taught you better”

Leora only nodded frantically, (y/n) had her own opinions over Rhaenyra, she however, knew better than to voice them, not even in such a secluded area of the palace, (y/n)s hold turned from forceful to a caress before she directed her eyes back to her friend and queen Alicent.

“Besides, the king will do as he wishes and if the gods bless him with the strength to stand he should be there, isn’t it right Alicent?”

“I couldn’t have phrased it better, my dear”

-

(Y/n) and Alicent were each other's shadows, one compelled the other and in the end one way or the other the result was one of their favor, (y/n) was disciplined and had mastered the act of a gracious and lovely princess, Alicent was strict and slipped under everyone’s nose as she cloaked herself with the act of a pious queen, the two of them had years up on the horse of being able to maneuver their way around the kingdom so the men would not suspect a damn thing.

Viserys had seemed to get worst which made him unable to attend even when Daemon and (y/n) went to his room to assist him, the king could not even sit up let alone walk, Daemon was disheartened, thankfully for him his dutiful and beautiful wife let him rest on her shoulder and like a soothing salve her encouraging words went over his wound of his beloved older brother nearing his end.

“My Love”

“(Y/n)? What- what has happened?”

“I apologize for waking you up my dear, it is your brother”

“Viserys? What about- no”

“My dear husband, you must be strong, I am so sorry”

(Y/n) grasped Daemon's hands tightly before she brought them up to her lips to kiss his knuckles, of course, she was one of the first to know, Alicent had rushed to her chamber and delivered the news herself, she had waited patiently as the king took his last breath, Alicent told no one, not even the maester, (y/n) had to know before anyone.

“Viserys”

Daemon had been taken over by his thoughts, they’ve always had their differences but at the end of the day, they shared the same mother and father, a bond that could never be broken, no matter how many times Daemon has run off he always ended up by Viserys side.

“My love, I understand that this is too much for you, however, we must prepare our daughter”

“What does Elora have to do with this?”

“She is to be queen, she needs her father”

“Queen? Have you gone mad?”

(Y/n) bit her bottom lip in combination with her head tilting to the side, as if nothing but a mere candle lit her face Daemon could still identify the features that he so adored but now he could not wrap his head around what was his wife suggesting.

“My lord husband, King Viserys has left us, it is only natural for his son to succeed him”

“It is expected for his firstborn, Rhaenyra, to do so, not Aegon”

“Where is the princess? But in a place where she could have visited if she wished, when has she even attempted to come and visit her beloved father who was in agony all these years? She only came when her privilege was at risk and then blamed Alicent who has served by the king's side for his illness”

“This is not a matter to discuss”

“But it is, the gods know I loved Viserys and he had been good to me, but let us not forget he killed his first wife in his desperate attempt for a male heir, he remarried and Alicent gave him an heir and a spare and still it was not good enough, he passed by you and his sons to bury his guilt by calling Rhaenyra the heir, it wasn’t because he trusted her or because he saw something in her, he passed the title on to her because he did not trust you and then because he wanted to wash the blood of queen Aemmas from his hands”

Silence fell upon them, (y/n) pulled away from her husband and headed towards the door, as his hand rested upon the handle she turned her head back to lord husband who was visibly shaken, (y/n) might appear disheartened but she could detect that her monologue had started to creep on to Daemons heart.

“I love you with all my heart, that is why I shall leave you to grieve, if you wish to run to her I will…. Understand, it is not like I ever doubted the unconditional love you have for the realm delight, now might be your chance to pursue it”

Her tone was drowning in sorrow leaving Daemon with an unwavering sense of guilt in a dark room as his wife had disappeared to place her hand over a war of fire and blood, (y/n) was correct, Daemon did love Rhaenyra, still, he did not place his flame for her over what he had built with his wife over the years.

(Y/n) walked away with a smile of triumph, she had done her part flawlessly and now she was certain that Daemon would be by her side before the crown was placed on Aegons head, however, she did not have time to waste, Alicent and (y/n) were the ones to wake the new king and queen, preparing them for what they had destined to be.

“You may enter”

“Prince Daemon is asking to see his daughter and wife, alone”

(Y/n) stopped brushing her daughter's head, carefully placing the golden brush down before she looked down at her daughter who nodded in approval.

“Let him in, do not allow anyone to disturb us”

“Right away”

The girl curtsied as quickly as possible before she disappeared only to be replaced by none other than Daemon. (Y/n) took a sharp inhale through her nose once he entered the room, preparing herself for a mental battle, surprisingly when her eyes scanned for his she was met with a certain lightness, an ease to him that caught her by a pleasant surprise.

Instinctively a small smile played on her lips, her Daemon was dressed in his black attire, leather suited him, and his hair was pulled away from his face the way she always told him to do it.

(Y/n) was not made of stone, she might play like she is though her heart skipped a beat every time she was near her lord husband, Daemon was one of the very few people that (y/n) would throw herself in the fire, even though their love felt like the flames licked her back, that sweet pain of admiration and devotion that the poets would sing and the common folk would go mad.

“My dearest loves”

Daemon declared, that their daughter rose from her chair and ran to her father, she was always the one known to succumb to emotions and this time (y/n) could not scold her over it, Leora was her father's daughter, (y/n) might not have spoken over the matter only to allow the young girl the solidarity of her feelings, inside Leora was always waiting for her father to walk through this door.

“You look beautiful, a perfect gown for the queen”

“Father I-“

“Before I handed you over to Aegon I made you a promise, do you remember it?”

“I will do anything to see you happy”

“I will put myself through war if you tell me that this is what you want, all you have to do is say it”

Daemon was no fool, he was certain that the second that crown graced his daughter's head a war would nip their heels, Rhaenyra would not go down without a fight and that meant that Daemon would have to face her in battle, a battle he was willing to put for his lovely Leora.

“I want to be queen, I want Aegon to be our king”

“Very well, I wish you a fruitful reign, may the Gods smile down upon you”

‘May the Gods have mercy on us’ he thought, with a smile he brushed away those dark thoughts only to place a kiss on his daughter's forehead, a small part of him screamed that this was the right thing, his brother never thought he was good enough, now his brother was on the ground and his daughter was crowned queen and would carry on the legacy of the Targaryen name.

“Go on now, I want to have a word with your mother”

“I will be waiting for you”

Leora informed them before she gave them the privacy Daemon desired. (Y/n) stood as still as a statue, her heart pounding on her chest as her throat grew dry and scratchy, she was the master of composure up until now, faced with the only person who could make her waver.

“My beautiful, sweet lady wife, you spoke harshly last night”

“I spoke nothing but the truth”

She threw back in a cold tone. Daemon only smirked as he started to approach her, she did not dare to move, (y/n) was comforted by his light-hearted manner though there was an underlying mischief, Daemon was playing something, and (y/n) was left trying to catch up before it is too late.

Daemon stood before her, his arm finding her forearms and giving them a gentle squeeze, his eyes gazing back at hers with a glimmer that (y/n) had grown to yearn for, she despised the fact that she had to manipulate him like this, she was left with no other choice but to do this, a side of hers cursed the day Rhaenyras and Daemons fates met, this would have been so much easier had (y/n) been the only women Daemon loved.

“You are so bright, I am almost disappointed that you didn’t foresee this”

“The war?”

“No, me, you think I have not caught wind of all the scheming against Rhaenyra? The upbringing of my daughter to become the wife of my brother's firstborn son, putting our son on the sea the minute he was born to have better knowledge of anything driftmark related to gain the favor of your father, every step you so amazingly calculated with Alicent so you can get our family here”

“You have gone mad”

“I saw behind the facade and that makes you nervous, I was there with you every step of the way you mustn’t be frightened, I let you do all this for only one reason”

“Alright, let us entertain this absurd claim of yours, what is the reason?”

“Because I love you”

(Y/n) mouth slightly parted in shock, Daemon had professed his love for her on multiple occasions but the weight on this one was different, he had pulled what she thought was the perfect cover, leaving her bare in front of him, uncovering her thirst that she had kept away from everyone.

“I love you so much that I will let my daughter become the target on Rhaenyras mind, I will go against the woman that you think threatens your position in my heart, I will put myself in the sword before I let her even get one strand of your hair because you and our daughter want this”

“And you don’t? You always held a grudge over the fact that Viserys never declared you as his heir”

“My brother is dead now and because of you our child wishes to be a queen, I picked you as my second wife because I saw your strength, your determination, you need to come on top, that is the Targaryen fire through and through”

“You truly mean all this?”

“You are my lady wife, you gave me a home, now it is time to show the realm that we are the rightful heirs of the throne, together as one”

(Y/n) reached daemons lips for a passionate kiss, his hands slid down to her waist and pulled her as close as humanly possible, sharing this moment meant everything to (y/n), she had him devotedly by her side, he saw her true nature and walked straight into her fire, surrendering in her and even shielding her and her family.

“Let us find out daughter, I want us to be the ones to place the crown on her head”

“I wouldn’t dare let anyone else have that honor”

Requests are open!

[fairysluna]

Helloooo, thanks for sharing your writing with us, I love all of your fics specially sinners 🤍🧸⭐️

For the short drabbles could you do Maegor + asking for his niece’s favor at a tourney

this is such a cute idea! i love this so much. Also, thank you for your kind words, I hope you like this🤍✨

tags — fluff, rhaena being lowkey a hater, reader being delulu (like all of us).

The way the whole crowd roared with excitement when the royal prince came out victorious from the tournament was deafening. You were laughing excitedly, clapping as your smile couldn't get any bigger. Eyes shining as bright as stars at midnight as you watched your beloved uncle smiling back at you from afar. Your beloved older sister, Rhaena, was sitting next to you wearing an unfazed expression on her face, completely opposite to the cheerful attitude you had.

From your seat, you saw Maegor galloping slowly towards the royal family, wearing that winning smile that you loved so dearly as he rested his lance against his shoulder. The butterflies that appeared on your belly were hard to ignore when he started to get closer and closer to you. You fixed your hair, nervously played with your fingers and impatiently waited for him to get close enough to hear his voice. At your side, your sister scoffed, already annoyed by your attitude towards your uncle, with whom you wished to marry; she had heard all of it, and she was tired of hearing that man's name coming from your lips.

But you couldn't care less about it.

Your attention was all over the man on the horse in front of you, standing proudly and looking so gallant inside that thick metal armor of his, you couldn't help but to bite your lip before he decided to open his mouth and say, “May I have the honor to ask for the princess' favor?” He didn't even have to specify which princess he was talking about, for every single person knew he meant you. They all certainly knew about the close relationship you had with him.

You slowly arose from your seat, taking with you the crown of flowers that you made early that morning, especially for him. You walked closer to the railing and looked down at him, feeling the air getting caught in your throat as you saw him more up close. He removed the helmet of his armor, wanting to look into your pretty eyes before he uttered the next words. “I'm convinced that everytime the sun rises you become far more beautiful, my princess.” He spoke slightly lower, as if he wanted just you to hear. You couldn't help but to feel suddenly shy under his mischievous stare, the heat on your cheeks growing as you tried to look away from him.

“You flatter me, uncle,” you replied, managing to throw the crown of flowers down the lance. “I feel like the most beautiful maiden in the Seven Kingdoms whenever you speak with such kindness to me.”

“Well, you are, my dear.” He winked at you. “Before I leave, allow me to remind you that this victory, as well as the ones that are yet to come, are dedicated to you. My beautiful princess.” A silly, enamored smile was drawn on your lips as he turned around in his black horse and galloped away from you. He made you feel all kinds of things in such a little amount of time, including a strange, new sensation located in your lower belly which you decided it was best to ignore.

Once you returned to your seat, you found your sister staring at you with a visible frown on her face. “Could you be any more obvious? You left a path of your drool behind you.”

“I will marry him someday,” you told her, your voice filled with the purest of illusions.

Rhaena could only roll her eyes.

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MAEGOR TAG LIST — @targaryen-dynasty @hypocritic-trash-baby @mariahossain

[gracefuldisasters]

Reuploading this in it's own post >:)

Based off of this lovely idea

Panel 1:

My Dearest Rodsildre, I pray this letter finds you in good spirits and health. Unlike our beloved Eomer, King of the Mark, who has just recently taken a drunken tumble into a rather nasty horse stable. He is neither well or in good spirits, and I rather question your desire to court the man.

Panel 2:

… while I could not in good conscious recommend you to attempt to win the heart of our fair lady Eowyn, for you may find a sword stabbed through your gullet. Which could come from the lady herself,or Faramir, Steward of Gondor and Prince of Ithilien.

He's an awful prick you know.

Panel 3:

Sam, you would not believe the atrocious things the people of Rohan will put into their mouths. Just yesterday I witnessed a man eat the most shriveled, moldy potato, I believe there was even a worm still wriggling inside of it! We don't even have any herbs or spices, Sam. We've run out a week ago, and I think I would like to die now. Pippin may already be gone from this mortal world.

Panel 4:

To the lovely Stor Nokkerose, Greetings from Meriadoc Brandybuck, Knight of the Mark and Master of Buckland. I suspect no one else shall be reading this, so I will tell you this upfront. I've given your letter to Mogop, and darling, let me tell you, that boy is head over heels for you. As well as your sister. Not to worry, I've given him a stern talking-to; which I believe has put him in his place. He shant break your heart again, love. I've also let him know that the true way to win a lady's affection is to bring her the head of wild bear. So you should expect one of those on your doorstep soon.

[exitpursuedbyavulcan]

The Silver Dragon (1)

The Bronze Bitch's Daughter

Prince Daemon Targaryen has grown tired of his Lady wife, the “Bronze Bitch” Rhea Royce. But he is not so easily rid of her. She survives not only his brutal attack, but his cruel violation of her. Though she remains broken and weak, she endures just long enough to deliver a child: a girl of silver hair and steely eyes.

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x OC (Daemon and Rhea's daughter)

Warnings: Heavily implied rape

Author's Note: Here's the first chapter of my rework of The Silver Dragon! I'm keeping the old versions up, but they will be labeled "archived."

*Important Note* While he's not the villain of the show or book, Daemon is the villain of this story. We are seeing him through the perspectives of people he's hurt in various different ways. As such, he is not as morally gray as you may be used to. If you think this will upset you, don't read. Thank you!

Series Masterlist - Next Chapter

Rhea Royce lay prone on the earth ground of her beloved Vale. But she could feel neither the cold of the stone nor the dampness of the grass and stone as it seeped through her hunting leathers and onto her skin. As the heat of her body met with the chill in the ground, the runes of protection etched into her pauldrons became fogged over – rendered unreadable.

She knew she should hurt. The pain should be unbearable. Yorwyck was a mighty beast, like the Bronze King he was named for. The whole weight of the horse had come down upon her, so there was no doubt he caused her great damage in his fall. She had heard the sharp cracking of her own bones. Yet she felt none of it. 

All she could feel was fear.

The cloaked man waited until her steed was out of sight. Rhea was well and truly alone, with only the distant ramparts of Runestone peering from between the hills as witness to whatever would come next. 

He approached her slowly, casually, as if he couldn’t hear her desperate whimpers. She knew he just didn’t care. He ran his violet eyes along her body as he approached her head. It was not a gaze of lust. He looked on her with the same disdainful curiosity as one examining a woodland rodent crushed by a cart. 

As he stood directly over her, he turned his eyes from her face – he had always avoided looking at the face he found so displeasing. Instead, he turned to her outstretched arm. He took another step, raising his foot above Rhea’s lower arm. The ghost of a wicked smile danced in the corner of his mouth, and he stepped down. 

Nothing.

He raised and pressed his foot down again several more times. Not to be sure, but to emphasize to his victim that she was utterly helpless – precisely as he wanted her. Rhea knew the horrors his men had inflicted on the criminals of King’s Landing and the followers of the Crab Feeder. She knew the cruelty he was capable of and of his unparalleled creativity. He had hated her for years. In all that time, he must have imagined countless ways to torture her. 

Rhea braced herself for what would come next. At least she would not feel the pain.

But his steps retreated.

All the fear in Rhea’s heart evaporated, swiftly replaced by rage. After these long nine years, this was all he had for her? For nine years, he traveled the whole of the Seven Kingdoms and beyond, slandering her and her family in the courts, then further insulting her with his brazen whoring. She had lost count of how often he had called her “Bronze Bitch” and accused her of ruining his life. She had been anticipating a reckoning from him. 

But this? 

This was an insult she could not stand.

Rhea knew she would be signing her soul over to the Stranger, but she would not let Daemon Targaryen have the final say.

“I knew you couldn’t finish,” she spat at her retreating husband. 

He turned back, looking at her face for the first time. Rage twisted his face, but his eyes were wide with shock. He had not expected that. But she was, after all, his Bronze Bitch.

What he said next had Rhea’s blood running cold as she thanked all the Seven that she would not feel what was to come. “My dear, lady wife,” he said, breath heaving and voice dripping with hateful venom, “perhaps it is time we consummate our union.”

The Lady of Runestone was dying, nine months on from her “accident.”

The people of the Vale were told that it was a miracle from the Seven themselves that she had survived such a devastating fall from her horse. Even more miraculous still, her husband had swooped in on dragonback to rescue her before she succumbed. He had even used his mount, Caraxes ‘the Blood Wyrm,’ to find and dispatch the offending horse. A true Targaryen prince, rescuing his bronze damsel. It was no wonder when her cousin and heir, Gerold, announced to the court that she was with child. They cared little that their Lady’s rescuer had swept flown out of the Vale as swiftly as he had arrived. 

Only her cousin, her Maester, and her ladies-in-waiting knew the truth. Maester Kerith had spent countless hours binding the broken bones that could be saved, and those he could not, he promptly removed. When Lady Rhea next sat the Bronze Throne, she made sure her ladies dressed her in her riding leathers rather than a gown that would hide her injuries. She wanted her court to see what she had survived, even if they could not know the truth.  

When it became clear that the consequences of what her husband had done extended beyond mere injuries, Maester Kerith offered her moon tea, but she refused. With her health still declining and her body struggling to overcome the trauma she had faced, she knew she would not survive long. But again, she refused to let Daemon have the final word in their hellish marriage. He had insulted her, paralyzed her, and raped her, but she would not let him forget her. 

She would leave him with an Heir of Bronze.

The babe was born as the sun rose, though the day remained dark beneath the clouds that so often surrounded Runestone. 

Rhea wept for the first time, having felt no pain throughout the birth, when she saw that her daughter had the silver-white hair of her father. She had prayed for months that her child would look just like her, to be a constant reminder of his Bronze Bitch. But the babe was just another silver Targaryen. Her final revenge had failed.

Gerold sat at her side, cradling the girl in his arms, as her mother could not. Then, as the babe began to cry, he held her out so Rhea could see her.

“Cousin, look at her eyes,” he whispered, all too aware of the grim looks on the Maester and Septas’ faces. 

Rhea turned her head, lifting her neck as much as her weakening body would allow to try and glimpse her child through her tears. She looked past the white hair at the small but wide eyes that beheld her. 

The slate grey eyes of Runestone, the Bronze Kings, and the First Men. Royce eyes.

Rhea smiled. Perhaps her revenge would not be as sharp as she would like, but so long as her daughter remained, Daemon would never forget her. He would always remember that he could not break her.

The Lady of Runestone’s breaths came slower, and though the Septas flurried around her, she paid them no mind. She had known all these months that she would not live to see the look on Daemon’s face when he first met his heir. She knew these were her last moments. But she did not want to spend them afraid. She wanted to spend them with her daughter.

Fitting, she thought, that Daemon’s heir should be a girl. His young niece had usurped his claim to the Iron Throne, and now his claim to Runestone was usurped by his own daughter. 

And what a beautiful daughter she was. Rhea’s vision began to blur around the edges, and the voices of the others in the room faded as she beheld the babe. Her eyes were bright, even as she cried softly, and the silver-white of her gently curling hair seemed to bring out a metallic shine in her grey eyes. They complimented each other, as her parents never had.

This girl was not bronze.

“Arianwyn,” Rhea whispered, naming her child as the life, at last, left her broken body. Lady of silver.

It was not Prince Daemon who came to Runestone to receive the child on behalf of the Royal family, but the young Queen Alicent Hightower. She came with the unwelcome news that the child’s father had already remarried. Less than a month after he became a widower. He had departed with his new wife, Laena Velaryon, to Pentos without leaving instruction on the care of his daughter – or even acknowledging her birth. 

Alicent, despite her reputation as a fierce supporter of her husband’s family, was more than empathetic to the child’s plight. It seemed to Ser Gerold that the young Queen held a similar opinion to his own regarding Daemon Targaryen. She commiserated with him on the pain the prince had caused his family, especially Rhea and her daughter. It seemed that As long as the prince had vexed the Royce family, he had been equally maddening to his brother.

But what was most shocking to Gerold and the court at Runestone was the offer the Queen brought: to bring the child to King’s Landing and raise her there. Despite her father’s indifference, the child was a Targaryen. It was her right to live amongst her people, to learn the traditions of Old Valyria. 

And at the Red Keep, Arianwyn would not be alone. The Queen had three children, each young enough to be peers to their newest Targaryen cousin, and more were anticipated from both Alicent and the recently wed Princess Rhaenyra. 

The King had already given his approval, both to the fostering of his niece at the Red Keep and of Gerold serving as regent of Runestone until the girl had come of age. Indeed, all the arrangements were already made. The Queen had even brought a small contingent of attendants for the child, from nursemaids to Dragonkeepers, who carried a great, steaming urn containing a silver dragon egg – supposedly chosen by the Queen’s infant son – to be placed in Arianwyn’s cradle.

Gerold had only one caveat before he agreed to the King’s plan: that Arianwyn would not venture to the capital alone. A handful of attendants from Runestone delegates would be sent with her to educate her on the history and traditions of House Royce. So that even surrounded by Targaryens, she would not forget why her eyes were grey.

Queen Alicent, herself clothed in Hightower green, happily agreed. 

After a long journey from the Vale, Lady Arianwyn Targaryen arrived at Red Keep, cradled in the arms of her aunt, Queen Alicent Hightower. As her attendants, including one of her late mother’s most trusted Lady’s Maids, continued on to prepare her rooms, the newest Targaryen was brought into the Great Hall. 

A hush fell over the gathered courtiers when the doors to the throne room opened, and they beheld the silver-haired babe. But the chatter that so often filled the capital quickly resumed when they saw the blanket she was swaddled in. A burnished bronze velvet, carefully embroidered with the same ancient Runes that graced the ancestral armor of House Royce. 

It was a slight on the Royal House that, in another court, would have undoubtedly caused a scandal. But in this court, where the Queen herself so brazenly wore the colors of her own house rather than her husband’s, it was immediately relegated to petty gossip. So the Lords and Ladies quickly resumed their conversations as the Queen approached the Iron Throne.

“My King, may I present your niece, Lady Arianwyn Targaryen,” Alicent said as she bowed before her husband as best she could with a squirming infant in her arms.

King Viserys’ eyes brightened, and he dismissed the Hand from his side. The King, having lost so many of his own children by his first wife, was always cheered when he had the chance to meet a healthy babe.

“Hello, my dear niece,” he cooed, reaching out to hold her, “what a delight you are!” His arms strained slightly at the weight of the plump child, so he pulled her into his chest. She relaxed into his against him, fussing softly as she reached for his long white hair.

Viserys laughed, running his fingers through her own hair. The exact shade of silver-white that graced nearly every member of his family. Though hers held significantly more curls than any Targaryen he had ever known.

“She is indeed a beauty, cousin.” A familiar voice drew the King’s attention. His cousin, Rhaenys, approached the throne. “It is a comfort to see our families flourishing.”

The King smiled and nodded, allowing his cousin permission to approach. She ascended the steps to the Iron Throne and ran the back of her fingers along the round cheek of her new baby cousin. “It is a shame her father is not here to meet her.”

Viserys heart sank. In his joy at meeting Arianwyn, he had momentarily forgotten the circumstances under which she arrived – without her father. Once again, his brother had shamed not only himself, but his family and the Crown itself. At least the child’s hair had put to rest any rumors that Rhea had been unfaithful. 

Suddenly, the sight of the babe made his heart ache. “Alicent,” he called to his wife, “take Arianwyn to her rooms. I am sure she is tired from the journey.” He handed his wife the child and slumped back into the throne, readjusting himself to try and remain comfortable. Then, when Alicent was out of earshot, he again turned to Rhaenys.

“What has my brother done now?” He said, running his gloved hand over his face.

Rhaenys grimaced. “I am loathe to speak against him now, as he has so recently taken my daughter to wife,” she sighed. “But I feel confident in saying that none of us can ever say exactly what your brother is doing, much less predict what he may yet do in the future.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Viserys said, “I just pray that poor girl won’t suffer any more than she already has.”

When she arrived, the Queen’s three children were waiting inside the solar of their cousin’s new rooms. Aegon, now four years old, ran from his nursemaid, cackling as he swerved precariously between the servants attempting to arrange the room. Helaena, approaching her second nameday, stayed in her nurse’s arms, hands clasped tightly around her ears as she took in the unfamiliar space. And Aemond, only a few months older than his new cousin, lay peacefully in his maid’s arms as he watched servants haul numerous sparkling bronze trappings into the rooms.

“Come and meet your new cousin, darlings,” Alicent called to Aegon and the nursemaids bearing her other children, “She’s come a long way to be with us.” The Queen sat on a plush chair near the west windows of the room, gently lowering the babe into her lap.

Aegon reluctantly approached, sneering slightly at the child in his mother’s lap. “She doesn’t look like Daemon.”

Alicent sighed. “Nor did you look like your father when you were so young. Indeed, even now, I wager you look more like me. You have the Hightower nose.” She tweaked the tip of his soft nose – the same as hers - to drive her point home.

“I am a Targaryen prince!” Aegon insisted.

“Of course, my boy. How could any of us forget it with this on your head,” she said, ruffling his unruly mop of white hair.

Aegon grunted, looking back down at the baby. He gently reached out to touch her silver hair, both neater and curlier than his own. “What is her name?”

“Arianwyn.” The Queen responded.

“Ari…” Helaena started, her hands finally coming down from her ears. Alicent nodded for the maid to set her down, and the young girl approached her mother and the babe.

The Queen spoke slowly and carefully as she repeated, “Arianwyn.”

Helaena listened intently, then repeated the name several times, struggling with the pronunciation. “Ah-ree-an-win.”

“That’s it! Very good, my sweet,” the Queen said, placing her hand on her daughter’s shoulder, though the young girl winced at the touch.

Aegon continued fiddling with his cousin’s curls, “It’s a weird name.”

“Her cousin Sir Gerold Royce told me it is of the Old Tongue,” the Queen said, motioning for one of the nursemaids to bring her youngest babe closer, “it has some meaning, though I am afraid I forget what it is.”

Releasing Arianwyn’s hair, Aegon made a noise of quickly waning interest and stepped away, eager to resume his perpetual torment of his nurse. Had she not been holding her young niece, Alicent may have chased after him. But for now, she lifted the child babe to face her own.

“Aemond,” she said softly, “meet Arianwyn.”

As he beheld his bronze-wrapped cousin, he smiled, cooing and reaching a squirming fist toward her. A smile appearing across her own face, Arianwyn reached back toward him.

I'll be starting a new taglist for this, so if you'd like to be on it, please reach out to me or comment on this post.

[ushiwhacka]

IT'S A KINDNESS, HIGHNESS | gojo satoru + fem! reader | 4,500 words | mdni | royalty au, gojo is the most obnoxious, annoying, charming prince ever <3

⇥ summary: your betrothed is unlike anything you ever imagined. he's improper and brash and delights in embarrassing you - but he wants you. and he always gets whatever he wants. ⇥ warnings: corruption, oral (f! receiving), spit, pussy job, food play (just a tiny little bit), reader is a virgin, satoru is so impatient

for my most beloved char <3 thank you for being so patient and for this super cute request (and also for reading but shh)

You were bred to marry royalty. It’s what you’ve been told since you were old enough to know the meaning of it. You were raised to marry royalty. To sit with your legs flawlessly tilted. To sing like a delicate bird. To speak low and curtsey even lower still. A perfect daughter destined to become a perfect wife. 

A resounding click as you close the locket once more. The intricate flowers are warm under your skin, worn out with how many times you’ve run your fingers over them. Clutching it to your chest, giddy with thoughts about the man who looks back at you through the heart-shaped frame. The many nights it has spent tucked under your pillow as you dream of chaste hand kisses and dancing with your betrothed as everyone else looks on. 

“Do you think he’s as handsome as his portrait?” You peer down at the now opened heart again, sighing wistfully as you think of looking into those shining eyes. 

“Keep your head straight.” A sharp reprimand before you feel another pin scrape at your scalp. And you do your best to swallow an audible wince. “It does not matter if he’s handsome, he’s a prince. And one day, he will be king and you will be queen.”

“But, mother —”

“And you will provide him with as many heirs as he wishes.” Her thumbs press into your bare shoulder blades as she regards you in the mirror. A familiar expression on her face, her mouth taut in a thin line, she levels you with steely eyes. “This will do.” You swallow your questions. “Now go.”

There is a whirlwind of kitchen maids and footmen carrying silver trays overflowing with food, dusting the railing, adding wood to the already roaring fireplace. It all comes to a sobering still at the sound of galloping horses and wheels rolling over gravel and the clamour turns into concealed whispers and feet scurrying away. 

Two years since your betrothal. Two years of waiting and wondering. Two years worth of daydreams and fantasies of saccharine words and stolen glances and promises made tucked away behind secret corners. The air lodges in your lungs.  

The silence in the room is so heavy that you can hear your heart thumping in your chest, faster and louder as the steps in front of the door grow nearer. A click. Then the thumping stops. 

He is just as beautiful as his portrait. And yet, he looks nothing like it. There’s something so brazen about him, how strands of messy, white hair fall over his eyes. How his shirt is too loose and untied, the deep opening showing the pale skin of his chest. 

You follow the contour of it. Wide eyes taking in the dip of his throat, the swell of muscle just underneath. It feels forbidden, something you shouldn’t be allowed to see. And still you cannot peel your eyes away. Watching as he draws closer with every long step. Your feet feel like lead sinking into the hardwood floors. 

Curtsey. You’re supposed to curtsey, low and steady. You’re supposed to bow your head before the prince. 

“Ah, my future wife.” It’s too late. “You look ravishing.” 

Before you know it, your hand is in his hand and you can barely breathe. Your chest straining against the fabric of your dress. He looks at you in a way no one has before, like a predator who’s about to devour his prey. Then he brings your hand to his mouth, his lips warm against your skin. 

And he looks at you. Impudent eyes burnt into yours for too long. It’s lewd. It makes your stomach flutter and your cheeks heat in embarrassment. 

Your head is reeling, hand clutched into fists as you follow the group into the dining hall. You had only read of such behaviour in forbidden books hidden in the depths of your family library. It was inappropriate, a stolen moment of intimacy. Still, you can feel the shape of his lips on the back of your hand, stinging like a brand. Thumb pressing into it as you sit on the table with your hands in your lap and head hanging low. 

He sits with his chin propped on his fist, looking around with lidded eyes, the very picture of boredom painted on his fair face. Every word out of his mouth comes drawn out and lazy. But you can still feel his gaze following you, the bob of your throat as you swallow, the tiny drop of red wine sauce on your lips, the nervous fidgeting of your fingers. 

The rest of the world feels like noise, blurs, falls away under the weight of his curious eyes until it’s just you and him. And there’s nothing else to feel but how he drinks you in, how he lingers in all the forbidden crooks of your body. Like you’re already his and his alone.

You’re almost afraid to look at him. The way he stretches in the chair, legs spread wide and slouching over the armrests. Every attempt of your father’s to make polite conversation is thwarted with a disinterest that is almost insulting. Current affairs, politics, and tomorrow’s hunt pale in comparison to the way your hands trembles around the fork. How it clatters against your plate when you feel his hand brush the side of your thigh under the table. 

“Are you feeling unwell, My Lady?” The conversation halts when the prince speaks, heads turn to focus their attention on you. 

“I — I am quite alright.” You feel as though you might choke on the very air you breathe. “You are kind to ask, Your Highness.”

It must have been an accident. You try to reason with yourself that it was an accident. But you suspect it wasn’t. Not when his companion turns to glare at him. Not when his mouth quirks up ever so slightly in satisfaction.

Not when he looks at you as a child looks at a new toy. His new toy. There for his amusement.

Feet patter softly against the floor as you pace around your chambers, watching the sky turn black then lighten again. The pillows feel too warm and your bedding is scratching against the skin of your legs. And every time you close your eyes, you see him, you feel the warmth of his hand on yours, his plush lips on your knuckles. 

You press your mouth to the patch of your skin he kissed, you wonder what it would feel like if he kissed you. Would he be loving and tender? Or would he simply take and take some more, leaving you breathless and trembling? 

It is your duty to give, give him whatever he asks for. That’s the purpose of a wife. You had heard the same lecture nearly daily for over two decades of your life. But there was never an explanation. What must you give? Which part of you would he want for himself?

There’s a fluttering feeling in your belly. Like a sense of frustration that builds and grows with each new thought. Spreads lower still and your whole body comes alight. Like you might not mind giving as many parts of yourself to him as he may want, even if it’s all of you. It makes your chest heave and sweat bead at your hairline. Persists until you succumb to the mercy of exhaustion.

You spend the next morning avoiding anyone with a pulse — the gossiping servants, your mother, and especially him. Walking softly and peeking around corners until you find refuge in the library. The tips of your fingers grazing across dusty books as you read the titles. None of them particularly exciting. And either way, none of them have answers to the questions swirling through your mind. So you resign yourself to your thoughts, fingers dancing over the spines of dusty tomes.

“There.” Before you even know you are no longer alone, your body is pressed forward into the shelves, a chest flush against your back. “Just what I was I was searching for.” 

The sound of his melodic voice makes the blood simmer in your veins. He’s toying with you. You know he has no interest in any book your library could offer. And you’re angry. Angry because you know none of it is an accident. Angry because he is not the man you had imagined. 

And all that rage turns to ice in your veins when you turn around to face him, neck craned upwards only to be met with his bare chest peeking out of the crisp white shirt and a wolfish grin. 

“Your Highness, you —”

“Did you like my portrait?” His fingers inch towards you, rest on your collar bone as he examines the little silver heart that hangs around your neck. “I sat for it just for you.”

“It is in your likeness.” 

“You wound me.” His face is much too close to yours, so close that his breath fans over your skin when he breathes out a laugh. You’ve never felt smaller. “Do you think I’m handsome?”

“Your Highness —”

“Satoru.” He interrupts you again. His lips brushing against your ear. “If you are to be my wife I want to hear you say my name.” Your skin prickles up as he whispers, raw where his words fall over your neck. 

There’s an eerie quiet wrapping you together. Like anything beyond those towering shelves falls away. And all that’s left is the sound of his calm breaths and your heart pummelling against your ribs.

“Satoru.” It feels foreign in your mouth, fills it up. Sits heavy on your tongue.

“Good girl.” 

Then he leaves you. He walks out of the grand room with a spring in his step and a wave. And you’re gasping for air, one hand splayed over your chest where he had touched you, the other digging into the wooden shelves as a means to keep you upright. 

You feel watched, his shining eyes follow your every step. He finds you in the library again even when you’ve tucked yourself away in the most private of nooks. He finds you in the kitchens late at night, sneaking a few bites of cake and milk before bed. He finds you in the garden too as you sit on a bench overlooking the pond, tucked in the thick shade of a weeping willow. 

You’ve grown used to his presence in a way. Used to the quickening of your heart at the mere sight of him, at the sound of his voice. Used to the way your tummy coils when he touches you with near unbearable familiarity. 

Satoru sits next to you and puts the tray of lemon cakes on his lap. He’s too close again, his knee touching yours. And you allow it. Again. 

He shuffles in his seat, taps his fingers on the bench, then sighs deeply — making his presence known, waiting for you to acknowledge it. 

You don’t. 

The silence only lasts for one brief moment. “Have a taste.” He brings the sweet to your mouth and nudges your hand away when you try to take it. “No, no. Open wide for me.”

That feeling that sits low in your belly comes back, twists your insides. But you do as you’re told and part your lips. You’ve learned by now that he enjoys watching your face twist with embarrassment. Just loves that you will disregard every lesson in proper behaviour you’ve been taught for him. 

The pad of his thumb brushes over your bottom lip, lingers there too long. The cake crumbles on your tongue, tangy and sweet. And his mouth hangs slightly open as he watches the way the cream sticks to your teeth, his lithe fingers resting on your chin. It’s suffocating, like the air has thickened in the space between you. Like you cannot breathe until he tells you to. 

“Why are you squirming?” 

The question catches you off guard. “I’m not.”

“Do you like it when I touch you? Does it make you feel strange between your legs?” He leans into you as he speaks. “Is your cunt all wet?”

Your eyes widen in shock. He’s not supposed to say that word. So filthy and unbecoming.  And it makes you feel all… wrong. Too aware of how your body preens for him.

“That is not an appropriate way to speak to a lady.” It takes every drop of strength you possess to not trample over your words. To ignore how he looks at you, barely surpassing his amusement. To stand on your feet and stomp away from him. 

But still, when you slam the heavy doors to your chambers closed, all you can hear is his voice, deep and sanguine. And all you can think about is how it feels to be so close to him, to breathe in his scent and feel the warmth of his skin on yours. How you sink into every touch and every brush of his knuckles. How you feel dazed and light-headed when he speaks words he shouldn’t. 

How you wish to know more.

He finds you again that same night. Walks into your bedchambers wearing a shirt pulled further apart than usual. Feigns innocence as you regard him with stern eyes and your mouth pressed into a disapproving line.

“You really cannot be here.” You fold into yourself, suddenly aware of how he can see you, see all parts of you through the nightgown that’s turned translucent in the candlelight.

“I must have lost my way.” His voice hushed, but you can still hear the insincerity in it. “It’s a big house.”

“I’m certain you’re used to bigger.” You pull your arms closer to your chest. “Now go.”

He doesn’t. You can feel how his eyes rake over you, take in every detail as you stand almost bare before him — how your hair looks when it’s not neatly arranged and adorned with pearls, how your fingers dip into your shoulders, how the tops of your breasts peek from behind your forearms with every heavy breath.

“You’re beautiful.” He takes a step toward you, long fingers brushing over your hair. “I don’t want to leave.”

“Satoru, please.”

“Tell me you want me to leave.”

You swallow thickly, throat tight around your words, swallowing them. Your eyes dart away from him as embarrassment climbs up your legs, warms your cheeks. 

He reaches out, holds your chin between his thumb and index finger. Tilts your head so that you have to look at his face, so that he can see up close the quiver of your lips as you succumb to him. “I’m waiting.” Because you will succumb to him.

The air between you feels suffocating, sticks to you. You turn your head, desperate to breathe, to escape what feels inevitable. But you’re met with the palm of his hand, searing in its tenderness as it pulls you closer to him. 

His lips hover above your own, impatient but still waiting for your resolve to fracture and crumble in his grip. The flicker of your eyes brimming with anticipation is enough of an answer. A shared breath and the distance between you dissipates as he kisses you. 

You’re standing on the tips of your toes, your body extending to dissolve into his. Like it knows its place. He’s gentle, his lips plush and soft and oh so warm as they press on yours. And you feel like you might lose yourself to this feeling, to his touch, consumed by his hunger. And when he pulls away you chase after him.

But he stops you with a hand around your jaw. “Don’t be greedy, now.” His thumb swipes across your lips. “You’re such a good girl, yes?” A dazed nod and his finger pushes inside your mouth, runs over your teeth and pushes onto your tongue. He stakes his claim on you. You’re his. Every last part of you. All of you. His to touch as he pleases. To have as he pleases. His and his alone. “And did they teach you what husbands and wives do together?”

You shake your head.

He swipes over the plump of your lips again, coating them in warm spit as you struggle to keep upright, light-headed, feet tingling with trepidation and something unfamiliar. “Would you like me to show you?”

“Y-yes.” It comes out shaky and breathless, like it should have remained in your throat, died there. Like you should have said no. But there’s that feeling in your belly again, starved and growing, and it wants him. And everything that may entail.

He kisses you again. This time it’s different, firmer, he forces you to open yourself up to him, his tongue licking inside your mouth. Holds you in place with a hand wrapped around the back of your neck. Devours you. Your every sense is alight with the feeling of him, forbidden and yet there in between your eager fingers. 

There’s drool dripping down the sides of your chin, so unbecoming, so embarrassing. Yet it doesn’t compare to the sting that spreads to your cheeks when his tongue darts out to lap it up, lick you clean. Then he kisses you once more, even deeper than before and no drop of himself he has so graciously given you goes to waste. 

You can’t escape the scrutiny of his crystal eyes, shining with pride at the result of his efforts as they take in the sight of you. From your swollen lips, down your neck, to your chest heaving with every laboured breath, and your arms folded together in a feeble attempt to protect your modesty. 

“Let me see you.” His voice trembles just for a moment. As if he, too, is being held together by delicate seams, bursting with want, with the need to have you. 

His fingers snake around your wrists and your breath hitches. But you still let him peel your arms off your body, let his knuckles ghost over the thin material, let him undo the bow that holds your nightgown together. 

You can hear how hard he swallows, see how his throat bobs with the effort, how his mouth goes slack at the sight of your perky nipples peeking out from underneath the white cotton. “Are you nervous?” 

“A little.” 

Knuckles ghost over your clavicle as he hooks a finger around each strap of your nightgown. He looks into your eyes as he pulls them over your shoulder. “Don’t be.” And the dress falls around your feet in a rustle.

The look on his face is unlike anything you have ever seen before. Something primal and fierce. Like a starved animal, a wolf about to devour the lamb caught in his paws. He will take everything, carve it out of your core and grind it between his molars. And you will let him. And you will ask for more.

Feverish lips leave a trail down the column of your throat, teeth grazing your pulse point. Not hard enough to leave a mark, but enough to send a shiver down your spine. You hold onto him, nails digging into the base of his neck as he moves further down, watching in awe as he licks a stripe in between your breasts. He’s watching you too, eager to see how your eyes squeeze shut in pleasure, how you try to bite back the moans that tumble out anyways.

His hands move to cup your tits and he takes his time watching how the fat spills from in between his fingers. Touches your nipples so lightly it tickles, then latches his mouth onto one. It’s obscene, the prince on his knees, your skin glistening with a thin layer of his spit. And oh the noises he makes, whining as he sucks on the hardened buds, the pop as he releases one, only to move to the other side and do it all over again. 

The blissful smile on his face as he looks at you coming undone in his arms. 

But it’s not enough. Not nearly enough to fill the emptiness that’s spreading inside out you. “Please, Satoru —” Your voice weak and desperate, begging for something, anything that will make you feel whole again. 

“What’s wrong, My Lady?” He stands to his feet, curving into you. “What do you want?”

“Satoru…” You say his name like a prayer, like it’s your only salvation.

“Do you want me to touch you —” His fingers dip between the fat of your thighs “— here?”

And you gasp oh so sweetly as his middle finger presses into your folds. Your legs buckle, nails digging deeper into his skin. You want more. And you squeeze around his hand like your body knows what you need when even you don’t. But it’s too late. He’s already holding his finger in between you, dripping with your slick. Then he pops it in his mouth, looks into your eyes as he swirls his tongue around it. 

“Mmm, sweet.” It’s like he delights in embarrassing you even now. “I want more.”

He carries you to the bed, sets you down gently before pulling the shirt off his back. He can see you and, at last, you can see him too. The peaks of his chest, drops of sweat running down between the ripples of his abdomen. So broad. Not even marble statues, perfectly carved works of art, can compare to him. 

His hands are smoothing over your legs, firm, like he’s trying to commit every dip and curve of them to memory. His kisses start chaste, airy over the bone of your ankles, tickle the back of your knee. Slowly, they turn hungry, demanding as he buries his head between your thighs. He sucks on your soft flesh there, his mouth hot and needy. Then his tongue laves over the teeth marks imprinted into your skin, soothing the sting of it. 

He stops for a moment. Desperate eyes taking in the sight of your pussy, wet and sticky with arousal. He runs his fingers over the sensitive skin, listens to you sharply inhale at the contact. 

“You’re mine.” The world stops. “Say it.”

You can only manage a strangled whisper. “I’m yours.”

Then you feel it, the warmth of his breath as his mouth hangs just above your core, how wet and thick and hot his tongue is when it licks between your folds. How it curls around that spot that makes you whimper and call out his name. And he wraps his lips around it, sucks on it and you cannot stop the cry that erupts out of your mouth. 

Your belly tightens. And you have to hide your face behind trembling hands, hide your panting and the way your cheeks could burst with shame. But you cannot stop how your body leans into him, how your legs wrap tightly around his head, pulling him closer still. 

“You’re doing so well.” His voice vibrates against your centre and you moan, high-pitched and strained. “Just let go for me.” 

You can feel the sheets grow wetter beneath you, him cursing under his breath about how perfect you are, his tongue all over you, lapping up your slick and dipping into all the perfect places. And that feeling snaps, spreads until your legs are shaking and you can do nothing but wail and scratch your nails across his scalp. 

Lips move across your tummy, sloppy wet kisses mix withe the damp of your skin. He kisses you again, cradles your neck, holds you in place. It’s forceful and his mouth is so hot on yours, dripping, covers you in a taste that’s salty and sweet and intoxicating. 

His hair is tussled, face shiny with you. And he looks at you with some kind of twisted pride in his eyes. “Have I won My Lady’s favour?”

A weak nod.

“Then —” He starts as nimble hands undo the ties on his breeches, “— I should show you what you have done to me.”

It’s a sight unlike any other. His cock, with soft white tufts of hair at the base, thin veins curving around his length and a blush pink tip leaking something clear and thick. And when he rests it on top of your tummy it feels heavy and it goes all the way up to your belly button. 

“When we’re married I intend to have you like this every day.” His eyes are glued to where your bodies connect. “Perhaps more than once. We need heirs, don’t we?” Excitement tingles in your fingertips.

He runs the fleshy tip over your slit so agonisingly slowly. Follows every little movement with such intensity. And he feels like velvet against you, warm and throbbing over your core. Each buck oh his hips catches that sensitive peak between your folds and you feel your insides coil again. Writhe with want, with need to feel that release again. 

You reach out to touch him, feel how he ruts into you. And he moans at the contact, a little choked out and whiny. You run your hand over his length, encouraged by how his lips part so prettily. And he feels so thick, so firm in your grasp.

“You’re a fast learner.” His mouth stretches, a picture of satisfaction.

But his tip catches against your entrance, and his eyebrows knot uncomfortably and he grinds his teeth. Knuckles white around the crumpled sheets as he tries to ground himself. Resist. Just for now. But never again.

His thrusts become more erratic, reckless as he surrenders to the tenderness of your flesh. And you follow closely along, hips bucking into him, looking for more friction, more of him. Your name falling from his lips, and his from yours. Like a sacred choir chant, or a cry for mercy, or something no words could ever convey. 

He finds his release with his head hung and a low grunt. Spilling all over your belly, white and sticky and hot. He’s spent, hair damp and sticking to his forehead, chest heaving. You like the way he looks at you, bright eyes dimmed and hazy. Softer. And you think you must have taken a part out of him too.

He clings to you, lets you lay your head on his chest, your ear just above his heart. Its steady beat is oddly soothing. And so is the way he gently rubs little circles into your back, grounds you, binds you to him. Unexpected but not unwanted. 

“Do you want to marry me?” He looks so different. Vulnerable and entirely too human, gaze locked onto the carved wood of your ceiling. As if he’s afraid of your answer, the truth in your eyes.

“Hm.”

“Hm?” His chest tightens.

“Only if you promise to sleep in my bed for as long as we both shall live.”

He turns to you with a click of his tongue. “I think they will have to drag me out by my arms and legs.” A wistful sigh. “There might even be casualties.”

thank you for reading! interaction is very much appreciated! ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

[daydreaming-nerd]

Shadows and Sins (Ruhn Danaan x Reader)

Takes place pre HOFAS

My masterlist

A/N: I’ve been sitting on this for so long and guess what I GAVE HIM A BIKE HAHA biketok girls we ride at dawn. 

Summary: All is fair in love and war… (enemies to lovers inspired by House of Balloons by The Weeknd) 

Warnings: SA, intoxication, banter

Word count: 3981

Prince, starborn, bad boy, party animal, loose cannon and playboy, those were the words typically used to describe Ruhn Danaan. 

Asshole, spoiled brat, antagonizing, vexing and unfortunately handsome…those were the words I used to describe my best friend's brother.

Ruhn came into my life about a year ago when I started working at the archives with his younger sister Bryce, who I became friends with almost instantly. He came in one day demanding to speak to Bryce and since I thought he was just some lovesick guy like all the others who came panting after the redhead I promptly told him off. It wasn’t until 30 minutes of fighting back and forth that Bryce returned from lunch with Hunt that I found out I was wrong, and the prince never let me live it down. 

Since then, we were like oil and water, order and chaos, and love and war. Though I suppose all was fair when it came to that. 

We fought whenever we saw one another, which was often since him and Bryce had become reacquainted. At first she hated our squabbling, but with Athalar’s calming presence in her life she had grown to use it as free entertainment. So when the bell over the door to archives rang and her laugh echoed subsequently I knew I was in for a fight… 

“Brought your wallet,” called the voice I dreaded to hear. “You gotta stop leaving it at my place.”

“Thanks Ruhn,” Bryce chirped, confirming the worst. 

Sure enough I turned around to find Ruhn Danaan waltzing in like he owned the place, which I sure he could if he wanted to, he was a prince after all not that you could ever tell. In all the fairytales I had read as a little girl the prince’s always wore fine tunics and rode on white horses. But Ruhn opted for a black t-shirt and a speed bike and unfortunately if he had been anyone but who he is I would’ve found that incredibly hot.

“I still don’t know why you insist upon hanging out with the rabble,” Ruhn said to Bryce leaning his forearms against the countertop. 

Bryce shoots her brother a look that begs him to behave himself for once in his life, and part of me thought I should be the bigger person and not fight back. But I wasn’t a bigger person-I was a petty bitch, and I’ll be damned if I let Ruhn Danaan come into my place of employment and talk smack to me. 

“It’s probably because she needs at least one acquaintance who doesn’t need someone to wipe his ass for him,” I said with a fake smile, continuing to polish the silver chalice in my hand.

Bryce snorts as she shoves her wallet into her purse. Both of us turn to her to find her trying to hide her giggle at my comment. 

I cross my arms over my chest giving Ruhn a self satisfied look and as usual he won’t let me win that easily. 

“Funny you should mention it. I've been looking for someone else who would wipe it for me. Interested? I’m sure you’d love the view,” he smirks that godsdammned lip ring making an appearance. 

“One of these days I’m going to rip that ring right out of your lip,” I growl bracing my arms on the counter like I might do it right now. 

“Oh the women of Crescent City would weep at the loss of my beloved lip ring, they do so love when it grazes their-” 

“That’s enough!” Bryce shouts pushing Ruhn towards the door. “I do not want to hear about your bedroom activities!” 

“Same here I just ate lunch!” I shout from behind the desk. 

“Please, you're begging for more images of me to get off to!” Ruhn shouts from the threshold of the door as Bryce continues to push him. 

“If I wanted to see mediocre fucking I’m sure there’s a website for it!” I holler as Bryce closes the door. 

I smirk and waggle my fingers at him as he bangs on the door. Once again I got the last word and oh boy did it feel good. 

Bryce didn’t walk away from the door until the revving of Ruhn’s bike could be heard taking off down the road. She turned to me with her arms crossed and a scowl on her face. My lip twitched up in amusement and her scorned look broke as both of us roared with laughter.

“Okay I have to admit the ass wiping bit was pretty good,” she chortled, coming around to help me polish again. 

“You like that one? I’ve been saving it.” I laugh remembering the look on his face when his own sister laughed at him. 

“I still hate that you two fight, but at least it’s like getting my own comedy show now,” she shakes her head. 

We finish our polishing in peace, talking over last night's episode of Fangs and Bangs, and our raucous plans for tonight. It was friday, which meant girls night was happening at The White Raven. It was honestly my favorite day of the week, I looked forward to it more than I cared to admit. Society called us vicious party girls, but how bad were we really? 

“So I’ll meet you there at 10?” Bryce asks, locking up the shop. 

“Yeah what are you wearing though?” I ask rummaging through my bag for the key to the lock on my scooter.

“I was going to wear that red silk dress, you know the one Hunt tried to tear off me,” she smirks, wiggling her eyebrows. 

“Ooo someones playing dirty trying to get laid tonight,” I muse, if Bryce did one thing well it was ruffle Hunt’s feathers everytime he had to pick her up after a girls night. 

“Like I even have to try that hard anymore,” she laughs tucking the keys into her bag. 

“Oh how I wish I had a man to carry me home from the bar and dick me down afterwards,” I sigh with fake longing, though we both know I was telling the truth.

“Prince Charming is out there and who knows you might meet him tonight,” she smiles as she begins to walk towards her apartment. “Wear the black and silver dress!” she calls back. 

I shake my head and continue walking towards the other side of town. I hadn’t planned to wear the black and silver dress tonight but Bryce was never wrong about fashion, so black and silver it was. 

The White Raven was alive and bouncing per usual. Couples coupling in dark corners, some drunk girls grinding on each other wearing bachelorette tiaras, men shouting at their friends to finish their beers. Among those rowdy men, Ruhn Danaan. 

He had kindly greeted Bryce and unkindly greeted me when he first arrived. Bryce promptly shooed him off letting him know that it was girls night and he said he’d rather chew glass than stick around. While he was across the bar it didn’t help with the awareness that he was there. 

Normally girls nights were carefree, Bryce and I might end up dancing on a bartop and of course they would call the Umbra Mortis to haul us over his shoulders. Sometimes we would kick Hunt out his own bed and force him to sleep on the couch so us girls could have a “sleep over”. 

Tonight was different. The last thing I needed was to commit some atrocious behavior that Ruhn could put in his arsenal of insults. I could already hear him jesting about how I made out with a lion shifter or fell over on the dancefloor. So Bryce and I stuck to sitting at the bar, sipping our drinks and talking shit like sophisticated women.  

Two drinks turned to four, and four turned to six. The colorful lights only made my head spin faster as I downed the rest of my drink. I looked to my right to find Bryce’s nearly untouched. Athalar had showed up about ten minutes ago after our bartender told him we were approaching being cut off. Of course the moment Bryce saw him all bet were off… she now stood with her tongue down his throat and he didn’t seem inclined to protest. Turns out she was right about that red dress. 

I roll my eyes and grab her martini and down it slamming it back on the bartop, not like she was going to need it.

“Bryce I’m heading out,” I say, putting my hand on her shoulder. 

She gave me a thumbs up as Hunt moved from her lips to her neck. I just shook my head and grabbed my purse. It wasn’t uncommon for me to go home alone, she had my location and we always kept tabs on one another.

The second I stood on my feet all the alcohol rushed to my head, and I had to close my eyes and take a deep breath to steady myself. I looked at my barstool and thought about sobering up, but the last thing I wanted to see was the mate makeout session, so I shook my head to try and clear my mind and sauntered out towards the door. 

The night air did little to sober me up, and my stilettos didn’t help with the wobbling. I pulled out my phone to try and find a ride home, but when the rideshare app quoted me $100 to go two miles I shoved my phone back in my purse with a huff and started walking towards my apartment. Like hell I was paying that for two miles.

My heels clicked on the pavement, echoing off the alley walls. Suddenly another pair of shoes echoed off the walls as well, not light and feminine steps, big clunky shoes. 

“Where are you going darling?” crooned a voice I didn’t recognize. 

I tried my best to pick up the pace, but the nature of my delicate shoes did little to give me any sort of advantage. My hands fumble with my purse trying to pull out the pepper spray Hunt got me for my birthday last year but those last two drinks were starting to catch up with me and my world was spinning. 

I feel a pair of hands grab my shoulders and slam me against the wall of the White Raven. My purse falls to the ground and I’m met with a pair of brown eyes. The guy had a backwards sunball hat and a blue shirt and he reeked of liquor. 

“Come on baby it’s not safe for pretty things like you to be out here,” he slurred, his body pressing closer to me. 

I cringe at the smell of his breath, “Get off of me creep!” I shout hoping that the alley isn’t that empty. 

My hands try to push him off but my intoxicated nature doesn't allow for much dexterity on my part.  

“Oh come on sweetheart don’t be that way,” he mumbled drunkenly, attaching his mouth to my neck. 

I try to push him off once more but I wobble, uneasy on my shoes. His hands fall from the small of my waist to the hem of my dress and I feel my blood run ice cold. 

“NO!” I shout scrumbling to get the sleeze off me. 

A hand grabs the back of the males collar and the sound of a fit making contact with his jaw reverberates through the alley as the male hits the ground. I stand shocked with my hands over my mouth as Ruhn Danaan shakes out the hand that delivered the punch and kicks the limp male. 

“You okay?” he asks nonchalantly, giving me a once over. 

I stand there still too stunned to speak, my eyes wandering from the male on the ground to Ruhn standing there with that damned black t-shirt clinging to his torso. 

He bends down to pick up my purse and shoves it into my arms. The gesture that finally breaks me out of shock. 

“T-thank you,” I mutter, still a little slow. 

“Where’s Bryce?” he asks looking around the alley, the sound of the club music inside still booming. 

I push myself off the wall stumbling a bit, “Inside sucking face with Athalar,” I slurr. 

“Thanks for the visual,” Ruhn purses his lips.

I straighten myself up and take a deep breath trying to act as sober as possible which probably was making me seem even more drunk, but I had to at least try. 

“Well thank you for uh…that,” I say gesturing towards the man still unconscious on the pavement. “I’ll see you around I guess.” 

I start wobbling down the alleyway once more, blinking my eyes rapidly to get my mind to clear and focus on walking home. 

“Where the hell do you think you’re going princess?” he croons. 

Princess. Gods that fucking nickname. Most people would use it as a compliment or a pet name, but Ruhn knew how it drove me insane. He claimed I was just a spoiled princess one time and when I freaked out and yelled at him about it he proceeded to make that his nickname for me.

“I’m going home,” I sneer, trying to walk as best I can. 

“Like hell you’re walking home alone,” he growls, gripping my arm.

My eyes fly too the tattooed hand on my arm, and then up to those violet blue eyes that sparked with rage. 

“I do it all the time I’m fine,” I growl trying to rip my arm out of his grasp but I only succeed in making myself stumble more. 

He steadies me before speaking again, “Stop I’ll give you a ride,” he says motioning to his blacked out R1 parked in the alley. 

“I am not getting on that death trap with you after you’ve been drinking,” I scoff. 

“I’m not drunk, I don’t get drunk in public, it’s bad for appearances,” he says, irritation flitting across his unfairly handsome features. 

“Then how do I know you’re not going to dump me into Istros?” I sneer and the muscle in his jaw ticks and I can tell it’s taking everything in him not to fire back at me. 

“Because Bryce and I are finally on good terms and I’m pretty sure she would never forgive me if something happened to her best friend,” he explained, his words cold as ice. 

Maybe I was stupid, maybe I was drunk, maybe I was just cold and wanted to go home, but I actually believed him.

“Fine, let's go,” I say, walking towards his bike. 

I had to admit I always wanted to ride a motorcycle. Now riding on the back of Ruhn’s while I was drunk wasn’t exactly the time I wanted to do it, but I suppose beggars couldn’t be choosers. The bike was large and completely blacked out, if the moon hadn’t illuminated it just right I wouldn’t have been able to see it. 

Ruhn approaches the bike and starts the engine, every movement is like second nature to him. He takes the helmet off the seat and goes to put it on himself but then stops, turns to me, and punks it down on my head. The darkness of the visor mixed with the late hour making it impossible to see. I huff and flip it up, giving him a pointed glare. 

“I don’t have both helmets so this will have to do,” he says studying the way it fits me a little big. 

Tattooed fingers brush under my chin, tilting it up so he can buckle the strap for me. I would protest and say I’m capable of doing it myself but in my drunken state I’m not so sure. When he clips the buckle it pinches my skin for a moment and I yip.

“Ouch you pinched me!” I yelp smacking him in the arm. 

“Well if you stopped squirming I wouldn’t have pinched you,” he smirks, throwing his leg over the bike. “Now swing your leg over the bike and put your feet on these pegs,” he instructs me. 

I do as I’m told, using his broad shoulders as support as standing on one leg, drunk, in stilettos was never a good idea. Once I’m seated I keep my hands on his shoulders lightly and my bum on the edge of the seat, putting as much distance away from each other as possible. 

“You gotta hold on or you’ll fall off sweetheart,” he laughs, somehow finding humor in the precarious situation we’re in. 

“Yeah fucking right, like I’m going to wrap my arms around you like a little lovesick puppy,” I huff. “Just drive.” 

He shakes his head and revs the engine making the bike jerk forward. The momentum has my bum moving further into the seat and my arms instinctively wrapping around his middle, like I was afraid to fall off.

“There we go much better,” he smirks before revving the engine a couple of times. “Hold on tight princess.” 

I’m not given another warning before he speeds out onto the streets. Thankfully there aren’t a lot of cars and people out this late at night, but it doesn’t stop the crown prince from weaving around traffic that is there. He goes so fast I feel compelled to hold onto him with a deathgrip. 

By the time we pull up to my apartment my stomach is queasy. I swing my leg off the bike and nearly fall over until Ruhn catches my arms and hauls me up. 

“Woah there princess, maybe we better keep the helmet on, you’re a walking liability.” he laughs clearly enjoying seeing me in a vulnerable moment. 

“Take it off,” I grumble as I stand up straight again. 

He repeats the motion from earlier, tilting up my chin to help me take the damned thing off instead this time he ruffles my hair when he’s done. 

“You did pretty good for your first time as a backpack,” he smirks as I glare at him. 

I go to walk up my front steps and slip on my damned heels again, the ones that were definitely going to the back of the closet after this outing. Arm wraps under my shoulders and I feel Ruhn helping me up the steps to my second floor apartment. 

“You don’t have to do that, I can make it,” I grumble. 

“Trying to stay in Bryce’s good graces remember,” he says as I fumble with my keys.

My apartment wasn’t the nicest. It wasn’t a dump by any means, I did my best to keep it homey and clean, but it also wasn’t as nice as Bryce’s. Well I suppose Bryce and Hunt’s apartment now. God she was definitely having a better night than me. 

I walk inside and go to close the door but that damned tattooed hand stops me. 

“Not going to invite me in? That’s not very friendly,” Ruhn tuts walking right past me.

I scoff at him, walking in like he owns the place. Part of me wants to drag him out by his ear, but the logical part of me bends over to get myself out of these death trap shoes. I throw them across the room as punishment for their crimes tonight. 

When I walk further into my apartment I find Ruhn has completely made himself at home by grabbing a beer out of my refrigerator and cracking it open. 

“Are you serious?” I scoff walking to the sink across from him and getting myself a glass of water. 

“Consider it payment for the free ride home, I’ll take my thanks at any time you know?” he says smugly, taking another sip.

“Thank you for the ride,” I sigh. “Now will you please go?” 

He furrows his brows, “And waste a freshly opened beer? I don’t think so.” he says. 

I lean against the counter adjacent to him and sip my water. I can’t help but roll my eyes at the male. This was just like Ruhn, finding simple ways to get under my skin. I hated the fact that I liked the way he looked in my kitchen, black t-shirt in jeans, hair tied to the nape of his neck. 

Ruhn’s eyes flicker with amusement and then he chuckles, “I really do get under that delicate skin of yours don’t I princess?” he croons. 

“I told you. Don’t. Call. Me. Princess.” I snap at him, oh god if looks could kill. 

He pushes himself off  the counter, “Then stop fucking acting like one,”  he says low prowling forward with every step. 

The closer he gets the taller he looms. I know this little scare tactic, him trying to invade my space and make me feel small. It’s not like I have much of a choice either, not with the way my back is pressed into the counter. 

I can’t tell if it’s the alcohol or the expensive cologne pouring off him but there’s something about the way he’s looking at me that is so damn arousing. A fucked up part of me wanted him to stick his tongue down my throat but I quickly threw that thought away. 

He was mere inches away from me when I started to think he would do just that. My pulse raced and my thighs clenched. But when his arm reached up brushing the shell of my ear it just kept reaching until it came to the top shelf of my cabinets and plucked the bag of chips off the shelf. 

My shoulders sag as I realize he was just reaching for a snack to go with his beer, and I mentally cursed myself for hoping it would be more. 

He chuckles, opening the bag of chips and popping one into his mouth, not moving from where he stood just inches away from me. He clearly was loving this little power trip he was on. 

“You look disappointed, princess,” he chuckles, fishing another chip from the bag. 

I roll my eyes and look to the side, unable to meet the predatory gaze that almost had me throwing my moral code out the window just minutes ago. 

His hand drifts under my chin pulling my gaze to his as he takes a step forward again. 

“Did you think I was going to kiss you?” he asks low, his thumb and forefinger pinching my chin so I can’t look away. 

I swallow the lump in my throat. My logic screams to shove him, my alcohol induced brain says to kiss him and my mouth can’t find the words to speak. 

Ruhn smiles, lowering his head to me, “Maybe I should kiss you, it would be good to shut you up,” he laughs, voice gravely. 

His lips are so close to mine I can feel the warmth of his breath, I swear the cool metal of that damn lip ring brushes my mouth. My body leans forward of its own accord but then he reaches his other hand up and pops another chip in his mouth thoroughly running the moment.

“No I don’t think I will kiss you, even though it’s clear that you want me to,” he smiles, that damn knee wobbling smile he gives every woman to bring them to their knees. 

I stand in a state of shock as he back up to his side of the kitchen again, he plucks his keys off the counter and twirls them in his hand as he walks towards the front door. 

“Have a good night, princess,” he says on the way out, putting an emphasis on the name that drives me crazy. 

I’m left standing alone in my kitchen, glass of water long since forgotten and mouth agape. Ruhn Danaan almost just kissed me, and the fucked up part of it was I wanted him to.

part 2 coming... Lmk if you want to be on the taglist for this little mini series.

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[marsbutterfly]

The Princess and The Pauper

Summary: Your father has arranged for you to be wed to a prince in a nearby kingdom, but when you tell your beloved, the two of you plan to run away.

a/n: hey everyone <3 I actually started writing this fic back in 2022 and just went back to it in March, I believe? anyway, this is by far the longest fic I have ever written, so please, enjoy <3

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: medieval au, fem!reader, non-binary!hanji zoe, NSFW, childhood friends to lovers, parental death (mother), secret relationship, mentions and description of disease, panic attacks, mentions of forced marriage, massive age gap (between reader and the man she is meant to marry/ reader's parents), blood, parental abuse, physical abuse, kissing, face-sitting, cunnilingus, fingering, scissoring, not really beta read, we ball.

small glossary: Libet - Lady-In-Waiting | Tegan - reader's cat| Elowen - reader's horse

 ao3 | wattpad | cover by: bbybluemochi on twt | wc: 24.1k

The warm spot on the window ledge had never seemed more comfortable. The sun had been shining right above it all day long, the music that came from the kingdom faded into the background and your cat purred by your feet. You knew in your heart that this was the perfect time of day to bring out a blanket and cuddle up against a pillow, a good book in your hands. These days, it was rare for you to have a moment all to yourself like this, and, deep down, you knew one way or another, your parents would interrupt your peace.

It was the third time you were reading this book, or trying to read it. The story of two lovers from different classes, brought apart by their parents and the stress that came with their titles, a story you knew all too well. You couldn’t help but sigh at the irony, of course, the book you chose had a similar story to the one you found yourself living at the current moment.

The rumors of your secret affair with the doctor’s child had been spreading like wildfire all across the kingdom, especially after a few of the night guards had caught you sneaking around late at night while trying to make it to your secret meeting spot. No matter how much you paid them to stay quiet, the word still got out somehow and you had yet to receive punishment for it.

The words on the book float around you in a silent dance as you lose focus, your thoughts traveling thousands of miles away towards the distant memories of the night before, when your beloved held you in their arms and read to you from their personal journal about remedies they had discovered, about the star constellations they had studied a week before, or just simply as they played with your hair while listening to your breathing in the cold night.

Before you can daydream much further than that, a bad feeling takes place in your stomach. Something in the atmosphere felt… wrong, though you couldn’t quite put your finger on what it was. You quickly close your book and place it on top of the cushion next to you before gently nudging your cat away to give you the chance to stand up. Even though the pet cries softly, you apologize and offer it a small smile, followed by a quick scratch on the top of the head, that’s when you hear it in the distance.

The loud, carrying voices became closer by the second and you could hear loud footsteps against the marble floors. With a heavy sigh and a roll of your eyes, you begin to make your way toward the entrance to your bedroom, your hands going through your dress to destroy any wrinkles before finding a resting place crossed against your thighs. 

The doors swing open and they quickly collide with the wall. You close your eyes tightly for no more than a couple of seconds before regaining your composure, not a word escapes your lips before your father, a plump man with a large beard and gold chains that are hidden by all the facial hair, enters the room. His voice carries around the area, the excitement palpable in his words, “My darling daughter!”

“Father,” you say politely, lowering your knees a few inches while your head hangs from your neck. Once you bring yourself back up, you decide to flash him a gentle and warm smile, knowing damn well that it was nothing but a fake, something you and your family were more than used to, something to stop yourself from actually telling him every single bad word that has crossed your mind in the last twenty seconds, “It has been a while.”

The man waves his hands, silently asking the servants around to leave you be and they quickly do as they are told. Not a minute goes by and you find yourself trapped in his tight embrace, a warm sensation taking over your face as embarrassment settles in, he has always been a man of action rather than words. “How have you been?” He inquires, awkwardly attempting to make small talk. 

His hands fidget around for a few seconds, restlessly going from his beard to the diamonds around his fingers. The smell of cheap cologne mixed with whatever he has had for lunch overtakes the room, the crumbs still stuck to his beard and the small part of his hair-covered belly that pokes out from the far too small shirt are nearly enough to break through your facade and bring out the disgust on your face. But somehow, you power through.

“I have been doing alright,” you respond, placing your hands behind your back while fidgeting with your fingers, nearly pulling out your own nails in an attempt to ground yourself and keep yourself sane. He has never once asked you how you were doing without having another intention in mind, but you decide to play along regardless, “How was your recent trip to the Pephia Kingdom? I hear their knights have recently returned from a quest with a bigger amount of gold than they have ever seen, is that true?”

The man laughs, his breath hits your face and, as an instinct, you look away. Your eyes are closed shut for a second until you force yourself to stare at him again, his face red from the laughter. “Oh, so you have heard about it, yes? Good, that will make things easier.”

You can’t help but tilt your head, your eyebrows furrowing in response to his words as you continue to pick at the side of your nails, the area getting progressively more raw and inflamed, “I’m sorry, I’m not sure I understand.”

He clears his throat and takes a deep breath, his face becoming redder than before as his voice now takes a low turn, a more serious expression on his face, “It has come to my attention that you have been... Fraternizing with... A peasant?”

Your breathing seems to stop for a second, all the air is completely sucked out of your lungs and suddenly it feels like the room has started to spin. You weren’t sure what to do, should you lie and pretend that it was a made-up lie by the guards? But how could you know that the information came from the guards? Should you own up to it and beg for his forgiveness? No, you would never find yourself stooping to such a low level. Time seemed to be moving so fast and yet so slowly, the doubt clouding your judgment. Since you weren’t able to offer an answer, he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose while his eyes close.

“y/n, we have talked about this!” He says, his voice has a cold tone to it and it sends a terror-filled shiver down your spine, “You were told to stay away from the doctor’s child. They are nothing but trouble and the entire kingdom knows they are… you know… a bit insane. They are considered the lowest of the low.”

Your face snaps back to look at him, how dare he speak of the one you loved in such a despicable manner? You can feel your cheeks burning, a mixture of anger and embarrassment, while your jaw clutches into place. It’s painful but you don’t even seem to notice it for the time being. “They have been teaching me to become a healer, so I can be better prepared for when the day comes when I become the queen!”

The man sighs, his eyes now squinting as he tries to remain calm, “I was not born yesterday, y/n. I raised you and I know you better than anyone ever could.” Another lie, this man may be your father but he did not know anything about you. In his head, you were still the little star-eyed girl who would love to watch her parents working for the good of her kingdom, but that stopped being the case long ago.

You continue to pick at the skin of your finger, feeling as a trickle of blood now makes its way down and lands on your dress. Your eyes shift focus for a small second before you are forcefully brought back to the situation at hand when your father grabs your chin and your cheeks with his rough hand, the sharpness of his many rings leaving behind scratches on your skin as he looks directly into your eyes. Your breathing begins to tremble as his grip tightens, you want to push him away, but that would only make things worse.

After a few seconds like this, when he finally decides that you have been brought down to your place, he lets you go. Your knees hit the ground and not even the size of your dress was enough to prevent your skin from bruising, your face is numb and you look at him through the hair that covers your eyes, wiping the corner of your mouth with the back of your hand.

“Do not lie to me again,” he says, the “loving father figure” persona completely gone now and the real version of him shining through, “have you or have you not been… intimate with this filthy low life?” The disgust in his voice was palpable, his nose scrunching up at the simple thought that his daughter, the perfect princess who was raised with everything good and nice, could have been defiled by someone of a lower class.

“Yes,” you respond, trying hard to keep the tears that desperately want to flow down your face at bay.

The look on his face sends a wave of terror down your body, he clutches his teeth so intensely that it nearly seems like they are about to break, and his face is so red that anyone who walked into the room would assume he was having a heart attack or really bad indigestion. He clears his throat and adjusts his shirt, his hands clutching the fabric, the sound of his shoes against the marble floors filling your ears as he begins to pace around.

“During my visit to the Pephia Kingdom, I was pleasantly surprised to find out that King Pierre’s eldest son was in search of a bride,” he says, his fat fingers brushing against your books, leaving behind greasy marks on your precious and rare volumes, a part of your heart breaks for the once clean pages, but his voice echoes through the walls once more, demanding your attention, “and your name came up.”

“What?” You catch yourself responding, certainly, you misheard what he said and he wasn’t suggesting what you assumed he was? Your own father would not be as cruel as to punish you in such a manner, “Porter? He is… much older than me.”

A smile takes over the man’s features, “That is true, but I was also much older than your mother, and stepmother, and yet, here we are.”

“P-please, you can’t do this. I’ll behave, I’ll do anything!” You try to plead with him. No, this is much deeper than a simple plea, you are begging. Your body is trembling and the tears you tried so hard to keep hidden now shamelessly fall, there is nothing you want less than to be wed to a man twice your age, a man whom you have never met, not when your heart already belongs to someone else.

“Oh, but I can. I am the king and you will do as you are told!” He roars, his fist slams against the wall and it causes you to whimper and cower away in the corner of the room, “this marriage will finally end the war that has been going on for nearly a century. The war between the four kingdoms will come to an end and it will finally put my name as the rightful ruler of all men. You are my daughter, you were born to do your job as a woman.”

You want to scream, you want to beg some more but you know that there is no changing his mind. The thoughts go through your mind so quickly that you can barely keep up, the air in your lungs burns on the way in and on the way out, like there are small particles of glass all around you. “Please.”

“Accept your future, y/n, and I will spare the filthy peasant who dared sully my daughter.” His eyes shot daggers into your heart, the idea of losing them, the one person who you have loved your entire life, is nearly enough to kill you. So for them, maybe this once, you could do something useful. So you nod, your head hanging low as you wrap your arms around yourself, your once light-colored dress now covered in dirt. “Excellent, I will send a messenger over to Pephia and let them know the wedding will happen tomorrow, at dusk. You will be out of here and you will never see that... Freak again.”

The sound of his shoes leaving the room would usually fill you with a sense of hope, but this time, it only meant that you would soon meet your doom. There was no getting away from this, it was your duty as the crown princess to do what was best for your people and those around you, but... The idea of living without them? Without Hanji? It was a pain that could only be compared to the feeling of having your heart ripped out of your chest and stomped on.

You can’t move your body, your face still burns from the mark of your father’s rings, your knees are scraped and covered in dirt and your hair is now a mess from being thrown around like a cheap and replaceable doll. You stay like that, wondering if this was your life now, just another pawn in your father’s sick game for power and control.

The stars start to show up in the sky, the lanterns in the kingdom taking over the once colorful streets and turning them into a dark shade of orange, covered by shadows that dance in pathetic rhythm. Once you are finally able to collect yourself off of the floor, you walk towards the balcony, your legs nearly failing you as you hold onto the walls for support, the tears won’t stop pouring from your eyes.

Your body drapes over your favorite spot on the window, the pillows are now freezing cold as the night air hits the fabric, your fingers gripping tightly onto it as you bury your face in the surface, a scream leaving your lungs. The desperation you feel in this moment can only be absolved by one thing, by the one person who could save you.

You reach under the window for the loose tile on the ground, hoping to find the box you have kept hidden for so long. You were careless once before, the people of the kingdom had found out about your most precious secret, but not anymore. From inside the compartment, you pull a black cloth, the smell of your beloved taking over your nostrils and filling you with a warm sense of security. With trembling hands you wrap it around the window ledge, your eyes finally noticing the armed guards that keep a close watch on your room, your father must know you have a plan.

The different colors of fabrics you hide in that box represent different things: yellow if you missed them, red if you wanted to meet at your usual spot, blue if you would not be able to see them that night, and so on, but the black one is the one color you never had to use before, it meant you were in danger. You prayed so hard that this moment would never come, that the worry on their face when Hanji handed it to you and you laughed quietly, saying it wasn’t necessary, wasn’t warranted but, once again, you were wrong.

The night was cold, a complete contrast with how sunny and warm your day had been up until that unfortunate visit. While a few tears still stream down your face, you decide to get yourself ready while waiting for Hanji to come, you know they won’t take long so you want to be ready, the sooner you can get out of this hellhole, the better.

Thinking of what you were actually going to take with you was a harder task than you’d ever imagined. There was nothing inside these empty palace walls that you would want to take with you, nothing that couldn’t be replaced. Only two things came to mind: the love letters Hanji had written to you throughout your relationship and the sapphire ring that belonged to your mother. The rest? Could easily be bought or traded or forgotten.

In a small bag gifted to you by a young peasant girl from a nearby village, you decide to pack the two essential items and a few more things, such as a small sewing kit, a small book where you have written down your knowledge about every herb and fruit you have ever come in contact with, a hairbrush and, of course, a bit of food that was bound to last the two of you a few days.

Your once beautiful dress is now covered in dirt and some blood, the sight is so disgusting that you can barely look at yourself. When you walk past the mirror and realize the pathetic state you find yourself in, a fit of rage takes over your body and you can’t help but follow your first instinct to throw a book at the surface, shards of glass exploding all over your room as you cover your face.

Your nails dig through the fabric of the outfit you are wearing, ripping it to shreds as you attempt to remove it as fast as possible. The grunts that come from deep within your chest represent the frustration you are feeling at that moment, nothing else could compare. The idea that you are being sold to a random kingdom… for loving someone? Fuck that.

You catch yourself staring into nothing, a thousand thoughts going through your mind and you can’t help but bite off your fingernails, waiting for your beloved to appear, for them to make their grand entrance through the passage you found hidden in your room years before, as a child. The idea that they wouldn’t come crosses your brain and you shake your head vigorously, pushing the thought so far deep that it won’t see the light of day again.

Not long after, you hear a faint knock coming from the secret door underneath your carpet. You can’t help but fly towards it, ripping the fabric off of the ground and throwing it across the room, immediately unlocking the heavy area. The moment Hanji comes into your field of vision, you notice the scratches on their face, the dirt on the palms of their hands, and the growing concern behind those whiskey-colored eyes, even the slight way in which their nose scrunches up when they try to catch their breath doesn’t go by unnoticed.

You have barely any time to react before their arms wrap around your waist, pulling you closer. Your arms, in response, grow a mind of their own and immediately wrap around their neck, your face buried in the area as you try your best to muffle your desolate cries. With tears of their own, Hanji guides you backward towards the bed, where the two of you lay for a while, crying in each other’s embrace.

The room is filled with outside lights and the deafening sound of your sobs. Hanji’s grip on you never loosens as you dig your nails through their clothes, your heart has never called their name quite like this before, it’s almost as if you need them to survive, more than food, more than air. All you need is Hanji. After what feels like an eternity, they break the silence.

“It’s true, isn’t it?” Their voice exhales a fake sense of calm that is completely unmasked by the trembling of their arms. They are desperately trying to keep the tears in their eyes at bay, trying to find a way to control their breathing while waiting for a response. You can only nod. “It’s all over the kingdom. I heard from my father that they are sending you away tomorrow?” 

“I didn’t... I - I can’t…” You try to speak but the words simply won’t come out, they die in your throat before even being able to escape and all you can do is quietly gasp for air, clinging onto Hanji as tightly as you possibly can. Their fingers go through your hair, attempting to calm you down but it’s futile, especially when they feel themselves break down as well. Their lips press against the top of your head intensely as they pour all of their love for you into this one small action. “I can’t… live without you.”

“I know..” They respond after a few seconds, seemingly lost in thought, “Do you remember when we first met?”

You pause for a second, the clear memory of the day coming into your mind. It was a rainy day, the dark clouds in the sky making it seem a lot more hurtful than it already was. You couldn’t have been more than eight years old at the time, barely old enough to attend your first meeting between your father and his counselors as they talked about the plans and tactics for the war at hand, nothing they were saying made much sense to you but you sat there and listened regardless, as it was your duty as the royal princess.

In the middle of a very serious part of the conversation, one of your mother’s lady-in-waiting bursts through the door. You can still see the pure look of terror in her eyes, not sure if she was afraid of your father’s reaction to this rude interruption or because of the reasoning behind it. Her breathing is ragged and she tries to catch her breath, her voice trembles, “Your Majesty… the queen... She collapsed!”

The room falls silent and all eyes now rest on your father, analyzing his facial expressions as he stands up from his seat. “What happened?” He asks, calmly. Your poor heart is racing in your chest as you want to desperately run out of this room, to your mother’s side, but you know that if you do, there will be consequences. 

“We were on a walk and she simply collapsed onto the ground, I tried my best to catch her but…” She attempts to continue but your father raises a hand, her mouth immediately closing in response.

“Was the doctor called?” He asks. She nods.

“Yes, your Majesty.” The lady-in-waiting responds quickly. You notice that her hands are trembling and her breathing is still a bit out of control. When she notices your curious eyes, she straightens her back and places her hands in front of her body, trying her best to look as collected as possible. 

“Good,” the king says loudly. Finally, he looks at you, “Y/n, why don’t you go and check on your mother while I finish this meeting? You can report back to me with everything once you have found out what is going on. I will be counting on it, ok?”

A smile forms on your lips, the idea of pleasing your father was always the first one in your mind, with every movement being perfectly planned and calculated. You salute and respond with enthusiasm, “Yes, sir. I will do my very best!”

He offers you a smile as he ruffles your hair, tilting his head towards the door so you can calmly but quickly follow the person who would lead you to your mother. 

The walk towards your parents’ bedroom is long. You can’t even hear the echoing of your footsteps with the heavy rain that falls outside. Your little brain works overtime, trying to figure out what is going on with your mother and what could possibly have resulted in her injuring herself like this. “So.. what’s the doctor’s name?”

The woman next to you jumps slightly, a clear sign that your words startled her, though her footsteps never cease to move forward. She thinks for a second, “I’m not sure what his first name is, but the people of the village call him Dr. Zoe. He is from a small city called Gillamoor, which is hidden in the mountains of the Vatebia Kingdom. One day he simply showed up, saying he was looking for refuge from the war for him and his child, I believe they are about your age. People say that his wife passed away on the way here. So far, he has treated pretty much all of the Kingdom for Sheep Fever and casualties have gone down drastically.” She smiles at you softly, “I think that covers all of your questions?”

You can feel your cheeks heat up as the embarrassment takes over, you can’t help but avert her eyes as you nod. Until one final question pops into your mind, that is, “You said he has a child my age?”

She smiles widely again and nods, “Yes, their name is Hanji. They may be a year or so older than you but I still think the two of you would get along greatly. Both of them are on their way to take a look at your mother, so you know she’ll receive the best care all of us can offer.” 

Once you find yourself standing outside the doors to your mother’s chambers, reality strikes once more. You had been so caught up in the idea of having a friend, in the idea of having someone to show your books to and maybe even play with, that you completely forgot the dire situation you were now facing.

Your small, trembling hands knock on the door but have little to no effect. Your breathing is a bit unstable as the fear of what you might encounter on the other side of the wooden door might be, but quickly you pull yourself together, showing this amount of emotion was unfitting of a future queen. You knock again, with more confidence this time, and, in response, you can hear a familiar and welcoming voice inviting you in.

The door finally opens and your eyes go through the room, attempting to find your mother. It doesn’t take long for her weak figure to come into your field of vision: she’s laying on the bed, dark bags under her eyes and a weird contraption touching her chest. You want to run towards her, to hug your mother and cry into your arms, but instead, you simply walk towards her, holding your hands in front of your body tightly.

You barely notice the presence of other people in the room, the cold feeling in the pit of your stomach never ceases, no matter how much you try to force it to fade away. Finally, you find yourself standing by your mother’s side, she looks nothing like the strong woman you are so used to seeing.

The sound of a man clearing his throat fills the air and you are forced to acknowledge the presence of other people in the room besides your family. The doctor offers you a comforting smile, he isn’t someone you’ve met before. His brown eyes match the color of his nicely parted hair, a pair of glasses sitting on his nose as he places the contraption that was once pressed against your mother’s chest around his neck.

“Your Highness,” he bows towards you slightly and you can’t help but feel your cheeks flush in embarrassment. “I’m Dr. Zoe, I’ll be in charge of your mother’s care from here on out.” All you can do is nod, your fingers lacing with the ones of the woman who lays on the bed. You notice a small figure hiding behind the doctor’s coat, their fingers slowly pulling the man’s sleeve down, the gesture earns a heartfelt giggle from the man, “This is my child and prodigy. Why don’t you introduce yourself, sweetheart?”

Your heart stops beating for a second as soon as your eyes meet the other child’s. Their eyes are a deeper shade of brown than their father’s and their hair is in a messy ponytail, a complete opposite of the adult standing by them. They have a pair of glasses sitting on top of their nose and, when they speak, you notice they have a tooth missing, “I’m Hanji, Your Highness.” They repeat the man’s gesture and bow before you slightly, dropping a few papers in the process. When they notice the mess, they bend down to pick it up and your first instinct is to help them collect the pages. 

You proceed to reach for the last one, not noticing that the other child is about to do the same thing, and, for a split second, your hands touch. It’s a brand new feeling you have never experienced before, almost as if there are flying little creatures around your stomach. You are too young to understand what is going on but that was the moment your first, and only, crush took hold of your brain.

The two of you stare at each other for a few seconds, your eyes meeting as you hand them the loose page on the ground. You notice the reddish blush that spreads across their cheek and it sends your little heart ablaze, almost enough to stop your breathing. “H- here you go,” you say in a shy voice.

They nod and look away, quickly standing up and retaking their spot next to their father. You shake your head and decide to do the same, taking your mother’s hands in yours while she smiles lovingly at you, a part of you can tell she knows exactly how you feel about the doctor’s child and you can’t help but ignore her gaze in embarrassment, which in response earns a weak giggle.

“So… Do you have any idea of what might be wrong?” The lady-in-waiting that stands next to you asks and you realize you were so caught up in the moment that you nearly forgot the reason why you were here in the first place. The man on the other side of the bed adjusts his glasses, looking over the results of the tests he performed on the queen.

“Unfortunately, it does seem Her Majesty has come down with Sheep Fever, this case in particular seems quite severe and in its later stages. It must have been dormant for quite some time now,” the doctor places down his papers, his eyes now looking directly at you when he flashes you a gentle smile, “Are you familiar with the disease, Your Royal Highness?”

You look down at your feet, embarrassed of the response you are about to give. “No, sir,” is all you can say. You’ve heard about it, sure, from the maids, the chefs, every single person who comes by the throne room every day to speak with your father, but you had never actually seen a case up close. The man smiles at you once more before turning his attention towards his own child.

“Hanji, why don’t you enlighten the princess on the condition?” His child looks at him through their glasses, their dark brown eyes meeting you within a second of the doctor finishing the first half of his sentence, “Maybe it will give her some peace of mind and sound a bit less scary if it comes from someone her own age.”

The nine-year-old takes a few steps closer to you, the papers they hold and the side of their hands smudged by black ink, a bit also smudged on their nose and you can’t help but feel your small heart skip a beat. They stop just at arm's length, clearing their throat and straightening their back, clearly attempting to look and sound older and more mature than they actually are.

“Sheep Fever has been associated with the consumption of poorly prepared meat or the consumption of milk that came from an infected sheep. Considering that the chefs of the castle always prepare the food to perfection and the tasters haven’t gotten sick, I would assume the cause comes from the latter.” 

You pay close attention to their words, entranced by the way they sound so… grown-up and so smart, no wonder they were already taking after their father’s profession, it seems like they have a natural gift. You can’t help but feel your face heat up, looking down at the floor in an attempt to hide the embarrassment that appears in the way you scrunch your nose.

“Symptoms often include muscle weakness and leg swelling, both of which we found to be present in your mother, I mean, Her Majesty, at the time,” they correct themselves before taking a quick look at their father, hoping for approval. The man nods softly and the child in front of you continues their explanation, “Shortness of breath can also occur, and that was the reason why she collapsed during her walk today.”

“Is there… anything else?” You ask, making a mental note of all the information they are presenting you with so you can later report back to your father regarding your mother’s condition. You notice for a second as their eyes sparkle, almost as if… nobody had ever asked them that before.

“Actually, yes!” They respond with a bit too much excitement in their voice. Immediately, they correct themselves, “I mean, yes. Toe numbness and excessive yawning can also occur in more severe cases, such as the Queen’s. Father and I believe the swelling has traveled from her legs to other areas of her body since her fingers have also grown in size.”

For a second, they stop talking. You aren’t sure if they have simply finished their explanation or if they’ve noticed the tears that stream down your face. The once giddy expression on their face dissipates as they carefully place the stack of papers in their hands onto the ground, taking a few steps closer to you. You can’t look up at them anymore, so your eyes avert toward the stack of pages on the ground. You try your best to think about what to say in this scenario but nothing comes to mind, you are just a scared little girl after all.

When you look back up again, you are hit by the sudden pressure of a pair of small arms wrapping around you. You freeze in place, not knowing how exactly to react. Rushed footsteps try to reach you, someone telling the other child to pull away but all you can hear is their voice, a soothing tone ever so different from the overly excited one they presented earlier, “I’m sorry, Your Highness, but if anyone can help Her Majesty, it’s daddy. He learned from my grandparents, who were healers way before my parents were even born.”

You smile softly through the tears, “is that why you are learning?” You ask through the sniffles and they nod, the eager expression taking hold of their face one more time. They look so adorable that you can’t help but giggle once more.

“I want to be a great healer one day,” they respond, the blush that spread across their cheek now deepening as they avert your gaze, their fingers begin to fidget with a random strand of hair that falls on their face, “so if you are sick, I can take care of you… and I promise to save you, no matter what.”

You are finally brought back to reality after a trip down memory lane, your face snuggling close to Hanji’s chest as you are reminded of the situation you currently find yourself in. You nod in response to their question, “Yes… I remember the day we met…”

“I made you a promise,” they say, their voice barely louder than a whisper as their fingers ghost above the skin of your shoulder, “that I would save you, no matter what, didn’t I?” You nod in response once more, trying to understand where exactly they are going with this rant, not that you ever minded hearing them talk, it was definitely one of your favorite things in this world, the sound of their voice contained soothing properties that could only be compared to the lightest of teas. “Let’s run away.”

Your heart stops for a second and your breath gets caught in your throat. The idea crossed your mind and you had already packed a bag while you were at the peak of your rage, but to hear Hanji actually suggesting it… That was a completely different scenario. “A-are you sure? What about your father’s clinic?”

They shake their head, “ever since he passed, the only thing in this place that has felt like home has been the barn outside the mountains where we would meet. The moments I’ve held you in my arms like this have been more comforting to me than the memories I’ve had at that clinic. Besides, my father wanted to expand his knowledge further, to treat more people in other areas but… I asked him to stay here because… Well, because I’ve been in love with you for as long as I can remember.”

You can’t help but hide your face in the crook of their neck, snuggling your body as close to theirs as you possibly can. Hanji can’t help but allow a small giggle to escape their lips, feeling as your body trembles slightly beneath their touch, their grip on you tightening slightly and it is nearly enough to stop the air from flowing to your lungs. You don’t mind it.

“That’s so nice to hear,” you respond in a whispered voice, “my heart has been yours since our hands touched for a split second years ago. Even before I knew what romantic love was.” You prop your body up on the pillow, your hand resting underneath your chin as you stare into Hanji’s eyes, those adoring glasses shoot at you causing butterflies to flutter around in your stomach, “my heart beats for you and no one else.”

They smile smugly, attempting to hide the red tint that covers their entire face, they bring their face closer to yours, lips brushing against one another ever so gently, just barely enough for them to tickle each other. Hanji’s voice is quiet but their words hit you with the same effect as if they have just screamed at the top of their lungs, “Say you’ll run away with me.”

Your eyes flutter closed and you nod, it’s subtle and almost undetectable but Hanji is more than used to every tiny movement you make. Their lips finally press against yours, gentle at first, caring for you like you are a wounded animal, but it suddenly escalates into something much deeper. Their tongue traces the outline of your lower lip, silently begging for entrance and you quickly oblige, parting your mouth ever so slightly and the way they hum in response lets you know that you are doing something right.

Your tongue dances with theirs in a passionate tango, exploring the inside of each other’s mouth like it is the first time all over again. It’s a feeling you will never get tired of, the feeling of being this close to them, to the person who has been by your side in the hardest times, the person whose name is echoed with every beat of your heart.

Sadly, you are forced to pull away, cursing yourself for needing to breathe, a small string of saliva connecting your bodies and you can’t contain the smile that makes its way to your lips. Your fingers gently brush against their cheek, your foreheads touching for a while as you continue to enjoy this moment together.

“Yes…” You finally respond, your eyes still closed as you teasingly brush your lips against theirs again before pulling away, “I… I’ll run away with you.”

“I don’t know where we are going, but give me an hour to gather some things,” they whisper, slowly pulling away from you. You reach out, fingers brushing against the skin of their arm as they pull away, your lower lip trembling as a sense of panic takes over you, the fear that something will happen to them in the meantime taking over, “I promise I will be back for you, so be ready, ok?”

You nod, watching as Hanji blows you a kiss before disappearing through the small door underneath the carpet once more. The dark shadows of the night dance around your room, taunting you of the destiny you are bound to face if your father were to catch you.

Deciding that you can’t simply stand around and do nothing, you get up, reaching for the water jug that rests on the corner of the bedroom. With a bit of soap, you wash away the dried blood and dirt from your hands, watching as the water turns into a deep shade of maroon, the metallic smell entering your nostrils and you can’t help but turn your head away.

You change out of the destroyed dress, throwing it in another corner of the room. Your heart aches slightly, it was a dress your mother had chosen for you before she passed, something that reminded you of her and your father had, once again, taken that small sense of comfort away from you.

Your memories go towards the times when things weren’t so bad when your parents were still in love and happy with the blessing of finally having an heir after many, many years of trying. The times when you could still see light in his eyes when he looked at you and not the shell of a man who now was only interested in power and full control.

As the night progresses and the moon descends, a bottomless pit forms in your stomach, waiting for Hanji to return. Your small bag had been packed since earlier that day and you were wearing the least fancy outfit you owned, which was still extremely fashionable regardless, you knew there was a possibility that it would cause you to stand out, but that is a chance you would have to take.

Finally, when you feel as if your heart can no longer wait, you hear the sound of Hanji’s knock coming from the ground, a few tears of relief brew in your eyes as you move the carpet away, giving them the space needed to enter your room. They carry two small bags in their hands, one bigger than the other but still relatively petite. 

They immediately drop them onto the floor, freeing their arms so they could wrap around you. It takes very few seconds for your body to respond to their actions, your legs grow a mind of their own as you rush to their embrace, tears streaming down your cheeks as you nuzzle your face against Hanji’s chest, “what took you so long?” You ask, your voice trembling in a mixture of fear and relief.

“I’m sorry,” they responded quietly, their voice shaking as well, “I was gathering things from the clinic, such as a few samples of the herbs my father kept and the book my family kept on every condition we have ever treated. It took me a while to get out of the village, you know how much those women love to gossip,” they giggle quietly and you hum. The room falls silent for a moment as you enjoy the feeling of being in their arms, “I got you some of my older clothes, they might be a bit big on you but… I think it’s better than... Whatever you are trying to go for right now”

You gasp dramatically, playfully pushing their shoulders away and they chuckle, a sound that sends goosebumps down your spine and you can’t help but look at them with lovestruck eyes. The love in your heart emanates throughout your body and all you want to do is jump on their arms and stay intertwined with them forever.

“I tried my best, okay?” You respond, trying your hardest to make sure your voice doesn’t carry through the room. This is the first time all day that you have felt a genuine smile creeping onto your lips, even if you are rolling your eyes and pouting at Hanji the entire time, “I don’t have any less extravagant clothes.”

“I can tell,” Hanji muffles a laugh and you gasp again, your hands brushing against their chest as you land small and gentle hits on their skin. In response, Hanji wraps their arms around your waist, tightly pulling you into another hug while lifting you off the floor, and spinning you around. You try your best to contain your squeals of excitement, biting down on your lower lip as you do so. After a while, they finally place you back on the ground, brushing a strand of hair off of your face, “Go change, I’ll make sure no one is coming.”

You nod, rushing towards the partition wall that stands by the closet. Every small movement you make seems to be louder than the town crier’s voice at early dawn, but maybe it’s just the nervousness taking hold of your emotions. You try your best to remain calm, the plain thought that Hanji is in the room with you is enough to soothe your nerves more than any possible tea could.

They were right, their clothes are indeed a bit bigger and the fabric is not nearly as soft as what you are used to. There are a few holes here and there and the mysterious stains that cover most of the shirt remind you of the experiments Hanji used to do when you both were children, but there is a bright side: the scent of her skin has now been engraved on the clothes and, with every step you take, it feels like their arms are constantly wrapped around you.

Once you walk out from behind the fake, wooden wall, Hanji’s curious eyes fall on you and, even through the dim light from the candle, you can see a dark shade of red spreading across their cheeks when they fully take in the sight of you wearing their clothes. It sets their heart ablaze and they can barely focus on the challenges the two of you are about to face.

“You look beautiful,” they say, their voice is barely louder than a whisper and the timid way in which they look in a different direction doesn’t fail to get a heartfelt chuckle out of you, “are you ready?”

You take their hand, a deep sigh escaping your throat as you two prepare to get down through the secret door on the floor. Until someone knows on your door, that is.

At that moment, your heart stops beating. The fear that courses through your veins is too severe to express and you feel as though you are frozen in place, unable to move, breathe, or even blink. The palms of your hands begin to sweat and you feel yourself beginning to shake. Tears form in your eyes as you squeeze Hanji’s hand, the panic clearly written all over your facial expression.

They place their index finger in front of their lips, silently asking you to remain quiet. You struggle to fight back the sobs that form in the back of your throat, using your free hand to cover your mouth. The two of you stay perfectly still for a while, hoping that whoever is standing on the other side of the door will soon give up and walk away.

Another knock and you can feel your body beginning to sink to the ground with fear. It isn’t until the third knock that the person on the other side identifies themselves, “Your Highness, it’s me.” You would recognize that voice anywhere, your mother’s favorite lady-in-waiting, the one who was by your mother’s side in her last moments and who was also by your side when you and Hanji first met. There had never been any secrets between the two of you, but for some reason, you found yourself terrified of what she would do if she were to find out your plans.

You and Hanji begin to make your way towards the main door, fingers permanently laced together as you place your ear against the door, responding in a hushed though shaky voice, “Yes?”

“May I come in?” She asks, the tone of her voice is full of worry and care for you and it reminds you of your own mother. You look at your beloved for any signs of disapproval but all you see in their eyes is a lot of love and support. Carefully, you open the door and, just by the way she looks at you and holds a package in her hands, you can tell that she isn’t here to yell at you.

“Libet, you should not be here,” you whisper in the most cautious voice you can muster, still tightly holding onto Hanji’s hands as the woman closes the door behind her. She wears a dark cloak above her nightgown, her hair is down in a tangled mess and the redness in her eyes tells you that she has been crying, the sight is the complete opposite of the strong woman you are so used to. “What happens if you get caught?”

She shakes her head furiously, arms wrapping around your body in an intense hug. You can feel your own body trembling as you return the affection, both of your bodies sinking to the floor after you finally let go of Hanji’s hand. They take a step back, allowing you to have some space while still remaining on guard, just in case something goes wrong during this exchange. 

Silent tears stream down your face, the tightness in your chest increasing as you finally stop to think about the good things you are leaving behind. The woman can tell that you are lost in thought, so she brushes your cheek with her thumb, stopping a tear in its tracks.

“I… I needed to say goodbye,” she whispers, hands carefully brushing your face, much like your mother used to do when you would have a bruise or a cut. She reminds you so much of her. “I brought you a few supplies, it isn’t much but it will last the two of you a few days. There are also a few extra seeds, once you find a suitable place, plant those and remember that they were your mother’s favorites. Also a bit of money.”

“But… How did you know?” Hanji asks quietly, kneeling beside you. The woman smiles, her free hand now gently touching your beloved’s arm and you notice a dark blush spreading across their cheeks as they attempt their best not to look away.

“I know Her Highness like the palm of my hand,” she whispers softly, touching her forehead with your own, “and, if she’s anything like her mother, which believe me, she is, she wouldn’t just sit still, and allow her dad to ship her off to somewhere distant, especially if it meant she would never see you again. Her heart calls your name, after all, Hanji.”

“But…” the two of you speak in unison, sharing a look of confusion as the woman chuckles, clearly amused by the expression on your faces.

“You two have never been very good at hiding,” she responds, and your eyes immediately fall onto the ground, too embarrassed to look at either the woman or Hanji. The only reason you lift your gaze is because you can hear Hanji’s inquisitive tone coming from beside you.

“That day at the tower… When I felt like someone was watching us… Our first kiss..” They say, the words fighting to come out as their brain works overtime to form the necessary sentences, “That was you?” Their question is responded to only by a simple nod and a smile. Do you want to disappear, knowing that someone saw the two of you in such a vulnerable state? It makes your face burn and your vision nearly goes black.

The sound of footsteps and shadows dancing outside of your room is a reminder that you don’t have time to sit around and talk. If you were to escape before sunrise, this is your one and only moment to do it. So you take the package from her hands and stuff it in with the rest of the things you’ve packed. It isn’t very big so it doesn’t take up a large amount of space.

As you stand up, you wrap your arms around her once more, her green eyes meeting yours as she plants a gentle kiss on your forehead. Her voice is quiet.

“For guidance.”

Another kiss, this time on your fingertips.

“For control.”

And lastly, she plants a kiss on the tip of her own fingers before brushing it against the left side of your chest, her eyes filled with tears and you can barely see her pupils through the tears, her voice is trembling and her hand isn’t as steady as it usually was.

“For eternal love.”

You want to say something, maybe stay with her for a few more moments, but when Hanji opens the secret exit to your room, you realize you are out of time. So with one more look, you take your beloved’s hand, making sure to take in the view of the room you grew up in one last time.

Before you can leave, you decide to ask for one more favor, “would you care for Tegan for me? I want to entrust his safety to someone I trust and I would prefer it if my father would stay away from my cat.”

Libet nods, “Don’t worry, I will care for him like he is my own. I’m sure he will get along great with my own animal. He’s always had a precious heart, much like your own.”

You flash her another look and she can tell you are hesitating, but when a shadow lingers around your door for too long, she gives you that necessary push you need to finally get things up and running. She smiles at you while Hanji guides you down the steps for the very first time.

“Good-bye, Your Highness,” the woman waves at you, finally allowing your hand to be free to take Hanji’s. Your eyes meet hers and, for a second, you feel like you are staring at your mother. Your heart beats a bit faster than before and you offer her a smile.

“Call me y/n,” you respond, a single tear falling down your face. Libet chuckles, her hand reaching for the doorknob so she can shut it as soon as you and Hanji are completely out of sight.

“Goodbye, y/n,” she says, her voice is so docile it could almost be compared to freshly made honey, “I hope to meet you again someday. But if I don’t, I will make sure to see you in my next lifetime.” Her words strike you like lightning, your whole body feels like it's on fire, the fear of leaving her alone in this castle is so strong that you are only brought back to the reality of your situation when she pushes you at the same time as Hanji tugs at your hand.

Your eyes only leave hers when you are out of view and you can hear the door shutting behind you. Even though Hanji instructed you not to speak, you want to say something, to ask them if this moment is really real or if it’s just a stupid dream your mind created to cope with the situation. But you don’t say anything, you just follow them, their certain footsteps letting you know that they’ve crossed this cramped space more times than you could count.

The walls of the tunnel are covered in spiderwebs, a smell that you could only assume came from a dead animal hidden somewhere behind one of the bricks and the only light comes from the small candle that rests in Hanji’s hand. A thousand thoughts go through your head but, when you notice that they are shaking slightly, you squeeze their hand three times, a silent way of saying “I love you.”

That small action causes Hanji to stop dead in their tracks, their shaky breath finally returning to normal as they turn around to look at you and you can’t help but be mesmerized. Even in this dim lighting with dirt covering their cheeks, they are still the most beautiful human being you have ever laid your eyes on and just the thought of starting a new life with them nearly makes all the nervousness dissipate from your body.

A careful arm wraps around your waist, their forehead touching yours as they silently mouth back the words “I love you too.” No sound is needed for you to realize that they meant every bit of it. With your eyes closed, you lean forward ever so slightly, your lips brushing against theirs softly.

Hanji’s breath smells like a mixture of berries and bananas, a small snack they would often munch on before an important event or when they were nervous. They’ve told you in the past these particular fruits contained soothing properties and were known for the mixture of sweetness and tanginess, the perfect effect to ground someone back to reality. Your heart breaks slightly when you realize just how intense the taste of their lips is.

Their body melts against your touch and, even though you are in a hurry, they can’t help but give in to the sensation. They part their lips ever so slightly, a clear path for your tongue to gain entry and you can’t contain the smile that forms on the right corner of your mouth. 

Teasingly, you brush the tip of your tongue against theirs and you hear Hanji whimpering quietly in response. The sound alone is enough to send goosebumps running down your spine, all you want to do is strip them and just spend some time together, right there in the dirty, old tunnel. You bring your hand up to cup their face, not only trying to calm their nerves but a way of grounding yourself back again in the seriousness of the situation.

When Hanji tilts their head to the right, you know you’ll be done for unless you pull away. It takes every ounce of your strength, every last bit of it to part ways, a small string of saliva still connecting your bodies while you look at them with love-filled eyes. Hanji was your very first kiss and, even though years have already passed, you still hope they will be your very last. 

A small smile appears on the corner of their mouth as they press their lips against yours in a much quicker kiss, they look at you with thankful eyes, almost as if silently saying how badly they need that small token of your affection. But both of you are aware that talking in this situation is not an option, so you are left to only interpret what they have to say.

Once the two of you regain your composure, you begin walking towards the exit once more. Your steps now carry more confidence than before, certain that this is for the best, the doubts that once clouded your mind have now cleared and, even if you are not sure what the future holds, you know that you’ll be fine as long as you and Hanji are together.

Finally, the moonlight comes into view and the cold wind of the night hits you in the face, it is the most refreshing feeling you have ever felt before. You are still scared: of the guards finding you, of what might happen to Libet, of your father’s reaction. But one look at Hanji’s face and you can tell this is the right choice for you, after all, this is the most freedom you’ve had since your mother’s death.

You had never seen this pathway to the stables and you pay close attention to how dangerous it is. Something was covering the ground that you couldn’t figure out if it was mold, moss, or a disgusting mixture of both, but all you could actually tell was how slippery it was. You realized this because, if it weren’t for Hanji’s protective hands on your lower back, you would have found yourself sitting on the ground after slipping. At least three separate times.

This hidden part of the city was different than anything you had ever experienced. It has a different smell than the ones from the main areas, even the way the lights from the lanterns cover the walls seem somehow different. You can see people dancing around in bars, the sound of laughter and music fills the streets, and, even though it is late at night, children are playing around with street animals. It’s a kind of life you had never been introduced to but always dreamt about.

You can see your breath every time air comes in contact with your lungs, your body shivering in a mixture of fear, excitement, and cold. Hanji’s hand in yours is so warm and it causes your blood to flow at a rapid speed, somehow keeping you from freezing on the spot.

“Okay, we are almost there,” they say, their voice so quiet and full of love, while their gaze transmits a concerned expression, “are you doing okay?” You’re enamored by the way they look under the pale moonlight, the way you can clearly see the droplets of sweat that form on their forehead, even though it is extremely cold. Their fingers brush against the top of your hand, comforting your racing heart. You nod.

“Y-yeah,” you respond and Hanji smiles. God, the way one of their teeth is slightly crooked is such a small detail and you would only be able to notice it if you were paying close attention, but for you, it was one of their most endearing physical qualities. Faintly, you can hear the horses as the stables come into your vision.

You and Hanji pick up the pace of your steps, freedom is within your reach, and all you need to do is make sure to grab a horse. From afar, you can see Elowen, the horse you’ve had for a few years now and the fastest one you’ve had throughout your entire life, you couldn’t see yourself riding another horse out of this situation that isn’t her.

Before you have time to reach the building, Hanji’s strong grip pulls you into a dark alleyway, their index finger quickly taking place in front of their lips as they silently begs you to remain quiet, and, in response, you cover your mouth with your hand. 

They lean their head forward, peaking out of the area in an attempt to see what is going on. You copy their action, noticing a couple of castle guards walking by. The two men, whom you’re more than familiar with, are part of your father’s personal guard and it sends a chill up your spine. Could he possibly already have noticed your absence?

It’s not until both men enter a bar nearby that you allow yourself to breathe. Your body trembles and your blood runs cold, you can feel a surge of panic washing over you, is this a mistake? Maybe you should fulfill your duty to your kingdom and not selfishly run away. Maybe you should accept that you are nothing more than a simple tool, maybe... Just maybe... You aren’t good enough.

Hanji notices the look on your face and the way your eyes are fixated on the ground, the way your body begins trembling once again, and the way you seem to hyperventilate. So they look around again quickly and, when they notice the coast is clear, they pull you in for a tight hug, holding your body against theirs as tightly as they possibly can.

“This has already been one hell of a ride, huh?” They chuckle in a desperate attempt to mask the trembling in their voice. Their breathing is shallow, almost as if they are afraid to let their guard down for even a nanosecond. Your fingertips brush against their cheek softly, a smile forming on your lips as you look up at them, your eyes meeting.

“I’m so in love with you,” you whisper softly, your head laying against their chest, “ever since I first met you, I’ve wanted nothing more than to be your bride.” Immediately, you notice a maroon blush spread across their face and, with it, an endearing smile, it causes your heart to race in your chest and you nearly stop breathing.

“I… I’ve dreamt of hearing you say that for so long,” they whisper, their voice soothing and warm in contrast with the cold air that surrounds you, “I’ve spent my entire life, from the moment I first saw you, trying to crawl my way up as the most successful doctor in all the land, just so one day I could be worthy of a princess. Let’s get moving, the sooner we get out of here, the sooner I can make you my bride.”

“But you are worthy!” You spout, a little louder than you initially meant to, so you quickly take a look around to make sure no one heard you. Once you realize the coast is clear, you continue in a much quieter tone of voice, “You are extraordinary. You were able to study and explore such complicated diseases, finding cures and even causes. There is no other like you, and for my final command as your princess, never speak such things about yourself again.” You say with a serious expression on your face, “Please.”

Hanji snorts quietly and nods, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead, “Yes, Your Highness. As you wish.” You roll your eyes but the butterflies in your stomach begin to float around once more, the mere sight of their smile is enough to awaken the turmoil inside of you.

The two of you begin to make your way towards the stables once more, you could not be more than a minute or so away when you realize that Elowen has already been prepared and set outside to wait for your arrival. A pit forms in your stomach as you fear you’ve been discovered by someone else but you are quickly greeted by a message from Libet.

“Your Highness,

You have no time to lose, so I took the liberty of preparing your horse myself. She has been fed and there are a few food rations and treats for her in the small pouch around her neck. I am so sorry there isn’t more I can do for you, but do know that I am rooting for you.

Your mother would have been so incredibly proud of the woman you are becoming. It is unfortunate we will never get the blessing of seeing you as our queen, I think you would have been able to change our world. But no matter where you are, Her Majesty and I will be with you, protecting you from afar.

Please, may the two of you be safe and happy on this new journey. May we meet again under better circumstances.

Libet”

Your heart is flooded once more by the intense feelings of appreciation. It was a different kind of love, the kind you had been missing since the Queen’s passing. To have someone care for you and want nothing more than your happiness… It was something your father had never gotten even close to achieving, something he could never understand: how to love his own child.

As you read the letter, Hanji places the two bags you were carrying onto the horse’s saddle, making sure everything is tightly packed into place. They quietly guide the animal a little further outside of the range of the night guards, who are too drunk to even realize what is happening. You place the piece of paper into your pocket, ensuring that this final piece of home will stay with you during your travels.

You decide to mount the horse first, seeing as you have more experience with this kind of situation than Hanji does. Their firm hands give you a gentle booster as you wrap your other leg around Elowen’s body, straddling her back. Then, it’s your turn to offer Hanji some help. As you extend your hand, you notice the pinkish blush that covers their cheeks, their fingers brushing against your palm before they accept your pull, and you can’t help but smile.

Once they find a comfortable position on top of the horse, they pull out a small blanket from one of your bags, placing it above their shoulders and making sure it reaches you as well. Lastly, they wrap their arms around you, still holding onto the cloth as they rest their head on your back. You can feel their soft nod against you, the sign that the two of you are ready to start moving.

Carefully but firmly, you poke the heel of your feet against the horse’s ribs and she starts to move, slowly at first but once you repeat your movements, she begins to pick up speed. 

Using the moonlight as your guide, the two of you find yourselves going into the forest. For the final time, you bid the kingdom that raised you goodbye, silently waving goodbye to your mother’s resting spot and the place where she had raised you. But even from an early age, you knew the burden of wearing the crown was too much to bear, so finally managing to get away from it was like a weight had been lifted from your shoulders.

As the hooves of your horse crunch the leaves and sticks that fly from the trees onto the ground, Hanji rests their head on your back, arms tightly wrapped around you while always making sure your body is covered by the blanket, protecting you from the night wind as best as they can. You aren’t sure how long the two of you have been moving for, could be a few minutes or a few hours.

Raindrops begin to fall from above, the earth beneath you turns to mud and it splashes onto your clothes. With a sigh, you take a look around, trying to find a place for shelter. When the rain begins to intensify, you hear Hanji’s voice coming from behind you.

“I remember coming into this area with my father once,” they say, snapping their fingers a few times as they try to think of the words, “if I’m not mistaken, there is an abandoned barn just past the old, dirty road. Turn left on that crooked tree and we should be there in less than two minutes.”

You nod, hitting the sides of your horse with the balls of your feet, prompting her to speed up her movements. As usual, Hanji is correct and the barn finally comes into view. By that point, the two of you are already soaked as water has begun to pour from the sky, and loud claps of thunder fill your ears, scaring all three of you.

Once you reach the area, you make sure to place some food down for your horse as Hanji removes the equipment from her back. The two of you begin to pet the animal, reassuring her that she is doing a great job and how thankful you guys are for her hard work bringing you this far. Of course, she probably doesn’t understand, but you like to think she looked content nevertheless. 

When you look at Hanji, they have the brightest smile on their face and it turns your heart into a pounding mess. They take a few steps closer, their hand grabbing onto your waist as you feel your body heating up from that small contact, trembling softly not knowing if it is because you are soaked from the rain or due to the softness of Hanji’s touch. 

Their hand reaches inside of your shirt, slowly gliding up and down your back as it leaves a trail of goosebumps behind in its wake. Without even realizing it, you avert your gaze, too embarrassed to look at them, only for you to feel their free hand reaching for your chin and carefully forcing you to maintain eye contact, “don’t look away.” 

You nod, your lips quivering softly as you shiver. Even in the dark, you can see those hypnotizing brown eyes staring at you, a devious and dangerous smile on their lips as Hanji knows they have you in the palm of their hand. They bring their fingers back to your hips, slightly digging their nails into your soft skin, dragging a whimper out of you.

“H-Hanji…” Your voice falters and you can hear a faint chuckle, their shadow leans forward towards you, lips brushing against your neck and you can’t help but lean back slightly, giving them better access to such a sensitive area. Just as you are starting to fully surrender to them, Hanji pulls away.

“Let’s make a fire and…” Their eyes travel up and down your body before they smile again, “then we can get you out of those wet clothes.” You can feel your entire face burning in embarrassment but you nod, moving around the barn as you look for things to use as kindling.

Most of the things around you are wet as a result of the rain but hidden underneath what used to be a workbench, you find a pile of dry pine cones. Carefully, you bend down to reach for them, watching closely for any rusted nails that might be poking out or any bugs that could be crawling around the area. Once you feel the rough surface against your hand, you call out to Hanji.

“Hey, I found these, do you think it would be enough until the rest of this wood dries off?” You ask, wiping away the hand you used to prop yourself up from the ground. They nod, taking the plants from your hands and running their fingers through it, feeling the texture.

“Yeah, these would be perfect,” they smile, taking a few steps toward the center of the barn. The moonlight and raindrops come through a broken patch on the roof, so while Hanji is in charge of making a fire, you decide to make your way toward the supplies and retrieve some dry clothes while hanging the wet ones to dry. 

Slowly, you remove your shirt, the feeling is nearly identical as though you still have the wet clothes on. Goosebumps travel through your skin and you can’t help but shiver violently, your nipples hardening as your skin comes in contact with the chill air.

As you hook your thumb onto the waistband of your pants, you feel a pair of hands wrapping around your torso, the sudden feeling bringing a small gasp out of you. Hanji buries their face on the side of your neck, gently taking in the aroma you exhale, it earns a small chuckle out of them.

“You smell so good,” they whisper, their voice is tender, carrying the softest of tones, yet you can still hear that devious sound, the desire that has been brewing for the past few days, from before the two of you even decided to run away. You nuzzle yourself against their touch and your action only serves to fuel Hanji’s appetite. Their hands grow bolder, tickling your abdomen as they make their way towards your breasts, cupping them tightly, “you are so soft.”

A breathless whimper escapes your lips and you close your eyes, leaning into the sensation their hands are providing you with. Their warm breath now transforms into heartfelt kisses, which then proceed to turn into love bites, marking the area with their teeth. Their left hand carefully shifts so that their index finger and thumb gently pinch your nipple while their right hand begins to glide down your body. You moan quietly in response, not pulling away from the touch.

Hanji smiles, humming softly as their hand finally finds its way toward the waistband of your pants, “take these off,” they order as they pull away, leaving you wanting for more. You can already begin to feel the wetness pooling in your underwear, so you nod and oblige, removing the clothes from your legs and standing before them wearing nothing but your underwear. They shake their head, “I meant all of it.”

The seriousness in their tone catches you off guard but, once again, you nod. Your fingers gently hook to the sides of your panties, pulling them down your body before you drape them over the improvised clothing line you’ve hung on the barn. You’re too embarrassed to look at them, almost as if it was the first time they were seeing you naked.

Your eyes are closed, but you can hear the sound of their footsteps as they place their own clothes onto the line. The thought of their naked body exposed to you causes another surge of wetness to drip down your legs, the excitement coursing through your veins almost as if it were an essential part of your blood. When their fingers touch your arm, you finally open your eyes, sensing their body behind you.

Their touch is featherlike, so soft that it nearly tickles. The words that leave their lips are sweeter than honey and they make you melt as soon as you hear them, “You’re so beautiful, I could just stay like this with you all night.”

You try to think of words to say in response, but your body betrays you and not a single coherent thought goes through your mind, the only answer you can provide them with is a low whimper, a vocal representation of how much you crave their grace.

Their bare chest presses against your back, lips gently brushing against your neck while their right hand travels to explore your skin, going from your arms, then gently brushing against the lower part of your breasts, continuously making its way down your stomach, only to finally find its resting place just above the mound of your pussy. You reach behind you to wrap an arm around their neck, pulling them even closer to your body and you can hear a faint gasp escaping their lips, it has an instant reaction in your heart as it feels like it’s about to run out of your body.

Carefully, their fingers spread your folds apart, exposing your swollen clit to the cold night air. You hiss quietly in response, shutting your eyes tightly as you nuzzle yourself against them. They glide down a bit more, swirling their digits around your tight entrance and gathering the wetness that was once trapped inside.

“You are already so wet for me,” they whisper, nibbling on your shoulder softly. Your face feels like it's on fire and all you can do is surrender to their touch, instinctively spreading your legs apart slightly so Hanji will have better access to the most sensitive area of your body. They chuckle, a low and rough sound, “Good girl.”

Hanji moves their hands away and you grunt in disapproval, but it quickly goes away when Hanji flips you around so you are facing them as they proceed to pick you up in their arms, almost as if you weigh nothing. They carry your body closer to the fire, carefully laying you down on the small camping area the two of you set up.

Their eyes never leave yours, that loving gaze you’ve grown so used to analyzing your every move, every small reaction your body may have to their actions. The smile on their lips never fades, it in fact grows wider once you bring your hand up to cup their face and begin to brush their cheek with your thumb.

Hanji nuzzles themselves against your touch, one hand supporting their body upwards so they are above you and the other softly travels through the sides of your body, forcing a mixture between a moan and a giggle out of you.

“I love the way you react to my touch,” they whisper, their voice laced with desire and passion. Their movements become a bit rougher and it turns into an evident contrast with their kisses, which could only compare to the silk pillows you were so used to sleeping on.

“I love the way you touch me,” you whisper in response, your voice is so low that it is barely audible. Hanji smiles, a simple action that could easily outshine the sun if they tried. Your heart races in your chest and you can feel your excitement dripping down your legs, leaving behind a trail of your dedication towards your beloved.

“I know this is no way to speak to a princess…” They whisper, moving a strand of hair away from your forehead, “But I know how to make this night special for you.” You tilt your head, puzzled by what could they possibly have in mind but, before you have time to ask, they remove the ribbon that holds their autumn-colored hair up. The strands fall on their face and the shadows dance with their skin, your breath hitches in your throat and you can’t seem to be able to look away, absolutely mesmerized by their beauty. This is why their next sentence catches you so off guard, “sit on my face.”

You choke softly on your own spit, using both of your elbows to prop your body up, “I beg your pardon?” You find yourself blinking repeatedly, trying your best to process their request, no, their demand. Hanji chuckles in response, laying their head on the floor.

“You heard me,” is all they say before patting their cheeks, much like you would do on a chair or a… Different “seating” surface. Your entire body burns in embarrassment as your eyes meet, the expression on their face indicating they could not be more serious.

“I don’t want to crush you,” your voice falters and it’s now Hanji’s turn to prop their body up with their elbows. They vigorously shake their head and you know exactly what they are thinking, so you continue, “I… We’ve tried this before… And I almost hurt you. You know I can’t hold myself up after a while.”

“y/n…” The softness in their voice is almost alarming, a dangerous tone that they only used when they wanted to convince you of something, “if you start to hurt me, I will push your ass back up with my hands.” You can tell by the expression on their face that they have been thinking about this for quite some time, just waiting for the perfect moment to bring it up to you again. You let out a long sigh.

“Alright,” you nod as there is a sudden light in their eyes that was not there before, “but if I start to hurt you AT ALL, you will let me know, right?” You give them a pleading look, silently begging them to make this promise. Without missing a beat, it’s Hanji’s turn to nod.

“I promise!” They eagerly respond and, with that, they lay back down on the floor, their cheeks a crimson color as a love-drunk smile takes over their lips. 

With unstable legs, you move closer to them, your breathing is shaky and, for once, it’s not from the cold. You can hear your heart beating in your ears and it might as well have been the loudest sound that echoes through these empty barn’s walls. You feel your stomach twirling around anxiously but the sight of Hanji’s eager lips is enough to send a shiver down your spine and put your mind at ease.

Carefully, you place your knees on each side of their face. Your eyes meet theirs and you can’t help but feel embarrassed once more, almost as if this is the first time the two of you are being intimate. The genuine expression on Hanji’s face sends your heart into a flutter and you look away.

As they hook their arms over your thighs, they speak to you in a caring tone, their voice filled with what could only be described as the most raw and unfiltered love for you, “I want you to look at me, please.” Your lower lip trembles but you oblige, tilting your head down so that your eyes can meet, “your scent is intoxicating, I could spend the rest of my days down here, just living in between your legs.”

“S-shut up!” You stutter, the words barely being able to leave your throat. You want to look away, to avert their hungry gaze at all costs but you are drawn to it like a magnet. So you simply look into their whiskey-brown eyes when they first flip their tongue against your wet slit, your body shivering as a moan erupts from deep within you.

Even with their arms wrapped around your thighs, they are able to use their middle fingers to spread your folds apart, giving them better access to your swollen clit. You can hear the wet sounds of your arousal and their saliva being mixed together, along with the sound of their breath as they inhale your essence.

With each time Hanji flicks their tongue, you buck your hips forward in response. The loud sound of the thunderstorm outside covers any noises you are making, so you don’t even worry about trying to remain quiet. Though the cold air feels nice when it comes in contact with you, it doesn’t prevent the strands of hair that stick to your skin or the droplets of sweat that drip down the side of your forehead.

Suddenly, the singular layer of pleasure is split into two when their tongue stops its teasing motions on your entrance and softly begins to enter you. Not only that but there is a second point of pleasure that you can’t quite decipher until you look down at them, their adoring eyes focused on your face once you notice that their nose brushes against your clit. 

There is a blush that spreads across their cheeks, their breathing warming up your exposed pussy as they continue to lap their tongue around the deepest areas inside of you. They gulp down every drop of your essence, their movements are so certain that you can tell they have been waiting and preparing for this specific moment for a very long time.

You can feel yourself succumbing to their touch with each passing second, the lack of finesse to their movements would be enough to make any nobleman cry, their tongue pushing and prodding around the entrance to your wet pussy, teasingly lapping inside before returning to the outside while the tip of their nose continues to attend to your swollen clit.

You can feel yourself growing weaker, not because of an orgasm, but because of the way they make sure every inch of your aching cunt is being properly attended to. Your thighs tremble slightly and you can feel your body lowering itself on their face and, as a confirmation, you feel Hanji’s hands shifting from their spot on your pussy to a spot on your ass, where they use very little strength to gently prop your body up once more.

Moans erupt from you with the same intensity as the raindrops that fall against the rooftop. Their name falls from your lips repeatedly, almost as if you are chanting to the world who is the one to make you feel this incredibly good. The sensations increase once you feel their nails digging at the skin of your ass, a quiet gasp escaping from you as a result.

“Did I hurt you?” They stop their movements as soon as they hear you, a concerned expression taking over their features. You shake your head desperately and it earns a giggle out of them, “Do you want me to do it again?” Your voice betrays you and not a single coherent word comes out, only a quiet mumbling sound and a nod.

The feeling of their nails dragging across your skin and leaving behind red marks is enough to cause your body to lower itself against Hanji’s face once more, not from losing balance but because you are desperately seeking more contact with their tongue.

Hanji makes sure to use every part of their face to bring you the maximum amount of pleasure: their nose brushes against the swollen bundle of nerves that sits at the top, their tongue playfully teases your entrance while moving up and down and their lower lips brushing around the area, making sure not a single part of your aching cunt is left unattended.

Their movements are precise, almost desperate as they work their hardest to bring you some well-deserved release. You can’t help but move your hips in perfect synchrony with their tongue as you feel it entering your thigh entrance, exploring every inch as it drags loud moans from you.

“H-Hanji…” You whimper loudly, and your voice is hoarse as a result of trying to compete with the loud sounds that come from outside. Your breath is shaky, one of your hands travels towards their hair, playing with the loose strands of their side bangs as the other rests above their chest, holding yourself up and helping you keep your balance as your hips grind against Hanji’s face, “It feels… So good…”

You can feel the warmth of their breath as they giggle against you, clearly amused by the reactions they are getting out of you. When they pull away slowly, you whine quietly, annoyed by the empty feeling their tongue left behind, but then you hear their voice, low from desire as lust takes over their eyes, “Moan my name… Show me that your heart belongs to me.”

Their words alone are enough to cause another rush of pleasure to gush out from inside of you, straight into their mouth and Hanji can’t help but let out a delighted sound. The warm sensation rises to your cheeks and you find yourself embarrassed to say it, even if they have asked you to, even if you desperately want to.

“Hanji…” You decide to start off quietly, their whiskey-brown eyes shooting open as you feel a smile forming on their occupied lips. Their tongue continues to make its way inside of you, feeling every little contraction from the inside while the tip of their nose is now glistening with your juices. You’re embarrassed, there is no denying it, but your need to please them overturns any of the shyness, “H-Hanji, please… Keep going… I… I need more.”

Your words are breaking up and your hips gain a mind of their own, bucking against your beloved’s face like a loose horse on a track, there is no stopping you now, especially not since the familiar warmth has started to form on the pit of your stomach.

Hanji’s hands hold your ass up, making sure they are not being suffocated by your thighs. They can tell you are getting closer so they use that knowledge as leverage to speed their movements, their entire face now entirely focused on bringing you over the edge.

“Hanji… H-Hanji, you’re going to make me come,” you say in a shaky voice, your breath trembling just as much as your legs as you attempt to keep yourself steady. They take your words to heart, softly and meticulously moving around. Their tongue thrust in and out of you as their hands tightly squeeze your ass, their nails digging into your soft skin.

They know exactly what they are doing to you, there is no doubt in their mind that they are the only one who can make you feel this way, and the thought alone is nearly enough to send Hanji themselves into an orgasm. 

With a loud gasp, your body leans forward, your legs shake violently and you nearly feel yourself collapse on top of Hanji’s face but luckily, your hands hold on tightly onto a pile of old wood that finds itself in front of you. That is the only reason why you did not come crashing above them.

Their name falls from your lips with ease, cries of pleasure erupting from you as they slow their movements but refuse to cease them, slowly teasing your aching clit with the very tip of their nose. Your walls contract around their tongue and, by the look on their face, you can tell Hanji is in heaven.

The pleasure washes over your body like a crashing wave and it lasts for a while, just giving you this insane high that could only be comparable to the one you have seen from the guards who go venturing in the forest. This one feels different from the other orgasms you have had while having sex with Hanji… Not only more intense but more intimate as well.

Tears form in your eyes as you finally find enough balance to hop off Hanji’s face, catching a glimpse of your juices covering their face before they use the back of their hand to wipe it all away. Your cheeks burn with embarrassment and you want to bury your face on their neck and never look at them again, but you decide against it.

Instead, you lay down next to them, their hand grips tightly around your waist while your fingers gently brush against their face. You lean closer to them, fully taking in the scent that you left behind, lips ghosting above each other before you take a step further and actually kiss them, finally tasting yourself on them.

Hanji’s tongue swirls around with yours, exploring your mouth to the fullest, not an inch goes by untouched and the combination of your saliva and theirs, plus the remainder of your fluids that is left on their face is enough to bring a whimper out of your partner. It’s a taste Hanji has never and will never grow tired of.

Reluctantly, they pull away, the necessity to breathe outweighing the desire the two of you feel in your hearts. The warmth from the fire flickers around you and the shadows of the night dance around their face, making them more beautiful than ever before. The love they have for you is evident in the simple way in which they hold you by the hips, pulling your body as close to them as they possibly can, almost as if they are scared that you will disappear the second you are not within their reach.

“You truly taste like the most addictive treat…” Hanji whispers, their voice husky with desire as their lust-filled eyes analyze every inch of your body, “I can’t help but crave more of you. That pussy of yours is all I can think about…”

Your breathing ceases for a few seconds as you silently choke back on your spit, not because you are embarrassed, although that was slightly the case, but because that was not at all what you were expecting them to say to you.

Not sure how to respond, you bring your lips against theirs once more. Your tongue rushes above their lower lip carefully, taking in every drop of your wetness that you might have missed. You can hear a faint moan escaping their throat, covered in desire.

Slowly, your fingers begin to trace their way down their chest, carefully touching the space in between their breasts. You start with circular movements, using the tip of your nails to leave behind a few red marks on their sun-kissed skin, and, in response, Hanji closes their eyes, finally allowing themselves to be vulnerable.

Once a breathless whimper escapes their lips, you decide to get a bit more daring, tracing the contour of their underboob with your finger. Their skin is soft and you know it would be so easy to leave a love mark if you so desired, but this time isn’t about marking each other, it’s about feeling the love the two of you have shared toward each other for more than a decade.

You nuzzle your face against their neck, leaving behind love-filled kisses that awaken goosebumps along their skin. The smell of their sin has always been one of your favorite things about them, the feeling of their wet hair brushing against your cheek, tickling your face ever so softly.

Your fingers continue to travel and explore every inch of their body, tracing a gentle line above their stomach and it causes Hanji to giggle and then immediately pout. You know how ticklish they are and yet, you just can’t help yourself but be delicate in your touches. 

With a smile on your face, you take a second to grip tightly at their hips, pulling them as close to you as you possibly can, eyes closed as you enjoy the warmth emanating from their body. The fear and anxiety you felt just mere hours ago dissipate with each passing second, the horrifying thought of a life without them seeming more like a memory than a possibility.

“Feeling clingy, aren’t we?” Hanji whispers, a grin so big stamped on their face that you could even see the singular dimple on the left side of their face. Normally, this would be the moment where you would roll your eyes, playfully push them away or even tell them to shut up, but they are right. You are feeling clingy.

“I just…” You begin whispering, trying to explain your track of thought without making a complete fool out of yourself, you are failing miserably, “I love you. I have loved you for so long that I don’t know who I am without having these feelings for you in my heart.”

“y/n, I- I,” they begin but you shake your head, squeezing their hips just a bit harder. Hanji knows that this is your silent way of asking them to stop talking and let you finish whatever it is that needs to come out of your chest. With a deep breath, you continue.

“You saved me, more times than I can count,” you whisper, your voice is shaky is a cocktail of emotions, “so I am thankful for the chance of ever being with someone like you. So yeah, I guess after everything that has happened today, I am feeling a little clingy.”

By the look on their face, you can tell they feel the smallest bit of remorse about teasing you, but it is not like they are going to apologize. You both chuckle softly, Hanji’s hand gently brushing against your cheek as you find yourself mesmerized by the spring in their smile while autumn was the season that stared back at you, those brown eyes doing wonders to your heart.

Hanji’s tongue brushes against your lower lip, traveling from one corner to the other before they proceed to nibble on the thin skin. For the next move, their tongue invades your mouth, swallowing the chorus of sounds that comes from your throat like it's a pond of crystal clear water in the middle of a desert. 

Before you give them a chance to reply, you decide to finally continue to move your fingers down, playfully twirling their pubic hair around. Your kiss continues, slowly and tender at first, bringing out the years of practice you have had with each other, perfectly in sync. Your fingers finally brush against Hanji’s clit, so you gently rub it in circles for a few seconds before using your hand to push their legs to the side, giving yourself better access.

Their desire is undeniable and palpable, they can’t hide the blush that has been spreading from their cheeks onto their ears nor can they hide the wetness that begins to pool onto the bed in a reaction to their lack of underwear.

“Tell me what you are thinking about…” You whisper, your curious fingers dipping a little below their original spot to drag out a bit of the wetness that begins to pool inside of them. You can hear Hanji’s quiet gasp and a smirk creeps onto your lips, “Tell me what has made you this wet.”

You can tell they are embarrassed, not only by the way their entire face immediately goes from a faint blush to a dark red as it spreads to their ears but also by the way they squirm beneath your touch, hips moving forward in desperate search for more contact with your fingers.

They struggle to keep their breathing steady but every attempt is futile, the words they were so proudly flaunting around when it was your turn to be vulnerable suddenly disappear and the only sounds that they can express are breathless and desperate moans.

Only when you threaten to move your fingers away do the words return to them, the response is nearly immediate as a sudden fear takes over their heart, “I… I keep thinking about y-you…” They know that isn’t a good enough answer, they trip over their words, flustered as their mouth dries up. Your eyes never leave their face, admiring every small freckle, even droplet of sweat that falls to their eyebrows, every spec of dirt left behind by the blowing wind and rain.

“What about me?” You inquire, wanting to hear the specifics of their desires. Your heart beats powerfully in your chest, so much that it nearly hurts. Your love for them has never faltered, from the first moment the two of you met, you have been inseparable, hearts beating together as one. The scenery of your beloved by the fire is engraved in your brain as you make a point to memorize every detail about this moment.

“T-The way you looked when my tongue was inside of you,” Hanji begins to speak breathlessly, with every word that exits their lips, you increase the pressure on their clit, rubbing gentle circles while using their own wetness to make sure there is no friction, “all the ways I can make you sound,” they moan, eyes rolling to the back of their head in pleasure.

“Keep going,” you indulge, the devilish smile on your face never once faltering. Gently, you begin to nibble on their earlobe, feeling as their grip around your shoulders tightens. They want to be as close to you as possible, even if it means your bodies will melt together under the fire and become one.

“I keep thinking about the way you look at me when you are about to come,” their voice falters slightly, trembling from desire. Their heart beats at a thousand miles per hour, and a few droplets of rain make their way inside the barn and dare to fall onto their head, mingling with the sweat that forms on their hairline. You can see their breath with every word that exits their mouth and yet, the cold doesn’t affect either of you in the slightest. “I think about the way your lips feel against my skin, especially when they - Ahh..”

You don’t give them enough time to finish the last sentence. You lower your torso softly, bringing your attention now towards their breasts, your left hand supports your body up as your lips tightly wrap around their nipple, tongue firmly swirling around the raised bud while your finger starts to slowly make its way towards their entrance.

Hanji arches their body slightly, attempting to guide your digits towards their most sensitive area. You can see how eager they are, not only by the way their hips buck forward but also by the small quantity of viscous liquid that has slipped from in between their legs, you chuckle quietly as your tongue continues to move around their nipple,

A small part of you wants to be slightly cruel and continue to tease them but when you look at them, those pleading eyes tugging at the strings of your heart until you can’t deny them any longer. Carefully, you slide your middle finger inside of them, their nails gripping at your skin as they close their eyes, a happy grin tugging at the corners of their mouth.

Once your finger is fully settled inside of them, you begin to thrust it in and out, dragging pleased moans out of Hanji, even if your movements are still slow and loving. But even though Hanji found themselves enjoying this experience, they needed more, you had been teasing them for a while, and having you sit on their face earlier was the cherry on top. They weren’t sure how long they would last at this pace. Their fingers drag over your arm, begging for more.

Not only do you comply and begin to speed up your movements, you decide that adding a second finger would be the best course of action. With your index and middle fingers buried down to the third knuckle inside of them, you pick up the pace, your fingers scissoring quickly.

Hanji is nothing but a blushing mess, their moans are loud as they try to bury their face on your neck. You continue your assault on their breasts, suckling on their nipples like your life depends on it, the tip of your fingers brushing against their g-spot, tickling them from the inside out as you try your best to help them reach their climax.

The palm of your hand grinds against Hanji’s clit, adding an extra layer of pleasure to the whole thing while your fingers continue to move in and out, dragging against the walls of their pussy as they continue to dance inside of them. Up and down, one side to the other, there was no direction you weren’t moving in.

You can feel their cunt getting wetter, more desperate for you as they continue to moan. You finally move your lips away from their breasts,  your eyes finally meeting once more as Hanji’s free hand runs over your face, thumb gently brushing above your cheek and you can see a single tear of pleasure forming beneath their eyelashes.

“I love you,” they whisper, their chest rising and falling desperately as they continue to buckle their hips in perfect unison with your fingers, there is no stopping this now. Their breaths become even more dysregulated, the desperation in their voice nearly palpable as they continue to repeat the same words over and over again, almost like a mantra, “I love you.”

“I love you too, sunshine,” you smile, hoping that your words will reach them, “I want to make you feel good.”

“You are…” They move their face closer to yours, foreheads touching as they wrap both their arms around your neck, propping themselves up in a way that allows your fingers to reach even deeper inside of them, “it feels so fucking good.”

It was rare to hear them curse, so for Hanji to say such a thing, meant you were more than definitely doing something correctly. You continue your movements, your lips ghosting above theirs as you speed up once more, the tips of your fingers fully exploring every single inch of their insides, leaving no pleasurable spot untouched.

They close their eyes tightly, mouth nearly hanging open as they barely find the strength to speak, “y/n,” your name falls from their lips with such ease, like their vocal cords were made to play the symphony that is your name, “you are going to make me come.”

“Come for me, Hanji,” you whisper, lips brushing above their cheek, carefully planting kisses on the area. You can feel their walls begin to tighten around your fingers, their pelvis raising in the air as they get closer to the edge, all you need to do is that one final push, “I love you.”

Those three sacred words always did the trick. With a loud scream, Hanji’s body begins to shake next to yours, arms pulling you closer as your fingers are nearly pushed out by the intensity of their spasms, but that itself isn’t enough to stop you. As you readjust yourself slightly so your body is more on top of theirs, you push in deeper inside, the tips of your digits continuing to brush against their g-spot while you slowly switch from in and out movements to circular ones.

They cling to you for dear life, wanting nothing more than to feel themselves being cradled in your arms. Once the intense pleasure wave has passed and their body finally seems to stop convulsing around your fingers, you decide to pull them out, leaving behind not only an empty feeling inside of them but also a long trail of their juices.

“You did so good, sunshine,” you say, bringing your digits close to your lips. Hanji’s eyes widen as they realize what you are about to do and their cheeks become covered by a darker shade of red than you have ever seen before. You smile, taking your fingers into your mouth as your tongue swirls around, taking in every last drop that they have left behind. You can’t help but hum happily, the taste of their pussy being the most delicious meal you have ever had in your entire life.

They watch you in a daze, almost as if they are under hypnosis. A mixture of scents fills the air: the smell of the rain against the grass outside, the smell of the fire crackling next to you, the smell of your sweaty bodies as you become one, but the smell of sex overpowers any and all others.

After a few seconds, you remove your fingers from your mouth, not a single drop of Hanji’s juices remains and, instead, a small string of saliva finds itself attached to the area. It’s the most sensual scene they have ever seen and, for some reason, they simply can’t avert their eyes. 

Hanji places their hand on the back of your neck, their fingers lacing themselves with the strands of hair attached to your skin by a layer of sweat. Once they finish readjusting, they pull your face towards theirs, lips crashing against yours in a hunger-filled kiss, swollen lips desperately searching for some sort of relief as they can taste themselves on your tongue.

Your teeth gently nibble on the soft skin of their lips, pulling the flesh towards you until it earns a long moan from Hanji and it draws a few drops of blood and neither of you seem to care about or mind about the newfound metallic taste.

Reluctantly, the two of you pull away, only a single string of saliva connecting your bodies. Your eyes meet Hanji’s and you are met with a look you are more than familiar with: the necessity for more. A warm feeling takes over your features as your chest rises and falls, you want to say something, anything that would make this feeling go away but the words fail you. All the confidence you had mere moments ago disappears and it’s up to Hanji to take the next step.

“You are so beautiful,” they whisper, their words washing over you like warm water on a cold winter night, “I am so lucky that I am the only one who gets to see you like this, the only person who gets to see Her Highness, Princess y/n, in a flustered state, sweaty and with your hair all tangled up. I want to be the only one… for the rest of our lives.”

“It has always been you,” you respond quickly, your voice trembling with emotion as you continue, “My first crush, my first kiss, my first time, every first I have ever had has been yours and I plan to keep it this way.”

It’s now Hanji’s turn to look away, their eyes are fixated on the wall until you bring your fingers gently towards their chin, moving their face ever so tenderly so they are looking at you once more. Your heart races in your chest, wanting nothing more than to look into their whiskey-brown eyes while you declare your love.

“One time, after I grew tired of reading the same old books in the castle’s library and begging my father for new ones, Libet secretly snuck into this extremely old book,” you begin to explain, noticing how Hanji’s eyes are shining even more brightly than before, they pay close attention to every word that dares leave your lips, “it came from a very distant land, somewhere I had never heard before but somehow it was still in English, much to my luck.”

“You and your books,” they smile playfully and you roll your eyes in disapproval before letting out a heartwarming giggle.

“In the book, I read about something called “The Red Thread Of Fate,” and it’s a theory that two people connected by a red thread are destined lovers, regardless of place, time, or circumstances. The cord may get tangled, but it will never break.” Your voice is now lower than a whisper, blood rushing through your cheeks as you explain your favorite tail, “The following day, I met you. It always felt like we were - “

“Meant to be,” Hanji finishes your sentence and you nod. You cup their face gently, thumb lovingly brushing above their cheek until you notice goosebumps forming on their skin once more. You lean down slowly, placing a couple of kisses on their neck, earning a few eager moans as they lean against you.

Your hands begin to explore their torso, aiming for their breasts while your fingers pinch their nipples gently. When they begin to exhale those sweet, sweet harmonies, you are no longer able to control yourself. You sink your teeth onto the smooth skin of their neck, leaving behind a mark, not a big one, but enough that they will remember it by tomorrow morning.

You desperately want to taste them again, this time directly from the source, but you don’t have the chance to make your way down. Instead, Hanji takes your chin away from their neck, fingers sliding down towards your throat as they ever so gently squeeze around it, earning a moan out of you.

“You’re going to be a good girl and listen to me, won’t you?” They ask, pulling you closer with a devious grin on their face, teeth digging into the flesh of their lower lip. All you can do is nod, your mouth hanging open for a slight second as you pay close attention to them.

You want to respond, you want to say something but words simply refuse to come out. Your brain has been wiped clean and the only coherent thought that even remotely comes to mind is Hanji: their slightly crooked smile, the raspy sound of desire in their voice, the desperation present on their touch as they dig their nails into your skin.

You whimper, that is all you can do in this situation. Their usually sweet eyes are now piercing through your body like a wild animal looks at their prey like they are addicted and you are the most fascinating drug they have ever had the luck of tasting.

Your hands go through their abdomen, fingertips carefully analyzing every little crook and dip, every scar they have acquired throughout their life, and even the smallest strands of hair. Your heart dips into your throat, nearly escaping your body but somehow, you can hold onto it. You want to tell Hanji how beautiful they are, how much you love them, how much you want this, but they are faster. Their words break the silence.

“I’m going to spread my legs, okay?” Hanji says, guiding you through the process. You nod and you catch a quick glimpse as the corners of their lips lift into a smirk, they continue to speak, “I want you on top of me, just like we used to do.”

You nod once more, focusing all of your attention on making sure you are following their instructions perfectly. Just like they said, Hanji’s legs part ways, their left leg is stretched on the bed while they adjust their right upwards, you take in the sight of their soaked pussy, the last few drops of her cum slide down her ass and land onto the ground, soaking the area below.

With your left hand, you carefully move their right leg up slightly, their knee touching their chest as they let out an amused sigh, this being the first time in years that this particular scenery plays in front of them. You slowly throw your right leg above theirs, your wet pussy pushing against Hanji's as you position yourself above them.

As your wet vulvas begin to touch, the two of you can’t help but moan in perfect harmony, a symphony of breathless whimpers filling the atmosphere. With your free hand, you guide Hanji’s palm towards your breasts and, eagerly, they begin toying with your nipple, pulling at the bud while watching for the pleasured expressions on your face.

It’s like something flips in your brain and your hips gain a mind of their own, eagerly bucking back and forth. You push yourself forward, applying more pressure to the point of contact between your two bodies and you can tell exactly where Hanji’s mind is in this moment.

With your free hand, you begin to explore their torso, nails dragging against their sun-kissed skin as it contrasts with the red marks you leave behind. The sweat on their face glistens as the light emitting from the fire washes over their features, their fingertips toying with your nipples before ghosting over to your hips, pulling you closer as they increase the pressure of your bodies pressing together.

“I love you,” they say in between whimpers, their voice trembling in a mixture of desire and need. You can’t help but feel yourself melting in response, a smile plastered on your face as you throw your head slightly back, your hair tickling your skin. Their fingers begin to dig bruises into the skin of your hips, an attempt to encourage you to speed up your movements, the sweet words pouring from their lips like a waterfall that cannot be stopped, “my heart calls for you with every beat, with every breath I take. I’m yours and yours alone.”

Your heart beats forcefully in your chest and suddenly all the moisture disappears from your throat, it’s nearly impossible for you to swallow and you almost choke on your words, but you want to return the sweetness they are expressing to you. So you sink yourself deeper against their aching core, the wet sounds filling the air as it mixes with the desperate moans the two of you let out.

“You’re angelic,” your brain isn’t sure as to what you are trying to say at this moment, so you allow your heart to do the talking for once, your breath is unsteady in between whimpers, “every part of you, every strand of hair that falls out of place, every freckle on your shoulders, every little scar on you is perfect. It’s almost like you were made for me to love.”

You continue to roll your hips, your cunt rubbing against theirs in a frantic rhythm as the two of you search for a high that seems closer than you could ever imagine. Despite what it may seem, Hanji’s body is more defined than they allow other people to know, it’s a direct result of constantly working in their father’s herb garden for most of their life.

From this angle, you can fully admire the silhouette of their body. You can pay close attention to the small arch of their spine, their back no longer touching the ground as they search for an even more intense connection between your two bodies. You close your eyes for a split second, still being able to taste their juices on your tongue.

Once your eyelids lift once more, you realize Hanji’s face is starting to contort into one you are more than familiar with. You yourself begin to feel the familiar tingling sensation as it forms in the pit of your stomach, and it only encourages you to pick up the pace.

"Fuck, baby girl," Hanji hisses in pleasure, their fingernails digging at your hips enough to draw a couple droplets of blood but that little bit of pain only adds to your pleasure. The way your wet pussy rubs up against theirs in a slow grind, the bundle of nerves colliding against one another as the two of you continue to whimper each other’s names. Hanji tilts their hips up ever so slightly, grinding back against you and matching your quick pace. You can feel your blood rushing faster and faster through your body, “I’m close…”

You nod, hands wrapping around their abdomen as you continue to hold yourself against them, “I-I’m close too…” You want to sound like the confident person you were just a few minutes ago, but that persona is long gone. All that is left behind is a whimpering mess, who can’t stand the mere thought of stopping her movements, “H-Hanji… Hanji, I…”

It hits you like a tidal wave. You aren’t even able to finish your sentence before your body begins to shake violently, your grip around them tightening as you throw your head back, you tried so hard to be quiet throughout the entire night but, just this once, you can’t help but scream their name in pure bliss.

Hanji isn’t far behind. In fact, the sight of your orgasm on top of them, your excess of juices dripping onto their entrance and mixing with their own was enough to shake them to their very core. Their nails dig into you tightly as they continue to move, drawing out every last bit of pleasure they can from this interaction.

You hold yourself into place and you can feel their clit spasms against yours, tears of pleasure forming in your eyes as you continue to whimper weakly. It takes nearly a minute for the entire effect to end and, only when the two of you are certain that there is nothing else in the tank, is when you unhook your legs, allowing your limp body to carefully come crashing down above their abdomen.

The two of you breathe heavily, lungs burning in a desperate search for oxygen. Your skin sticks together due to the sweat and neither of you even dares to move, except for Hanji’s fingers, which begin to lightly brush above the back of your right arm.

“I - “ the two of you say at the exact same time. Neither of you can help but chuckle at the situation, before doing it again, “You go first.”

With a small nudge of your head, Hanji begins to speak, “I knew from such a young age that I wanted to be your partner, that I needed to make you my girlfriend, even if at that point, it only meant holding hands and reading books together.” You notice a few tears begin to form in their eyes as they shift their face away from yours, trying to hide how vulnerable they feel at this moment. Almost as an instinct, you bring your hand up towards their chin, carefully turning their face back towards you, a few tears of your own threatening to fall down, “my entire childhood, I was surrounded by so much tragedy and death that I just assumed I was a bad omen, attracting sadness wherever I went.”

As soon as their words leave their mouth, you frown, a pout forming on your lips as you listen to them. You shake your head, refusing to continue to listen to them as they continue to speak about themselves in such an ill manner. But before you have time to intervene, kiss them, or even just tell them to shut up, Hanji takes your hand on theirs, fingers lacing together as their lips plant a small token of their affection on your knuckles.

“You taught me that wasn’t the case,” they whisper, tear-stained cheeks turning even redder as they blush, “you showed me that good things CAN happen to me. After all, I ended up with you, and I’ll be damned if I don’t admit you are the very best thing that has ever happened to me.”

You prop your head up on Hanji’s chest, the most beautiful brown eyes meeting yours in a love-filled stare. No words were needed at this moment for the entire atmosphere to be completely overtaken by the passion the two of you share for each other.

“I thought my life would always be this straight line,” you being speaking, your voice barely managing to get out of your throat, a result of all the moans but also the emotions that you had bottled up for a while, you want to let them out calmly but your mouth refuses to listen to your brain, so you continue, “I thought I would always have to dress up, play my part, marry a man and have several kids to make sure the bloodline and the kingdom were secured.”

“The idea of another person, especially a man, touching you makes my skin crawl,” for a second, you notice as their usually brown orbs turn dark, the jealousy in their voice not subtle at all. Before they have the chance to continue their rant, you plant a kiss on their lips. It doesn’t last long and, unlike the previous kisses you had been sharing that night, this one isn’t filled with lust, but with longing.

“My point is that from a very young age, I knew exactly who I was going to be,” you whisper against their lips, still planting a few kisses here and there as the words pour from your mouth, though your voice is still trembling, you have never been more certain of what you are trying to say, “and then when I met you, I was even more certain.” When Hanji shoots you a confused look, you smile and continue, “I knew I wanted to be your bride.”

A comforting silence grows between the two of you as you lay your head back down on their chest, the beats of their heart directly against your ear plus the sound of the rain outside truly made the entire experience so much better. It felt almost… heavenly. A while passes, you aren’t sure if it is minutes or seconds, but it’s enough for your eyes to begin growing heavy, a smile stamped on your face.

"I guess I haven't officially asked, have I?" They say, their fingers just ghosting above the back of your arm. You open your eyes just enough to look at them before propping yourself up on their chest, placing your chin on your hand in the hopes of not causing them any discomfort, a puzzled expression of your own on your face, and it drags an endearing laugh out of Hanji. "To be my bride."

Your face suddenly feels like it’s on fire. Of all the things you were expecting them to say at this moment, this one was not on the list. Yes, you were expecting a proposal eventually, maybe even at some point soon, but that wasn’t the reason why you brought it up in the first place. Not that you are complaining, to actually hear them say it? To hear them ask the very thing you have been craving since you were eight? Oh, the speed at which your heart beats in your chest could only be compared to a healthy stallion being set free in the wild for the first time.

"Please, Your Highness," they begin, a smug smirk stamped all over their features and a giggle escaping their throat once they notice how you roll your eyes at them, "y/n... will you give me your hand and marry me?"

Now it's your turn to laugh, a sound Hanji could never get used to, for it always meant more than the entire world to them. For some reason, they seem so nervous, almost as if they are afraid that you will actually say no to their proposal. You shake your head and place a kiss on their cheek, "I will marry you. I will gladly take your last name and get rid of my father's. I want nothing more than to live a long and happy life with you, Hanji Zoe.”

The light from the fire makes your shadow seem angelic like a goddess descending from the heavens just to bless them. Hanji can’t help themselves. They immediately pull your face closer, their lips meeting yours in a tender kiss, their voice is a mess of hums and whimpers, but there is no sexual connotation behind the sounds.

After you pull away, Hanji doesn’t open their eyes. Instead, they pull you closer into their chest, burying your face in the crook of their neck while their fingers hold onto your back tightly, desperately hoping to keep you from moving, but it’s not like you had any plans on doing so.

There is a smile on your lips that refuses to fade. The warmth from your beloved’s skin plus the sound of the pouring rain are enough to lull you into a deep slumber and for the first time since the night your mother died, you find yourself free from the nightmares that have haunted you.

By the time you wake up, the thunderstorm feels like nothing but a distant memory as the dark clouds have been replaced by the bright sunlight that enters the barns through the broken windows and the cracks. It takes your eyes a second to adjust and, by the time you become fully conscious, you realize you are lying there alone.

Your naked body is now covered by the previously rain-wet blanket and the fire next to you is now extinguished. You take a quick glance around, and can’t help but frown when you can’t seem to find Hanji anywhere. You stand up, finding your dry clothes lying next to you and the small hairbrush that was once in your bag now sitting on a compact mound of hay.

Once you are dressed and miraculously remove all the knots from your hair, you make your way outside. The first thing you see is your horse, happily eating and drinking by a small lake a few feet away. The pout that once took over your features now dissolves into a happy smile as you make your way towards her.

Carefully not to startle her, you place your hand on her flank, fingers gently brushing against the soft fur as she turns around. The horse’s head bobs up and down a couple of times before she immediately returns to her previous affairs and you decide to leave her be.

From the other side of her silhouette, you can hear the water splashing around, so cautiously you find yourself making your way toward the origin of the sound. Your heart immediately melts and you have to fight all of your instincts to prevent your body from turning into mush as soon as you see the view ahead:

Hanji’s pants are cuffed up to their calves, they aren’t wearing a shirt since it would just make it completely wet, so the water droplets fall directly onto their skin. Their hair is tied up in a messy bun and they hold a knife in their hand. One quick glance over to the side and you notice a quickly handmade basket holding a handful of fish and some fruits.

You take a few steps forward and clear your throat, wanting to make your presence known without alarming them. Promptly, they turn their head around and flash you the brightest smile you have ever seen, your heart rapidly swells with a thousand emotions, but the most prominent ones are love and affection.

“Good morning,” they say, taking a few steps towards you. Their arm wraps around your waist as they pull you close, a grin tugging at the corners of their mouth as their lips press against yours in a quick and messy kiss. It doesn’t last for long but it’s enough to make you smile from ear to ear, a truthful reminder that when it comes to Hanji, you always wear your heart on your sleeve.

“Good morning,” you respond once your lips part ways, your voice having a sluggish and almost needy tone to it, “you should have woken me up, you know. I could have helped!”

Hanji chuckles while shaking their head, their grip on your waist tightening as they place the knife on their belt, “I didn’t need help. Besides, you look so beautiful, I couldn’t bring myself to wake you up.” That stupid response, always made your entire face burn and always made you feel so shy just to hear it, but this reaction is exactly what they are looking for. “Let me make you some food, you must be starving.”

At the simple mention, you can feel your stomach growling. Your fingers brush against the fabric of the shirt that covers your stomach, allowing you to feel just how hungry you are. So you decide not to put up a fight anymore, simply nodding as they let go of you and reach for the basket on the ground, picking it up before making their way back to the barn.

Your eyes keep tracing the outline of Hanji’s body as they walk in front of you, the love marks you left behind on their neck are oh so visible when their hair is up like this. You can see every small mole hidden on the back of their neck and it sends a shiver down your spine, the thought of the previous night returning to you as you feel the heat growing in between your legs once more.

The only reason why you are pulled out of those thoughts is because Hanji dries their body off and puts on their shirt. A chuckle escapes their lips as they notice just how deeply you had been staring but, for once, they decide not to tease you about it.

Instead, they walk towards the spot that used to be the firepit, reaching for the same objects you used to make a fire the night before in the hopes of igniting it again. Gently, they pat the spot next to them, silently begging you to take a seat. It takes you less than two seconds to make yourself comfortable, your head resting on top of their shoulder as they begin to clean the fish.

It takes around two hours for the both of you to eat and clean up after yourselves, wanting to hide any and all traces of your stay as best as possible. While Hanji makes sure to cover up the fire, you place everything back in the bags, looking around for signs of anything you might have forgotten or anything around the barn that might be useful.

When you’re done, you reach for the piece of paper with the visual representations of all the lands explored by men. Your eyes go back and forth, trying to analyze every and all possible scenarios, the most hidden yet safest paths, and routes that might lead you towards freedom. Though, it is hard when you aren’t exactly sure of where you are going.

You can feel yourself growing more anxious, your breath trembling while a knot forms in your throat. It only dissipates when you feel Hanji’s presence behind you, the warmth that emanates from their body immediately calming you down as you realize they are just what you need.

“There’s a village a few more miles west,” Hanji says, pointing towards the blurry smudges on the map that slightly resemble a pair of mountains. Their chin rests on your shoulder, fingers brushing from the paper towards your hand and you can’t help but smile, “Maybe when we get there, we can get some more supplies and I think Elowen here would appreciate some more fresh carrots and apples.”

You hand them the map and nod, resting on your forehead on your horse’s muzzle, your heart beats at a rapid pace as you scratch her favorite spot on her chin. Her fur is warm and she doesn’t seem to be in any pain or discomfort despite the extremely long journey, so you let out a content sigh, knowing that this is all you could ask for for your most loyal friend.

“Do you think we will ever stop running?” You say in a whispered voice, a subtle hint of regret imprinted in your words but it is enough for Hanji to notice it. For a few seconds, all you can hear is the sound of the wind blowing the leaves of the trees and you ask yourself if they heard you, but before you can repeat your question, they sigh.

“I don’t know,” there are a lot of feelings laced in their voice: fear is the most prominent one, but also a bit of sadness. However, never once did you find a single shred of regret in their words. They continue, “But if it means keeping you safe, I will go with you to the ends of the Earth. We will go beyond the areas on the maps and form a little life of our own at the edges of the universe.”

You feel your entire face heating up at their words, even more so when you feel their hands wrapping around your waist as they place their head in between your shoulder blades. Your heart nearly skips a beat and a brand new wave of butterflies awakens in your stomach. It’s your turn to sigh.

“Do you mean it?” You ask softly. You already know the answer and still, your heart yearns to hear them say those three little words yet again. Hanji nods and you can feel them as they smile against your back.

“With every bit of who I am.” They respond, their fingers digging at your hips as they flip you around so the two of you are facing each other. Their hands continue to rest on your hips, thumbs gently brushing against the dips while your arms wrap around their neck, your face standing mere inches away from theirs. Their voice is now smooth like butter, as they finally proclaim what you have been desperately craving to hear, “I love you, y/n.”

A shaky moan escapes your throat, your body melting as an immediate response to Hanji’s words, to their actions, to the mere way they look at you. It’s like your lips gain a mind of their own, immediately seeking solace and comfort in their kiss. 

Every flick of their tongue raises the hairs on the back of your neck, the moment their saliva mixes with yours, it fills your taste buds with a flavor you could only compare to the sweetest nectar derivative from a sunflower born from a drop of sunshine. Your eyes are tightly shut but you can clearly see their face in your brain: the small way their nose scrunches when they are moving their head, the twitch on the corner of their lip when they realize how badly they have you in the palm of their hand, or even the way their eyelids tremble, struggling to remain shut.

As Hanji’s petal soft lips continued to brush against yours, you couldn’t help but smile to yourself, all the fear you once had about running away melting with every beat of your racing heart. For the first time in a while, you fully allow yourself to be submerged in the overwhelming feeling that is loving Hanji Zoe.

The need for air begins taking over your body as your lips tremble against theirs but your mind is too clouded by the need to stay in this moment to pull away, so unfortunately for you, Hanji is the one to listen to reason and separate themselves from you. You pout, sadness clearly engraved on your features but it doesn’t last long. Hanji brings one of their hands up from your hips towards your face, their thumb brushing against the skin of your cheek ever so softly.

There is no need for words to be said between the two of you, so all you can do is nuzzle yourself against their palm, a trembling breath making its way out of your chest, almost as if it had been sitting there for as long as you have been alive.

You sigh, turning away from their touch as you take a few sure steps towards Elowen, who begins to excitedly clap her hooves against the ground when she notices that you begin to adjust her saddle. You can feel the warmth of the sun soaking into your skin and into your heart as you watch Hanji place your bags in their designated spot. They smile shyly to themselves as they gently pat the horse on the ass, a playful action that earns a neigh from the animal.

Once the two of you find yourselves ready, you are the first one to hop on the horse’s back, carefully scooting forward and adjusting yourself so that your beloved will have enough space to sit down. You reach your hand down carefully and Hanji giggles in response at how delicate your movements are, the blue blood that courses through your veins still apparent. 

Nevertheless, their rough fingers brush against your palm as they grab hold of you. Their foot shakingly touching the stirrup, unsure of when it would be the appropriate moment to leap from the ground. So in hopes of giving them a bit of assistance, you squeeze their hand gently, tightening your grip just enough to give them a boost of confidence.

That simple small action works like a charm and, within milliseconds, Hanji finds themselves sitting behind you on top of the horse once more. They wrap the cloak around the both of you once more, making sure that at least your heads are properly covered but not blocking your vision. Then, once you are both settled, they wrap their arms around your waist tightly, their cheek resting in between your shoulder blades once more.

You can tell that they have a smile on their face and the warmth of their body provides you with a sensation that is more than enough to keep the cold fronts away. So with a sigh, you carefully hit the heel against the horse’s ribs, kissy sounds making their way past your lips as she begins to gallop towards the village Hanji mentioned earlier.

As the trees pass you by, a sense of calm washes over you. “I would be getting married right about now if I had stayed behind,” you think to yourself. You can’t help but wonder if the royal guards are looking for you right about now if everything is okay with Libet or even Tegan. If your father has had yet another heart attack while having a fit of rage.

You shake your head, pushing away every thought that could be related to your old life. Your Highness, Princess y/n, the king’s only child and heiress to the throne died the moment her father discovered her secret romance with a peasant.

At this moment, all that matters is that you can’t wait to find out who it is that you can be now that you are free from the chains of royal duties and responsibilities that tied you in place. You can’t begin to conceive of a life in which you aren’t with Hanji, a life in which the two of you aren’t living together in a cabin far away.

It’s a life you have been dreaming about and finally, you are about to discover just how happy you can be while living the simplest of lives. After all, that was one of the many benefits of being a pauper.

[dark-and-kawaii]

⋆｡˚୨୧ A New Beginning ୨୧˚｡⋆

Summary: Zevlor races to be there for the birth of his son. But as the night continues, he’s summoned into the grand throne room where the Queen demands his presence… Only to be met with a decision that will forever change him… And as he walks through the dimly lit corridors, back to his beloved and newborn son… his hands were stained with blood, dark and sticky… Each step heavy with the weight of what he had just done…

₊˚⊹♡ Pairing: Zevlo x F!Tav/OFC

₊˚⊹♡ Content: Angst - Pregnancy - Dadlor - Character Death - Aradin - Comfort - Hurt/Comfort - Zevlor Embraces The Darkness That Lurks Within Him - Zevlor Is The Best Partner xoxo - Protecting - Romance - True Love

₊˚⊹♡ Notes: Do you enjoy angst? Love reading about true love? What about a hot tiefling man protecting you!? Look no further!!!! Bahaha I’ve been working on this for so long and it’s finally done!!! I hope you all enjoy this <33

PRT 1

Each hoofbeat was a relentless reminder of his failure to be there when Lofn needed him most. Guilt gnawed at him, like a ravenous beast devouring his thoughts. He urged the horse onward, whispering desperate prayers into the wind, pleading for her safety.

As the castle loomed before him, swiftly growing in size, Zevlor leapt from the horse, sprinting up the steps and through the grand entrance. 

Inside, beyond their private chamber doors, the air was heavy with anxiety- eerily silent as the servants surrounded Lofn. Their faces etched with concern, “Breathe, my Princess,” one urged, but Lofn could hardly hear over the pounding of her heart. Each contraction felt like a raging fire inside her, a tempest of hope and fear... She had dreamed of this moment, of holding her son... Yet now it felt like the gods- like Asgorath was playing a cruel trick. Clutching her stomach, she doubled over, sweat clinging to her brow just as her sharp cry shattered the silence.

Zevlor's ears rang, a piercing scream tore through the air, sharp and anguished... The sound made his blood run cold, frozen over like Cania... Slicing through his heart like a blade... It was her voice... “Lofn,” he choked, his voice little more than a whisper.

A bellowing roar echoed just outside the castle walls seconds after Lofn's scream. Aetherion, Lofn's precious dragon, sensed her distress- flying above restlessly and agitated, his wings beat against the air, a desperate rhythm that matched the pounding heart of his rider. 

The paladin's vision blurred as his pulse roared in his ears alongside Aetherion's mighty cries. “Lofn,” he pleaded, the desperation in Zevlor's voice raw and painful. Racing down the corridors- running as if he was possessed, his breaths coming in ragged gasps, his feet moving on their own... The screams continued, each one a fresh dagger to his soul... Every instinct demanded that he find her, protect her. Without a moment's hesitation, he dashed down the hall, his eyes frantically searching for their shared room. Until his orange orbs saw them, the two guards that stood outside their chamber.

The guards stood their ground, “Zev-My lord,” one spoke, his tone laced with a warning “None is permitted to enter per orders from Aedri-“

Zevlor snarled, “I'll go where I damnl please!”

Bursting into the chamber, he was met with a scene of chaos, “What in the nine hells is-“ he began, but the words died on his lips as Aedric, Lofn's eldest brother, stepped forward, his blade drawn and pressed against Zevlor's throat.

Aedric's eyes blazed with fury, his voice a venomous growl, “Should she die, I will ensure you live every moment haunted by the blood on your hands, thanks to the thing you sowed within her.”

Zevlor's brows furrowed, his gaze hardening at the prince's words, his lips curled in disgust as he spat back, “that is my wife's child- my son and I will not-“

“My sister,” Aedric interjected, his blade digging deeper into Zevlor's flesh.

“And your unborn nephew,” Zevlor's teeth bared, “The love I have for-“

“Your love has brought her to this,” Aedric's grip on his blade tightened, the muscles in his arms coiled and tense, “your love has been nothing but a curse- a blight upon my sister's life-“

With his hand clutching the hilt of his own blade, Zevlor's anger rose at Aedric's words, his gaze flitting between the prince's sword and the window where Lofn stood hunched over- writhing and crying, the sight breaking his heart... Tightening  the hilt of his own blade, his eyes closed tightly- his breathing became steadier and his grip loosened as he pushed towards the cool steel, his eyes opening and meeting Aedric's stare, “I will see to it personally that nothing shall harm her-“ His eyes found Lofn once more, her face contorting, sweat trickling down her brow, and his voice was quiet, his words a whisper, “even if it means the loss of my son... I will not lose her. Now, step aside. I won’t ask again, Aedric.”

Aedric only scowled at Zevlor’s audacity, and before he could respond, Lofn's voice rang out, “Enough!!”

Her brother’s grip loosened, lowering his sword slightly as he turned to look at his younger sister, her face filled with pain, and yet her eyes were alight with fire.

“Leave us, Aedric!”

Zevlor's heart twisted as he saw her clutch her stomach, bending forward, blood soaking her nightgown. In that instant, all thoughts of Aedric vanished, his sole focus was on her- and their unborn child. He rushed to her side, cradling her face with trembling hands, his eyes wide with panic, “By the watching gods, Lofn- wh- what has happened?”

Lofn's gaze fell upon him, and the panic within them was quickly replaced with relief as her tears flowed freely, “I'm fine,” she breathed, her voice hoarse and weak.

“No, you're not,” his very own eyes brimming with tears, “you're- this isn't-“

She cut him off, placing a gentle hand on his cheek.

He gave her a small smile, gently wiping her tears away- his hands glowing a bright golden hue to ease her suffering before turning his attention to the midwives, “By the nine hells, what have you all been doing?! And where are the damn healers?! Get me a cleric-“

One of the midwives stepped forward, her face glum, “My lord, there has been a complication- and her lady refuses the aid of a healer…”

His eyes widened, turning his head towards Lofn, his eyes narrowing, his tone hardening, “What? Why would you not- Are you mad, woman?!”

Lofn’s body writhed as she grabbed his arm to steady herself, “Th-They told me I could lose our son- I will not risk him! Even if it means my life,” her voice cracked, raw with fear. “Zevlor... I will not lose him.”

Her words struck him like a physical blow, his heart twisting painfully. The tears she shed were not from her own pain but from the terror of a mother facing the loss of her child, “No...” he whispered, his voice breaking under the weight of their shared anguish.

Lofn's hair clung to her face, damp with sweat, her eyes heavy with exhaustion… Zevlor had seen the horrors of war, had watched comrades fall in battle, but nothing compared to the terror of this moment- the fear of losing her was a blade twisting in his gut, leaving him breathless.

His heart ached as he gently brushed her hair from her face, trying to offer a smile, a semblance of reassurance. But Lofn knew him too well… She could see the fear lurking behind his eyes, the tremor in his forced smile. “Zevlor,” she breathed, her voice a fragile whisper, yet it held a strength that belied her weariness.

He leaned closer, his forehead resting against hers, drawing strength from their shared closeness, “Yes, my light, I'm here...” Bending down slightly, he pressed his lips to hers, his hands gripping her tightly, as if afraid this would be the last time he would ever hold her. Tears fell from Lofn's eyes, the taste of salt mingling with their kiss, and she felt a deep ache in her chest as he pulled away. 

Gently he picked her up, her head resting against his shoulder as he carried her to their bed, “You shall be well, my dear. We will be a family together… With our son,” he said, his voice wavering, trying his best to soothe her fears and his own, to give her courage, and yet it was taking everything he had to keep his voice from cracking, “I’ll impart the art of swordsmanship to him- and you, you will teach him all that there is about his bloodline.”

A soft laugh escaped Lofn's lips, her eyes closing as she imagined the future they could have, and Zevlor felt his heart lighten at the sound, a believable smile forming on his lips.

“I like the name, Zavrik,” she mused, her fingers shakily tucking a loose strand of his hair behind those pointy ears she loved so much.

“That is a fine name,” he agreed, placing her down on the furs that lay atop their bed.

Time seemed to stretch and blur, each moment an eternity, but through it all, Zevlor remained by her side, his prayers a constant murmur…

Zevlor's gaze drifted to the crib he had lovingly crafted, nestled in the corner of the room. In his mind's eye, he envisioned Lofn standing there, their child cradled in her arms, her face alight with joy. He imagined himself stepping up behind her, wrapping her in his arms, feeling the warmth of their family envelop them. But the image wavered, dissolving into a haunting vision of himself, alone beside the crib, his face buried in his hands, overcome with grief…

Lofn’s scream that echoed through the room pulled him back to the present. 

The midwife's eyes widened with sudden realization, “I-!!! I can see the head!” she exclaimed, her voice laced with excitement.

“By the gods,” Zevlor breathed, awe and relief mingling in his voice as Lofn's hand tightened around his, her strength a constant source of amazement to him. She never ceased to surprise him, her resilience shining through even in the darkest moments, always.

When the ordeal finally ended, the wail of a child's first breath rang out, strong and clear… And Zevlor found himself cradling their newborn son, 

“Hello, little one,” he whispered, just as the babe’s tail coiled around his father’s wrist. 

His emotional eyes found Lofn, the exhaustion evident in her weary features, and yet, she was radiant- her smile the most beautiful sight. She was alive and her son, their son was too, safe and well.

Zevlor could no longer hold back the tears that fell from his eyes, a sob wracking his body as he laid the baby on her chest, wrapping his arms around both, “I thought- I almost lost you- both of you. By the gods, Lofn- you- you were so brave. I am so proud of you- so, so proud- I- I- can hardly- can't put into words- how much I- you both- mean to me.”

Lofn's own tears mirrored his, and she could only nod, unable to speak. She held their son tightly, his warmth reassuring and comforting, and she knew that as long as they were together, everything would be alright.

But the peace was soon shattered by the sudden entrance of Korgus, who bowed deeply, his expression apologetic, “My- lord,” he then looks to Lofn and bows again, “My princess, forgive the intrusion,” Korgus began, his voice respectful yet urgent, “The queen seeks Zevlor’s presence.”

Zevlor's brows furrowed, frustration simmering beneath the surface, “Now? Of all times-“ he started, but Korgus raised a hand, understanding Zevlor's irritation.

“I understand, believe me, but it is the queen's demand,” Korgus replied, his tone firm yet sympathetic for the two.

“No. I won’t allow him to be stripped of this momen-“ Lofn started but Zevlor sighed, turning to her, his heart heavy with reluctance. He leaned down, pressing a tender kiss to her forehead as his large hand stroked his son's head, “Let’s keep the peace, I'll return swiftly,” he promised, his voice a soft vow. 

The small journey to the throne room was filled with a sense of unease, a foreboding that settled in Zevlor's gut. As he entered, the vast room was eerily empty, save for Aradin standing in the center, with Lynnania beside him.

Confusion etched across Zevlor's features as he approached, “What is the meaning of this? Why is he here?” he demanded, his voice echoing in the silence.

Lynnania stepped forward, her movements deliberate and poised while Aradin's voice cut through the air, dripping with vengeance, “It's your turn to be the one on the ground knocked out cold- only this time you ain't getting back up horns.”

Zevlor's heart raced, the realization dawning upon him. This was a setup, a twisted game orchestrated by the queen herself… He knew some here had their reservations about him, but to go this far and right after his son was born…

Lynnania approached, her hand reaching for her beloved dagger at her side. Zevlor instinctively reached for his own blade, but she remained unfazed, extending the sinister weapon towards him, “Prove you have what it takes to be a part of this family,” she commanded, her voice a chilling whisper.

The mirror dagger was a weapon of nightmares, constructed from a broken mirror, the dagger's surface shimmered with the tormented faces of souls trapped within. A prison of those who were slain by the blade, a testament to the queen's dark power.

“Show me that you truly are my daughter's shield,”Lynnania continued, her words a venomous challenge. Slipping the weapon into Zevlor’s hand, she turned to Aradin… The adventure had caused a scene within her kingdom- an attempt to get her people to turn on not only the man her daughter loved, but her own daughter as well… A cruel smirk played on her lips, before leaning in to whisper in Zevlor's ear, “I won’t ask twice.”

Her heels clacked against the marble floor as she departed, leaving Zevlor alone with Aradin. High above, hidden in the shadows, Bane- disguised as a wood elf, watched from a concealed balcony, alongside Aedric and Korgus.

Zevlor's heart sank, his eyes wide with dread as he stared at the dagger. He understood the queen's demand, understood what it meant for Aradin. The weight of the decision pressed down on him…

…

….

As he entered the quiet chamber, his hands stained with blood, dark and sticky, the metallic scent clinging to him like a shroud. Small splotches dotted his face, a reminder of the darkness he'd come to embrace for the sake of his family. At first his steps were heavy, but as he walked, he noticed the weight slowly lifting…

Lofn lay sleeping, her breathing soft and steady with Zavrik nestled against her. The child's small tail was wrapped protectively around his mother, a picture of innocence and peace.

In that moment, the throne room, the dagger, the blood- they were all shadows fading into the periphery of his mind. All that mattered was here, in this room, with the two beings he cherished above all else…

With gentle care, Zevlor crawled into bed beside his family. His arm comes to wrap around them, drawing them closer to his chest… The blood on his hands was no longer a stain of shame but a promise to do anything to protect what mattered most…

He had crossed a line, embraced a part of himself he had long kept at bay. But for them, for his family, he would become whatever was necessary.

No longer would he allow the world to dictate his happiness. Whatever dared to interfere, whatever threatened the fragile peace he had found, would be met with death... Erased from existence, leaving only the sanctuary he had built with Lofn and Zavrik…