#long as amber of ember glows

[likehephaestionwhodied]

Remembered I saw Would that I live at red rocks

[formylovetodaryldixon]

"The way to heal a heart." Daryl Dixon Imagine.

(Not my gif!)

When his heart can’t stand the pain of a loss, you discover why Daryl ignored you all those days. But there, you tell your husband the way his heart can heal.

A/N: Based on the conversation between Maggie and Daryl after Glenn's death. (Spoiler alert: also Daryl briefly threatening a poor guy for touching you, because I don't like things to get too serious TT-TT) Hope you like it. Thank you!

The small and cozy cabin loses the amber glow that the fire of the small chimney caused when Daryl throws the sand on the hot embers, extinguishing all the flames. Lying on the small bed, you watch silently as the place loses its color, but the heat is still impregnated in the air and on the walls, and you feel it as a little shelter for your husband and for you, far from the walkers and the world in general.

When Daryl reaches the bed, he kicks off his boots, taking off his vest next, his shirt and his pants, leaving them on the floor to get in the bed too, where the heat of his body wraps you as he puts his left arm around you, resting on his right side to stroke your belly under the covers.

Living there was good, but that wasn’t the reality and you two had to take a step to it, so tomorrow you two would go to the Hilltop.

“I wish I had said good-bye.” You say. King Ezekiel didn’t offer his help to fight against Negan, but you would always thank him for his help towards Daryl. “I think we should leave the kingdom in the right way.”

Although Daryl didn’t like that the king hadn’t helped you all, he recognized Ezekiel’s gesture towards him.

“We can come back someday. Kids were crazy ‘bout ya.”

Even if you trained them to protect themselves during your stay, they kept the innocence within, intact and bright, despite how cold and grey the new world had become. But the future was uncertain for them and for you two, and you worry about what would happen next.

“Do you think we’ll be okay after all this?”

Daryl was never a person who thought of the future either, the difficulties of his life took him to live one day at a time, without great plans or big expectations. But he found you there, as a light of hope, and then he found himself wanting more. He didn’t dream of impossible things, but simply asking to have one more day with you.

“As long as we’re together everythin’ will be fine.”

“Do you really believe that?”

“I want to.” He says, looking softly at you. His doubts and his negatives had consumed his life in the old world, but he had to find himself falling too deep to then realized that he wanted to live in this new one. “Close yer eyes, peach. We’ll leave early tomorrow.”

The hours pass when you fell asleep and it feels like being on a cloud, far from the fear of dying or losing your people. There is no heavy guilt on your shoulders, no recollections of who you were and who you had to become to survive, no walkers, no blood, without a world painted red. But suddenly, your heart starts feeling heavy, and your body sinks into a complete darkness, fear and weeping. Your closed eyelids move, trying to wake you up from that high fever, until finally, you do. You sit on the bed, taking a big breath of air, back in reality where the cabin is no longer warm, but then you realize the nightmare isn’t yours. It is not in your head, but in Daryl’s.

“Daryl, hey, wake up…” You shake his shoulder. Lying still on right left side, his body moves against the bed, his hair covering his face as he complained. “Daryl!”

The last push finally awakes him, and for a moment, Daryl finds himself looking to the void, in a place far away from there as he sits down too and breathes through his parted lips, his gaze lost and his chest rising and falling sharply.

“Hey, it’s okay, it was just a nightmare–”

“No… it was somethin’ else.”

“What?”

But Daryl remains silent for a while, never saying what it really was. The cool night air helps him to calm down, and Daryl finally comes to be himself after he was lost in his own memories.

“Ya should… lie down again.”

He looks at your side of the bed with his head down as he did when he was ashamed, and without saying anything else, he lay back down with his back to you. In that moment, you realize Daryl is suddenly far gone again, but you don’t want to force anything with him, so you just lay sideways too, your gaze fixed on the scars on his back.

It takes you some time to fall asleep, but the hours pass in a few seconds when you do, and then, it is day again: the birds are singing a sweet song, and it is time to leave. The muscles of your body are tense, and you find yourself staring at the wooden ceiling after you rub your burning eyes with your fists.

“Time to go, peach…” Daryl is standing at the table, already dressed as he packs his backpack and yours. “Get yer pretty ass out of bed and get dressed.”

He seems to be in a good mood that morning, so you decide not to press him to speak and wait for him to do it first.

There are no walkers around the forest near the Hilltop, and the group of future archers had improved greatly in the previous days since you and Daryl got there. But when the afternoon falls slowly, there are only two people with you, a young man and a young woman, siblings, twins. They are the best in the group; they are the strongest too, especially since they are not afraid to fight for their freedom.

“Have you been married for a long time, (Y/N)?”

Sean is a good man, young, brave, handsome, determined, but blushes when Mary, standing in front of you two, chuckles to herself before shooting her arrow that hit the target perfectly. She and her brother live in a trailer and they gave Daryl and you a place in their home.

“Sometimes it feels like centuries.” You chuckle at him, and then, you look back at Mary. “That was amazing, Mary, well done. You are getting better every day.”

She smiles at you.

“Are you flirting with (Y/N), Sean?” Maggie’s voice behind you makes everyone turn around. The knife-throwing lesson group is already moving away in the distance to get back home, and only Maggie and Sasha are left. “That’s a very bad idea.”

“If Daryl finds out I don’t want to think what he would do.” Sasha chuckles, making fun of him. “He doesn't like people getting too close to his wife. He just wants (Y/N) all by himself.”

Suddenly, Sean looks frightened, because he had met a very silent Daryl. That scared the strangers.

“Thank you, Sasha.” You say, but she just laughs as you look at Sean with a soft gaze. “They're kidding, Sean, please, don't listen to them.”

Maggie chuckles.

“Okay, it’s time to go, guys. Get your things and go home.”

Everyone on the Hilltop respected Maggie, so the twins take their things and walk in the same direction as the other group after saying goodbye. You walk towards the tree and pick up the arrows. They are firm against the trunk, and you think how easy it would be to embed it in the body of the enemy. But that is a dark thought, so you push it away and go back with the girls to walk through the woods.

“Is Daryl okay, (Y/N)?”

Your gaze moves from the front and you look to your left without stopping. Maggie waits, her eyes looking at you with concern. You know where her question is going, because since you and Daryl came to that place, he couldn’t look at Maggie in the eyes.

“Yeah. He is.”

Your short answer makes her nod, thoughtful, but she is not satisfied with it. Maggie loved Daryl, she worried about him, and you knew nothing had changed for her.

“He seems distant these days.”

You knew perfectly well that Daryl was being distant with everybody. He disappeared all day in the forest and barely spoke at night, and the only one who seemed to be able to approach him was Jesus. It hurt you to think that Daryl didn’t lean on you as your husband, but he was like that and you knew it when you married him, and now, you couldn’t complain.

The amber light from lamp on the picnic table glows in the dark and cold night as you and Jesus play cards. You sit down on the wooden chair and rest your elbows on the table, having a good time with him, but you didn’t tell him that you only stayed up so late because Daryl hadn’t yet returned.

Time passed and you worried more.

“And… straight flush!” Jesus throws his cards on the table feeling like a winner. All his cards are hearts: 2, 3, 4, 5, 6. “Beat that, (Y/N).”

You chuckle.

“It is impressive, Jesus, but you don’t win with that…” You push your cards on the table, too, five cards of spades from 10 to ace, without feeling like a winner though. “I think this is a Royal flush. And it means I win.”

Jesus leans his elbows on the table as his expression falls.

“If this was not ordinary poker I would have lost all my clothes by now.”

You laugh, and for a moment, that seems like a very distant memory. Jesus begins to laugh with you, but his smile dies as the gates open and he looks back. You both look in the same direction and see Daryl coming in with his crossbow around his body and a canvas bag that seems to be heavy, so surely he had hunted some animals.

Jesus turns again and picks up all the cards as Daryl walks towards you two. The distance is long so Jesus speaks freely, but softly.

“He’s just having a bad time, (Y/N), but don’t worry about him.”

It was impossible not to worry about him.

“I know his personality is… special, but it’s a bit hurtful that he still can not talk to me.”

“It’s not that he doesn’t want to do it, it’s just that Daryl doesn’t want to worry you. He doesn’t know how to do it, too.” He sighs. “Should we play again?”

You are still not sleepy and being awake turning on the bed is not a tempting idea, so you nod while finally, Daryl reaches you two.

“Shouldn’t ya be sleepin’?” He asks, his voice low and hoarse.

He cares about you, he always did.

“We’re playing cards.”

“I’m playing; (Y/N) is kicking my ass.” Jesus chuckles, handing out the cards. “Do you want to play, Daryl?”

“Nah. I’ll go to sleep.”

Daryl just passes you by and walks towards the trailer. You feel that your body falls when you exhale, but you take the cards to forget the matter, at least for a while.

After about 25 minutes, you call it a night when your eyelids start to feel heavy, so you say goodnight to Jesus and walk back to the trailer. You didn’t sleep much anymore, but sometimes, under the apparent protection of the gates surrounding you, you could lay down for a while, to stop thinking.

Inside and on the other side of the trailer, Sean and Mary are sleeping too, so you quietly take off your boots before lying down on the bed. From his side, Daryl sleeps with his back to you. However, lying on your left side and as you drift off into a light sleep, you feel Daryl rolling over in bed, blindly searching for the warmth of your body, pressing himself against you, because that reminded him that he is still alive.

In the Hilltop orchard, you are glad to see the vegetables growing perfectly. The days were good in that place because the people accepted you two so fast. Mutual help was what increased the trust between the community and the new guests, and until then, everything went well.

Squatting, in front of the orchard, your hands become dirty as you remove some soil.

“Normal people would wear gloves, (Y/N).” Sean chuckles, appearing in front of you as you stand up.

“Are you calling me weird?” You tease him and run the back of your hand down your face to scratch your cheek. “I thought you were practicing with the bow.”

“I was going to go now, but I thought you were going with us.” He smiles a little bit, kind of shy.

You smile a little bit too.

“Not today, Sean. My arm hurts.”

The bowstring used to scrape your skin every time you released the rope, and the friction was starting to burn, but the truth is that you are tired mentally after last night.

“(Y/N)…” Sean chuckles, again. “You have some dirt on your cheek.”

Your first reaction is to clean it, but getting even more soil on your face. Sean tries not to laugh, and you wipe your hands on your jean before trying again.

“I think I should have worn gloves. Guess you were right after all.” You chuckle. “But don't tell Sean, I don't want him to think he's always right.”

He smiles.

“Here… let me do it for you.” Sean hides his hand on his long sleeve to help, and he wipes your face gently. “We don’t want you to go around here with your pretty face dirty.”

But there, just as in the romantic books you used to read before the world went to hell; Daryl has to arrive at the wrong time to misunderstand the situation completely, and in that moment, he takes Sean’s arm and pushes it away from you.

“Keep yer hands off ma wife or I’ll break ‘em, kid. I ain’t gonna say it twice.”

You feel terrible, because Sean is still young and easy to scare.

“Daryl…” You call him in such a firm voice that he turns to look at you. The fire inside is suddenly burning, but Sean is not the one to blame for anything. “Sean, leave us alone, please.”

He looks at Daryl and then at you, wondering if you would be okay. But, even scared of Daryl's horrible silence the past few days, Sean remains in his place.

“(Y/N), are you sure?” He whispers, and his small words are enough to make Daryl narrow his eyes, giving Sean a look full of anger.

“Are ya fuckin’ thinkin' I’m gonna hurt ma wife, kid?” But before Daryl can take a step towards him, you block his way with your body, causing your husband to stop dead in his tracks, however, you can’t stop him from keep talking. “Ya better walk away ‘fore I start beatin’ your ass.”

You are mad as hell, but you pull yourself together before trying again.

“Daryl, shut it!” You say firmly again, without raising your voice because that wasn’t in your nature, sadly, and you look at Sean. “Sean, leave. In any case, I would hurt him first so don’t worry. Go, please.”

Unsure, Sean walks away, but it's your confident words that keep Daryl looking at you. However, before you could say anything to him, you hear the man on the gates screaming that the saviors are coming.

“(Y/N)! Daryl!” Enid shouts running toward you from the gates, and you two run towards her and meet halfway. “You two must hide. The saviors should not know that you two are here.”

“Wait, no…” You say quickly. “We must find Maggie first. She’s in the woods with the others.”

“Jesus went to warn her. She will be alright. Come on!” Enid runs toward the building behind and you two run after her.

The sound of the cars become clearer and the gates open just as you all surround the building. Enid stops at the wooden doors that would lead you two to a cellar in a small basement, but it doesn’t feel right, not while the others are exposed with the saviors there.

However, Daryl opens the door and waits for you to enter.

“I will come for you when they are gone.” Enid says behind you.

Against everything, you walk down the stone steps and open the wooden door to enter the cellar while the place sinks in the darkness the moment Enid closes the doors above. The vegetable baskets are stack on shelves, and you push one to the side, which had enough space for you to hide in case someone come down. But, when you turn, you see Daryl staring through a hole in the door with his knife in his hand.

“Daryl, this is not the right time…” You whisper. Your mouth is dry and you feel your heart as tight as your stomach. “Please, don’t do it, not now.”

The plea in your voice surprise him, so he turns around and you both hide. The shadows of the basement serve as protection as he pushes the shelf back into the right place. It is not long before the outside doors open again, and the light enters through the cracks in the wood. You hold your breath when one of the saviors comes in, watching everything around him and then taking a basket. The place is full with food and the savior begins to collect the vegetables, piling them near the door.

And again and again, he turns his back on you, unprotected. Daryl lifts the knife in his hand, squeezing it hard, so close to kill the savior. But, even if you know he could handle one of them, they are too many outsides for you to make it alive, so you raise one hand and close it around his wrist, soft but firm, and at then, he finally looks at you after days. His blue eyes hold your gaze, and you slowly shake your head to stop him.

Fortunately, the savior takes his things and leave. Your heart feels less heavy and you breathe again as Daryl and you step out of that little hiding place. Doubts return to you, and you wonder how much harm those people could do, and how much harm you could do, and you ask for the time when you only had to worry about the walkers.

“I could have killed him.” Daryl grunts with his back in front of you.

The hatred to them for having kept him in that cell was never going to disappear.

“I know well you could. But you didn’t think about the consequences.”

Through his shirt, you see his back tenses.

“I never do it, do I? That’s why people die… ‘cause of me.”

The guilt you hear in his voice takes your breath away. Daryl really believed that, and his voice was so sincere and broken that it breaks your heart. The guilt is on his shoulders, you can see it more clearly know, so heavy that he can hardly bear it.

“Daryl…” You say, preparing to say your best friend’s name. “Glenn’s death was not your fault.”

Daryl turns, head down and part of his hair covering his face. His strength is destroyed, and he sobs before he speaks.

“It was… I have nightmares 'bout it. If I had not been so stupid…”

“Daryl, no…” You try again, taking a deep breath before. It is hard for you to hear his words, because they weren’t true. “Things happen, people die and we can’t help it, but we can honor their lives, fight for the things they believed in. They are not here but we are, and now I understand that we owe them this because they deserve it. Glenn was brave, kind, strong, and had a beautiful heart that not everyone has. He stayed true to himself, he didn’t lose part of him in this world, and he loved you so much because you and he were exactly the same.” Silent tears are about to fall from your eyes, but you stop them for a moment. “Talk to Maggie, okay? Listen to her and believe when she tells that she loves you so much because she wouldn’t lie to you. The way she sees you has not changed at all. But you have to forgive yourself even if you are not guilty of anything. Be stronger and fight for Glenn, make him feel proud. It’s the only way you can live in peace.”

He takes a moment, but finally, Daryl nods: he wipes his face and tries to hold your gaze.

“M’sorry for leavin’ ya alone these days. M’so sorry, peach.” He says softly, and you walk to him to put your arms around his shoulders. He clings to you like his life depends of it, arms around your waist, holding your body against him. His beard tickles your bare neck and he takes a deep breath before looking back at you, but without letting you go from his side. “And I would never hurt ya, never, y’know it, right?”

You let out a sigh, knowing that from there, things would get better.

“I know, love, but you still have to apologize to Sean.” You smile a little bit just to lighten the mood, pushing away a few strands of his hair out of his face to look into his eyes, but at the same time letting him know that you are serious. “If not, I'm going to have to hurt you, like, seriously.”

Daryl smiles softly, and he nods, hugging you again.

At that very moment, he is letting out all the pain that was hurting him all that time, but that was the first step to healing. And you know that everything would improve over time. Hearts healed at their own pace but they did eventually. And right there, your hearts are regenerating, closing their wounds and beating harder than before.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Winter's King 19

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, cheating, violence, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You are a maid to the Duke of Debray, a lord of the Summer Kingdom. That is, until the king of Winter appears with his particular air of coldness. (Medieval AU)

Characters: Geralt of Rivia

Note: Have a good day.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

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I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

The queen rises, restless as her skirts sweep around her, streaked from the hem with the filth of the road. Her insistence on finery has proven fruitless. Her once prized gown will likely never be free of stains. She has many more, you only hope they survive the journey. 

She struts back and forth, scowling as she faces the wall and drops her shoulders. 

“Why is there no mirror?” She pouts, “this place is drab. How am I supposed to keep from going blind with dullness.” She flops back onto the bed, “ugh,” she rolls over, “maid, I need wine.” 

“Your highness,” you say sheepishly. 

“Do not,” she raises her hand in a harsh point, “I don’t care about the king’s orders. I have been on the road for weeks, I am sore, I am filthy, and I am tired!” She snaps her fingers, “if I want wine I will have it.” She puts her hand over her middle, “it is for the king’s child. He is thirsty.” 

You avert your eyes. You can’t deny her. Even if the king ordered that she be deprived, you cannot look her in the face and tell her no. If they king never knows, it mightn’t matter. You turn, your disobedience nipping at your ears. 

You emerge into the corridor. The orange-haired guard remains, along with the shadow standing across from him. Bryce looms, picking his nails with a small dagger.  

“Has the queen retired so early?” He asks. 

“She requires wine,” you return, “I won’t be long, sir. Might you point me towards the kitchen?” 

“I will accompany you,” he insists as he stand straight. 

“Do not trouble, sir, I am faster alone. I only need direction.” 

You see the disappointment tick in his cheek. You’re not so mad as you were, only cautious. The king will always come first, his will shall always circumvent your own. It is a reality you knew before but now it gleams in a much different light. 

“Down to the east, on the lower floors behind the statue of the knight in black armor,” he explains, “do take care not to lose yourself.” 

“I will, sir,” you nod and glance over at the other soldier. The man with carroty hair eyes you up and down. 

You flit off, hurrying upon your quest for a bottle. You’re not certain you’ll find bounty in your mission. This is not the king’s castle and you are not a thief. 

You descend and come around the bottom of the wide stone railings. The great hall is empty and only a few lanterns remain lit to guide you. You go east and find your way, coming upon the knight in black armour that at first appears as a real sentinel in the dark. You stop to look upon the suit, admiring the ripples in its forging. 

You go into the kitchen and find the haze of the stove lighting the empty space. You peer around at the dark alcoves as the air glows amber, pulsing with the heat of the embers. You tiptoe inside, narrowing your eyes to see through the dim. 

“Are ya lost?” A growl rises from the darkness. 

You spin and face the black silhouette of a large man stood on the other side of the thick wooden table at the center of the kitchens. You gulp and sway on your feet. He must be the cook or perhaps the cellarer. He likely thought you a rat scurrying around looking for crumbs. 

“No, sir, I... would there be a bottle of wine? For the queen?” You ask, your voice catching in your throat as he looms like some great husky bear. He reminds you of the white beast in the corridor as he comes around the table, the light catching the white of his thick locks. 

His body is as thick as a barrel and his shoulders broader. The flickering hue reveals the scar above his left brow and his pocked cheeks. You wonder at the tint of his hair as you try to tell if it’s the age the lines his face or if it is the same effect as the king. 

“Wine? For the queen?” He echoes sonorously, “hmmm.” 

“Yes, sir, if there would be any to spare?”  

“Mm, suppose a bottle might go missing,” he backs up and turns. He doesn’t beckon you onward but you follow anyway. Something about him bids you without a word. 

He takes you to the far end of the kitchens and grunts as he squats and reaches to his belt, jangling a ring of iron keys. He shoves one in the thick lock in the clasp of the hatch and unhooks it. He lifts the heavy door, thick cedar bolstered with steel and throws it back to hit the floor. 

“Ah, hold,” he signals you with a palm as he stands and retreats. 

He strides across the kitchens and without a word, shuffles in a cupboard. He mutters as he takes a tallow and lights its wick from the embers, setting it into a brass holder. He offers it to you and you take it without a word, curious at the grumbly cook. 

He descends the steep stairs first and you follow, balancing the candle carefully. He takes you by the elbow to help you to the beaten floor and you raise the candle to light the expanse of the cellar. It extends well past the limits of the flame’s eye. 

He goes to a shelf and slides a bottle free of its cubby. He tuts and puts it back. He pulls out several bottles before he makes a decision. He comes closer to examine the glass by the flame. 

“Summer wine,” he says and flicks his pale eyes up to you. They remind you of the king’s though they are paler in the candlelight. “And you, serve the summer queen?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“You are a summerer?” He asks. 

“Sir,” you bow your head, “you can tell?” 

“Aye, no winter’s blood wears a cloak with walls to hold them over,” he chuckles and looks around. 

You glance down at the cloak. You hadn’t thought to remove it as the cold radiates from the stone. Even without the wind, a shiver creeps through your flesh. 

He frightens you as he reaches for you, only to touch the fur collar of the cloak, rubbing a tuft between his fingertips, “it is well made.” He lets his hand trail along the front and turns out the interior of the trim. You look down your nose as he reveals a patch you didn’t notice before; a wolf’s head. 

“Yes, sir, it is warm,” you agree and he withdraws his hand. 

“Suppose a summer’s maid needs it more than a winter’s king,” he says. 

You’re quiet. You have nothing to say to that. How many others took note of you in the king’s cloak? Do they whisper about it? 

“Your queen may take the wine,” he holds out the bottle, “and the king, might have a cask of ale should he require. Only one,” he lets go of the bottle as you accept it and holds up a finger, “he does not have leave to drink this cellar dry. Crown or no crown.” 

“Yes, sir. Many thanks.” 

He snorts and shakes his head, peering down at you, “a dove like you is out of place in this nest of vultures,” he muses and gently takes the candle from your hand, “better fly back to your queen, bird.” 

“Sir,” you turn towards the stairs as the candle illuminates your shadow against the shelves. You turn to climb and peer back at the man. He watches you, his eyes flickering with the flame. 

“Gentle creatures don’t fare well in the cold,” he clucks, “best keep that cloak close.” 

You ascend and cradle the bottle at the top, keeping it close as the liquid sloshes heavily inside. You pad over the kitchen floor and into the corridor. The great hall is even colder as the shadows ripple over you. As you come up the stairs, a shiver quakes through you. 

Something about that man, about his words, clings to you. His way of speaking is ominous, like those card readers who would visit Lady Rezlyn. Or perhaps it is only that you are waiting for the inevitable. 

As you near the queen’s chambers, you hear distant footsteps from the other direction. You come in sight of the grey soldier, spinning his knife as he whistles, the redhead guard sending him an irritated glower. You slow, preparing for the guard to repel you or at least seize the bottle from your arms. 

He does not. Even as he turns his scowl on you, he only reaches for the door to let you in. Before he can push inward, a throat clears. You all pause and turn to face the new figure. The king looks between you all; from the guard, to you, to Bryce. Your nerves flutter wildly. You haven’t been this close since the night on the pass. 

“I hope that wine is meant for you, Sir Bryce,” King Geralt booms, “as my queen is not permitted to indulge. She has a vile reaction to the stuff.” 

“Your highness,” the guard swallows audibly, “I... the queen--” 

“The queen is my wife and a wife must bend to the will of her husband,” the king insists hotly. The guard’s expression draws and he mutters an apology. 

“I was unaware of the ban,” Bryce intones, “but I’ll gladly claim the bottle for my own.” 

“Gilles,” King Geralt ignores the quip and points to the redhead guard, “you will inform the queen that she needs retire for the night. In her condition, it is necessary that she rests. If she requires sustenance, she may have bread and cheese and a bit of goat’s milk.” 

“Your highness,” the guard, Gilles, nods diligently. 

“And you will fetch it yourself,” the king insists, “I trust you might find your way around a tray.” 

Gilles stares at the king then slowly pushes into the queen’s chamber. The king nears and takes the bottle from your hand. You let him and back up as Bryce steps closer. 

“Your highness,” the soldier begins, “if I’d been aware--” 

“Hardly matters now,” the king shrugs and steps close to his man. He leans in and whispers something you cannot hear, “as you were,” he slaps his shoulder then continues on. You watch after him, perplexed but relieved at his indifference. Perhaps he has rethought his intent. 

Bryce is quiet until the king’s footfalls fade off. He lowers his chin, rubbing his thick beard. He touches your cloak, a small tug on it, “this way, maid. Let us find you a place to lay your head.” 

The promise of a bed is nice and reminds you of your weariness. Your legs ache as you follow Bryce along the corridor. Your shoulders rack and the remnants of the road begin to lace through your muscles. It is only as you think of laying down that you feel the effect of those last months. 

You yawn and stifle it in your hand. Bryce glances over and lets out a willowy breath. He is certain of his path despite the twists and turns. He directs you to a door at the base of one of the castle’s towers, opening it to a spiraling staircase. 

“Would be at the top.” 

You look up at the winding ascent. The walls are mounted with lanterns over every fifth step. You frown and pull back, turning to the soldier. Your stomach churns. 

“Up there? May I not rest in the servant’s quarters?” 

“You must be closer to the queen,” his lip trembles. He raises his chin and looks away. When his eyes meet yours again, he puts his hands on your shoulders, “rest your head, mouse, you’ve come very far. You’ve earned it.” 

You look at him. You know he isn’t saying all he could. He can’t. You put your hands on his arms and squeeze.  

“I’ll try,” you affirm, “thank you, sir. I am very tired.” 

“Yes, mouse, sleep,” he pulls away. 

“Good night, sir.” 

He hesitates, “good night.” 

He turns stiffly and marches off. You step into the staircase as his shadow disappears and you pull the door shut. You look up, climbing step by step, legs shaking as you get higher and higher. You reach the top step and another door. 

You push the handle down and the lever rises on the other side. You enter the chamber to find it empty. You stand at the threshold and turn, searching for any shadow, any shimmer in the low light of the fireplace. It’s only you. 

You breathe and turn to look down the staircase. You listen. Nothing but the winds battering the walls without. You close the door and slowly wade into the warmth of the room. The windows are hung in heavy curtains and there is a tray waiting on the table. An ewer, cups, a plate heaping with delights. You aren’t hungry for any of it, you’re too uneasy. 

You unbuckle the cloak and drag it from your shoulders. You turn it over your arm and feel the patch sewn into the lining, examining the wolf’s yellow eyes. He’d marked you and you never even knew it. You fold the heavy length over a chair and back away. 

You untie your cap and unveil the short shanks of hair jutting out from your scalp. You haven’t had a chance to shear your unruly locks before they could get too long. You fold the cap and put it on the bed. You remove your apron then your dress and leave them with your cap. 

You take a pillow and a blanket from the mattress and bring them down to the bench at the end of the bed. You fit yourself onto the hardwood and watch the fire’s light pulse on the stone wall. Your eyes glimmer with tears, turning your vision to speckled hues. 

It’s all so nice, too nice for you, and knowing why you’ve come upon it, turns it sour. It is not kindness, there is expectation attached to such generosity. You should’ve known. You did. You were just too stupid to see it, just as the queen always said. 

You twit. 

You close your eyes and pull the blanket to your chin. You embrace the warmth, your one comfort left. There’s a long road that awaits you still. Not only through the Hinterlands but another, more treacherous path. One you never meant to stumble upon. 

Your body weakens, succumbing to your fatigue, overtaking your wrought mind. Your eyes roll back behind their lids and your breath peters out. Sleep enshrines you as blackness eclipses the orange haze of the chamber. 

[angelbaby191]

Love in the Woods

Fantasy! Bakugo x Reader

TW: HEAVY Fluff

The forest was alive with twilight’s embrace. Shafts of golden light filtered through the canopy, bathing the world in an amber glow. The air was thick with the sweet aroma of blooming honeysuckle, mingled with the earthy scent of moss and pine. Somewhere in the distance, a soft trill of birdsong accompanied the rustling of leaves.

A quiet hum beneath the soft twilight that seemed to stretch endlessly overhead. Each step forward revealed a new layer of beauty: the faint rustle of unseen creatures in the underbrush, the cool, damp scent of moss mingling with the sweetness of jasmine, and the distant bubbling of a hidden stream.

"Hey," Bakugo barked over his shoulder, his gruff voice shattering the tranquil ambiance. "Ya plannin’ on keeping up, or am I supposed to carry yer lazy ass through this whole forest?"

You rolled your eyes, quickening your steps until you were beside him. "You know, if you weren't constantly yelling, this might actually be a peaceful walk."

He snorted, the sound full of his usual bravado. "Peaceful's just another word for boring."

“And yet you brought me here,” you countered, casting him a sidelong glance.

Bakugo's lips twitched, his expression unreadable. “You wouldn’t shut up about wanting to see this place. Figured it’d shut you up for a while.”

You smirked, refusing to rise to the bait. "How thoughtful of you, Katsuki. Truly selfless."

“Tch. Whatever,” he muttered, his eyes flicking away. But the pink creeping up his neck betrayed him, and you felt a small swell of victory.

Ahead, the trees began to thin, revealing a small clearing bathed in the faint glow of moonlight. The sight took your breath away. Fireflies danced like tiny stars, their golden light illuminating the clearing in a way that felt otherworldly. The grass was soft and lush, dotted with wildflowers that seemed to shimmer under the fireflies' glow.

Bakugo walked ahead, his hands shoved deep into his pockets, his crimson eyes darting around the trees as though expecting an ambush. You trailed behind him, your cloak brushing against wildflowers that reached out as if begging for attention.

"Watch your step," he called, though he didn’t glance back.

“I’m not a child,” you replied, though the warmth in his tone made your heart skip..

You adjusted the hem of your cloak as you stepped carefully over a gnarled root, the ground beneath you uneven but springy. Bakugo was ahead, his familiar silhouette illuminated by the soft glow of fireflies. His usual energy was still there—sharp, crackling, like embers in a forge—but there was something quieter tonight.

“Oi, pick up the pace,” Bakugo called over his shoulder. His voice, gruff as always, carried an edge of impatience.

“I’m coming,” you replied evenly, smoothing your expression into something serene. You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of a reaction—not yet, at least.

“Tch. At this rate, we’ll be here till dawn.”

You bit back a smile, quickening your steps just enough to match his long strides. “You know, if you wanted to rush through this, maybe a forest wasn’t the best place to go.”

He stopped suddenly, turning to glare at you. The way his crimson eyes caught the fading sunlight made your breath hitch, though you’d never admit it aloud.

“I didn’t drag you here to hear you complain,” he shot back.

“Oh, so you admit you dragged me here?” you countered, tilting your head in mock innocence.

Bakugo clicked his tongue, his hand jerking up to rub the back of his neck. “It’s not like that, dumbass. You said you liked this kind of crap, so I figured—whatever. Let’s just go.”

You couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out of you, light and genuine. His scowl deepened at the sound, though the pink creeping up his neck told a different story.

“Fine, fine,” you said, falling into step beside him. “Lead the way, oh fearless guide.”

His reply was a low grumble, but he didn’t shake you off when your shoulder brushed his.

The two of you wandered deeper into the forest, the world around you growing softer, quieter, as though the trees themselves were leaning in to listen. The path narrowed, and Bakugo stepped in front of you, brushing aside low-hanging branches with a gruffness that belied his careful movements.

The forest looked truly magical. The way the moonlight hit their the leaves and branches of the trees overhead, made you feel inca fairy tale. You twirled around slowly, to gaze upon all the wonders of the forest.

He snorted at your silliness but stepped along. Continuing to walk along the path to this ‘secret’ metring spot for the two of you, his movements uncharacteristically slow, deliberate. “Looks like a damn fairytale,” he grumbled.

“Exactly,” you replied, your voice soft. “Even you can admit it’s beautiful.”

Bakugo crossed his arms, his expression unreadable. “Doesn’t matter what I think. You’re the one who wanted to see it.”

There was a pause, the weight of his words settling over you. You stepped closer to him, your boots barely making a sound against the grass. “Thank you, Katsuki,” you said, your voice quiet but sincere.

He glanced at you, his crimson eyes flickering with something you couldn’t quite name. “Stop thanking me,” he muttered, his voice gruff. “It’s annoying.”

You laughed softly, and the sound seemed to ease something in him.

The path wound deeper into the woods, the trees growing denser and the air cooler. Every step revealed something new: a patch of flowers that seemed to shimmer with an inner light, or a cluster of mushrooms glowing faintly blue in the gathering dusk.

You paused to admire a particularly beautiful scene—a small clearing where the ground was carpeted with tiny, star-shaped blossoms. “Look at this,” you breathed, crouching to touch one of the petals. It was soft and cool, like silk under your fingers.

“Hurry up,” Bakugo called, his tone sharp. “We don’t have all night.”

You rolled your eyes but stood, brushing your hands against your cloak. “You know, you could try appreciating the moment for once.”

He snorted. “I appreciate that I’m not sitting around doing nothing.”

“Funny, because that’s basically what we’re doing now,” you shot back, unable to resist.

“Is it?” He stopped abruptly, turning to face you. The intensity in his gaze sent a jolt through you. “Feels more like you’re wasting my time.”

The words stung, even though you knew him well enough to hear the unspoken layers beneath them. Still, you crossed your arms, lifting your chin. “No one asked you to come, Bakugo.”

For a moment, he just stared at you, his jaw working. Then he let out a frustrated sigh, dragging a hand down his face. “You’re such a pain.”

“And yet here you are,” you pointed out, your tone softening.

His eyes flicked away, the blush from earlier making a reappearance. “Yeah, well… someone’s gotta make sure you don’t trip over your own feet.”

The tension broke as quickly as it had formed, and the two of you continued walking. The silence between you was companionable now, broken only by the occasional quip or observation.

“Why do these bugs glow?” Bakugo asked at one point, swatting half-heartedly at a firefly that had ventured too close to his face.

“It’s called bioluminescence,” you explained. “Certain creatures can produce light through a chemical reaction in their bodies.”

“Sounds fake.”

You laughed. “Of course you’d say that.”

The evening deepened, and the forest grew darker. The fireflies became your only source of light, their golden glow flickering like tiny lanterns. Somewhere nearby, the gentle trickle of water hinted at a stream.

You reached it soon after, the sight taking your breath away. The stream was narrow but swift, its surface catching the faint light and reflecting it like a ribbon of silver. Flowers lined its banks, their colors muted but still vibrant in the low light.

Bakugo stood beside you, his usual tension replaced with something quieter. He crouched by the stream, scooping up a handful of water and letting it trickle through his fingers.

“It’s not so bad,” he admitted, his voice low.

You smiled, watching the way his shoulders relaxed. “See? I knew you had a softer side.”

“Don’t push it,” he warned, though the words lacked their usual bite.

The fireflies swirled around you, their light painting soft golden patterns on Bakugo’s sharp features. You could see the faint furrow in his brow, the way his shoulders were tense despite the serene setting.

“What’s wrong?” you asked gently.

“Nothing,” he said quickly, too quickly. Then, after a beat, he let out a sigh, dragging a hand through his hair. “I’m not used to this... crap.”

“This crap?” you teased, raising an eyebrow.

“You know what I mean,” he snapped, though his tone lacked heat. “All this... quiet. It’s weird.”

You smiled, stepping closer until you could feel the faint warmth radiating from him. “You don’t have to do anything, Katsuki. Just... be here.”

He looked at you then, really looked at you, and for a moment, the fireflies seemed to pause in their dance. The intensity in his gaze made your heart race, but you didn’t look away. The grass and twigs cracked and crunched beneath him as he moved closer.

“You’re really something,” he muttered, almost to himself.

Before you could respond, he reached out, his hand brushing against yours. His touch was tentative, as though afraid you might pull away. But you didn’t. Instead, you turned your hand, your fingers curling around his.

The world seemed to hold its breath as Bakugo leaned closer, his movements slow, almost hesitant. “You’re gonna laugh,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I won’t,” you promised, your voice steady despite the fluttering in your chest.

He searched your eyes for a moment longer before closing the distance between you. His lips were warm, soft, and surprisingly gentle against yours, a stark contrast to the fiery personality you were so used to. The kiss was brief but left you breathless, the taste of him lingering like a spark.

When he pulled back, his ears were red, and he refused to meet your gaze. “Don’t make it a big deal,” he muttered.

You smiled, your heart feeling impossibly light. “Okay,” you said softly. “I won’t.”

The fireflies resumed their dance, swirling around the two of you like a constellation brought to earth. And in that tiny clearing, surrounded by the quiet magic of the forest, it felt as though the entire world had faded away, leaving only the two of you and the bond growing stronger with each passing moment.

[delirious-donna]

Hiromi stood by the window; his jacket and tie were discarded by the couch, and his white shirt wrinkled and creased from the stresses of the day. It made you pause in the doorway, your steps lightening so as not to alert him to your presence.

There was no noise except for the continuous pitter-patter of the rain. It drummed against the slate roof overhead, tinkled against the windows and formed ever-growing puddles in the divets of the street below. Your umbrella had saved you from the worst of it. Head down and focused on your footsteps, you hadn’t taken any enjoyment in navigating the pools of water that were not taken care of by the drains along the road, yet right now… it felt different.

Hiromi was framed by the open window in your living room, leaning against the sill with the sleeves of his shirt rolled back to his elbows and a cigarette dangerously close to being extinguished by the droplets falling steadily to the ground. The tobacco mingled with the petrichor, muted by the earthy aroma to a more pleasant level that had you inhaling deeply as you stepped closer. Your lungs filled with the magic of nature despite being deep in suburban Tokyo, but what drew you in was him.

A white haze surrounded him, one that called out to you and spun playful tendrils around your wrists to pull you close. Perhaps it was a manifestation of what you had fallen for all those years earlier, or maybe it was simply in your head. It didn’t matter. All that mattered was the way your heart sped up and your body instinctively reached out for the solace that only he could provide. Hiromi was your haven, your nirvana. This may be your home but that home was truly wherever he was and you didn’t think he knew that—somehow that only made it all the more true.

Your arms encircled his waist, the cooler air brushing against your skin like a lover’s caress, and your head rested on his shoulder. Tension leaked out, his muscles relaxing and shifting until his breathing evened, and he placed a sturdy hand atop your own. For a while you both stood there; unspeaking yet baring your souls, unmoving but travelling together. The embers from his cigarette flared one last time before flickering out, spent.

“How long have you been standing here?” You asked, at last, breaking the spell of silence and hurtling you both back into the here and now.

“Hm… long enough.” His tone was light, jovial even, and you squeezed around his waist until he gave a small wriggle of protest.

“Long enough to watch your umbrella bob past. I wasn’t sure why you didn’t say something when you got home, but this is nice,” he conceded.

“I was admiring you, Hiro. Hardly a crime for a woman to admire her husband, is it?”

Hiromi snorted and turned slowly to envelop you against his chest. You could hear the steady beat of his heart, smell the fading scent of his cologne and you rubbed your nose into the stiff fabric covering his chest.

“Not one that I think would stand up in court,” he teased, his nose buried deep in your hair.

“That’s never stopped you before.”

“True, but I’ll admit that I’d much rather have you here, in my arms, where you belong… than in a courtroom. They can be awfully stuffy.”

“Sounds like you.”

“Oh ho! I’m stuffy now, am I? Well then, I guess I’ll see you in court you—you… husband ogler.”

At that, laughter bubbled up and out. Frothing and eager to fill the room with your humour. You could feel Hiromi’s body judder with the want to join in, only subdued by the bite of his lip. His warm brown eyes fixed upon you as you lifted a hand to cup his jaw and teased your fingertips over the scrape of stubble adorning his cheeks and chin.

“I’m home,” you sighed wistfully.

Hiromi smiled, leaning back to feel stray raindrops land amongst the peppering of greys in his thick black head of hair. The petrichor intensified as if heralded by your declaration, the setting sun breaking through the grey clouds to dapple your bodies in an amber glow. All was right in the world and he felt lucky to be able to say that with conviction.

“Welcome home, my love.”

an: I saw this beautiful piece of art by @kanashiki79 and they were kind enough to allow me to draw inspiration from it for the above. I guess I was in a bit of a sappy mood for Hiro today, but who could blame me?

[little-annie]

Just a little drabble inspired by @sentient-trash and this beautiful piece of artwork.

Since last night everything around him just seems a little bit brighter.

The sun, the sky, the light in Eddie's eyes when they met Steve's just this morning.

Even working at Family Video with the musty carpets, crackling speakers and Robin's constant nattering. It all seems a touch more bearable with the taste of Eddie's good morning kiss on his lips.

“You're in love? Steve, really?”

‘Yeah,’ he thinks to himself as he enters another returned tape into the system, forgetting to answer Robin completely. ‘Fucking yeah he is.’

It's just… last night was perfect. Something out of the movies. Eddie's hand in his, the feel of his calloused skin against Steve's palm. Their laughter and how it was accompanied by the gentle chitter of crickets in the grass, their melody carried away by the late night breeze.

It wasn't supposed to end up that way.

Smoke a joint. Yell at the moon. Go home.

Not dancing in the din of the moon and the stars. The lights of Eddie's van casting their shadows over the open grassy field as they swayed in each other's arms. The silhouettes of their bodies cascading over the land.

“Dingus?”

All it took was for Steve to hum the tune of Faithfully and Eddie to admit he actually liked the song, and then suddenly they were dancing. Steve was pulled from his position in the tall grass and up into Eddie's arms where they laughed and sang and eventually settled against each other until they fell quiet. And then the evening turned into something else entirely as they swayed and the grip they held on one another grew tighter.

“Do you even hear me?”

It was there in Eddie's arms, the moon as his witness, that Steve thinks he fell in love. He never wanted to leave that moment. If he could live eternity in Eddie's grasp, in some long forgotten field with the light of the moon and stars raining down on them, he would. He'd dance in fields of fireflies and live with the knowledge that even their glow was nothing compared to the fire burning in his heart. Let it scorch his soul and alight his veins only to live a few mere seconds more with Eddie's breath against his neck and arm around his waist.

He'd let the fire consume him completely to feel Eddie's lips press to his for the first time again.

“You're a lost caus-” Distantly Steve hears the ring of the front door's bell, and the beginning of Robin's bored company mandated greeting, “Welcome to family- oh, hey Eddie.”

Eddie

Never has Steve's attention been grasped so fast.

He doesn't even realise he breathes the man's name out himself. Lost to the trance that's amber eyes and a striking smile.

“Light of my life!” Eddie crows happily in response, moving with an uncharacteristic sort of grace to the checkout counter Steve's still standing behind, forgotten return tape still grasped in his hand.

His knees feel a little weak as Eddie approaches, eventually leaning with an elbow on the red formica and pillowing his chin on a ring clad fist.

His eyes are just as beautiful as Steve remembers, the glow of burning embers locked away in his earth toned gaze.

They're both silent for a moment, ignoring the way Robin's fake gagging only a few feet away. But eventually Edsie speaks again, this time though, voice low enough for only Steve to hear as he asks, “You want to do that again?”

Only for every night for the rest of my life

Cheeks suddenly so much more rosy than they just were, Eddie reaches for Steve's hand and whispers, “I could live with that.”

[acourtofkindness]

When I speak of talent, I mean these three wonderful creators. Thank you so much for all your works and love you put out there, we are so lucky to have you in this fandom! Thank you so much for being you and sharing your talent with us!

Here are just a few of their stories, but I would recommend checking out all their works!

A Song of Bonds and Legacies (Azris, @mistandmemories)

New Traditions (Azris, @amarillis39) Beauty is Terror (Azris, @amarillis39)

Words We Use In the Shadows (Azris, @shadowsandlint) Long As Amber of Ember Glows (Azris, @shadowsandlint)

Again (Neris, @ysmtty) Red Ferrari (Azris, @ysmtty)

*divider by tsunami-of-tears

[danibee33]

The Queen’s Guard

*COD medieval au - Simon Riley x reader

cw: arranged marriage, dark themes, attempted sa & non-graphic sa but pls *read at your own discretion*, gore/violence, sexual themes, etc.

word count: 1.1k

“Again.”

You can’t help but to flinch at the sound of swords being drawn; it rings in your ears, echos in the recesses of your brain. The piercing, metallic clangs resound throughout the room-

How long had you been here, anyway? Judging from the sunlight that peers through the high transom windows, its golden rays giving the great hall an ethereal sort of glow, it must be nearing time for dinner-

“I’ve seen enough, thank you.”

With a dismissive wave, you rise from the bronze throne and turn on your heel, eyes focused straight ahead, fixated on the intricate carvings in the doors, your escape just within reach-

“Your Grace..”

General Leon’s voice is laced with exasperation and warning, and your long history with him is the only reason you halt, your handmaid nearly bumping into you as you turn again- the young woman struggling to rearrange the ridiculous train on your gown as the man speaks,

“You cannot continue on without a Queen’s Guard- His Grace demands the position be filled.”

Oh, of course. How thoughtful of your kind husband. The husband who only sees you when the physicians deem you fertile enough to produce an heir. The husband who you’re not even sure could pick your face in a crowd because he only ever fucks you from behind, your face pushed down into the animal furs beneath you.

The husband who killed your last guard, gods rest his soul.

Yes, I’m sure he’s very concerned for my safety..

You give a heavy sigh, fighting the urge to roll your eyes as you feel the placating smile tug at your lips; the one you’re so, so good at. The practiced smile that puts everyone in the room at ease, the one you’ve perfected in your relatively short existence of being groomed for this very life.

The life everyone dreams of, a life of royalty, of the highest privilege and power- how little they truly know.

“Of course, please, let us meet the next one then.”

Taking your place upon the throne once again, you sit properly, prim and demure, just like you were taught. The very picture of perfection in your emerald colored silks, not a single hair out of place-

Yet, inside, you were wasting away, your thoughts boiling and raging, your anger smoldering just under the surface, like a vein of coal in the earth that’s been lit aflame- the embers never dying, but never able to turn into the inferno they so wishe to be.

You don’t bother to spare your gaze when the doors open with a low groan, the quiet footfalls that enter the space only really given away by the shifting of chainmail and armor.

They’re confident strides, you notice- long and steady, and without even seeing him yet, you can feel the energy shift around you, his presence seeming to fill every available void,

“Ser Simon Riley, Your Grace.”

With one look, you’re utterly struck by the imposing man walking towards you- shoulders and hips swaying with each deliberate step, left hand resting lazily on the hilt of his long-sword.

His armor plates are dark, obsidian in hue, so different from the usual flashy silver you see everywhere you look. He is a looming shadow in front of you, somehow as wide as he is tall, if that were possible- and his eyes. The skin around them have been smudged with kohl, making the mottled amber of his irises look preternatural, his unmoving gaze entirely focused on you, even when he bows,

“Your Majesty.”

Your mind screams danger, much like it would if a fully grown wolf had just sauntered through the doors, looking for its next meal- and yet, for as much fear as he inspires, there’s something that draws you in- like a siren singing to sailors lost at sea.

Returning his gesture, you gently nod, holding his eyes until the General calls him back to assume a fighting stance; and even then, you swear you see his head tilt just so, just enough to flash you an arrogant look as the guard takes his place across from him. Ser Simon must easily stand a head and a half taller than the other man, you think, his figure even more impressive than it was before.

The men exchange nods before drawing swords, their dance beginning the same as all the others, assessing and calculating each other until the guard makes the first move-

The heavy whoosh of his blade is dodged with little effort, the giant wraith of a man moving far faster than any of you expected. He gracefully ducks under the other’s still outstretched arm, placing himself in the perfect position to swing his own sword towards his opponent's exposed neck- a maneuver surely meant to behead if this were anything other than a mock duel.

“Reset-”

“No.” You stand abruptly, stepping down from the throne much to your own surprise, “Ser Simon, what experience do you have as a Royal Guard?”

“Your Grace, this is-”

With a raised hand, you quiet the General, watching the mysterious knight sheath his sword once more, bowing again as he faces you,

“None, Your Majesty.”

Well, at least he’s honest.

“What experience do you have then?”

His head tilts to the side, and you watch the other guards tense when he takes a single step closer, those damned eyes gleaming down at you with a hunger you’ve never quite seen before,

“Battle, Your Grace. I’ve seen far more than most.”

This time, it’s you moving towards him, and when you step closer, the Kingsguard follows suit, though it seems nothing goes unnoticed by the towering specter.

“Well, Ser, I do not go into battle.. You might be better suited for my husband’s army, no?”

You watch the very corners of his eyes crinkle slightly, his gaze narrowing in amusement, and you’re positive you would see a devilish smile on his lips if he removed the helmet,

“I might.” He says flippantly, broad shoulders shrugging as he shifts his weight from one foot to the other, “But, I came here to serve you, My Queen.”

A deep and burning chill blooms in your core at his words and the resolute way he says them; it lights every nerve on fire, every cell and molecule, every atom in your being vibrating at a frequency you’ve never felt as the title rolls off his gilded tongue.

No, you’ve never met a man quite like this, and part of you questions if he truly is just a man at all- because no man has ever felt like this, no man has ever been able to pick you apart so quickly, make you feel bare with just his gaze alone.

He terrifies you as much as he excites you, and oh, how you’ve longed to feel something other than loathing, and boredom.

There is nothing practiced or placating about the smirk on your lips now as you nod toward your General, your handmaid once again adjusting the cumbersome fabric of your gown as you move forward-

“Well, you’ve gotten your wish, Ser Simon.” You coo as you breeze past him without a parting glance, “General Leon, make sure my guard is taken to his new quarters, will you?”

They fall into a sweeping bow as you exit, a quiet acknowledgement being the last thing you hear before the deep pulsing of your own heartbeat fills your ears.

What in the seven hells have I done..

[chapter 2 >>>]

[druidwolf21]

As per the votes, here's some loving smut with everyone's fav space viking!

Leman Russ/F reader

Content warning-

sexual content

A bit of fluff

Homesickness

Saying I love you during sexy time???

@moodymisty @cosmic-cryptid-from-beyond @lemon-russ @beckyninja @jaghatai-khock

Hope you like some sexy lovins

Words and meanings

Skitja- fenrisian curse

Volda Hamarrki- the mountain range of fenris

Skitnah-dirty/foul

Aett- clan hols/ heath fenrisian name for the fang

Stormurstjórn- stormcaller (I used this as a little pet name

Skíthof- another fenrisian curse

Gmorl-fate

The fire roared and blazed, spitting sparking embers across the marbled guard as you stared listlessly into the light. The book you had been reading hung limply from your hand as your eyes followed motes of flames dancing from one cindered log to another as it's warmth gently toasted your skin.

You allowed your eyes to wander from the embers to the room you sat in. Cold steel walls rising high above you, dispersed with woven tapestries of great battles and flickering oil torches. You sighed wistfully as your sight fell on a painting of a forest, trees frosted with diamond snow and silvered icicles, shadowy wolven figures dancing through the wood with amber eyes that seemed to glow.

You fisted the furs on the bed you had perched on as you threw the book aside and fell backwards, staring at the canopy above you, willing it to turn from soft cotton into the grey fenrisian sky. Squeezing your eyes shut and inhaling, you could almost smell the frozen sap, warm mjord and smelting iron that hung perpetually through the halls of the fang.

But home was a long way away and no matter how hard you willed it, upon opening your eyes, the dream of Asaheim faded into the distance. Your memory of warm meals and warmer company left a bitter taste in your mouth as you swept a hand across your face. Your thoughts were dragged back into the present by a wet nose against your thigh and a quiet whine.

Resigning yourself to your current situation, you drag yourself upright, smiling gently as you come face to face with golden eyes and a maw of teeth as long as Eldari daggers. Thick lines of spit coated each fang as the beast breathed heavily in your face before letting out another low whine.

You snorted and place a hand on the wolf's snout, playfully pushing it away.

""Skítja, fenki!" You curse "what have you been eating, your breath is worse than...well I don't know, but it's bad!"

You recoiled as your question got you a long, hot lick from your bare ankle to the top of your thigh. You hopped off the bed and rushed to an oaken dressing table, ripping a towel from a drawer and dragging it along your leg.

"you are so gross" you laugh lightly, dropping the towel and walking back over, pressing your face into warm fur and inhaling deeply.

"I guess you miss home too, huh?"

You nuzzled in deeper, wrapping your arms around the giant canine as far as you could, twisting your fingers through coarse fur and feeling the slow, steady rise and fall of it's chest.

"I promise, as soon as we can, we'll take you back home, back to Volda Hamarrki. Me, you, Russ and Geri, does that sound good?" You whispered, trying to stem tears before they fell

"we'll go back, away from this Skitnah ship, feel the snow under our feet again"

The tears flowed freely as you buried your face, gritting your teeth, willing them to stop as you fought to push the home sickness from your thoughts.

"Making plans for me, my little Stormurstjórn?"

You spun round, hair whipping around as you turned to face the owner of the deep voice that thrummed through you.

Lemans grin faltered as he saw your face, wet with tears, he threw down his thick cloak as he rushed over, dropping to a knee and cupping your face gently.

"my heart, what happened? why do you cry?" His face darkens and a snarl starts forming on his face, his hands and eyes gliding over you "did someone hurt you? If someone touched you I'll.."

You shake your head gently, looking into lemans icy blue eyes and smiling shyly.

"no my lord, I'm fine, just wishing for the comforts of home"

You see the tension leave your primarks body as he leans back slightly and your heart fluttered as his easy smile found his face again. He pressed a gentle kiss to your lips before pressing his forehead against yours.

"The Aett may be far, but you are here and that is home enough for me" he murmured, his voice as thick and sweet as honey mjord as he brushed the tears from your face.

You pulled away and pressed your hands to his cheeks, admiring the way the dying embers cast a warm glow across his face and down his neck. His eyes shone, almost reflective as the light flittered and sputtered.

A thick golden braid had fallen over his shoulder and You leant back in, running the hair through your fingers before pressed a kiss against his lips. His arms wrapped around you and you felt like you were melting into him as he returned your touch, running his tongue along your lips, deepening the kiss.

You gasped as a callused hand found your ass, snaking beneath the metal blue dress you were wearing. Leman took advantage of your shock, pushing is tongue into your mouth and tasting you, his other hand locked in your hair. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you sucked his tongue, tasting mjord and smoke, earning a growl in return.

You separated and leman admired the mess you had become already, lips pink and cheeks flushed.

"I can give you a taste of home, if you miss it so much" he smirked, running his tongue along his fangs.

You rolled your eyes and grinned, before leaning back in for another kiss.

Russ took this as an open invite and swept you in his arms, dropping you on the bed and slowly slid your dress off your shoulders, peppering kisses and bites marks down your neck and shoulders as he swept the garment from under you and tossed it to the floor. His hand gripped your waist and ran down your thighs as he took a perk nipple in his mouth and ran his tongue around it, he grinned again, lifting himself from your breast to look at you.

Your eyes were slightly glazed as your chest rose and fell, looking at your lover with doe eyes.

He returned his gaze to your body, trailing his tongue down your stomach before reaching where you wanted.

He lifted your thighs higher as he dove in, licking and sucking on your pussy like a starving man. You gasped and instinctively locked your fingers in his hair.

His tongue felt rough but throne did he know what he what he was doing

Your moaned his name, hips jerking fruitlessly as he held you down, his eyes locked on your face as you came, your hands tightening in his hair as your orgasm rocked through you.

Leman rose, licking away your taste from his lips as he looked down at his work, you lay, flushed and gasping on the warm fur across the bed.

Just the way he liked it

He quickly made light work of his own clothes, throwing them into their own heap next to yours

Your eyes grazed over his body as he stalked towards you, trailing down his broad, scarred chest, following the line of his abs and the trail of hair, lower and lower...

Leman, climbed over you, his braids tickling your skin as he gently gripped one of your hands, locking it next to your head and gazing down at you. You felt your cheeks flush at the intensity of his eyes. The concern, care and feral arousal in his stare raised a heat in your core.

"my little queen" he whispered in your ear, as he slowly slid inside you, inch by inch filing you. You moaned as you felt yourself stretch to your limit, his dick reaching deep inside you as your back arched, pressing your breasts into his chest. He pressed a kiss to your cheek and slowly withdrew, before sliding back inside you, over and over.

"I'll fuck all the sadness right out of you"

You moan his name as he ground into you, one hand still gripping yours as the other held your thigh up, fucking you deeper than you could imagine. His dick touched every part of you as he filled you, over and over. The knot in you stomach getting tighter and tighter...

"L..leman right there!" You mutter into his ear, biting at his lobe "p please"

"Skíthof" he cursed as he felt you tighten around him, "so tight for me" your muscles fluttering around his cock as he drove deeper into you as you came.

Yes, scream my name, you belong to me, my sweet, my heart

You panted as you finished, wrestling your hand free, you gripped around his neck and looked deeply into his eyes.

"I love you, leman" you sighed, biting you lip as the feel of his driving into you, the sound of his breath and skin on skin and the heat from his body drove you towards another peak. "I love you, my wolf"

A brief look of shock passed across Russ's face, his movements became erratic and he growled and dropped his head to your shoulder as you felt him finish, feeling his cum fill you up as he jerked into you, pushing it deep inside your pussy and biting your shoulder, marking you as you cried out, finishing with him.

You stayed like that, wrapped under the body of your lord, his face pressed into the crook of your neck and your arms around him, his dick still wreathed inside you as his cum slowly leaked out.

The reality of your words set in

I love you leman...

The sweet comfort of your afterglow vanished and you blushed furiously.

"did I seriously say that for the first time DURING SEX?!" You screamed internally

Finally, you felt your partner moved, slowly raising off you, his locks tickling across your breasts sending goosebumps across your bare skin as he looked down at you wordlessly, the blue galciers of his eyes looking down at you, almost searching.

"mmm my lord I.." you stutter, trying to find the right words.

He silenced you with a firm kiss, grinning that stupid sexy grin. But despite the smug smile creeping across his features, his face was soft and he met your confused look.

"And I you, my Gmorl"

You lay in shock for a moment, your brain twisting at what was happening as leman pulled away from you and stretched, looking over his shoulder at you. You sat, bolting upright.

"I.. you..."

He smirked at you over his shoulder before rising to his feet and throwing your dress at you.

"come then, sweet one, do you still wish to see fenris again?"

He loved the way your eyes sparkled and you jumped off the bed towards him, clutching your wrinkled dress to your chest.

"really?? We're going home?" You laughed and spun and leman felt his heart skipped a beat in his chest.

He shook his head and bared his fangs in a wide love sick smile

"anything for you, my little love"

[goblinpuppy35]

Paw Prints in Fresh Soil

(Previous Chapter) - Part 8 - (Next Chapter)

Professor Remus x Male Reader

Summary: While teaching at Hogwarts Professor Lupin tries his best to conceal his strong crush for the green fingered grounds keeper Y/N but soon a strong friendship blooms into something more.

CW: 18 YEAR OLDS + ONLY: Long chapter with A LOT of smut

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

Remus was unable to hide his flushed cheeks and gleeful smile throughout the rest of the teaching day. His students simply assumed he was in a particularly good mood that day. The Professor religiously checked the time after every class, assessing how long he had to wait before seeing Y/N again. He could still taste the wet fabric of Y/N's pre cum stained boxers on his lips. It made the wolf inside him feral. 

Once teaching concluded for the day Remus eagerly returned to his chambers. Despite lust filling his head Remus was suddenly overwhelmed by the concern of hosting and began to quickly clean scattered books and papers off the floor and table. Then in an attempt to set the mood the Professor brought out a number of candles, placing them around the room and lighting them accordingly. Afterwards Remus lit the fire and then looked around the room satisfied, the low amber glow around him vividly reminded him of taking care of Y/N's cold body during his recovery. 

Remus attempted to preoccupied himself as he waited for Y/N by laying on the sofa half heartedly flicking through one of his books. This distraction only worked temporarily as the thought of what if Y/N would be hungry on arrival entered Remus' mind. Panickily he hurried to his small kitchen. Similar to his poison skills, his cooking abilities were extremely limited and lacking. As Remus frantically tried to figure out why the eggs he was trying to scramble were producing storm clouds of smoke from the pan, he failed to notice the latch of his door quietly opening and Y/N entering the room.

Remus was completely oblivious to Y/N's presents until the groundskeepers fingers slipped passed Remus' to take hold of the frying pan. Remus' surprise was promtly replaced with relief and then embarrassment as he let Y/N save what was left of his scrambled eggs which took on more of the apprentice of scrambled charcoal. Sitting on the candle lit floor by the fire Y/N insisted on eating the least burnt parts of Remus' disastrous meal, insisting it wasn't that bad. Remus laughed and watched Y/N, his long arm stretch across the sofa that their backs were resting against. His hand on Y/N's shoulder Remus rubbed his thumb up and down the fabric of the groundskeepers shirt tentatively. The contact between them felt so natural. 

Although both men knew exactly what they had came here for, as the night progressed the pair stayed in each other's arms talking. Y/N told Remus about his transition and how he struggled connecting to his family because of it, "They never planned to have a Muggle child, let alone a queer son" Y/N said pensively, looking into the fire. He then turned back and smiled warmly at Remus, "It's okay though, I manage" his words were genuine but Remus could still see sadness behind Y/Ns handsome eyes. Remus squeezed Y/N shoulder lovingly and pulled him in closer. 

Midnight came and went as the men talked relentlessly, as Y/N continued to tell Remus about his life the weary Professor found himself equally opening up. He told Y/N about his affliction and the toll it put on his body every month. He talked about how he often felt a great deal of guilt and shame for the way he was. With each personal secret of their lives they shared with one another their emotional bond grew as well as thier physical proximity, by the time the last fire embers extinguished themselves Y/N was curled up in-between Remus' open legs. Their hands weaved around one another like ivy up and old stone wall. Gently Remus kisses Y/Ns ear and whispered "Shall we go to bed?", looking up towards the Professor, Y/N nodded. They walked to the bedroom hand in hand. Their eyes slowly adjusted to the dark as they watched one another start to remove their clothes. Deep conversations about everything and nothing flowed between the pair again once they were laying on their sides facing one another, just in their underwear. Y/N explained which parts of his body were still sensitive after surgery and in general how he preferred being treated in bed to not feel dysphoric. Additionally Remus told Y/N which parts of his own body where most fragile, showing which scars had healed poorly.

Both men were not sure when they'd drifted off to sleep but the comfort of being engulfed in each other's arms was too tranquil to resist. Early morning owl cries woke Y/N up from the deepest sleep he felt he'd had in a life time. The room was still completely dark. Y/N had rolled to his opposite side, with his back against Remus' front, the taller man's arms were cradling Y/N and he could feel Remus' hot exhaling breathes in the crook of his neck. Considering he was a light sleeper Y/N appreciated the fact Remus didn't snore. As Y/N wiggled his body to get my comfort he felt his back press further into Remus, who's peaceful breathing suddenly got lower. Y/N moved a little more and felt the small of his back push against Remus' crotch, he was noticeable hard and the sensation made Y/N blush. Remus' lower breathing grew into a deep growl, his body shifted and then his grip tightened around Y/N.

"I'm sorry.. did I wake you? Sorry" breathed Y/N unsuccessfully hiding how flustered and arose he was becoming, Remus pushed his body closer to his. "Don't be" Remus' voice rumbled through Y/Ns ear and made his body shake. Y/N's limbs suddenly felt limp and stupid as Remus' hand slowly pulled down Y/N's boxers and then his own. Even in the darkness Y/N could feel Remus' impressive length resting against his leg, a small wet patch at the end. Tenderly kissing Y/N's shoulder Remus positioned himself then carefully began to enter Y/N from behind. Hums passed through Y/N's pressed lips which turned to whimpers as he became overwhelmed with the sheer sensational volume his body was feeling. "Hold onto me pup" Remus' low sleep filled voice said softly, "It's alright, I've got you". These sincere words followed by blankets of kisses up his neck helped relax Y/N, his forearms gripping onto the strong arms wrapped around him, as he loosened his tense body he could feel Remus' whole cock fully inside him, it was enough to make Y/N's brain fully switch off. 

"That's my boy" Remus huffed rocking his body and guiding Y/N's to do the same "your doing so well... god You feel amazing". The room was silent except for the steady creaking of the wooden bed frame and both men's heated moans. The air was filled with privacy and intimate passion. "Y/N.. are you okay, dose it feels good for you?" Remus asked between pants feeling himself getting harder inside of the smaller man. Having seemingly lost the ability to talk Y/N took hold of one of Remus' hands and delicately pulled it down his own body, reaching his thighs he pulled apart to folds to reveal his throbbing cock tip to Remus. The Professor's breathing paused momentarily as he felt how large and stimulated Y/N's cock was. A new pleasure swept across Remus' body now he could tell how turned on Y/N was. "I ... I" Y/N was barely able to whisper while he showed Remus' fingers how to rub against his tip "I want you to make me cum AH" before Y/N finished his request Remus took to for filling it. Coating with thumb and forefinger with Y/N's precum he slowly started to rub Y/N's erection, taking note how even the slightest touch down there made Y/N's back arch . "With pleasure my love" Remus cooed before thrusting his hips harder behind Y/N.

Y/N very rarely let himself fully go in any situation, even when he was alone. Yet Remus was sending every fibre of skin he had alight. His throbbing cock ached spectacularly from Remus' meticulous touch, he knew he was going to cum soon. Remus' body was having the same reaction to Y/N and as the groundskeeper widened his leg span, giving Remus more space, his pleasure tipped over the edge. "Fuck Y/N I'm" was all Remus could announce before overflowing feelings of ecstasy escaped his body. Y/N was getting drunk feeling all of Remus' inside him. Extending his high Remus continued to pump Y/N slower but with harder thrusts, his own body starting to buck. These sharp movements were too much for Y/N "Oh Christ Remus .. I'm ..I'm. Fuck. I'm going to scream. Please stop me". Swiftly Remus lifted up his free hand and clasped it fully over Y/N's trembling mouth, pulling his head back slightly. Remus' other hand stayed on Y/N's cock as he synchronized his hip thrusts to his wrist jerk. The hand gag seemed to have the opposite affect on Y/N for each muffled moan came quicker after the others and became more desperate. Even though his own high was fading Remus was loving this display and pure lust and with each moan from Y/N he tighter his grip over his mouth and tilted his head back further. Suddenly Y/N's body stopped squirming, become unbelievably still and tense as he let out a muffled moan which sounded as if he was crying. His body arched and then rubbed against Remus' fingers enthusiastically, at which point Remus felt warm cum over his fingers. He waited until Y/N had finished rocking and then withdraw his fingers to his open mouth, licking around his knuckles he devoured Y/N's taste. "You taste beautiful" Remus whispered causing Y/N to shake and twitch now Remus had pulled out. Y/N shock so hard he made the mattress quiver so Remus sitting up, scoped Y/N in between his legs and pulled the blankets up to wrapped around both their shoulders. Shushing and petting the younger man's Y/H/C hair Remus kissed his warm cheeks "You were perfect Y/N". 

"Some .. Sometimes I get .. I .. very non verbal after.. af" Y/N jittered through his wobbling lip. Caressing Y/Ns hand Remus kissed it gently, "That's okay" He reassured, "as long as you are okay?". Y/N smiled and nodded, snuggling into Remus cosy embrace. After a moment of peaceful recovery Remus asked "Shall we both get cleaned up and then go back to bed?". Y/N nodded again and was about to gingerly make his way off the bed but gasped in surprise as his weight lifted off the sheets. Supported by Remus' arms the Professor carried Y/N to the bathroom, switching the light on with his elbow. Both men couldn't stop bashfully smiling at each other. 

[arcielee]

Taste of It

Summary: Modern!FemaleReader has a delightful sex dream. Paring: Aemond Targaryen x Modern!FemReader Word Count: 2406 Warnings: Smutty smut, fingering, choking, language, p in v. Author's Note: Hey, this is my first Reader fanfic I have ever written. I am open to all criticism, because it will help me be a better writer and is definitely not a degradation kink. This was inspired by the story you can pretend it's not meant to be (but you can't stay away from me) by @themotherofhorses​. I just loved the idea of a lucid dream with Aemond Targaryen. ♥ Thank you @f4ll-for-you​ for being so kind to read this over! Series:  Call It Dreaming 

“What are you doing here?”

His voice is low, lethal, and somehow familiar to you, despite the unfamiliar setting you find yourself in. Your hands wash over your body, feeling your favorite oversized shirt, an old David Bowie print that was comfortable with age and just long enough to cover your ass, with the hem touching the peaks of your bare thighs. There is a coldness to your surroundings, which was all the more apparent on your bare feet and the skimpy, cotton underwear you wore beneath your nightshirt. 

You remembered being cozy on your couch after a long, hot shower that peeled away the stress accumulated from both work and schoolwork, partnered with a mask to exfoliate your pores. You remembered the scent of your new lotion, a mixture of vanilla and brown sugar, while you admired the reflection of the black underwear and matching bralette on your figure before you decided to put on the oversized vintage top before you crawled beneath your blanket to rewatch House of the Dragon. 

“I asked you a question,” his voice repeated, his tone sharp. You could hear the sound of a book snapping shut that caused you to jump and turn on your heel. Your eyes flit over your new surroundings; you were in a room with tapers lit that added to the warm, amber glow emitting from the hearth and its embers, highlighting the meticulous placement of furniture and its grim vibe.

You nearly choke on your heart when your eyes finally find who the voice, the one that was both low and lethal, belongs to. 

Aemond Targaryen was seated in a leather chair by the fireplace, one hand holding a closed book by its spine and his brows knitted above his gaze, one lavender eye and one sapphire eye, focused on you with a look of sheer annoyance. 

You could scarcely react when he pushed himself from his seat, his long legs allowing long strides to cover the distance of the room, and you could feel the heat from his body as he pinned your back against the door. His large palm was on your neck and he slowly squeezed the sides.  

You can still breathe, but your vision begins to fog and he pushes closer, his nose pressed against the side of your head with the hot whisper repeating his question, “Who are you?” 

This is a dream, your mind rationalizes. A sexy dream you guess from the heat that pools in your lower abdomen and melds with the heat that exudes from the prince. His scent is intoxicating; he smelled clean, mixed with a woodsy musk and the hint of smoke. It was a dream, you decide, and gods be damned if you would not utilize this subconscious interaction. 

“I have been sent for your pleasure,” you finally manage to say, your mind spinning from the lack of blood.  

Your words release his grasp, but his hand remains rested on your collarbones. “Another one of my brother’s whores?” He asks with the curl of his lips. Perhaps he tried to sound annoyed, but you hoped instead for him to be intrigued since your modern garb was hardly the fashion of the Streets of Silk. “You may show me what you have to offer and I will make my decision.” 

This is promising, you smile at him. Aemond takes a step back but you note he remains within arm’s reach, thinking you may try to flee but he is completely unaware you have no intention to leave this room. With slow breaths as your vision clears, your fingers reach for the hem of your shirt and pull it overhead, dropping it at your feet to show him your black cotton bralette and matching cheeky underwear. 

You watch his eye roll over you, pupil dilated, from your head to your polished toes and back again. You hold your breath and only relax when you hear his hum of satisfaction. 

Aemond moved to grab you, perhaps he meant to drag you, but you are quick and willing to follow his direction towards the bed, gleeful when you feel his large hands rest on your hips and bring you around to push you back against the mattress. 

Your eyes widen at the sight of him bending at his slender waist, his arms caging you and the curtain of silver hair spilling on both sides. His head tilts slightly to peer at you and you stare back with blatant admiration of the sharp angles of his jawline, the gleam of his sapphire eye that you did not notice the dagger he held until the glint of the blade caught your attention. 

Your breath holds as he presses the dagger flat beneath the front of your bralette and it hitches in your throat with his fluid motion to twist the blade and bring it upwards, tearing the fabric. 

“Hey!” You gasp, pressing up to your elbows to face him as he falls back a step, holding the torn fabric in one hand and sheathing his blade, all while admiring the natural slope of your breasts. You feel a slight burn and look down to see a red line and beads of blood forming from the sliver. 

“I only wished to see if you were real,” his words were not an apology, but more an explanation. 

You push to sit upright, your hand grabbing his own to bring his palm to your breast. “I assure, I am very real,” your eyes are glassy with your bold words and actions, but it works and he moves to press on top of you. You fall back and mold against the mattress, his tongue burns as it trails the cut and there is the smear of blood as his mouth moves to find your nipple. 

Your back arches in response from the touch of his tongue that flits over the peak of your nipple and rolling circles around your areola. His hot mouth closes, suckling and his teeth nipping the soft flesh of your breast before he moves to give equal attention towards the other. 

A soft moan spills from your lips and he moves to capture your mouth with his own. His tongue presses to explore your mouth and you welcome the softness of his lips and the copper taste of your own blood. Your hands move to comb your fingers through his silk locks, your nails scratching his scalp and you feel the vibration of his hum of approval. 

Aemond presses closer and you can feel his hardness, his hips rolling to rub against your cloth cunt. He grabs onto your hip with one hand, large and warm to the touch, and his other moves flat against your chest; his tongue slows with languid movements, relishing your taste before he breaks away. 

“You taste like a sweet wine, but with chocolate and mint?” His brow quirks with his question. 

Ben and Jerry’s, you think to yourself but he does not need an answer, instead bringing his lips to bruise against your own and his fingers trailing lower to cup your cunt. He seems pleased with how you are drenched with your anticipation, pressing his lips against your throat with the growl of, “Sīr lōz syt aōha dārilaros.” 

So wet for your prince.

You burn with how his tongue rolls the words. Gods be praised, you think when you recognize the words that made your core ache, your annoyance for the Duolingo notifications vanish and you respond with a breathless, “Kirimvose, ñuha dārilaros.”

His brow raises in response and his look makes your heat roll over your body. “You also know High Valyrian,” he says and, again,  it was more a statement than a question. 

“Mērī mirrī,” Only a little, you admit to him, the heat flushing your face from his brazen stare. You chew your bottom lip as you bring your feet to the edge of the bed and lift your hips, peeling off your underwear. 

You note the curl of his lips and he moves to mold against you again, his teeth grazing the pulse of your pounding heart. His touch is gentle, his fingers just grazing your hip bone and moving towards your center, his slender finger trailing your soaked slit before it curled inside of you. 

You cannot help but mewl his name as he adds another, moving to massage your walls, his palm cupping you and allowing his thumb to stimulate your clit. The warmth in your lower core begins to boil with his ministrations and your breathing grows erratic, which quickens his motion.

“Jurnegon nyke,” he commands, Look at me, and you bring your eyes forward to see him leaning over and bracing himself above you with his free arm. “I want to hear you,” he breathes.

His breath, his words partnered with the sinful curl of his fingers within you allows your orgasm to crash into you, drawing the air from your lungs with your pitiful cries of release. Your skin is aflame and you had not noticed he pulled away until you heard him cleaning his fingers with his mouth, standing over you, the bulge of his breeches unmistakable.  

The sight of him cleaning his slender fingers emboldens you to grab his waistband and bring him against you, desperate to taste yourself on his soft lips. The grace of your tongue is not matched with your hands that fumble with the latches of his tunic, but you feel his smile as his hands guide your own. You peel his layers off to reveal his hard chest with faded scars of silver that decorated the rivets of his toned abdomen, the moonlight mixed with the low flames giving the prince an ethereal glow to his lithe body. 

Aemond gives a hum to claim your attention, his lips curling as he is adamantly aware of the hunger in your eyes, and his hands reach to grasp the peaks of your thighs and pull you closer to the bed edge. You push yourself to your elbows and watch rapt as he unlaces to remove his trousers, curious to see if the Tumblr assertion of his genitalia was accurate, but his hand pushes you back against the bed and trails to your neck. 

“Open,” he commands and your mouth relaxes, your tongue pink and drowning in saliva from seeing him almost bare. 

He presses two fingers into your mouth and you close to suckle, tasting the remnants of your release and his own saliva from his clean up. You coat them and there is a string of spittle that follows when he pulls away, eventually breaking and wetting your chin. 

His hands move to lube his cock and you feel the press against your cunt, the undeniable stretch as he pushes into you. Your hands grasp at the bedding on each side and your back arches as he pushes to split you in half. “You take me so well,” he soothes, but does not allow you time to adjust and presses further still. 

Tears prick the corners of your eyes. “Oh, fuck me,” you gasp at the mixture of pleasure and pain. 

Aemond pauses for a moment, reaching to clasp your jaw and bring your eyes to look at him, “I intend to.” 

You shudder when he bottoms out in you and his hands move to clasp onto your hips, pulling you to meet his each thrust, his hip bones digging into the underside softness of your thighs and his cock reaching into you further still. Your hands move to grab above you, twisting into the sheets, and you arch your back into each powerful thrust.

His pace pauses for a moment, his hands wrapping around your ankles and bringing your feet to rest onto his shoulders, canting your hips to angle you as he slips back into your warmth. Your heart flutters when his hands return to your hip bones, admiring his side profile and the scrunch of his brow. “Your toes… is that glitter?”

“Kostilus, ñuha dārilaros,” Please, my prince, you cannot help but whine. You are on the cusp of your second release and the fear of waking up looms over you. “I must have you.” 

The High Valyrian renews his attention, as you hope it would, and he pushes to fold you in half, the new angle allowing him to slip into your cunt deeper than before. His arms hold himself on each side, caging you in, and his soft, silver tresses spill onto your bare chest with a tickle. You moan in abandon from the stretch of him reentering you as his hips rut against you. 

It rolls in waves, gooseflesh rippling over every inch of your body and your nipples taut from the pleasure, clenching at his cock. The tears spill from the corners of your eyes as you repeat his name, “Aemond, Aemond-”

His thrusts become sloppy and you can feel his cock twitching inside of you; you open your legs to allow him to fall forward against you, a damp brow to your own. You steady your breath, savoring the mixture of his scent combined with the scent of sex, wanting to savor your unconscious a moment longer. Your sex dreams never ended so satisfactory before and you knew it would not be much longer. You bring your hand to his defined jawline to tilt his head up, bringing your lips to his with a slow, lingering kiss. 

But you do not wake up, instead Aemond drags you beneath the covers and pulls you flush against his chest, which is hard and warm and molds perfectly with the softness of your backside in the most delicious way. 

“You may leave me in the morning,” he murmurs in your ear as he nuzzles into the back of your neck and hair. 

When you wake up, you are back on your couch and nestled beneath your blanket, the menu music of House of the Dragon playing on repeat from your television. Warmth envelopes you as you remember the vivid dream you had and you push to sit upright. 

I will always fall asleep with you on, but your thoughts are cut short from the cold that touches your bare chest. Your hands wash over your body, naked, and you wince when your finger touches the gash in between your breasts. 

Your eyes widen in disbelief.

Where the fuck was your Bowie shirt. 

[captain-styr]

Styr | ROEVEMBER DAY 4 | Ship

So in awe, there I stood as you licked off the grain Though I've handled the wood, I still worship the flame Long as amber of ember glows All the "would that I'd loved" is long ago ♫

Styr touching his two loves, under the stars in La Noscea.

I will never get tired of these two, I love them so much.

sigh

Featuring @the-white-snake's Lia Amelune! <3

[some-messed-up-writing-for-you]

Short Prompt #1280

The piece of amber shined brightly in the candlelight, decorating the human's neck. They gulped, trying to settle their nerves, but the snug fit of their collar continued to remind them of their place.

Out of all the worshippers, Human had been chosen as their god's newest... companion. Although they felt like the word "pet" might fit better.

Still, despite the slightly embarrassing position, their job would be simple. Wherever their Lord goes, so do they. They would have to follow any order and do whatever would be necessary to please their Master.

But, of course, in return, they would live in luxury. They would be rewarded and spoiled by their Master. So long as they asked nicely enough, they'd get anything they wished for.

The human knew it was a good deal in the end. And despite their nerves, they knew well that the god had never hurt their previous companions. The only reason Human remained anxious was that despite the god's caring nature towards their followers, they could be... a bit frightening.

They were a god of darkness and a guide to the souls lost in its vastness. With a body made of shadows and eyes that glowed like fiery embers, many mortals found themselves falling into a trance when gazing at their void-like body. Thankfully, however, Human would get used to it over time.

Shaking their head, the human cleared their thoughts. It was time to stop stalling and enter through the grand doors. It was time to meet their Master face-to-face.

Human knocked on the fine wood and nearly instantly received a "Come in." in response. With one last deep breath, they went inside.

[lichilly]

"you dangle on the leash of your own longing, your need grows teeth." -- Margaret Atwood, The Animals in That Country; from ‘Speeches for Dr Frankenstein’

cw: wounds, implied violence, talk of blood, uhh me being mushy over werewolf Joseph, gender-neutral reader

The fire crackled softly, its glow spilling over the cabin walls, painting the room in hues of amber and shadow. Flecks of light flicked across the worn wooden beams, dancing along the edges where the dark gathered. He sat still, nestled in the warmth, the flames reflecting in the depths of his eyes. His pointed ears twitched at the occasional crack of the embers, but otherwise, he remained motionless—watchful, calm.

You approached from the doorway, your steps shifting against the creaking floorboards. Kneeling beside him, you set down the first aid kit, its zipper cutting through the stillness of the room.

His gaze shifted, tracking your hands as you laid out gauze and bandages with routined care. The faintest of huffs escaped his nose, his version of acknowledgment, as he extended his arm toward you. No words exchanged. There never were.

"Let’s get these changed," you murmured, your voice barely disturbing the air between you.

You took his arm in your hands, feeling the heat of his skin beneath your fingertips, the rough texture of old scars mingling with fresh ones. The bandage unraveled slowly, each layer revealing the healing beneath. A faint tremor passed through him, so subtle you might have missed it if you hadn’t been so close.

As you worked, the fire’s glow bathed the two of you in warmth. He watched, eyes flicking between the fire and the slow movements of your fingers as they worked the fresh bandages into place.

It was routine now. He’d sit by the fire, you’d kneel beside him, tending to wounds that spoke of violence he never explained. You didn’t ask. Instead, you learned to listen to the small cues—the soft exhale, the shift of his posture, the way his eyes lingered on you before returning to the flames.

The old bandage crumpled in your palm as you set it aside, your thumb ghosting over the newly healed skin. The worst of the inflammation had faded, the edges of the wound knitting together. You took a moment, letting the quiet settle around you again before speaking.

"It’s healing well," you said, the words softer than you intended.

A low rumble stirred in his chest, vibrating through the space between you. His eyes flicked up, locking with yours for a heartbeat, then returned to the fire. You couldn’t help but smile.

"You’ve been a good patient," you added, your fingers resuming their work.

He didn’t answer, but the subtle way his body relaxed beneath your touch was enough.

The bandages on his arms were easy, but the deep gash in his side—still raw, still stubborn in its refusal to heal—was the one that troubled you most. You didn’t know what had caused these wounds, nor did he offer any explanation. His body bore the marks of bloodshed long fought and endured. Scars layered on scars, and yet, here he was.

You worked carefully, your fingers brushing over his side as you unraveled the last of the bandage. His breath hitched, just barely, but you felt it—a flicker of discomfort. The gash along his torso, though healing, was still raw, angry. You winced for him but kept your focus, your hands steady as you cleaned the wound with gentle, practiced movements.

He didn’t pull away, but his gaze slid to the floor, a subtle shift that made your stomach knot. It was in these moments, the ones where the silence between you felt more like a weight than a comfort, that you wished he’d let you in just a little more. But he never did.

“Almost done,” you whispered, though he didn’t need the reassurance. You weren't sure if it was for him or for yourself.

His chest rose and fell with a slow, deliberate rhythm, as if controlling the pain through breath alone. The firelight cast shadows across his face, highlighting the sharp angles of his jaw, the curve of his lips pressed into a thin line. His pointed ears twitched again, though you couldn’t read it yet—frustration? Agony?

You wrapped the fresh bandage around his torso, your hands brushing against his skin with each pass. He didn’t flinch, didn’t react, though his body seemed to relax minutely with each passing moment.

You tied off the bandage, your fingers lingering for just a moment too long, the warmth of his body seeping into your palms. You cleared your throat, pulling your hands away, suddenly aware of the closeness between you.

“There,” you said softly, settling back onto your heels, giving him space again. "All done."

For a long moment, he didn’t move. His eyes, dark and unreadable, lingered on yours. Something hung in the air—like words he wasn’t ready to speak. You waited, your breath held tight in your chest, hoping for some sign, some crack in the silence.

Instead, he dipped his head in a slow, deliberate nod. It wasn’t much, but it was something. The quiet between you felt different now—less heavy.

You stood, the old bandages clutched in your hand, and moved to toss them into the fire. The flames licked at the fabric, devouring it in seconds, casting the scent of smoke into the air. You watched the embers rise, your back to him, trying to ignore the way your pulse quickened, how the room felt smaller when you were both in it.

Behind you, you heard the softest shift of fabric, the weight of him rising to his feet. You turned just in time to see him step closer to the fire, his gaze fixed on the flames, expression unreadable. He stood just beside you, the space between you barely enough to call distance.

It wasn’t much, but it was something.

Without a word, he reached for a log by the hearth and placed it on the fire. The flames roared briefly before settling into their steady crackle, the warmth spreading further through the cabin.

You stood there, side by side, staring into the fire.

[hisui-dreamer]

tipsy embers

Pairing: Jade Leech x gn!reader

Synopsis: when it feels like the two of you are the only ones left, a little liquid courage goes a long way

Tags: camping, fluff, mutual pining, drinking, drunken intimacy

Word count: 1.1k+

Notes: hehe just some fluffy pining for this camp enthusiast ♡⁠(⁠˃͈⁠ ⁠દ⁠ ⁠˂͈⁠ ⁠༶⁠ ⁠)

Masterlist

The campfire sent flickering shadows dancing across the canvas of the night, its amber glow casting an enchanting spell over the secluded camping spot. Though you had long gotten used to the silence of the desolate halls of Ramshackle, the air around you here felt different.

The crackling and snapping of burning wood, the distant rustling of leaves as nocturnal creatures move about, the trickling sounds from a nearby stream―it felt comforting, like tapping into a sacred childhood memory, safe and sound from all your worries and fears.

Still, you're not sure if that's the only reason you feel safe.

"Your mind seems preoccupied, prefect."

His words break you out of the trance, and you avert your gaze from the starry sky to face him. His face is illuminated by the warm glow of the campfire, the harsh shadows accentuating his sharp features. The warmth of the fire echoed in his mismatched eyes, a mesmerizing dance of flickering flames that enchanted you like a spell.

You had agreed to join him on this camping trip after he graciously helped Grim with his alchemy exam. Despite the dramatic farewells from everyone who made it seem like they would never see you again, here you were, unscathed and content, savouring a cup of mulled wine crafted by him, the crackling campfire casting a warm glow on the scene, finding yourself more at peace than you had been for months.

He had only asked for your company, because it would be "too lonesome for him to travel alone", and he truly delivered. He made sure you felt comfortable at every step of the way, making sure to take breaks when your stamina was low, and even prepared your meals. There was something endearing about seeing him working in his element, the glee in his eyes unmistakable.

"It's nothing really…" you respond. "I was just thinking... it really does feel like we're the only ones left in the world…"

"I suppose it does…" he hums, a flush on his face from the drinks. "If that's the case, however, I'm not sure I would feel safe if I were you. I'm not known to be... trustworthy company, you know," he chuckles mischievously, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

You smile at his words, leaning forward to face him directly, your faces inches apart.

"Would you hurt me, Jade?"

His pupils widen momentarily, a flicker of surprise crossing his face before he leans in closer as well.

"No…" he murmurs, his breath a gentle caress against your lips.

"I don't think I could."

You're not sure who leaned in first, but bit by bit, the distance between you disappears, and your lips brush against each other gently. You feel every ounce of your body thrumming in elation.

His lips are warm and inviting, a tender heat that defied the coolness of the night. There's a gentle pressure, a delicate dance of touch that mirrored the flickering flames of the campfire you built together. His breath, slightly tinged with the scent of the woods and the lingering taste of the alcohol, mingles with yours, creating an intoxicating blend that lingers in the air.

For a moment, you feel an inkling of uncertainty at the back of your mind, a shyness that makes you pull back. You lower your gaze, feeling heat rush to your cheeks, and evidently not from the alcohol. The atmosphere crackles with an unspoken energy, a mix of vulnerability and exhilaration.

But before you can find the courage to meet his eyes, he gently cups your chin, tilting it upwards as he leans in as if he were a starved man. Though you are initially surprised, you soon melt into the embrace, surrendering to the magnetic pull that bound you together.

Jade's fingers gently tangle in your hair, deepening the kiss with a slow and deliberate tenderness. Your bodies lean into each other, creating a seamless connection that speaks volumes without words. His hand finds its way to the small of your back, pulling you closer, while your fingers trace a delicate path along the nape of his neck.

His presence envelopes you, a tangible force that can be felt, tasted, and smelled. The world fades away, leaving only the two of you, lost within each other's warmth. Time seems to stand still as you lose yourself in the intimacy of the kiss as he eclipses everything else in the world, becoming the sole focus of your existence. The sensation was dizzying, leaving you to question whether it was the influence of alcohol, the lack of air, or perhaps the surge of feeling that had long been buried within your heart.

Whichever the case, you pull back from the kiss, a shared breath lingered between you. Breathless and slightly dazed, the two of you stare at each other in the quiet night, but as a chilly night breeze tickles your cheek, a thread of lucidity forms and you're met with a fleeting moment of confusion.

"Huh?"

The sound escapes your lips almost involuntarily, and in the hush of the night, it hangs in the air, a momentary lapse that crystallizes into a fragment of confusion. By the time you realize it, it was already irretrievable and lingering like the echo of a secret revealed.

"Oh," Jade utters, the single syllable carrying a weighty ambiguity that hangs in the air between you. His eyes, still reflecting the remnants of the campfire's glow, flicker with a mixture of emotions—surprise, passion, and perhaps a touch of vulnerability.

A hesitant smile plays at the corners of Jade's lips, and he subtly readjusts himself, The unspoken decision to let the incident fade into the night is palpable, yet beneath the surface, there's a lingering tension, a magnetic pull that neither of you can fully ignore.

"Ahem… It must be the alcohol messing with our heads. Let's forget that happened…" he suggests.

You nod quickly, choosing to keep Pandora's box securely closed for the time being, willing yourself to believe that it was merely a fleeting moment of drunken confusion.

But as the night air grows colder, the two of you retreat to the tent, and instinctively, you find yourselves gravitating toward each other, seeking solace in the shared warmth of proximity. Maybe it's the cold in the air, or maybe it's the unspoken tension that lingered, but you found yourself yearning to be closer to him.

You steal a glance at Jade's tranquil sleeping form, his even breaths creating a rhythmic lull. Without overthinking, you shift to snuggle closer, inhaling the comforting scent of rain that clings to him.

You've never felt more alive, soothed, and warmed to the core than when you're nestled by his side.

Masterlist

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[bakugous-titties]

Sevika x vampfem oc

In the dimly lit corridor of the brothel, a figure draped in a cloak of shadows slipped through the narrow spaces between the walls. Her eyes, a piercing shade of amber, darted around the room, searching for any sign of the pursuers that were surely closing in. The rhythmic thump of her heart seemed to echo through the otherwise silent hallway, a stark contrast to the sound of the city outside. She was a creature of the night, but even she felt a shiver of fear at the thought of what would happen if she was caught.

Her name was Elara, a vampire with a penchant for living on the edge. Her escape had been a close one, and she knew she couldn't risk being seen again. The scent of incense and musk filled her nostrils as she pushed open the first door she found, hoping it would provide a temporary sanctuary from the relentless human authorities. The room was warm and smoky, a stark contrast to the cold, stark world she had just left behind. In the corner, a figure sat lounging on a velvet chair, a plume of smoke curling up from the joint in her hand.

Sevika was not what Elara expected to find in a place like this. Her muscular frame and sharp features spoke of a warrior's spirit, not the softness that the profession of this establishment typically offered. The human woman's eyes narrowed at the sudden intrusion, the embers of the joint casting an eerie glow across her face. She took a long, slow drag, her chest rising and falling with the effort before she exhaled a cloud that obscured the air between them.

"You lost, sweetheart?" Sevika's voice was a rich purr, a sound that could soothe the most savage of beasts. But Elara knew better than to trust the deceptive calmness of a predator. She stepped into the room, her eyes never leaving the human's.

"I'm not looking for trouble," Elara replied, her own voice steady despite the racing of her pulse. "I just need a place to... rest for a bit."

Sevika's gaze traveled down to the bloodstained shirt that clung to Elara's slender frame, and the tension in the room grew palpable. The human woman stood, her movements fluid and graceful despite her size. She approached Elara, the light playing off the tattoos that snaked up her arms.

"I can see that," Sevika said, her eyes lingering on the crimson stains. "But this isn't exactly the Ritz. You got coin to pay for that rest?"

Elara nodded, reaching into her pocket to produce a small pouch of coins. She knew the value of keeping her head down in places like this, but she also knew that money talked louder than words. She tossed it onto the nearby dresser, the clink of silver piercing the quiet.

"Good enough for me," Sevika said with a shrug. "Take off that shirt. You're gonna need a clean one if you wanna blend in here."

Elara complied, peeling away the fabric to reveal the puncture wounds on her pale skin. She winced as the fabric stuck to the half-healed wounds, but she knew better than to show weakness. Sevika's eyes widened, but she said nothing, instead moving to a wardrobe and pulling out a soft, black silk shirt that was surprising

ly clean.

"Here, put this on," she instructed, tossing the garment to Elara. "You're gonna need to hide those if you don't want questions."

Elara caught the shirt, feeling a strange sense of gratitude towards the human who had just demanded payment for her safety. As she pulled it on over her head, the fabric gliding over her skin, she couldn't help but feel a flicker of curiosity about the woman before her. Who was this Sevika, and what secrets did she hold in a place like this?

The vampire's thoughts were interrupted by the sound of heavy boots pounding down the hallway. The police were getting closer. She turned to Sevika with a silent plea in her eyes, and the human nodded, understanding the unspoken request. Together, they moved to the window, and with a surprising display of strength, Sevika pushed it open, revealing the dark alley below.

"You can't leave that way," Sevika said, her voice firm but not unkind. "They'll see you."

Before Elara could protest, Sevika pushed her down onto the bed, her larger body pinning her against the soft mattress. The human's hands were surprisingly gentle as they brushed back Elara's hair, her eyes searching Elara's for any sign of fear or resistance. Finding none, she leaned in, pressing her full lips against Elara's in a kiss that was both fierce and surprisingly tender. The vampire felt a jolt of something unfamiliar, a spark of warmth that seemed to light up the cold chambers of her undead heart.

The sound of the door being kicked open shattered the moment, and both women tensed. But Sevika didn't stop, her kiss deepening as she leaned into Elara, her body shielding hers from view. The scent of her, a heady mix of sweat and sultry perfume, filled Elara's nose as she wrapped her arms around Sevika's neck, playing along. She could feel the human's heart beating rapidly against her own chest, a thundering drum that seemed to match the tempo of the footsteps drawing closer.

The police officers burst into the room, their flashlights cutting through the smoke like twin swords of light. Sevika's eyes remained closed, her hand resting possessively on Elara's hip. The vampire's pulse raced, not from fear, but from the exhilaration of the deception. She had never felt so alive. The officers scanned the room, their eyes passing over the entwined figures on the bed without a second glance.

"Just a couple lovebirds," one of them sneered, his voice thick with the scent of contempt and sweat.

Sevika's eyes snapped open, and she glared at the intruders. Her grip on Elara tightened, her muscles coiled and ready to pounce if needed. The officers took a step back, their bravado faltering under her intense gaze. They knew her reputation; she was the brothel's most loyal and feared protector.

Elara, however, took the opportunity to add to their ruse. She began to moan softly, her lips trailing down Sevika's neck, eliciting a shiver from the human. She knew that sound would be music to the ears of the men who thought they'd found a simple romantic interlude. Her fangs, which had unconsciously extended at the scent of fear, retracted as she focused on the task at hand.

Sevika's eyes shot open, surprise and a hint of amusement flickering in their depths. She allowed Elara to continue, her hand moving to the vampire's head, tangling in her hair. The officers' footsteps retreated, and the door slammed shut, leaving the room in darkness once more.

Elara's mouth traveled lower, her kisses feather-light on Sevika's collarbone. The human's skin was warm and inviting, the pulse at her neck a siren's call that Elara had to resist. She felt Sevika's breath hitch and knew she was playing the part well. The tension in the room shifted, no longer about survival but something more primal.

Sevika's eyes searched hers for a moment, as if questioning the sudden shift in their interaction. But she didn't push Elara away. Instead, she leaned back into the pillows, allowing the vampire to continue her exploration. Elara felt the human's hand slide down her back, resting gently on her hip, her fingers flexing slightly. It was a gesture that spoke of trust and comfort, and Elara found herself responding in kind, her own hand sliding up Sevika's arm to rest on her shoulder.

But as the kiss grew more passionate, Elara felt a sudden sharp pain. She had forgotten to retract her fangs fully, and they had grazed Sevika's tongue. She jerked back, horrified, her eyes widening in the darkness. The human's hand moved to her mouth, and she pulled it away, revealing a crimson smear of blood. The metallic tang of it filled the air, and Elara's instincts screamed at her to lick the blood from Sevika's skin. But she fought it, swallowing the urge with a tremor of self-disgust.

Sevika smirked, her eyes gleaming in the moonlight filtering through the window. "Looks like I've got a little vampire bite," she said, her voice low and teasing. "I guess I'll have to get checked for rabies in the morning."

Elara's eyes widened in horror as the reality of what she had done set in. "I'm so sorry," she whispered, her voice thick with genuine apology. "I didn't mean to... I can't believe I... "

But Sevika only chuckled, wiping the blood away with the back of her hand. "It's alright, love. It's not like I didn't know what you were when you walked in here." She took a final drag of the joint, the end glowing a fiery red before she stubbed it out on the side of the ashtray with a practiced ease. "Now, why don't you tell me what trouble you're in with the boys in blue?"

Elara sat up, the fear slowly receding from her eyes as she studied the human before her. Sevika's casual demeanor suggested she wasn't going to betray her, but she remained on guard. "It's... complicated," she said cautiously. "Let's just say I was in the wrong place at the wrong time."

Sevika chuckled, her deep, throaty laugh echoing in the small room. "Criminal type, are ya?" she asked, a teasing lilt to her voice. "You're not gonna start a gang war in here, are you?"

Elara managed a small smile despite her nerves. "I don't start wars," she replied, her amber eyes meeting Sevika's gaze. "But I've been known to finish them."

Sevika's smirk grew wider, her eyes lighting up with a mischievous glint. "Oooh, a tough cookie," she said, her tone playful. "Well, if you can handle yourself, I suppose I can trust you not to cause any trouble here." She leaned back against the velvet chair, her muscular arms crossing over her chest. "But tell me, Elara, what brings a creature of the night to a place like this?"

Elara took a deep breath, the smoky air filling her lungs with a sense of relief she hadn't realized she needed. "I was running from Ammbessa," she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper. "They've been... hunting me."

Sevika's expression froze, and for the first time since their encounter, she looked genuinely surprised. "Ambessa?" she repeated, the name rolling off her tongue with a hint of disbelief. "And you thought hiding in a brothel was a good idea?"

Elara nodded, feeling the weight of her situation crash down on her shoulders. "They're everywhere," she said, her voice tight with tension. "They won't stop until they find me."

Sevika's smile faded, her expression turning serious. "Ambessa doesn't mess around," she mused, rubbing her chin thoughtfully. "What could you have possibly done to get on their bad

side?"

Elara's eyes grew distant as she remembered the night of the gala, the opulent setting a stark contrast to the grimy room she now found herself in. She had been so careful, so charming, weaving through the crowd of influential humans like a spider among butterflies. Her target had been a wealthy heiress, her blood a sweet and potent prize. The woman had been easy prey, her laughter had been like a melody to Elara's ears, her skin warm and inviting under the cool touch of her fangs. They had danced, flirted, and Elara had led her to a quiet corner of the castle, where the shadows had whispered sweet nothings into her ear. The taste of her blood had been a heady mix of power and fear, a tantalizing dance that had ended in a crimson crescendo.

But the feeding had not been enough. Oh no, Elara had had a message to send, and she had made sure it was a clear one. She had torn through the heiress's priceless dress, leaving it in shreds on the cold marble floor. The room had looked like a battlefield by the time she was done, a testament to the primal power that surged through her veins. The woman had been left there, a mere shell of her former self, her blood painting the walls and furniture in an abstract crimson masterpiece. It was a message to Ambessa, the vampire clan that had cast her out, that she was not to be trifled with.

The aftermath of that night had been a blur of fear and exhilaration. Elara had moved swiftly, her eyes glowing with the thrill of the hunt as she danced through the castle, leaving a trail of destruction in her wake. Glass shattered under her booted feet, the sound a symphony of chaos that played in harmony with the pounding of her heart. The humans had screamed, their cries a sweet serenade that spurred her on. They were ants in the grand scheme of things, easily squashed under her boots if they dared to stand in her path.

Her maids, once so devoted and obedient, had been the first to feel her wrath. Their eyes had widened in terror as she had approached, her fangs bared and her eyes alight with rage. They had tried to flee, but she had caught them, one by one, their struggles futile against her supernatural strength. She had snapped their necks like twigs, their lifeless bodies crumpling to the floor like discarded rag dolls. The memory of their fear-laden eyes haunted her, a reminder of the monster she had become.

Her playthings, the humans she had kept enthralled with her beauty and power, had met a similar fate. Their trust had been her weapon, their adoration her shield. But when they had dared to speak against her, to whisper the truth of what she was, she had shown them no mercy. Their lifeblood had spilled across her marble floors, their pleas for mercy lost to the echoes of the empty halls. The thrill of their fear had been intoxicating, a heady blend of power and rage that had fueled her rebellion against Ambessa.

But now, as she sat in the cramped brothel room with Sevika watching her, Elara felt a twinge of regret for her actions. The humans had been pawns in a game she had never asked to play. Yet she had used them, and now they were dead because of it. She had hoped the chaos she had sown would serve as a distraction, a smokescreen to allow her to escape. But she had underestimated the reach and ruthlessness of her former clan.

"I didn't mean to start a war," Elara said softly, her eyes downcast. "But I had to get their attention. To make them understand that I won't be their weapon anymore."

Sevika leaned back in her chair, considering the vampire before her. "So, you're a rogue," she said, her tone thoughtful. "That's... interesting."

Elara nodded, the weight of her revelation heavy on her shoulders. "I didn't have a choice," she murmured. "They were going to use me to do terrible things."

Sevika's expression grew contemplative, her eyes narrowing slightly as she took another hit from the joint. "So, you're a rebel with a cause, huh?" She chuckled, the sound deep and resonant. "I can respect that."

Elara studied the human, her gaze searching for any sign of judgment or fear. But all she found was curiosity, and a hint of amusement. "What's so funny?" she asked, her voice tight.

"Oh, just imagining the look on their faces when they realize you've turned their own playthings against them," Sevika said, a smirk playing at the corners of her mouth. She took another hit from the joint before continuing, "I've got a few of those in my pocket, you know. People who think they can use me and throw me away when they're done."

Her eyes took on a distant look, and for a moment, Elara could see a glimpse of the anger and resentment that lay beneath the human's calm exterior. It was a look she knew well, having felt it herself many times in her own long, tumultuous life.

"I've got a few tricks up my sleeve," Sevika said, her eyes returning to Elara's with a glint of mischief. "But you've gotta be careful, love. Ambessa doesn't take kindly to betrayal."

Elara nodded, her gaze dropping to the floor. "I know," she murmured. "But I can't go back to that life."

Sevika's smile grew, a knowing glint in her eye. "I can tell you're not one for the subtle approach," she said, her voice dropping to a whisper that seemed to resonate through the very fabric of the room. She leaned in closer, her hand sliding up Elara's arm to rest on her shoulder. "But sometimes, you have to play the game to win."

Her thumb traced a lazy circle on Elara's skin, sending a shiver down the vampire's spine. "You're pretty," she said, her breath warm against Elara's cheek. "But you're also a liability. If Ambessa finds you here, it's not just you they'll come for. It's all of us."

Elara stiffened at the implication, but Sevika's grip tightened gently. "Don't worry, I've got your back. But you gotta keep a low profile. Can you do that?"

Sevika's hand slid down to Elara's waist, and she could feel the human's heat seeping through the fabric of the shirt. It was a strange sensation, one she hadn't felt in a very long time. The flirtation was clear, and Elara found herself responding to it, the thrill of the chase melding with the excitement of the moment. Her eyes searched Sevika's, looking for any sign of insincerity, but all she found was genuine interest.

With a flick of her wrist, Sevika produced a worn deck of tarot cards from a drawer beside her. She shuffled them with a deftness that spoke of long practice, her movements smooth and sure. "Let's make this interesting," she said, a wicked smile playing at the corners of her mouth. She tossed the cards onto the small round table between them, and they fluttered down like leaves on a windy day. "If you're going to stay here, you're going to have to prove you're not just a pretty face."

Elara's eyes followed the cards as they fell, her curiosity piqued. She had encountered human fortune tellers before, but something about Sevika's confidence made her believe that this was more than a mere parlor trick. The human leaned forward, her eyes glinting in the candlelight. "Pick one," she instructed, tapping the table with a long, scarlet nail.

Elara's hand hovered over the cards, feeling the warmth of the plastic beneath her fingertips. She selected one at random, the picture on the card obscured by the flip of her hand. With a dramatic flair, she placed it face down on the table, the sound of the slap echoing through the room.

"Alright, let's see what fate has in store for us," Sevika said, her voice a seductive purr. She reached out, her own hand brushing against Elara's as she picked up the card. The vampire felt a spark of electricity at the contact, and she had to fight the urge to jerk away.

Sevika flipped the card over, revealing the image of a woman standing in a field, surrounded by swords. The look on her face was one of determination, not fear. "The Queen of Swords," Sevika murmured, her eyes flicking back to Elara. "You're a strong one, aren't you? Ready to face whatever comes your way."

Elara raised an eyebrow. "You're a fortune teller?" she asked, trying to keep the skepticism from her voice.

Sevika chuckled, the sound rich and warm. "Nah, not really," she said, placing the tarot deck back in its drawer. "But I can read people like a book, and sometimes that's all you need to know." She leaned back in her chair, her arms folded over her chest. "So, what's the deal? You in trouble with the law, or is it something more... supernatural?"

Elara's eyes narrowed slightly. "How did you know?" she asked, her voice a mix of suspicion and curiosity.

Sevika's smile grew wider, showing off a set of perfectly straight teeth that looked almost too white in the dim light. "I've got a nose for these things," she said, taking another hit from the joint. "And let's just say, I've seen enough to know when someone's got more to them than meets the eye." She tapped the ashes into an ashtray shaped like a skull, the sound echoing in the quiet room. "But enough about that. How about we make a little wager?"

Her eyes twinkled mischievously as she reached into a drawer and pulled out a second, smaller deck of cards. These were different, the edges worn and the backs marred by countless thumbs. "Ever played poker?" she asked, fanning the cards out in her hand.

Elara's curiosity was piqued, and she nodded cautiously. Sevika's smile grew, her teeth flashing white in the dim light. "Good," she said, shuffling the cards with surprising deftness. "We'll play a round. But not with these," she said, tossing the tarot cards onto the bed. "We'll use these."

She produced a second deck, this one smaller and more worn, the edges of the cards rounded from countless hands. They looked like they had seen more than their fair share of games, their faces smudged with a history of sweat and greed. "These are my real cards," she said, her voice dropping to a whisper. "The ones I use when I want to win."

Elara's interest grew, the thrill of the unknown dancing in her eyes. "Poker, with tarot cards?" she asked, a hint of skepticism in her tone.

Sevika chuckled, her full lips curling into a knowing smile. "You've never played my way, have you?" she said, her voice a low purr that seemed to vibrate through the very air. "Don't worry, love. It's all just a bit of fun. And who knows, you might just learn a thing or two."

Elara's eyes narrowed, her curiosity piqued despite her reservations. "Your way?" she echoed, her voice a whisper of challenge.

Sevika's smile grew more daring, a glint in her eye that suggested she was used to getting what she wanted. "Strip poker," she said, her voice a seductive whisper that seemed to coil around Elara's spine like a warm embrace. "It'll be fun. And it'll help you relax. You're as tense as a bowstring, darling."

Elara felt a blush creep up her cheeks, the human's forwardness surprising and... intriguing. She had not felt such a rush of desire in a very long time. The thrill of the hunt, the taste of fear and the warmth of blood had been her only companions for so long that the prospect of a simple, human pleasure was almost overwhelming. She licked her lips, considering the proposal. It was a risky move, but she had always been one to live in the moment.

"Alright," she said, her voice steady despite the racing of her heart. "Strip poker it is."

Sevika's eyes lit up, her smile growing even more mischievous. "Good choice," she said, her voice like velvet. "But if you win, you can't just ask for money or jewels. That's no fun."

Elara's eyes sparkled with challenge. "What do you suggest?"

Sevika leaned back in her chair, her gaze roaming over the vampire's body with a predatory glint. "If you win, you can ask for anything your heart desires," she said, her voice a silky purr. "But remember, this is my house, and I make the rules."

Elara felt her fangs elongate slightly at the sound of Sevika's pulse, a steady drumbeat that grew louder in her ears as the human leaned closer. The scent of her blood was intoxicating, a sweet and spicy cocktail that called to the creature within her. She took a deep breath, fighting the urge to sink her teeth into the soft flesh of Sevika's neck, to taste the warmth that flowed beneath the surface.

Sevika seemed to sense Elara's struggle, her own pulse quickening slightly. Her eyes searched the vampire's face, the pupils dilating as she took in the sight of her sharp, gleaming fangs. "You want some, don't you?" she murmured, her voice a whisper that seemed to carry the weight of a thousand secrets.

Elara's gaze was locked on the pulse point at Sevika's throat, the rhythmic throb of blood beneath the skin calling to her like a siren's song. She felt the hunger stir within her, a primal need that had been denied for too long. Her grip on the chair tightened, knuckles turning white as she fought the urge to give in.

Sevika's eyes grew darker, the pupils dilating as she watched the transformation. Her own heartbeat quickened, a thrill of excitement coursing through her as she leaned in closer. "I can see the hunger in you," she murmured, her voice low and inviting. "But you're not going to bite me, are you?"

Elara's eyes snapped up to meet hers, the hunger in her gaze unmistakable. "No," she forced out, her voice a hoarse whisper. "I won't."

But Sevika wasn't so easily deterred. She leaned in closer, her breath warm against Elara's cheek. "You're lying," she murmured, her voice a sultry caress. "I can feel it."

Her hand slid down Elara's arm, her thumb brushing against the vein that pulsed with the siren's call of her blood. "Why fight it?" she whispered, her breath ghosting over the vampire's skin. "You need it, and I... I'm willing to give it to you."

Sevika's eyes gleamed with a mischievous challenge, and Elara felt the last of her resistance crumbling. "A sample?" she asked, her voice a whisper of need.

"Just a taste," Sevika assured her, her hand moving to the collar of her own shirt, revealing the smooth, tanned skin beneath. "If you win, of course," she added with a smirk. "But if I win..."

Her voice trailed off, leaving the implication hanging in the air like the smoke from her cigarette. Elara's eyes narrowed, the hunger in them flaring brighter. "And what do you want if you win?" she asked, her voice low and husky.

Sevika's smile grew, a playful glint in her eyes. "If I win," she said, her voice a seductive whisper, "I get to bite you." She leaned in closer, her breath hot against Elara's ear. "Anywhere I want."

Elara's breath hitched, the thrill of the game mixing with the desire that had been building within her since she had first laid eyes on Sevika. The human's scent was intoxicating, the warmth of her blood like a beacon in the darkness. She felt her fangs extend fully, the tip of one grazing the soft skin of Sevika's neck. The human's pulse quickened, but she made no move to pull away. Instead, she leaned closer, her body pressing against Elara's.

"Is that a deal?" Sevika whispered, her breath hot against Elara's ear. "A taste for a taste?"

Elara pulled back, the hunger in her eyes replaced by a mischievous glint. "Not fair," she pouted, her full lips pressed into a seductive pout. "I'm the one with the power here, the one who could take what I want without asking."

Sevika chuckled, her hand still resting on the vampire's arm. "But where's the fun in that?" she teased, her thumb tracing lazy circles on the sensitive skin. "Besides, I have my own... persuasive methods."

Elara's eyes narrowed, a smoldering ember of desire lighting up within them. "Do you now?" she purred, her voice a seductive challenge.

"Mmhmm," Sevika murmured, her hand sliding up to cup Elara's cheek, her thumb stroking the soft skin gently. "You're the hunted, darling, but in here, with me, you can be the hunter."

Elara's pout grew more pronounced, her eyes narrowing slightly as she leaned into the human's touch. "Should've thought of that, huh?" she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Maybe I should've just turned you into a midnight snack when I had the chance."

Sevika's laughter was rich and deep, the sound resonating through the room like the peal of a bell. She leaned in closer, her breath warm against Elara's skin. "And miss out on all this fun?" she whispered, her lips brushing against the vampire's earlobe. "I don't think so."

The human's hand slid from Elara's cheek to the base of her neck, her thumb tracing a line down to the collarbone. The touch sent a shiver through Elara's body, the thrill of the hunt melding with the heat of desire. She leaned into the contact, her eyes never leaving Sevika's. "My sample," she murmured, her voice a low growl of need.

Sevika's eyes darkened, her pupils dilating as she felt the vampire's hunger. She leaned in, her breath a warm whisper against Elara's skin. "Very well," she said, her voice a seductive purr. "But remember, this is just a taste."

With a flick of her wrist, she grabbed the tarot deck, shuffling it with a skill that spoke of countless games played in shadowy backrooms. She dealt the cards, their faces obscured in the candlelight. The air grew thick with anticipation as they each took a card, their eyes locked in a silent challenge.

Sevika leaned back, a knowing smile playing on her lips as she studied Elara's tense posture. The vampire's eyes remained fixed on the card in her hand, the thrum of her pulse a siren's call that grew louder with each passing second. "Ready?" Sevika asked, her voice a whisper of temptation.

Elara nodded, her eyes never leaving the human's. "Now," she murmured, the word a demand that seemed to hang in the air.

Sevika's smile grew wider, the challenge in her gaze unmistakable. She leaned in closer, her hand still resting on Elara's neck. "As you wish," she said, her voice a sultry whisper. She tilted her head to the side, exposing the pulsing vein in her neck.

Elara felt her fangs ache with need, the scent of the human's blood growing stronger with each passing moment. She reached out with trembling hands, her fingers tracing the soft skin of Sevika's neck. The human's pulse quickened under her touch, a silent invitation that she couldn't resist.

"Now?" Sevika's voice was a teasing murmur, a challenge that sent a thrill through Elara's body. The vampire nodded, her eyes never leaving the pulsing vein that called to her.

With a slow, deliberate movement, Elara leaned in, her fangs grazing Sevika's skin. The human's breath hitched, her eyes fluttering closed as she awaited the bite. But instead of sinking her teeth in, Elara paused, her breath hot against Sevika's neck. "You're sure?" she asked, her voice a soft, seductive whisper.

Sevika nodded, a silent affirmation that sent a thrill of power through the vampire. Elara's grip on her neck tightened, the anticipation of the moment making her heart race. She felt the human's pulse throb under her thumb, the rhythmic beat echoing in her ears like a siren's call. "Do it," Sevika murmured, her voice a mix of excitement and challenge.

Without another word, Elara sank her fangs into the soft flesh of Sevika's neck. The human's blood filled her mouth, rich and warm and spicy with the aftertaste of the joint. She groaned with pleasure, the taste of it sending a jolt of desire through her body. Sevika's grip on her arm tightened, her nails digging into Elara's skin as she moaned softly, the pain of the bite melding with the pleasure of

the forbidden.

Sevika's eyes rolled back in her head as the vampire drank deeply, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps. The feeling of Elara's fangs piercing her skin was like nothing she had ever felt before, a mix of pain and ecstasy that sent waves of pleasure through her body. Her hand slid down to rest on the vampire's shoulder, her thumb tracing small circles on the taut muscles as she gave herself over to the sensation.

But as the seconds ticked by, she felt a sudden change, a strange warmth spreading from her arm up through her veins. It started in her metal limb, the one that was always a little colder than the other, and grew until it enveloped her entire body. With a grunt, she reached up and activated the hidden mechanism in her wrist, the one that controlled the purple shimmer drug she had had installed. It was a risk, but one she was willing to take for the thrill of the game.

The world around them grew hazy, the colors more vivid and the sounds more acute as the shimmer drug took effect. Elara felt a sudden lightness in her limbs, a euphoria that washed over her like a warm wave. She looked at Sevika, her eyes wide with surprise and excitement. The human's pupils were dilated, her skin flushed with the same warm glow that Elara felt coursing through her own body.

Sevika's grip on her neck tightened, her breath coming in ragged gasps as the drug hit her system. "You didn't know?" she murmured, her voice thick with arousal. "It's a little... extra... I like to keep... in case of... unexpected guests."

Elara's eyes widened as she felt the warmth spread through her, the high unlike anything she had ever experienced from a simple feeding. "What is this?" she managed to ask, her voice slurred and laden with pleasure.

Sevika's laughter was low and throaty, a sound that sent another shiver down Elara's spine. "A little something extra," she murmured, her hand sliding down to cup Elara's cheek. "Just a little... surprise." Her eyes sparkled with mischief, her pupils blown wide with the effects of the drug.

Elara pulled back, the euphoria from the blood mingling with confusion. "What did you do to me?" she demanded, her voice slurred by the potent cocktail of shimmer and human blood.

Sevika's eyes danced with amusement. "Oops," she said, her voice a teasing purr. "I guess I didn't think you'd be so... thirsty." She traced the line of Elara's jaw with a gentle thumb, her eyes half-lidded with desire. "But don't worry, darling. It's all part of the experience."

Elara's mind raced, trying to piece together what had just happened. The drug was potent, making her feel both light-headed and incredibly aroused. She pushed the human away, her movements clumsy and uncoordinated. "What have you done to me?" she slurred, her eyes glazed with lust.