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sukirichi · 10 months ago

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[ DUSK ‘TILL DAWN : 012 ]

“we who bear the burden of the crown do not need to love. you only need to stay here, with me, in power, in greed, in lust – in victory.”

cw. 18+.modern royal au. infidelity. minimal angst. reader is confused with her feelings. toxic characters. toxic relationships. explicit smut. unedited. implied dub-con. smoking. physical violence. sex tapes. reader has a gun and almost uses it.

notes. i wanted the kiyoomi and suna girlies (/gn) to win so here it is! feedbacks / reblogs/ comments are appreciated <3

wc. 12.9k

series masterlist

[ TWELVE ] for you, i would cross the line. i would waste my time, i would lose my mind. they say “she’s gone too far this time.”

You prided yourself in being logical.

There was little to no room for measly emotions when it came to royal affairs. Granted, you had no proper training, but you were raised as a noble, and the rules were clear. Set aside your emotions, always look towards the most plausible solution, and cry about it later – where no one could see. Those were your mother’s words. You held onto them for as long as you remembered, with the exception of making only one grand mistake: proceeding with the marriage after catching your fiancé cheating on you.

But now? Now, you were about to make your next worst decision – letting Kiyoomi walk away.

It wasn’t love, of course. It couldn’t be. The odds simply weren’t in your favor, but couldn’t a Princess hope? You met him first, had him as your last dance on your debut ball. He was the first Prince who ever held your hand, the first Prince to dance with you, and the first – possibly last – who reminded what love could feel like. What love should feel like. It was explosive and angry like fire licking up at your skin, begging, pleading at you to chase after him. Every nerve in your body protested as you watched him take one more step away from you. It’s a mistake, one I’ll regret – Don’t let him go. It screamed at you, its cries desperate to be heard. You didn’t want to be here in the Palace. You didn’t want to return to your shared quarters with Rintaro.

You wanted to go back to Itachiyama – his farmhouse, the castle ruins, riding aimlessly with Astra and Lucy, picking fruits from his garden, and spending hours in his library. You hadn’t even held your end of the promise yet to learn everything about him.

What did Kiyoomi love? What did he look like in his slumber? Does he talk in sleep? Does he steal the blankets? What about his favorite song?

You moved before you could think.

Closing the distance in hurried strides, you grasped the Prince’s elbow. He stiffened under your touch, his eyes unreadable through the dimly-lit hallways. “Your Highness. Wait,” you panted, “Listen… back at Itachiyama–”

“Do you want me?”

Your grip on him faltered. Briefly, you took a step back, but the Prince was having none of it. He easily closed whatever distance you attempted to put between you two, his face hard and eyes burning with passion. With yearning. You never thought a man could look so determined yet hopeless as he did, the picture-perfect image of ardor. His brows pinched together, his lower lip trembling as he sighed. “Do you want me?”

You shook your head.

If only it could be as simple as that.

“It’s wrong, my Prince. We couldn’t… We wouldn’t work out. I only meant to say that I do adore you, and I do not want whatever complicated feelings we have to ruin our friendship,” Lies. Every word uttered from your lips were nothing but measly lies. Kiyoomi could tell too – the hesitation written all over your face said otherwise. “I hope you understand. You and I – we’re impossible.”

You couldn’t tell which one you needed more: for him to deny your worries, or for him to agree that you were right. You figured both would be just as painful.

Kiyoomi’s nostrils flared as you looked away from him, feet shuffling in the other direction already. “Stop. Do not take another step. Don’t you dare,” with a low growl, you were suddenly pulled back against his warm chest. You gasped at the hardness of his body, the warmth of his skin, the tenderness of his touch. His lips were everywhere but the one place you needed it to be – lingering at the curve of your neck, his breaths fanning over your exposed collarbones. It was like he had set you on fire with one touch alone, his firm grip around your waist both eerily intimidating and lustrous. And he must’ve laughed – you weren’t sure anymore. All you knew was that you were completely under Kiyoomi’s mercy, and quite frankly, he could have his way with you as he pleased.

“If you do not choose me…” murmuring, your breath hitched as his lips briefly grazed your skin, making your pulse jump. “You will regret it. You will be unhappy with him.”

I’m already unhappy with him, you wanted to say, but the words died in your mouth.

You’d lost all forms of coherence under Kiyoomi’s spell. Especially in this compromising position, this scandalous way his hand now slowly trailed its way from your abdomen and up to the swells on your chest – Gods, what would any witnesses say? This wasn’t how a Prince held a woman that wasn’t his.

“Your Highness,” you tried to fighting from his grasp, only to fall momentarily back against him when finally, finally, his lips were now leaving marks on your neck. It took all of your willpower to not give in right there, to not sink your fingers in his delicious curls. You had to say no. “I-I think we’ve both had a long night. We should retire to our quarters.”

“I will allow it if it’s my quarters you’ll be sharing.”

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck – your gaze darted around the empty hallway, paranoid.

The lights had been dimmed hours ago, the staff retiring to their rooms, but it was so quiet your breathy moans could echo. Anyone could walk in and see you like this, pleading but not quite begging for the Prince to not stop holding you.

And it was wrong, so deliciously wrong.

“Please,” you closed your eyes, unable to stop yourself from craning your neck to give him access. Above you, Kiyoomi chuckled, the rumbling of his chest deliciously low.

“You should stop lying to yourself, Princess. You do not want him. Whatever attachment you still have for my brother, it is nothing but a pitiful excuse of familiarity. You keep him around because there is no other choice, but you cannot keep lying to yourself. You cannot keep lying to me that you do not feel as I do when I see the way you look at me,” grasping your chin with his much larger hand, Kiyoomi forced you to look into his eyes. Pools of inky depths stared back at you with part frustration, part lust – his skin already flushed with sweat. You couldn’t look away even if the world ended. There was only you and Kiyoomi, with his hand resting on top of your breasts and gently caressing, so light you might’ve thought he wasn’t there.

And you, breathless and reckless, clung to him like he was your last lifeline.

Kiyoomi dipped down. His nose brushed against yours, your breaths mingled before he breathed you in greedily. “I was never a man who had many desires, but you are the greatest of them all. You run through my mind even in my sleep, and you are the first thing I search for when I wake. So do not tell me you do not want me when I know it’s my name you cry out in your sleep.”

Your knees felt impossibly weak.

“What do you want me to do? I’m married. You’re married. Are you forgetting divorce is impossible?” you snapped back, shoving him until his back hit the wall. The painting above him clattered, yet the Prince seemed uncaring, his arms crossed against his chest as you breathed hard. This was preposterous – this could not go any longer. “This would never work. The people would never understand.”

“I do not care what they think.”

“I care what they think! My husband is already cheating on me, and his own people detest him for it. What more if they find out I have taken you as my lover?”

“Then tell me to go,” he whispered, tilting his head back as he stared at you almost defiantly, mockingly. Like he knew you wouldn’t have the courage to actually say it. “Tell me, and I will walk away.”

When Kiyoomi is met with silence, he scoffed. A smirk graced his handsome face before he’s grabbing you by the arm and twisting you, the positions reversed until your back hit the wall. There’s a slight ache pounding at the back of your head, but nothing – absolutely nothing – could tear your attention away from his lips crashing into yours. The kiss is nothing short of avidity. Kiyoomi devoured you like a man starved, molding the shape of his lips into yours while his large hand encompassed the entirety of your face. Thumbs running over your cheek, his imposing frame completely dominated you. Your bodies were now pressed into each other that it became difficult to tell where you began and the Prince ended.

All you knew was Kiyoomi kissed you like he spent most of his nights dreaming about it, sighing and groaning all at once before his tongue fought for dominance.

Pushing his tongue inside your willing lips, he tasted all of you. He spoke the words he struggled to say, the firm grasp on your hip keeping you in place beneath him a clear sign he didn’t want you anywhere but here. But you weren’t leaving. You’d be a fool to walk away now that you finally had a taste of him, and it wasn’t enough. It would never be enough.

You wanted more, needed more.

Kissing him back harder, your palms flattened on his chest before you balled his shirt into your fists, uncaring if he’d walk back home flustered and wild. You simply needed him there; you wanted to breathe him in, to have nothing but him as your entire world.

“Stay,” you pleaded in between kisses, letting the Prince maneuver you until your bum landed flat on a table. Uncaring, the Prince swept aside all knick-knacks placed above it when his lips found yours again. And oh, a greedy man he was. Even after kissing you until you were breathless, he still hadn’t had his fill. His tongue danced with yours in this gentle melody only you two could sing, your bodies moving in sync like a choreographed dance. Your hand would wound up to tangle itself in his dark locks, his hands would scramble to undo his breeches, and willingly – wantonly – you would welcome him with all your being. It’s a dance between lovers, a forbidden tune you sang wholeheartedly, accompanied by your high-pitched moans once the Prince had himself buried in you – “Oh. Oh.”

“Who makes you feel good?”

“You, my Prince, it’s you,”

Biting down on your lip to muffle the noises you made, you heard the crescendo of the music. Rising and rising with overwhelming intensity at each note hit, each perfect thrust and drive into you. He hadn’t felt like anyone else. He was thicker and spread you open, impaled on his stiffness while you sat there helplessly to take it all. You felt empowered and weak at the same time, with your legs locking behind his chest as tears rolled down your face from the pleasure of it all, but Kiyoomi showed no signs of stopping.

Heavens, he might not even stop tonight, not when you sucked him in tight and made his breath stutter, his thrusts staggered.

“Kiyoomi,” you cried out, unable to keep quiet any longer. He simply held you carefully, a great contrast to his hips pistoning in and out of you – no, he held you like you were a porcelain doll he feared would break, someone he had to protect and cherish. And his eyes – droopy yet adoring – gazed upon you like you were worth more than any crown. “Oh, you are so…”

His forehead landed on top of yours, his lips minutely brushing against yours for a quick kiss. It’s rushed, frantic, yet intimate in ways you’d never experienced before. For once, sharing bodies with someone didn’t feel like just like sex.

For once, you finally made love with someone.

“Choose me, Princess,” he gritted his teeth, “It was always meant to be me.”

You awoke with a gasp.

Sitting up, your heart pounded in your chest, your skin clammy and drenched with sweat. A scan of your surroundings told you that you were in your room, the empty side of your bed a sign Rintaro kept to his word and left you alone. Closing your eyes, your head dropped down to your palms.

So it had been a dream, after all.

You really allowed Kiyoomi to walk away from you. And one mistake leading into another, you let Rintaro do the same.

Regret churned at your stomach. You could see it perfectly now – the drooping of the Prince’s shoulders, his gaze cast downwards when you bid him farewell. There were still traces of the happiness you felt in Itachiyama lingering on him just as he finally left, ones you were compelled to reach out to before it was too late. But it couldn’t be – you refused to give into your desires when it meant committing a sin. Rintaro didn’t deserve your loyalty, but he was still your husband, and you wouldn’t be able to sleep at night knowing you’d been exactly like him.

In fact, you might be becoming like him with each passing day, and although you would never say it out loud, you understood him better now.

To find someone who could’ve been yours, someone who would’ve made you so happy against all odds, and to not have them at all – it felt like a cruel joke was being played by the Universe.

Is this what Rintaro felt like? Did he feel as if the world was being unusually cruel to him? Did he wonder what he could’ve done to deserve all this? Because those thoughts ran into your head long enough that you gave up on sleep, and rolled out of bed with a heavy heart and – shamefully – aching with need. Snatching your robe from the closet, you tiptoed out of the room. Rintaro was fast asleep in the sofa, his arm shielding his eyes from the lit candles. When he didn’t budge from his spot at you poking around him, you let out a sigh of relief and left the room. Clicking the door shut, you spun around, coming face to face with a wide eyed maid.

“Heavens!” you placed a hand on your chest, and then chuckled as the maid stepped back and bowed. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know anyone would still be around.”

The maid frantically shook her head. She scratched the back of her head as her gaze darted around, seemingly determined to not look you in the eye. “No, Your Highness, it was my fault for startling you. I was reassigned to you just now, you see, and… Uhm, I’m Airi. Prince Shinsuke sent me here.”

Airi… You’d heard that name before.

“Oh! Airi. Yes, of course, I remember you,” you nodded, tying the robe around your waist tighter. “Why are you up this late?” At your question, Airi’s cheeks flushed a deep red before turning away. You smiled to yourself, chuckling under your breath as you gently squeezed her arm. “I understand. You needn’t say anymore.”

“Thank you, Your Highness.”

“Would you like to accompany me for a walk?” you gestured to the empty hall. Airi nodded, a little too enthusiastic in picking up her skirts. You figured neither of you wanted to stay here any longer where anyone could easily see you.

Turning to the other direction, you headed for the gardens at the outer wing. It was the closest to your shared room with Rintaro, and coincidentally, an infamous shortcut to Belleview’s surrounding gardens. There had been rumors that Belleview was added in the palace grounds as an afterthought years ago – how a sudden need arose to have a separate place for a married couple. It was bizarre, in your opinion, how this long, seemingly endless path would certainly end up right at Kiyoomi’s doorstep if you were patient enough to brave the half hour walk.

Could you?

Would you?

Absentmindedly, you gnawed at your nails. Your Mother would chastise you for the unladylike gesture if she were here, but it was only you and Airi. She wasn’t going to judge, although you didn’t miss the way she glanced at you so often. Curiosity, maybe, but a question imposed her eyes. Deciding to break the silence, you smiled at the dark-haired maid.

“You’re very pretty. I can see why the Prince fell for you.”

Airi stuttered in her steps. “Oh! Thank you, you’re too kind for that, but I doubt it’s because of the way I look. The Prince and I have known each other since we were kids, that’s all. My mother was a maid too before she died. She was the one who helped raise His Highness,” she babbled, grimacing when she realized your patient smile held little to conceal your amusement. “Uhm… If I may be so bold, my Princess, I think you look rather great for someone who has been cheated on.”

Your brows rose. That you hadn’t expected.

“I do?”

“Yes. You look unbothered by it, or at least, you seem to be doing a great job at it,” she offered a polite smile, “Being a royal must come naturally to you as a noblewoman.”

Unable to help it, you chuckled. Oh, how wrong she was.

“Not at all. I haven’t always been this way,” you told her, watching as your surroundings changed from the marble pillars and into the night sky, where the fresh, cold breeze bit at your skin. You were thankful for it – the cold atmosphere was a great contrast to the blooming, colorful flowers.

It somehow reminded you of Kiyoomi’s gardens, and how you probably wouldn’t see it anymore.

The smile on your face disappeared. The ring on your finger grew heavier, and unbeknownst to you, you started spinning it with your thumb. It was curious, truly, how a week was all it took before you completely lost yourself. You couldn’t remember who you were even like before Itachiyama, before Kiyoomi. Or could it be that the past you had never been fulfilled to begin with? What if you were merely a work in progress, and the you in this moment was the real one?

If that was true, then that could only mean two things you would never want to admit out loud.

One: that you weren’t as in love with your husband as you thought if you couldn’t get Kiyoomi out of your mind, or Two: that the traditional saying and belief was right – your last dance would be your fated lover.

And it would make sense, too. Of course, you were happy with Rintaro. Were. You fell in love with him simply because there was no other appropriate reaction. He was the Crown Prince, a man who called on you every single day and learned about your passions until night came. He charmed your parents, loved them as his own, and proudly presented you to his regal family. It was the kind of love little girls were taught to dream about. The kind of love everyone wanted. You couldn’t blame yourself for craving the Prince’s touch, for giving him all your firsts. It seemed only the right thing to do. He courted you, committed to you, loved you as much as he could – it was logical and methodical.

It was one plus one equals two.

But Kiyoomi? It didn’t feel natural, or a step by step process.

It felt all kinds of wrong because you shouldn’t, and all kinds of right because it’s him. It’s the way he smiles at you when he thinks you’re not looking, or how his head is always turned in the other direction to act like he isn’t listening. He isn’t like Rintaro who never takes his gaze off of you – not because he can’t get enough of your beauty, but because he was watching. Rintaro was always watching, analyzing everything you did, crafting his actions and words perfectly to elicit the response he wanted from you.

His brother was the exact opposite.

Kiyoomi always stayed at the walls and blended in with the background. He never attracted any attention to himself, but would devote his entire focus on you simply because he’s entranced. Or you hoped he might. Surely it couldn’t be one-sided.

You felt it too – the frustration ebbing off of him each time you slipped away. You saw with your own eyes the way his face fell when news of your husband’s affair spread.

He didn’t hate his brother for sleeping with his mistress behind your back. He hated Rintaro for ruining a night that should’ve been yours. A night where his touch could linger on yours for a moment longer as you smiled for the cameras. A night where it’d be appropriate for him to look at you like you’re the star of the show – it’s camaraderie, you’d play off – and a night where he might’ve drove you back at the farmhouse and slowly, tenderly, begin with tugging your gloves off before he moved on to your dress.

Gods. You exhaled. You shouldn’t be doing this.

You shouldn’t be thinking about Kiyoomi, his plump lips that looked inviting, his dark eyes hungrily roaming over you and hoping, praying, that it’d been him instead. These were all wrong – so why were you walking towards Belleview?

“Your Highness?”

Airi’s voice snapped you out of your trance. Blinking, you smiled back at her in apology and continued. “Sorry, I must have been lost in my thoughts. As I was saying, though, I spent most of my life hiding behind my parents’ shadows because I struggled talking to people. And then the Crown Prince came and swept me off my feet, which changed everything. When he came into my life, I figured I had to become someone worthy enough to stay by his side, someone he could be proud to be with. It took a lot of years and effort before I could be confident enough to say I was good enough for him,” you mumbled, stopping in your tracks to look up into the dark horizon before you.

Huh. Why hadn’t you realized that before?

You’d been trying so hard to impress Rintaro all along. Isn’t that why you were so frustrated? You’d spent years molding yourself to become who he wanted, only to be slapped in the face that it was impossible because you could never be her.

You let out a dry laugh. “But apparently not. He already had someone else.”

“I’m really sorry you were dragged into this. From the stories Prince Shinsuke tells me, you’re a kind woman who deserved better.”

“I don’t know about that,” you said, “Would you believe me if I said I wasn’t mad upon reading the tabloids about his affair? If anything, I was just furious he couldn’t stay out of trouble and ruined my trip to Itachiyama.”

“Did you like it there?”

“I loved it. I wanted to stay.”

Admitting it out loud felt… liberating. You were beginning to feel more like yourself, even if it meant being less of a Princess and more of this unorthodox woman who simply wanted to be. It must be the side effect of spending time with Kiyoomi. You would soon care less about the rules imposed on you, and unapologetically be yourself.

“But the world sure has a cruel way of bringing you back to reality.”

“Your Highness?”

Both yours and Airi’s head snapped at the sound. Amongst the rustling of the bushes, a tall figure suddenly appeared – all mighty and regal even in his creased blouse and loosely tied breeches. His hair, dark and tousled like he’d run his fingers through it, did little to hide the surprise on his face.

“My Prince,” you breathed out, “What are you doing out here so late?”

“I couldn’t sleep. And you?”

You fought back a smile at his raspy voice. You could almost picture it – Kiyoomi tossing and turning all night in a bed separate from Iris. The sanguine voice in your head fibbed, too, wondering if the Prince thought about you as well. “It’s a restless night,” was all you let on, and gestured to the shock-still maid beside you. “Airi, do you mind giving us some privacy?”

Vehemently, she shook her head. “Not at all, Princess. Please, call for me if you need anything. I won’t be far.”

You waited as Airi disappeared from sight before you stepped closer to the Prince, compelled by an invisible force to be closer to him. “Kiyoomi–”

“Are you well?”

“Me? Why do you ask?”

He tipped his head to the side, causing a lone curl to fall in front of his eye. You fought back the urge to brush it away, beguiled by his long fingers sweeping it away “You’re in a very difficult position right now, whatnot with the article spreading,” he gestured back to the castle, “Has he spoken to you?”

You shook your head. “He’s kept to himself the past few days. I think this is a lot harder on him than it looks. As for me, well… I’ve had better days.”

True to your word, Rintaro almost secluded himself from the world. He shut off his phone, chucked it at another corner of the room, and never touched it again. It was painful seeing your husband that way when you know of his hobby of endless scrolling. But now, he couldn’t stomach the social media wishing him ill, seeing so blatantly with his own eyes his people’s deference to him. It hurt – more so for him than you – but still, a small part of you wished he’d say something. You were there, were you not?

You cut off your trip short because your husband needed you, and he barely uttered a word since you arrived. It got at your nerves. Nevertheless, you’d give him the time he needed. You planned to keep to your word that you would fix this all for him, regardless of what that might take.

You weren’t so cruel to let your husband be dragged into the pits of hell. Because quite frankly, that wasn’t the media’s right to begin with. If anyone would unleash hell upon Rintaro and Iris, it had to be you.

Kiyoomi scanned your face. “You don’t seem upset about all of this.”

You shrugged. “Their secret would’ve gone out one way or another. It was only a matter of time. Besides, I have far, bigger things to worry about, like you,” you leveled your gaze with his, watching as the Prince sucked in a breath.

Your last conversation with him the past night still played in your mind. It ate away at you to have to say goodbye when you didn’t want to, but he was here now. You woldn’t waste the opportunity to make things right.

Steeling yourself, you shut your eyes tight to gather courage. “Kiyoomi… Your Highness. I… I do not wish to stop talking to you. I know I sound absurd because I haven’t known you that long, but everything we shared in Itachiyama, I cherish it. I won’t forget a single memory I shared with you. So please allow me to take back what I said. I didn’t mean it when I said I would stop talking to you.”

“You should, though.” Opening your eyes, your heart dropped into your stomach when the Prince took a step back. “I don’t think we can be friends, Princess.”

Your hands grew cold and clammy.

“W-Why not? Have I done something to offend you? Tell me, and I will correct it–”

“We cannot be friends because I do not wish to be just your friend.”

Whatever distance he created between you disappeared. In the blink of an eye, Kiyoomi had closed the gap in one smooth stride, leaning down close enough his nose nearly brushed yours.

You inhaled sharply at the proximity. Kiyoomi’s heat blanketed you, making you realize you’d been shivering from the cold prior to his arrival. Now, he was here, and your senses were filled to the brim with him – his scent, his warmth, his frame looming over yours making you feel protected instead of small. You couldn’t help it; your fingers twitched to pull him by his collar and finally have his lips pressed to yours. It’d been eating away at you for several nights.

A peck couldn’t hurt.

But you made no move, greedily sharing in the same breaths instead. Because if it was all you could have, then it was all you could get.

“You’re right. It does sound absurd. We have barely spoken to one another, yet I’m already tired of this stupid game my brother is playing – his foolish plans to become King, make my wife his concubine, all with the intention of keeping you around like a pet. It makes my blood boil,” Kiyoomi grinned, though it was more sinister than genuine. “He cannot have everything for himself. I will not let him.”

“My Prince. I–”

“–Don’t get me wrong. I’m not in love with you, nor do I have any intentions of stooping down to Rintaro’s level and stealing what isn’t mine,” cruel, you think, as the Prince effectively cut you off with a brush of his thumb to your lips. You were now putty at his hands; melting and knees weakened with nothing but his touch holding you up. “But I am tired of seeing you this distraught over a man who cannot see your worth. I have had enough. So whatever plans you may have to retaliate, tell me, and I will gladly be a pawn in your game. Make your move. You may command me as you please.”

It took a moment before his words dawned on you. When it did, your palms flattened on his chest, absorbing its warmth and feeling the flutter of his heart underneath your fingertips. He felt so alive, whole, and well – you couldn’t possibly drag him into your mess.

“I could never use you like that. You know this.”

“So you do have a plan in mind,” he noted with a smirk, fingers crawling up to circle your wrist. “My brother really underestimated you, hasn’t he? You’re already proving to be far more dangerous than any sword.”

You flushed warm at his compliment. Pretty, yes, Rintaro has called you that multiple times. Beautiful, gorgeous, even, but dangerous? It made you feel powerful, like the crown was already on your head, and the kingdom was all yours for the taking. But greed often started out as a small flicker of fire, and you stomped on it as quickly as it breathed into life. You were no thrill seeker – you would not dabble or tread in dangerous, unknown, forbidden paths. Such paths like Kiyoomi, but it was there. The temptation. The calling to just reach out to the hand he’s offered.

Its voice beckoned you. Come, it whispered oh-so-sweetly at your ear, he is your puppet.

You bit the inside of your cheek in contemplation. “It isn’t a good plan at all, and the Queen has summoned us – all of us – to inform us of her decisions on how we will proceed with this scandal. There’s a good chance Her Majesty might get in the way, but I’m determined. I need this plan to work.”

“What are you thinking about?”

“I plan on turning the tables around and pinning it on Iris. I know it’s dangerous – she’s your wife, and you might get caught in the crossfire–”

“Do as you please.”

“Are you serious?”

Kiyoomi nodded with resolve. “When I said I do not wish to be just your friend, I meant it. I want you to use me. I want to be your weapon,” nudging his nose with yours, he brought up your hand to his lips, kissing the glimmering diamond on your ring. A kiss of rebellion, a war cry, or a silent plea to be dominated – it said everything and too little all at once. “If there is anything I can do to help you escape this royal hell, I will do it.”

You closed your fist around his lips, and basked in the ghostly flutters it will leave upon your skin hours after he has gone. Then, you questioned it all: how could something so poignant evoke a raging will within you?

“It will be hard for you, Your Highness,” you warned him, “My plan is not a kind one.”

“I do not have very kind thoughts myself,” he chuckled, the sound dark and ominous. “But you should be careful, Princess. Iris is not who you think she is. If you are to proceed with your plan, you need to watch out for yourself, and Maiko especially.”

Maiko? What could Maiko’s involvement with Iris be?

“She won’t hurt Maiko, will she?”

“She wouldn’t dare, but I can’t guarantee she won’t try doing something to you,” with a wary gaze, Kiyoomi immediately masked it with that of indifference. Scanning the surroundings, and hearing nothing but the crickets of insects and the rustling of bushes from the wind, Kiyoomi wrapped a protective arm around your waist. “It’s getting late. Let me walk you back. Iris is probably somewhere close.”

You were never one to feel much fear, but in that moment, a sense of numbing chill settled in your bones. Goosebumps arose on your skin. It was almost like you could feel it – her sharp gaze, her wicked and deceivingly innocent smile. You shivered despite yourself and huddled closer to the Prince, letting him guide you through the garden’s maze when his lips brushed the shell of your ear.

“Do you wish to know what would make Iris tick?”

“What?”

“It may be Rintaro who she wants,” his breathy voice caressed you, sending a different set of shivers down your spine. “But it is I whom she would kill to keep. Present yourself as a threat, make her believe you can steal me from her, and you will find her willingly offering Rintaro to you.”

You scoffed. “And if I don’t want him?”

“Then you shall always have me.”

Kiyoomi, Kiyoomi, Kiyoomi…

The Prince’s last words haunted you. Moreover, the way he looked with the moonlight illuminated upon him… he felt surreal. He came to you in your dreams more than once, caressing you in places he shouldn’t be touching, filling you in ways you never thought possible. A part of you wondered if it was merely your brain coping with the fact you’d mistakenly lain in bed with Rintaro. How you’ve felt disgusted with yourself ever since, and found it hard to look in the mirror. Perhaps it was simply a trick of the brain – replacing the man who left marks on you with the man that could’ve made you feel better. And you knew Prince Kiyoomi would – with those large, calloused hands, and luscious lips you spent countless hours gazing upon… would it be such a sin to wish they hadn’t been dreams only?

Picking up the nearby body wash, you scrubbed yourself clean of Rintaro. Your body still ached from last night’s events, but your heart clenched for an entirely different reason. Seriously. You couldn’t believe it. First, he’d let himself get caught in the action, and you let him sleep with you? You could’ve pushed him away. You could’ve said no.

It didn’t have to lead to whatever happened last night.

But then again, laughing to yourself, why did you chastise yourself so much? He was your husband. You were both married – sleeping with him wasn’t a mistake. Yet why did it feel like it? It felt as if… you kept on letting him take and take from you. How long until you’ve had enough? How much more could you give before there was nothing left of you?

You sighed, sinking deeper under the water. It’d been hours since your previous encounter with the older prince, and he hadn’t left your mind since. His offer for you to make use of him like he was a weapon, or worse, a tool, wasn’t an opportunity you could let pass by.

You could make use of him. He had more access to Iris than you ever could, and planting spies in Belleview Manor sounded terrible. She’d probably won over their loyalty judging by the way they kept their mouths shut that first night you arrived there to give her tea for her ‘headache.’ She had secrets, that you were sure of, but did Kiyoomi know them too? What was her connection with Maiko? Surely… Maiko wasn’t involved in whatever schemes they had in mind. The Princess was too sweet and innocent for that, but then again, so was Iris. The so called ‘dear friend’ of your boyfriend before he’d asked for your hand in marriage.

This was proving to be nearly impossible.

It was hard to tell who to trust within the Palace. Kita would be at your side, but you couldn’t possibly involve him in your plan. He might not even approve of it. It would be against the law, and it wasn’t the kindest thing one could think of. Kita would call it ‘the opposite of justice.’

“I hope the meeting went well, Princess?”

Popping your head from the water, you watched as Airi entered the room, folded towels in her arms. She’d prepared a bath for you long before you arrived, the water warm and filled with bubbles – just how you liked it. The room smelled faintly of roses, too, and you made a mental note to thank Airi for her efforts.

“It was great. His Highness and I discussed a lot,” he almost kissed me, too, but she didn’t need to know that, or the fact you wished he did. “Oh, and Airi.”

“Yes, ma’am?”

You pondered over it, you really did it. It was out of your character to abuse the power you had, yet you couldn’t stop the heat flaring in your veins. The pettiness that begged to be revealed. “Could you have someone call L’Essenxe Royale? Tell them I want them to discontinue their Vanilla Candy line because I’m allergic to it, and it would be a shame if I had to stop purchasing their perfumes.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Airi nodded, stopping in her tracks after a beat. “I wasn’t informed you were allergic to vanilla. I’m sorry, I’ll do better in catering to your needs more.”

“I’m not allergic. I just don’t want to smell Iris ever again.”

Just before Airi could respond, the doors swung open. Suna sauntered in like he owned the place, the top three buttons of his white shirt undone and loose. His collarbones and the top of his chest shone with sweat, his skin flushed and his dark hair messily swept to the sides. He must’ve gone for his early training – and damned him for looking good.

You snorted inwardly. But Prince Kiyoomi probably looked better.

“There you are. I didn’t get to see you before I left.”

“Airi, please give us a moment,” you requested from where you sat, arms lazily resting on the sides of the tub. Airi scurried out of the room with reddened cheeks – no doubt picturing what events could transpire between a naked wife and her insatiable husband. And speaking of said husband, he’d leant against the pristine white walls, arms crossed against his chest as he let those dark, hooded eyes roam over your exposed skin.

“To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“I think the real pleasure here is this view.”

You rolled your eyes. “Is that what you told your mistress too when you fucked her in my bed?”

Suna paused. It was a bait; he was sure of it. Choosing not to bite at your provocation, he pushed his weight off the wall and gestured to the doors. “You redecorated the room,” he announced, “Without my permission.”

“I wasn’t aware I needed your permission. I thought we made it clear – under your suggestion – that I was to sleep in that bed, and you take the couch outside. Technically, that would make it my room, no?”

“You made Airi burn the sheets.”

“Sue me.”

“You threw away Iris’ clothes.”

“They barely counted as clothes, Your Highness. They were just thongs.”

“If this is about last night–”

“Last night was a mistake. Never speak of it again,” you warned, and just the mere reminder that you’d let him have his way with you, and you were too weak to refuse, again, no longer made the relaxing bath enjoyable. All of Airi’s efforts poured down the drain because having Suna around had your muscles stiffening with tension again. Rising from the bath, you wiped off the bubbles and suds off your body before stepping out. “What did you truly come here for? You never bother me when I’m bathing.”

Suna’s hungry gaze followed your every movement. The perverted bastard wasn’t even trying to hide it – his poor attempts of adjusting his breeches a failure once you’d put on your robe. “Her Majesty has summoned us for breakfast. She has an important announcement to make. I suggest you make haste so she won’t be anymore upset with us.”

“With you, you mean,” you waved around your lip balm, “What? Don’t look so offended. I am not the one who caused a scandal here.”

“I’m tired of arguing with you.”

You couldn’t agree more. Smacking your lips together, you walked past him, making sure to sashay your hips as you did. But before you could leave the room, Suna’s hand shot out to wrap it around your wrist. Gently, he pulled you back into him until your breasts brushed with his chest, the dampness of your robe making his shirt stick even harder on his skin.

“Wait,” he breathed out, not once taking his eyes off you as he blindly swiped for a towel. “Let me dry you off properly. It would be a shame if you made a mess on your newly decorated room.”

Your husband fell down on his knees before you could say a word.

You almost asked him what he was doing when his hands tugged at the ties of your robes, his tender touch pushing them past your shoulders until the robe pooled at your feet. You inhaled sharply. Suna was kneeling before you, caressing your leg and urging you to place at his thigh. You don’t know what compelled you to obey, but you did. Resting it on his leg, you felt too exposed – his nose was right at your stomach, his hands touching everywhere but that one place near your heat.

It was torture.

The entire act was done with slow, purposeful motions. Like an artist taking great care with his sculptures, he pressed hard on your hips to keep you in place when you shivered. His strength, his silent gestures that he wouldn’t let you slip and fall – it broke your heart.

Why couldn’t he love you?

Why couldn’t he touch you this way and mean it?

Why did he have to remove his ring?

The glint of the golden material caught your attention from the vanity. You picked it up where he left it last night, unconsciously hugging it to your chest until you fell asleep. Until now, you’d brought it with you, and stared at it hard enough it might’ve melted. It never did, just as he would never belong to you. And then – his finger swiped over your nipple, the cloth on his hands now damp and his breath staggering as he moved to kiss your bare stomach.

You pushed his head away.

Suna stumbled back, barely. He sat there with a dazed expression, the towel he used to dry you with now forgotten. His hands shook in his lap, his eyes blown wide with something you couldn’t quite name – longing, regret, frustration. Whatever it was, it matched yours.

“I’m dry enough,” you told him, snatching off his ring from the counter and flicking it his way. The two of you watched as it stumbled along the ground with a loud clink, clink, clink, before it rolled right at his feet. When you finally found the courage to speak, your voice was so quiet – you couldn’t hear yourself at all. “Wear it. I don’t care that it no longer means anything to you. I won’t have you causing anymore problems for me when your mother asks about it.”

When you and Suna sat next to each other at the dining hall, neither of you spoke a word.

In fact, not a single person present dared to. Her Majesty sat at the head of the table, the clink of her utensil the only thing audible as she furiously cut into her steak. She was furious, that much was obvious. Even Crown Prince Ushijima hadn’t touched his meal, and his young son, barely a boy of eight, had his lips shut the entire time.

Finally, she takes a bite, takes a huge drink of her wine, and slams the glass down. All of you jump at the sound.

“It is not every day we can all be gathered here, but as you are all aware, it is a trifling time for the Crown. We as the royal family need to be united now more than ever,” she announced, her back straight as she looked everyone in the eye. “Which is why I am here to inform everyone of some minor changes we will implement from now on, and some events we have planned for the next season. First of all, Princess–” she pointed her knife your way, “-I need you to hold your mother back. She’s getting on my nerves with all her incessant calling.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” she lifted her chin, “Your Mother hasn’t stopped bugging me ever since that article was released. She demands I return her to you, but I think she forgets her place and yours. You are a Princess now; you are the Crown’s property. You are to stay here and see to your duties until you take your last breath.”

Forcing a smile, you willed yourself to calm down. “My mother was merely concerned, Your Majesty. I’m sure she doesn’t mean any harm.”

“Which is exactly why I’m telling you to tell her to stand down. I have already spoken with my advisors our next course of action and have all decided that we will deny Rintaro and Iris’ affair by all means. We are to pretend as if the article never existed. We need to show we are the Crown, the monarchs and rulers of this grand kingdom. We will not be swayed by measly gossip and defaming rumors.”

“But it wasn’t a rumor. The Crown Prince did sleep with the Princess.”

Her Majesty sighed, the sound dramatically drawn out. “Do you have any complaints, my dear? Because if you did, then you should have attended the meeting this morning.”

You gritted your teeth. “I wasn’t informed there was one.”

“That’s a shame – I thought Rintaro would tell you. It seems he likes to keep his secrets, then,” she jabbed, and your husband nervously sipped his wine as you glared at the sides of his head. “Now, as I was saying before I was rudely interrupted, we planned a few events for this season. For this month, the four of you will be showing up to public events and you are to appear united in marriage. Laugh, kiss, hold hands – I do not care. Just make sure the cameras get it, and if anyone dares ask on any clarifications about the affair, simply tell them that it is very easy to fabricate photographs nowadays. You will deny everything. Understand?”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” agreed Suna, and you scoffed. Snaking his hands under the table, he squeezed yours in assurance and whispered, “Don’t cause a scene in front of the Queen. We will talk later about this.”

“I was hoping we would.”

“Next, Iris and Y/N will be having weekend dates to show they are friends. We have already contacted an orphanage you will pay a visit to. Play with the kids, read storybooks with them, and get as many pictures as possible. Not only will it show that there’s camaraderie between you two, but hanging out with children will also imply that we can expect a next line of heirs soon.”

“A splendid idea!” Atsumu beamed, the first to dig into his meal. Rather, the Prince was halfway finished stuffing his mouth, happily rubbing his hands together at the thought. “This will all be good for the Crown, and to win the people’s trust back.”

“You really don’t know how to shut up, huh?” muttered Osamu.

“Your Majesty. Don’t you think this is going too far?” Tobio spoke up, slamming his hands on the table as he stood up. Beside him, Prince Shinsuke was pleading for him to sit back down. The youngest Prince merely slapped his hands away, looking betrayed by his brother’s words. “Why is no one speaking up? Is this how the royal family really is? You would all lie to your people, deceive them we are all in one heart and mind when we are not. Is that the kind of rulers we aspire to be? Are we really the rulers they look up to?”

Prince Shinsuke pinched the bridge of his nose. “I understand you’re upset, but the throne wouldn’t have lasted this long if none of us pulled some strings and kept up deceiving acts. Trust me, I also do not wish to take a part in this, but Her Majesty is right. The people are already growing restless that we have been without a King for years – having Crown Prince Rintaro’s reputation tarnished will not make this better. And as far as I know, there are still many protests against having an illegitimate child on the throne,” he reminded, causing Prince Ushijima to clear his throat awkwardly. Still, Shinsuke pushed on. “Rintaro is the King the Cabinet wants. We must follow the law. Ushijima can only be crowned King until we have ran out of options.”

Your jaw dropped.

“And what of me?”

“With all due respect, Your Highness, the future of the Kingdom is a heavier matter at hand than your broken heart,” Iris quipped, “Besides, if you knew about our relationship prior to the marriage, then you cannot blame anyone but yourself. You’re in this predicament because you were too cowardly to let go when given the chance.”

“That’s enough!” Tobio yelled. “You all need to stop talking about her like that. You’re all right – the Crown is more important. We need a stable ruler and for the people to not lose their trust in us. But the Princess is still a human. She was lied to, manipulated, and constantly looked down on. The least you can do right now is let her acknowledge her pain, seeing as it is clearly too much for each and every one of you to be decent human beings!”

Her Majesty paid him no mind. Waving her hand in the air dismissively, she sighed. “He is young. He will understand someday.”

At her nonchalance, Tobio’s nostrils flared. It was the last you saw of him before he kicked his chair back, storming out of the hall before everyone erupted into protests. Keiji slunk back into his seat, Shinsuke was immediately making efforts to appease the Queen by apologizing on everyone’s behalf, and Maiko was crying. And you? You glowered at the Queen before following after Tobio, the three other Princes right at your heels.

The doors slammed shut behind you.

You could hear the Princes running after you. Two pairs were rushing, but one pair of footfalls sounded more like stomping. Before you could turn down the hall where Tobio went, you were dragged by, Suna firmly gripping your elbow as he halted you in your tracks.

“Her Majesty was speaking,” he hissed, fingers digging harder to your skin. “Don’t be rude.”

“Oh, fuck off, Rintaro. I can’t believe you right now. Letting me be friends with your mistress? Really? And you didn’t even tell me there was a meeting this morning!”

His free hand ran through his hair. “I didn’t tell you because I knew you would act like this. You would’ve embarrassed me in front of the advisors. Besides, you left before I could–”

“I embarrass you? Do you even hear yourself? You’re the embarrassing one for going behind my back and sleeping with your mistress–”

“She’s not my mistress!”

“Isn’t she? I wasn’t aware there was another word to describe a woman frolicking with a married man!”

His grip grew tighter as he spoke, and you squeaked out in pain. You tried to pry his fingers off of you, but Suna wasn’t having any of it. “You’re one to talk, leaving me here in this country to go around dancing with my brother–” Your husband’s face disappeared before you. In the blink of an eye, he was shoved nearly across the room and falling right at his ass.

Kiyoomi stood protectively over you, his chest rising and falling as he shook with anger.

“Stay away from my wife!”

Meanwhile, Tooru dodged between Suna and Kiyoomi, the former rising on his feet and reeling his arm back in a punch. Tooru effortlessly caught his brother’s arm, but holding him back was a different struggle of itself. “Rin, that’s enough!”

“Are you okay?”

You blinked back from the scene. Kiyoomi was now holding your arm where Suna grabbed you, checking for any injuries. Aside from a little aching, and a possible bruise that would show up tomorrow, you were unharmed. Still, the Prince wasn’t assured. His thick brows pinched together in concern, turning your arm over and over as he muttered to himself the violent things he wished to do to his brother. “Did he hurt you?”

“Not really, but I want to go after Tobio.”

Kiyoomi nodded in understanding. “Go. I’ll handle this.”

You shared a knowing look with him. I’m on your side, his eyes said, and that was enough to reassure you. Giving him a nod, you quickly turned on your heels and ran. You ran and ran until you were out of breath, your corset digging into you uncomfortably. The youngest Prince sure was a fast one – he’d already reached his own study in such a short time.

Peeking through the partially closed door, your heart broke at the sight.

Prince Tobio sat on his painter’s stool, an unfinished portrait of you – smiling in your wedding dress – lay before him. He was crying, sniffling to himself and wiping his tears with the collar of his blouse. Even the sounds of his cries were too painful to hear.

Shutting the door behind you, you took your place behind him, gently squeezing his shoulders to make him look up. When he did, his bloodshot eyes greeted you.

“I’m sorry you had to witness all of that,” you tell him softly, “I didn’t mean to ruin breakfast for you.”

Tobio shook his head. He pulled out a handkerchief before blowing on it, and you smiled despite yourself – he’d grown so much, yet he was still that sweet, naïve boy in your eyes. It felt like a lifetime ago when he had his debut, and now he was flourishing into such a great, young man. Your little brother, the sweetest Prince – you would do anything for him.

“You don’t need to apologize for anything, sis. You’re the victim here.”

You laughed a little. Victim sounded too poor of a word choice. Turning to the canvas before you, you gestured to it. “What are you painting?”

“You,” he admitted with red cheeks, “I started on this when Rintaro announced he’d be marrying you so I could give it as a wedding gift. But Her Majesty wanted me to focus on my studies, so I didn’t have enough time to finish. I mean, it’s not even the same dress you wore on your wedding so it’s inaccurate–”

“-It looks beautiful.”

“It’s still unfinished,” his shoulders slumped in your flattery before he lightened up, already moving to pick up the brushes as he wiped his snot with his hanky. “Since you’re here, would you like me to paint you as you are now? I’ll get a new canvas.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want you to lose all your efforts on your previous painting.”

“It’s fine,” he reassured, and per his instruction, you sat stiffly to ‘pose’ for him. It’s a little awkward, and Tobio struggled to sketch you each time you fidgeted, but at least he wasn’t crying anymore. Midway through his sketch, though, he placed his pencil down, his eyes brimming with tears again. “I still can’t believe Rintaro was capable of being so cruel. I’ll never forgive him for what he did,” he said, his lower lip quivering. “Are they really like this? Is everyone in the Palace truly so heartless? Will I… never find love of my own, too?”

“Oh, Tobio,” you reached your arms out, crushing him to your chest. The Prince’s tears dampened your dress, though you paid it no mind. He was too young for all this hurt – this war over the crown. He was too good for a cruel place like this. “It will get easier someday.”

Fisting your skirt, he buried his face to your neck, his whole body shivering under you. “I never wanted to be a Prince. I-I wanted to keep playing sports and go pro someday. There’s a whole world out there for me to see, and I’m so afraid I’ll never become the person I want to be. I’m afraid I might turn out like my brothers.”

You pulled back to make him look at you. Cupping his face with your hands, you shook your head firmly. “That’s not true, Tobio. You’re already a thousand times better than your brothers. Look, you’re sweet, kind, and passionate. Who says you don’t deserve to achieve your dreams? You can be who you want to be. You can see the world. I promise you that I’ll support you in anything you want to do. Anything.”

“Really?” grinning, he wiped his cheeks free from his tears. “Then… will you come to my game? There’s a match and the Coach just added me to the team. It… Well, it might be a good opportunity for you and everyone else to show you’re unaffected by the scandal, too.”

“Oh, forget the scandal. I only want to see you play,” you tell him, and the Prince’s innocent smile is so big and bright it soothed all the aches in your heart. You promised to yourself, then and there, that you would do what it takes to protect that smile. “Now, should we get to this painting?”

That talk with Tobio filled you with unwavering resolve.

The poor boy didn’t deserve to spend a minute longer in the Palace. It simply wasn’t a place for him. He needed to be out there, living his life to the fullest, and to be surrounded by good people who were healthy for him. Not his greedy, cheating brothers, and most especially not with the heartless Queen as his only mother figure.

You had to do something for him. You had to weaken the throne even further, exploit their weakness and make the monarchy crumble. If not for you, then you would do it for Tobio.

It was the reason you’d gained enough courage to dial the number weighing heavily in your pockets long before Itachiyama. That piece of paper Kiyoomi slipped into your coat just before you parted ways. You should’ve known it back then – Kiyoomi was somehow always one step ahead of you. It’s like he knew what you wanted to happen before you said out loud. What you needed before you told him what it was. And you’d done it – scheduled the meeting, hired a private chauffer, and rented out a restaurant in the middle of nowhere at the dead time of the night before you could change your mind.

Do it For Tobio. For Kiyoomi. For you.

He arrived not a minute later than the designated time. He stood tall and confident – seemingly unbothered by the mass of hate he’d accumulated. Sauntering in through the doors with a smirk, he let out a low whistle, impressed with the lack of people. You had promised him privacy, after all, and if you wanted to succeed in your plans, you couldn’t be shy in splurging a little bit of money.

“Kuroo Tetsurou, was it?”

“Your Highness,” he greeted with a bow, his smile growing wider as he pulled out his chair. He’s handsome, with a smile you wouldn’t deem trustworthy, and he held an aura to him that warned you to tread carefully. He was, after all, the man who singlehandedly exposed your husband’s affair. “I am flattered by your efforts, though I must admit. I did not expect you would reach out to me of all people. I assumed you wanted my head.”

You offer him a polite smile. “You have it all wrong. In fact, I’m thankful for the opportunity you’ve presented to me,” leaning forward, you slid a thin envelope his way. Inside it contained a document of your own words, one you trusted Kuroo would twist to sound more convincing. “I want you to publish another article.”

Kuroo’s eyes widened. He waited for a beat, a moment or two, for you to say you didn’t mean it. You could’ve been joking. But you hold his gaze, your smile just as firm, refusing to waver from his intense gaze. “With all due respect, Ma’am, I think I’m already in enough trouble for that last one.”

Fair enough. You didn’t think he’d be that easy to convince.

Reaching beside you, you pulled out a case and clicked open the locks for him. If Kuroo was surprised before, he was most definitely flabbergasted by now. Wads of cash piled against each other stared back at him – temping him to reach out and take it. Smiling to yourself, you gently nudged the case in his direction.

“This is half of what I’ll pay you. I’ll pay you twice as much once you’ve done your part,” you promised, “You don’t need to fear, Mr. Kuroo. I’ll guarantee your protection if you do this for me.”

Kuroo chuckled to himself. Shutting the case back shut, he was quick to slide it to his side – deal done and closed. “If a lovely Princess is asking so nicely, I can’t possibly turn it down, can I?” pulling out a small notebook from his coat, Kuroo uncaps his pen with a twist of his teeth. “So let’s get into it. What story do you want, Ma’am? Do you want the truth or… something more scandalous than your husband’s affair?”

“I want you to ruin Iris,” you declared, “Inside that envelope is a list of people the Princess frequently interacts with, as well as records from her history dating back from when she moved here with mother. I want you to look into everything and pick apart whatever could destroy her reputation. There are secrets that she keeps, and I want them out in the public.”

Kuroo doesn’t bother writing that down. “Her reputation is well ruined already, Ma’am. I doubt much could make it worse.”

Your brow shoots up. “Are you doubting my abilities or questioning my demands?”

“Neither,” he reassured with a mischievous grin, “I shall write something about her, then, but what about the Crown Prince? Do I still have the assurance of your protection if he comes after me for messing with his precious little thing?”

Oh, please. His ‘precious little thing’ doesn’t even want him.

Spinning your wedding finger with your thumb, you stared at it. “Tell me, Kuroo. You’re a journalist, one that wasn’t invited at that private party my husband was in. So why were you there that night? Most importantly, how did you get their photos?” you brought your gaze back up to him, “You’re not secretly planning for the downfall of the crown, are you?”

Kuroo scratched the back of his neck. “I wouldn’t dream of it, Your Highness. But to answer your question, then no, I wasn’t invited. I wouldn’t even know a single thing about their affair if it wasn’t for one of you.”

“One of us?” you echoed, “Are you saying someone in the royal family hired you as well?”

“Indeed. Though I must say, I never expected working with just one of you could have me set for life. What more if I teamed up with you too?”

So your theories were right. That article didn’t appear out of nowhere – someone wanted it to happen. “It was Iris, wasn’t it? She asked you to publish that because she knew I was with her husband… but that wouldn’t make any sense. That article puts her in a bad light. It couldn’t be her, right?”

“You’ll be surprised, Ma’am, but it was not the Princess,” he clarified.

Kuroo’s face pinched in contemplation, and then suddenly, pulls out a different phone from his pockets. It’s a beat-up iPhone with its battery nearly dead, but with a few clicks here and there, the video played loud and clear. The camera is shaky, the angles all wrong. Whoever recorded it clearly seemed to be inebriated. Yet there it was – the unmistakable masculine voice groaning, the slapping of skin against each other, and a high-pitched womanly moan. The camera caught nothing but long, blond hair flowing on top of her bouncing breasts before the camera was flipped, finally showing the culprit –

“Atsumu?”

Atsumu gripped Yuki’s hips, shoving the phone between their bodies to show the pistoning of his cock in and out of her. There was no point denying it now. Both their faces were clear from the video, and if this got out…

Kuroo paused the video. “I’m not supposed to be showing you this, but the Prince hasn’t kept up to his end of the bargain, so I might as well ask for your help, too,” shutting the phone off, Kuroo rested his chin on his hands. “That night, he slept with an intoxicated actress and accidentally filmed themselves in the act. The Prince was drunk himself, made the mistake of posting that video online, and merely eighteen minutes later, any traces of their sex tape disappeared. Curious?”

The pieces of the puzzle finally fit.

“He called you to write about Iris and Rintaro to cover up his scandal.”

He snapped his fingers. “Bingo! And he succeeded, even if it was an impulsive decision on his side. Still, the Prince paid me handsomely because he was desperate, but he hasn’t offered me protection like he promised. I’m being hunted down by the Queen’s goons as we speak. Isn’t that why you offered to have me chauffeured here?”

You knew Kuroo prioritized his safety over money due to his current predicament. It was the reason why you risked sneaking out of the Palace and meeting him alone. His terms were clear – no witnesses, no guards, just you and him. You would keep to your word if it meant cornering Iris, but with Atsumu and that poor actress thrown into the mix… things just got more complicated.

Reaching out for Kuroo, you squeezed his hand. “You will be safe with me. I promise you this.”

“Thank you, Your Highness.”

You glanced at the iPhone between you two. It wasn’t that you didn’t trust Kuroo, but now that you know he’d do pretty much anything for money, you couldn’t risk it. It wasn’t just Atsumu’s reputation you were worried about – firstly, Rintaro would kill him if he found out it was all his doing. Second, that poor actress. She rose to fame in her career recently; this would ruin her image. If things took the wrong turn, who was to stop the Queen from forcing the two to get married if that tape was leaked? You couldn’t risk any cracks in your plan.

“Kuroo, may I have that phone?”

“It’s all yours if you throw in another five grand, Princess.”

“Consider it mine then.”

You and Kuroo left immediately after everything was settled. Just as promised, you would cover all his travel expenses. He would stay overseas to ensure his protection while he reached out to his connections to get all the information he needed, and once the article was ready, he’d publish it and disappear from the media. You covered that too – he was paid enough to live comfortably while in hiding. Now, you only needed to wait for everything to go according to plan.

First, the downfall of Iris. Next, her separation with Kiyoomi without having to let Rin ascend to the throne. And once she’s finally out of the picture, you’ll move on to your beloved husband. You’ll seduce him, have him fall completely to your whim, make him realize he could never have anyone like you again – and once he’s wrapped around your finger, you’ll plea for divorce.

A heart for a heart. A marriage for a marriage.

And if the odds play into your favor at the end of it all, there’s only one destination in mind: Kiyoomi’s farmhouse in Itachiyama.

You smiled to yourself – it would work out. You had a good feeling about it. Kiyoomi is supporting you and acting as your spy, Kita is backing you up on the grounds for divorce, and the nation has unwaveringly showed their support for you in these trying times. After all, you were just the poor, neglected wife. They expected you to spend your days crying and chasing after your deceitful husband, or to simply take it all – be silent and smile for the cameras.

Fuck what the Queen said. You won’t let her win.

Driving back to the Palace, you glanced at the time. It’s almost four in the morning, and soon, Her Majesty would be beginning her routine and expecting her daily calls from the Princes. Pressing harder on the gas, you sped up until a glint catches your eye. You glance at the rearview mirror, eyes widening at the fast approaching car from behind – a sleek, black car with the royal family’s crest on it. Shit. But – it couldn’t be the royal guards. You’d made sure no one would see you, and Airi had gotten your note to slip some sleeping pills into Rintaro’s tea so you could sneak out. Kiyoomi was informed of your plans, too, and he’d reassured he’d hold the fort down while you dealt with Kuroo.

Unless Iris had snooped through his phone and found everything out, then –

You wasted no time. You drove faster, reaching for the gun in your glove compartment as the roaring of the car behind you moved in closer and closer. Heart pounding in your chest, you speed-dialed Kiyoomi, praying to any God who was listening that he would pick up. It couldn’t be Iris, it shouldn’t be her. God forbid she does anything to provoke you into pulling the trigger.

Infidelity was one thing, but the murder of a royal family member was not something one could merely frown at. You didn’t want to be thrown into jail.

The call did not push through.

“Fuck!” you slammed your feet on the gas, watching as the car sped up even more until it was now next to you. You were in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by nothing but the mammoth of trees and a never ending road with darkness clouding the path. Just then, the windows rolled down, and you waited with bated breath as the face finally came into view.

Dark hair was the first thing you saw. The windows rolled down, down, down, until you were staring deep into your husband’s eyes. Brow cocked, he smirked, raising the phone to show he’d been calling you – that’s why you couldn’t call Kiyoomi. Suna was interrupting the line. Shit, how was he even awake right now?

Moreover, how did he find you?

You scowled to yourself. There was no outrunning him now. Suna was a ridiculously good driver, and there was no way you would ever use a gun on him. Steeling yourself, you forced yourself to regulate your breathing – your efforts boon when Suna suddenly pressed on forward until he was a feet away from you, maneuvered his car with the hood facing your direction, and then just – stopped.

Bracing your hands on the wheel, you forced all your energy to release its power on the slamming of your brakes. The skidding of your car squeaked for what seemed like minutes until finally – finally – your came to a halt. You were breathing hard, the back of your head aching from the impact of it crashing to the headrest. Meanwhile, Suna opened his car doors in slow, languid movements, the ends of his leather black trench coat hitting the pavement. With nothing but the headlights of his car illuminating him, he looked more like an omen of death than a Prince – dressed in a white turtleneck, black pants, and a long coat that highlighted his tall figure. He looked ominous, like he carried sorrow and pain with him – pain that he was about to make you feel.

Because you knew – of course you knew; you knew him better than anyone – that the placid smile he wore was anything but.

He slammed the car doors shut. Leaning against the hood, Suna’s gloved hands reached for a lighter in his pocket as he lit his cigarette, the stick hanging from between his lips. As soon as it flickered, he pocketed the lighter back, using two of his fingers to make a ‘come hither’ gesture at you.

Clearly, you spoke too early. The odds were not in your favor.

You exited your vehicle, hands gripping the edges of the door as you gathered to courage to take one more step towards him. It wasn’t that you were afraid – he wouldn’t hurt you, not really. But too much could be taken away from you in such little time – Kuroo couldn’t have gone far, and Atsumu’s sex tape was still in the backseat. You didn’t trust Rintaro to not ruin your plans. And you wouldn’t let him, not now when you were so close to victory.

One step, two steps, three steps – your heels clicked against the road as you walked, making sure to keep your chin pointed north. Hips swaying to the side, you finally ended up before him – right between his spread legs – your husband leaning back at the hood of his car whilst he sized you up, his free hand resting behind him.

“Funny seeing you here,” he drawled out, his voice thick with barely-held back rage. “They told me you were sleeping, but last time I checked, driving while falling asleep was illegal.”

“Cheating is also illegal.”

“Your comebacks are getting old, my love.”

Your head snapped to his direction. He hadn’t called you that in forever, not since you’d returned from your honeymoon. To have him call you that now, with such a deeply rich, smooth voice and sounding like he’d just woken up, all breathy and rasp – could it be possible to fuck someone to death?

“What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” tipping his head to the side, Suna’s lips slowly formed into a smirk. He took a drag of his cigarette, keeping his eyes on yours as he wrapped those lips around the stick – delicately and tantalizingly slow – just like how he did when he worshipped you in bed. You breathed out hard and attempted to take a step back, but he was having none of it. Swiftly, he’d tugged on your shirt to pull you close to him, causing you to stumble and fall into his lap. Above you, your husband’s chest rumbled with amusement.

“Look at you. Always so weak for me.”

He leaned in close, his scent of smoke and expensive woodsy perfume enveloping you. It’s addicting, just as he is, and your knees grew weak. Your legs slid down just as Suna wraps a strong arm around your waist to hitch you back in place, your core resting above his thigh. There, he spreads you open with just his knees, his warm lips suddenly attaching themselves to your neck. You gasped out, hands falling to his shoulders in a measly attempt to pull him away – and oh.

Suna had different plans in mind.

“You,” he breathed in your ear, his gloved fingers popping the button of your blouse one by one. “cannot get rid of me that easily, Your Highness. You can slip in as many drugs you want in my drinks, you can kill me a hundred times and fuck me over again and again, but don’t you dare forget,” growling lowly in your ear, your husband took your chin in his hands and forced you to gaze deep into his eyes – pools of hazel swirling with need and wrath – “Not even death can do us part. I’ll keep on looking for you even if you try to hide at the ends of the earth.”

#suna x reader #suna rintaro x reader #suna rintarou x reader #suna x you #kiyoomi x reader #kiyoomi x reader smut #kiyoomi smut #sakusa kiyoomi smut #kiyoomi x you smut #haikyuu smut #haikyuu x reader #suna x reader angst #kuroo x reader #kuroo tetsurou x reader #kuroo tetsuro x reader #haikyuu x reader smut #rintaro suna x reader #suna rintaro x you

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sleepynoons · 4 months ago

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ALL I WANT FOR CHRISTMAS IS YOU BY MARIAH CAREY– neuvillette (genshin) x afab!f!reader, nsfw / 18+

genre – fluff, smut word count – ~3,100 warnings – age gap, lingerie, oral (receiving), fingering synopsis – it's your first winter with neuvillette, and where you grew up, it's customary to celebrate by exchanging presents, eating delicious food, and spending quality time with loved ones. even though neuvillette is overwhelmed with work at the moment, you're excited to surprise him.

Neuvillette is known for his lack of personal greed, with the exception of his indisputable particular taste for certain flavors of water. Because of his asceticism, intentional or not, it had been difficult for the two of you to enter the relationship you now are in, but with the incredible aid and full support of the Melusines, the Chief Justice finally distinguished your feelings of likeness separate from others of friendliness and sociability.

To his end, though, you are known for your intensity, speech sharp with judgment, gaze watchful and vigilant, pen always in hand, scribbling away at a new manuscript or op-ed for The Steambird. Originating from Sumeru, you had been well aware of the turmoil brewing within the Akademiya, and managed to flee, even with such knowledge, to Fontaine. Here, you have been able to continue your studies from where you left off, as well as pursue your own endeavors in writing, which had long been restricted when you were a student. In fact, it was precisely due to one of your well-received yet controversial pieces in the newspaper that had landed you an opportunity to interview Neuvillette and ask him questions on questions regarding his thoughts on governance, the limitations of rule and government, and checks and balances.

You intended it to be a one-off instance, fully knowing that the Chief Justice is incredibly busy. However, you had a bad habit of losing track of time, and he is more than happy to speak in length, and your first conversation did not end on a fulfilling thought. As a result, for several months on end, you would spend two hours every three weeks with Neuvillette, which, by then, it was more than obvious you had developed intimate feelings for him.

Of course, even though you two are now a couple, the dynamics of your schedule have not differed by much. Neuvillette still has a limited amount of time to see you, though it is permissible for you to make more spontaneous visits to his office, if you are so inclined. But being the studious writer that you are, you still have not acted upon this privilege yet.

“You really should take up more of his time!”

You squint your eyes over the rim of the teacup that you are sipping from, taking several moments to think of a proper response. A part of you is still ruminating over the last draft of your manuscript, something you have been losing sleep over to make it in time for the deadline for The Streambird’s short story contest at the end of the month, but you know you should be more focused on the conversation at hand. After all, while Miss Furina is beloved by the people and is commonly seen out and about, it is still rare for her to request a private audience with someone as little of importance socially, politically, economically as you are.

“Miss Furina, I’m not sure I follow?” is the best you can manage. You take another sip as the celebrity huffs in disappointment.

“How trite! It has been so long since my last visit to the Palais Mermonia, yet even I’ve been made aware of Neuvillette’s situation! Please tell me you at least know of that!”

You open your mouth to release a hum of agreement. “Yes,” you say, “though I am not sure what his condition has to do with his schedule? Wouldn’t it be more advisable for him to go rest, instead of having me bother him?”

“You are incredibly dull, my friend.”

You nod slowly, noting in your head that she is sassier than she lets on, easily overpowered by her stage presence and bright smile. Regardless, you are still not sure if you ae thinking on the same lines as she is.

Miss Furina gives you a few more seconds to think on your own, but seeing the lack of any recognition or realization on your face, she sighs before flinging three sugar cubes into her tea with exasperated movements. She then grumbles, “Neuvillette does not rest until the Melusines kowtow and beg. Could you not at least help save them some face and demand of him to rest a day or two?”

You watch as the sugar begins to dissolve into the tea. When instructed as such, there really is no harm in doing so. You nod again, and Furina yelps with delight, clapping her hands in a circle.

“I try my best to not get involved in his affairs anymore, but perhaps this is just my way of slowly repaying his efforts. Anyway, I need to carry on with the rest of my day. Good luck, friend, and cheers to your union!”

You realize you did not ask the more glaring questions of this conversation. You are not sure how Miss Furina knows of your relationship with the Chief Justice in the first place, or why you are the one settling the bill for lunch. You shrug as you wipe at your mouth with a tissue, thinking of ways to convince your partner on stepping away from his impending cases for at least a few hours.

The solution comes quite easily, frankly speaking. In part of your intense and serious attitude, you are also associated as being very independent, so when you send a note to Neuvillette requesting his assistance later in the evening, he replies immediately in complete compliance. That way, you did not have to risk interrupting him in the midst of his work, while still satisfying Miss Furina’s plea.

In reality, though, you only got lucky because you had happened to remember today’s date. You do not quite recall how you thought of it – it could have been a street sign or a poster that you spotted from your periphery –, but the whole point is that this day used to be very important to you as you grew up. Though you are not upset or even the slightest bit nostalgic, you think it is the perfect excuse to save your partner from undue stress and cacophony.

Thus, you make your way to several shops before returning home with two small boxes and a bag in your hands. There are a few more hours before Neuvillette is to arrive, so you shuffle all of the scattered loose leaf paper into haphazard stacks and stuff your ballpoint pens into your drawers to make room on your desk to wrap the presents you bought.

–

When your partner comes, it is already dark, overcast with dense clouds that pour incessantly. He knocks at your door just as you are stoking the flames in your fireplace, and you pace over to let him in.

You open the door to a very concerned Chief Justice.

“Are you alright?” are his first words.

You cannot help but feel guilty at deceiving your partner.

You place a hand on his arm, which he returns with the same gesture, and you rub soothing circles into the fabric of his coat. “Yes, I managed to figure it out.”

“Are you sure you don’t need me to revise your draft? I am more than willing to, might you think my input may be necessary.”

With gentle tugs, you lead him to your rounded dining table for two, where there are already steaming mugs of tea settling on their matching saucers, and the two of you take your usual seats across from each other.

You feel no need to keep up your lie. “My sincere apologies, Neuvillette, but there’s actually no manuscript you need to help with. The Melusines had specifically asked of me to find a way to extract you from your work, lest you become glued to your chair.” You leave out any mentions of Miss Furina out of respect for her privacy.

“Ah, I see.”

You observe his face, careful for even the faintest of shifts or twitches to anticipate his reactions. But Neuvillette’s impartiality should never be underestimated, and his expression does not change at all.

“Are you upset?” you ask.

He glances at you, having previously been staring into his cup. “Uh, no, I… I suppose I have been dealing with a torrent of work. I apologize for having concerned all of you.”

You set your hands out, and Neuvillette holds them in his palms. You admire the feel of his gloves against your bare skin and watch as he thumbs over your calloused fingers.

You finally manage to hum, “No worries. Though, I have a few things I want to give you, so your visit’s not entirely a waste.”

His grip tightens. “It is never a waste. Forgive me, for neglecting us.”

You chuckle before slipping your hands out of his hold, and patter over to the wrapped presents that sit on the floor to the side of the fireplace.

“Here,” you say, as you set the gifts in front of him.

“What occasion are these for?” he asks, eyes glimmering with fascination. You have always loved Neuvillette’s eyes. While his face may be as set as stone, at times, you can tell fragments of his thoughts by the color and brightness in his eyes.

You have not told him much about your upbringing, and you do not feel inclined to dwell on it tonight either. So, in the briefest way possible, you explain, “When I was growing up, every year on this day, the community I was a part of would exchange gifts. There was also a large feast, with plenty to eat and drink.” You give a light shrug before finishing, “I just thought it would be nice to share a bit of my past with you.”

“I understand,” he replies, eyes and tone soft and gentle. “I’m afraid your presents will have to wait for next year.”

You know time means nothing to him, but his words still melt the rough, unromantic edges within you. You smile to yourself as you watch him unwrap the pen and bejeweled brooch you had bought him. Finally, when he moves onto the bag, you laugh as you see him tear away his gaze before shakily handing you the box from inside.

“This, um, seems to be yours.”

You release an intrigued noise before nudging the box back toward him. “It is still a present for you.”

“How so?” Neuvillette’s cheeks and ears are tinged with a warm red, and you are sure it is not solely because of the fire.

You get up from your chair, round over to his side, and stand beside him. “I forgot to mention,” you tease, “but this day’s particularly special for couples. They celebrate together, spend time together, and… need I say more?”

You and Neuvillette have slept together before, though the number does not exceed single digits despite the two of you having been together for a little less than a year. Such occurrences are usually a result of your or his feverish desires exceeding a certain boiling point, and you suppose this time, you are the insatiable one.

“Look inside,” you instruct with a flick of your chin. “Do you like it?”

Folded neatly inside the box is a red satin tank top and sleep shorts. The color shines brilliantly under the flickering of the flames, and you appreciate the contrast of it against the purple and indigo of Neuvillette’s eyes.

“Yes, o-of course. I’m sure it suits you well,” he mumbles, blush flushing deeper and deeper with every passing second.

You pat his shoulder. “Perfect. I’ll change in the bathroom, so wait for me on the bed.”

If it was really up to you, you would not even change in a separate room. But, for the sake of your easily flustered partner, you show him some mercy and grant him no more than two minutes of reprieve. As Neuvillette said, the set does fit you, in ways other than just size, and you are glad you decided to go the extra length to splurge on lingerie, as it is also a treat for yourself.

When you enter your bedroom, barely concealing the skip in your step, you see Neuvillette seated on the corner of your bed, unmoving. You doubt he has barely even breathed since you left him alone.

“Neuvillette?”

His head shoots up at your call of his name, but he fails to respond. His eyes, which were staring holes into the ground a mere second ago, are now drinking in the sight of you in your new clothes. They linger at the exposure of your neck and collarbones, the outline of your breasts, the flare of the top around your waist, and the contrast of the shorts’ red sheen against the suppleness of your thighs. You find yourself almost feeling shy at his undivided attention, and you rock on your feet, waiting for him to make a move.

Neuvillette only breaks out of his reverie once he has looked over your entirety. “You look mesmerizing,” he praises. He makes it sound like a truth, a new law he has amended into Fontaine’s books, something everyone should know and accept by now. It is your turn to shudder and lose your composure at his words, so you do not even try to respond, and instead, walk over to stand in front of him.

However, he quickly switches your positions, gliding you over to sit and him kneeling between your knees. He presses fleeting kisses on the inners of your knees, before slowly traversing up the length of your right thigh, nuzzling and pressing and licking. You squirm as he sucks on your skin, and gasp at every mark he leaves.

It is unbelievable, you think. Back in Sumeru, you were constantly teased, others mocking and prophesying that you will forever spend this special day alone. Yet, you are grown now, and being lavished and indulged by another, by your lover.

You try your best not to muss Neuvillette’s hair, so you clutch onto his shoulders. Digging your fingernails into the white silk of his shirt, you barely contain your whimpers as your partner begins to approach the heat emanating between your legs. You jump once you feel him press the pad of a finger against your hole, and cannot help but moan as he kisses your clit, the satin of the shorts doing nothing to dull the sensations.

Though Neuvillette’s actions are restrained, limited to only kitten licks and playful flicks with his fingertip, your pleasure compounds at an exceptional rate. By the time he lifts you up to slide your shorts off, you have already stained much of the fabric and are continuing to leak, wetness dripping down your inner thighs and the bottom of your ass.

“Absolutely decadent,” he mumbles, gazing with much adoration and intensity at the way your legs shake and your clit trembles.

Before you can say anything, he takes your breath away as his lips close around your sensitive bud. He taps and laves his tongue against the hood, pressure just enough to choke you from pleasurable stimulation. His hands are wrapped tightly around your thighs, to hold them in place, as well as bite his nails into your skin, although you have no idea when he took his gloves off.

“Neuvillette,” you breathe out. He hums around your clit with a more forceful suck, and you reel over, hunching over his head, hands sliding down his back and crumping his shirt within your grasp. Your partner understands your reaction as a subconscious plea to move on, and so, he licks his way down to your hole. He can feel it open and close around nothing, and it is only then that he is made aware of how painfully hard he is.

You grit out, “More – please.”

He knows he cannot further deny you. He laps at your entrance, entranced by your taste, before finally pushing his tongue in.

You are warm, sweet, incredibly tight. He pulls back, draws a large breath, and dives back in, pushing himself as far in as he can. Since the very beginning, you have been very sensitive, always reacting to even the lightest and briefest of touches, so Neuvillette knows your body must be overwhelmed by everything he is doing to you. He knows this is the case when he leans back on his heels for a quick rest, and sees your face, sweat tracing your hairline and eyes glazed over. For some reason, Neuvillette finds himself growing even larger, even harder, at the sight, and he distracts himself by returning to his place between your legs.

This time, he goes faster, accompanying his tonguing with circles of his finger around your clit. He can also hear you muffling your noises with the back of your hand.

“Please, let me hear you,” he says, between movements of his mouth and hand. “I need to know that you are feeling good.”

You are so used to practicing restraint and discipline, so you hesitate at first. But when Neuvillette presses your clit in that exact way you like and tongues you so deeply, you moan out loud, giving in regardless of your own wishes. And because he is incredible, precise, with analyzing your needs, he keeps doing it, giving you what you crave and desire over and over and over again, until you are brought over the edge.

Neuvillette groans as your hole flutters around his tongue, more of your taste filling his mouth, and he drinks in whatever he can. At this point, you are holding his head against your body, almost bucking your hips to close whatever distance is left, so that you can extend your high.

By the time the two of you peel apart from each other, you are about to unzip his pants before you notice a stain. You look at Neuvillette’s face, only to find him with a flushed, euphoric expression, and you feel surprise and delight wash over you.

“We will continue tomorrow morning, if that is alright with you,” he says, a little out of breath. You, too, are still heaving, so you nod in agreement.

Back at home, this day was spent with several people under a clear night. You would all be gossiping, dancing, discussing, and by the end of it, you would exchange gifts, though for most of it, you were left to your own devices, reading storybooks in whatever dimly lit corner you could find. This time around, though it is raining outside and there is no one else besides you and Neuvillette, you think this is the best celebration you could ever have. You would not wish for anything else, as long as you have him.

winter event masterlist

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin fluff #genshin smut #neuvillette #genshin impact neuvillette #genshin neuvillette #neuvillette genshin #neuvillette genshin impact #neuvillette x reader #neuvillette fluff #neuvillette smut #carrot cake!#house of solis occasum #nereids' realm

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aryas-faces · 8 months ago

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Debunking Popular Team Black Arguments

“Alicent abused Rhaenyra!”

Except nothing in the book supports this. In fact, Alicent adored Rhaenyra at first. She called her daughter, asks, “Criston protects the princess, but who protects the princess from Criston?” And then the only reason, per the book, there started to be conflict between them is because Alicent wanted Aegon to be Heir, and for herself to be the first Lady of the Seven Kingdoms. And even than, it doesn’t say Alicent treated Rhaenyra poorly, just that there was tension between them

And in fact, there is more textual evidence that Viserys abused Aegon than there is for Alicent abusing Rhaenyra. Let’s look at the only canonical time Viserys addresses Aegon directly:

“The boy is Alicent’s own blood. She wants him on the throne.”

This is in response to Alicent’s proposal to bind Aegon and Rhaenyra together in marriage and let them rule together. So he not only dehumanizes Aegon by calling him Alicent’s blood (not even son), but also distances himself from acknowledging Aegon as his own child as well

And than there is the only time they directly interact:

Right after Aemond loses his eye, he says that Aegon was the one who told him Rhaenyra’s kids were bastards. Aegon said everyone knows. And so in response to this, “No eyes would be put out (Viserys) decreed…. But should anyone-‘Man or woman or child, noble or common or royal’- mocks his grandsons as ‘Strongs’ again, their tongues would be pulled out with hot pincers.” Viserys is indirectly threatening Aegon here. This is in response to learning that Aegon “lied” to Aemond about Rhaenyra’s sons, of course it’s a threat

And of course, Aegon’s description says he has sullen eyes and pouty lips, aka, he is consistently sad. Why? Probably because his father hates him

“Alicent tormented Rhaenyra and her kids!”

Calling obvious bastards bastards isn’t torment, and it’s actually treason on Rhaenyra’s part to pass them off as Heirs to Driftmark

“Aegon sexually assaults the maids!”

This is actually a hard one because you can’t actually disprove this one. There is the line about pinching and fondling the maids. However, neither word, pinching or fondling, is inherently sexual, so you can also easily read it as him being a Flirt with the maids. Especially because when he is caught with having sex, the book specifically says she is well cared for. He is being caring to a common girl he is sleeping with as a royal in medieval times. That truly speaks to his character

“Aegon is a pedophile, Eustace doesn’t deny her age!”

Eustace’s account isn’t written in response to Mushroom. It is written independently. And the book calls this rumor Mushroom being Mushroom, and then also in response says the girl is well cared for. And The Princess and the Queen, which has no sources, matches Eustace’s version, as well not saying anywhere in the text that girl was 12

“The only reason the Greens usurped her is because she’s a woman!”

Uh no. As they say in the Green Council, the throne by all rights and laws is Aegon’s. Yes, the laws are sexist, but instead of changing them, Viserys sees Rhaenyra as the exception not the rule. The king isn’t above the law. If he wanted Rhaenyra to be heir, he should’ve changed the law. And Otto, Alicent, and Criston ALL cite her cruelty and the fact she would kill Aegon to secure her claim as to why they do this

“Rhaenyra only became cruel when her children started dying!”

Not true. Before any of her kids die, she demands Aemond be tortured for saying the truth about her children, feeds Vaemond to Syrax for the same, marries Daemon shortly after their spouses die, commits treason by passing bastards as Heirs to Driftmark. Rhaenyra is cruel long before any of her children die

“Rhaenyra wouldn’t kill Aegon, it’s a manipulation!”

Why? Just because she offers to spare him? She also says the only reason is because she doesn’t want to be a kinslayer as that would make HER look bad. It’s not out of love or mercy, it’s out of fear of kinslaying. And it doesn’t take much to convince her out of it. Aegon’s peace terms reach her, and her response is, “I will have my throne or I will have his head.” So no. Aegon was ALWAYS in danger of being killed by her

“Rhaenyra is meant to be the hero and Aegon the villain!”

Then why is Rhaenyra cut by the throne while Aegon isn’t? Then why is Rhaenyra motivated by power, while Aegon is by love for his family? Why does Rhaenyra’s cruelty turn her council against her, while Aegon’s is loyal until the end? Why does, while Rhaenyra loses King’s Landing because of her cruelty, Aegon win Dragonstone by turning the Blacks there as well as the smallfolk to his side through charisma ALONE. Why is Rhaenyra’s death written as the villain finally dying, while Aegon’s reign after is described as bittersweet because he defeated her but would never know peace or joy again. Why would Aegon’s death be avenged, and also implied to be suicide? And finally, why would Rhaenyra be forever known with Female Meagor, while Aegon forever known as the True King?

“The book is Green/Maester propaganda/biased against Rhaenyra!”

Be so for real right now. Why would George write a book full of lies? He makes it very clear who is lying and when. The unreliable narrators aren’t a license to pick and choose what you believe. And you genuinely believe most of what’s in this book is a lie, than you have 0 media literacy

#house of the dragon #team green #aegon ii targaryen #anti team black #alicent hightower #anti rhaenyra targaryen #anti hotd #a song of ice and fire

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gaywineauntsstuff · 2 months ago

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Don't know if you know this but there was a tiktok about these two friends (one boy the other a girl) who went to a hotel in France and absolutely as soon as they came in was a couple pack, I mean like rose petals, towel shaped swans and like champagne bottle with ice romance shit 😭

And ofc the friends the moment saw that ended up laughing so much and honestly this just reminded me of Donna and dick so much for some reason

I have not seen it (please send it to me)

However I can see it

In my minds eye

Donna books the hotel except for once she’s the more sleep deprived one bc Dick fell asleep and is currently napping across her lap. And all the titans follow the cat rule for Nightwing AKA: IF THE BABY SLEEPS ON YOUR LAP IT IS NOW ILLEGAL TO MOVE.

So she’s tryna book a hotel trip on her shitty burner phone since her last real phone blew up (long story but just know it was Roy’s fault) very carefully bc bats will wake up if your heart rate accelerates by 1 beat per minute

And she accidentally books a honeymoon suite

And doesn’t think anymore of it bc she is now going to sleep for a month.

The they go on this slay lil trip to Paris bc Donna and him do a solo field trip once a year added on to the yearly titans field trip. Unlike the titans field trip this has no set it, it’s done when either Donna feels unstable in her identity or Bruce pushed Dick too hard for bludhaven to feel like a safe distance to recenter himself.

So they get there and no one bats (hehe) an eye, they’re both exhausted from the flight and everything end of the world-y that happened before but it’s a nice hotel near the center of Paris and they both wanna knock out

And they walk in and see

Rose petals

Swans kissing

Bottles of champagne with a “for the happy couple”

And they both fuckinf lose it on the floor laughing for a good 10 mins

And then they realize they 100% have to see it through bc not only is this a couples suite Nono this is couples resort.

And so they get into character and instead of goofing off in public and cuddling up to cancel touch starvation in their room. They simply pretend they’re 14 again and remain attached at the hip the whole time.

Cheek kisses, pet names the whole shebang

And they keep getting compliments like “oh my god you guys talk like you’ve know each other your whole lives”

“This is what marrying your best friend looks like”

And so on

They get so much positive reinforcement that Donna and Dick end up in an old argument

Donna: this was nice

Dick: yeah it was

Donna: we should do it again

Dick snorting: what like fake being a couple and stay and an outrageously expensive hotel and eat out weight in butter

Donna: yes except we can’t fake it again we have to do it for real next time or it would be boring

Dick: you’re asking me to marry you

Donna: I’m asking you to marry me

Dick sighing: I will not abandon Bruce and or Gotham if we get married

Donna: WHY NOT?

Dick: HES MY DAD

Donna: HES AN ASSHOLE

Dick: Donna-

#dick grayson #donna troy #the twins #besties #Roy Harper falls for both of them and they get platonically married to each other #I love them #nightwing #Troia

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lezzballer · 11 months ago

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Diana Taurasi party headcanons

(UConn era)

∞ Partying is not Diana's default setting. She will not go out and party unless you invite her out. But once you invite her out, you're unleashing an unlimited amount of chaos into the world

∞ Diana is elite at partying. She puts the same energy, enthusiasm, and focus into partying as she puts into basketball. If she's going to take time away from basketball to party, then she wants to be efficient with it. She wants to get the most partying out of every single second

∞ If you go to a party with Diana, she won't leave your side. She'll bring you along with her on all her adventures and introduce you to everyone she knows and doesn't know

∞ Diana makes it her mission to find every loner at the party and make them smile. She'll find the most awkward person at the entire party and make them her new friend for the night

∞ Diana is the drunk girl in the bathroom who becomes best friends with every random woman there

∞ Even while hammered, she's still better than 99% of people at most games and sports. If anyone puts money down on beer pong or pool, that money is hers. But cards are different. She loves playing cards and she's terrible at it. And she'll lose all the money she won playing beer pong and pool after a few card games. So she ends the night with zero net profit

∞ Diana is always up for a round of drunk wrestling

∞ Diana is tone deaf and can't remember any lyrics to any songs but she will still attempt karaoke anyway

∞ Diana's default dance move is twerking. She finds a way to rub her ass on someone at all times. If there's a dance circle, she's probably crip walking in the middle of it. It's also impossible to stop Diana from stripping off her shirt and dancing on the counter at house parties

∞ Diana is competitive about drinking and competitive about smoking. She gets so drunk and high that you need to make sure she doesn't fall down a flight of stairs

∞ In her mind, since you invited her to the party, you're responsible for taking care of her. She will poison herself and then place her life in your hands. You get the sense that she does this on purpose as some kind of toxic trust ritual. If anyone else in your life did this, it wouldn't be worth it and you wouldn't put up with it. But with Diana, it's impossible to say no to her sweet nature and funny banter. And that's why you end up holding her hair back while she pukes

∞ The upside to this toxic trust ritual is that you can talk to Diana about absolutely anything. Usually, the fall-down drunk chick is not the person you should go to for advice. But Diana is the exception to that rule. She's a great listener and she really cares about what you're going through

∞ Diana has a poor sense of direction and gets lost easily while sober. And while drunk, it's about 100 times worse. But she has a positive attitude about being lost and everything usually ends up okay. She relies on friends like you to make sure she doesn't end up dead in a ditch somewhere

∞ Diana can party till 2am and still get up early the next day for training and practice. It works out fine because she just sleeps through class

∞ Diana definitely has a binge drinking problem. But since she's extremely successful in life, no one is that worried about it. And she doesn't think she has a problem because she parties less than her sister. And she only goes to parties when people invite her. So how bad could her problem even be? Well, it's bad

#diana taurasi #uconn huskies #wbb #ncaa women’s basketball #my headcanons #wbb x reader #Diana Taurasi x reader #Diana Taurasi headcanons #Diana Taurasi imagine #Diana Taurasi fluff

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gravity-between-us · 19 days ago

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Gravity Between Us

Chapter 15: Shattered Light

Summary: Caleb and I have known each other for as long as I can remember. We were once childhood friends, our bond as natural as the stars in the sky. But now, everything has changed. What used to feel like a safe, familiar orbit between us now pulses with unspoken desire.

Our friendship is no longer enough to keep the tension at bay, and the distance between us feels unbearable. Secrets, lies, and unhealed wounds stand in our way. I don’t know if we can survive this new gravity pulling us together... but I can’t keep pretending I don’t want to try.

Pairing: Female! MC x Caleb

Spoilers: Spoilers for Caleb's Myth's, as well as memories. Read at your own risk for these. Lore spoilers.

WARNINGS:

Unlikely to be completely canon. The other love interests will not be likely to appear in this fic.

MC is named. MC is socially awkward. MC can be depressed at times.

Very? Slow Burn.

Very explicit smut (Chapter 12 onward): PiV/oral (male and female receiving)/anal sex. Fingering. First time. Pet names (angel, babe, baby, pip-squeak). Kinks: Praise, breeding, creampie, light dom/sub. Rough. Some consensual degradation talk (MC is into it). Probably many, many more that I am forgetting to name. If you see one that should be listed that isn't, feel free to let me know. (MC is a repressed deviant, and so is Caleb.)

Awkward blend of darker moments, angst, fluff, and humour.

Drinking. Questionable life decisions. MC spirals.

Protective Caleb. Both MC and Caleb are a little obsessive and overly protective of each other, which could be considered an unhealthy relationship.

We will revisit memory scenes, but they will be different from the memories in-game.

As proofread as I can get it, but not beta read, so probably some mistakes.

Limited plot - most focus is just on their relationship and interactions.

More warnings could be applied, but as a general rule of thumb, please read at your own risk and do not continue if you find the content triggering.

I hear him before I see him. The soft, rhythmic thud of palms meeting floor, the sharp exhale of effort, the subtle grunt that sounds entirely too sinful for this early in the morning. I rub the sleep from my eyes, shuffle toward the sound like a moth to a half-naked flame, and peer around the corner.

There he is.

Shirtless and glowing like the sun itself decided to try out being a man. Push-ups. Slow, steady, heroic ones. Muscles flexing in perfect harmony. I swear I hear a choir of angels harmonizing in the distance.

I lean against the wall, sipping my coffee. He’s like a mythological warrior training for his next quest—except instead of fighting dragons, he’s fighting my will to behave.

Eventually, I wander over, and, because my love language is annoying my unjustly handsome boyfriend, I casually plop myself on top of his back like a satisfied goblin claiming her dragon’s hoard.

He dips slightly but keeps going like I’m just a very affectionate weighted vest.

“Morning,” I greet, scrolling through my phone like I’m not currently disrupting his centre of gravity. “Did you know snails can sleep for three years straight?”

“Mm,” he grunts, clearly fighting a smile. “Jealous?”

I scroll again. “Here’s a fun one: wombat poop is cube-shaped. I feel like that would be a choking hazard for predators and also just a very aggressive way to poop.”

He chuckles under his breath. One crack. One glorious crack.

“Did you know there’s a kind of clam called a geoduck that lives for 150 years and looks like a literal penis? Google it. I’ll wait.”

He exhales sharply through his nose, his form starting to wobble, and I can feel the internal screaming.

“Oh, and some snakes have two penises. Two. A biological ‘buy one, get one’ situation. Imagine the group chats.”

That does it. He loses it—his arms give out, and we collapse to the floor in a heap. I drape myself over his back like I’ve just taken down the final boss.

“Victory!” I cry dramatically. “You have been bested by my encyclopedic knowledge of animal weirdness and general chaos.”

He rolls over slightly so he can look at me, breathless and half-laughing. “How do you know any of this?”

“I’m a well-rounded individual,” I reply proudly, poking his cheek. “Also, I once fell into a Wikipedia hole at 2 a.m. and emerged as a new, terrifying person.”

Caleb smiles—one of those soft, stupid smiles that makes my insides feel like a melting marshmallow.

“You’re a nuisance.”

“Deep down, you like your mornings spiced with unhinged animal facts and unsolicited clam images,” I declare, putting on my most angelic smile and batting my lashes.

He reaches out and brushes a strand of hair from my face. “No,” he coos softly, “I love ‘em.”

And just like that, my heart betrays me again. Stupid, fluttery thing that it has become.

Caleb rests his head against the floor. “You gonna let me finish my workout now, gremlin?”

I grumble dramatically, roll off his back like a sack of potatoes, and crawl toward my abandoned mug of coffee. “Ugh. Fine. Be boring.”

Settling cross-legged on the floor, I sip and watch as he launches back into his routine—this time switching between standard push-ups, one-armed ones, and something that looks like it violates the laws of physics and shoulder sockets.

I’m running on an obscene amount of energy for this early in the morning, but I have a sneaking suspicion that’s because I passed out the moment my body hit the couch last night. Like a phone that reached 1% battery and just gave up.

I squint at him, piecing it together. “Wait… did you carry me to bed last night?”

“Yup,” he says, still mid-rep.

A pause.

“Did you also undress me?”

That gets him. He falters for half a second, arms dipping before he catches himself. “Should I not have? You were still in jeans, pip-squeak.”

I suck in a dramatic breath. “How dare you.”

Caleb immediately pushes up to a kneeling position, hands raised in surrender. “Wait—hold on. Are you actually mad? I just—your jeans had rivets. That’s cruel and unusual sleeping conditions.”

“Oh no,” I exclaim, rising to my feet, voice trembling with fake offence. “You’ve shattered my innocence, Caleb. You buttoned down my sins.”

“Inara—” He’s visibly panicking under the weight of my Oscar-worthy performance.

“I can’t believe you’d treat me like that while I was unconscious!” I cry, turning on my heel like I’m storming off.

He scrambles to his feet. “Wait, seriously, let’s talk about this—”

“How would you feel,” I spin on him, pointing dramatically, “if I undressed you while you were passed out?”

He shrugs like it’s nothing. “Honestly? Go ahead. You’ve seen everythin’ by now.”

“Oh?” I grin, mischief blooming in my chest. “So you wouldn’t mind?”

“I literally just said—”

Before he can finish, I lunge forward and yank his workout shorts down in one swift motion.

“HEY—!” He squawks, startled, and I cackle, bolting down the hallway.

“INARA!” Caleb’s voice ricochets off the walls, half laughter, half scandalized disbelief.

I’m already halfway down the hall, shrieking with laughter as I skid around the corner into the bedroom like a cat on hardwood.

“You’re dead, pip-squeak!”

“You undressed me first!” I shout back, launching myself onto the bed and scrambling over it like I’m scaling a mountain to freedom.

“That was mercy! You were wearing denim to bed! I didn’t wanna wake you!”

He’s fast, but I’ve got the advantage of chaotic energy and bad decision-making on my side. I vault off the far end of the bed, barely dodging his grabby hands, and sprint through the open door to the gym.

He nearly catches me there, but I duck just in time, limboing under his arm like I’m in a drunken dance competition. “Too slow!”

I dive between the weight bench and the treadmill like a woman possessed, knocking over a foam roller in my escape. He’s right behind me, footsteps thunderous, determination blazing in his eyes.

Honestly? I’m a little bit, or a lot, turned on right now.

I burst out the back door and careen into the yard. The sun is way too bright.

“Stop runnin’!” Caleb yells from behind me. “Be an adult and accept the consequences of your actions!”

“Never!” I holler, slipping around a lawn chair like it’s a race car track. “I THRIVE IN IMMATURE CHAOS!”

I double back toward the porch, heart hammering, lungs burning, and just when I think I might actually win this—

Strong arms wrap around my waist and lift me off the ground like I weigh nothing at all.

“NOOO!” I shriek, kicking my feet wildly as he spins me in the air.

“YES,” Caleb growls, triumphant. “You’re caught, pip-squeak. Justice has been served.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

He sets me down slowly, arms still around me, and leans close to my ear. “Try me.”

“…You’re not gonna pants me in retaliation, are you?” I ask, half-laughing, half-terrified.

He hums, mock thoughtful. “Tempting.”

“Caleb, if you strip me on this lawn I swear to every star in the sky—”

He kisses my cheek. “Relax. Your punishment? Hmmm, I’m makin’ you carry in the groceries later.”

I groan, flopping dramatically against his chest. “You monster.”

“I learned from the best.”

Touché.

The grocery store is a battlefield. Not the fun, dramatic kind with laser guns and space debris—no.

This is the modern hellscape of too-narrow aisles, screaming toddlers, carts parked like someone’s playing retail Tetris, and people standing in the middle of the cereal section like they’re contemplating the meaning of life through the lens of bran flakes.

Somehow, I have volunteered as tribute.

Caleb walks beside me, perfectly relaxed. One hand in mine, the other pushing the cart like a domestic god. I, on the other hand, am staring at my shoes like they’ve suddenly become the centre of all human innovation.

If I don’t look at anyone, no one can look at me. That’s the rule. That’s science.

"You doin' okay, pip-squeak?" Caleb checks.

“Yeah,” I mutter. “Just trying not to accidentally make eye contact with someone and get roped into some weird pyramid scheme about essential oils or homemade soap.”

He chuckles. “You’d be the worst recruit.”

“I would,” I agree. “I’d smile and nod while secretly Googling if I could get away with selling essential oils by just pouring out half a bottle of dish soap and calling it ‘Lavender-infused Dream Serum.’”

We turn into the produce section, which is at least slightly less apocalyptic. Caleb expertly places me in front of him so he’s my human shield against rogue carts and spatially unaware strangers.

It’s kind of adorable how seriously he takes it. Like he’s expecting someone to jump out from behind the kale with a shopping list and a vendetta.

I whisper, “I think that old lady with the apples has murder in her eyes.”

Caleb doesn’t even flinch. “Don’t worry. I’ve fought off worse. Remember that time you tried to parallel park?”

“Rude,” I mumble, but I’m grinning, tension bleeding out of my shoulders as we move through the quieter section of the store.

He steers me like a pro, taking us through the less crowded aisles like he’s studied the terrain and prepared a full tactical plan. Which he probably has. This man could pilot a ship through a meteor storm—grocery shopping is child’s play.

“Want me to handle the baking aisle on my own?” He teases, nudging me gently with his elbow. “I know it’s your personal boss level.”

“It’s too narrow,” I sigh dramatically. “There’s nowhere to run. The carts block every escape route, and the flour bags are always judging me.”

He snorts. “They are a smug bunch.”

“I just came here to buy snacks, not face my deepest fears.”

“You’re doing great,” he murmurs, brushing his thumb across the back of my hand. “Very brave. Ten out of ten grocery warrior.”

“I want that on a t-shirt.”

“I’ll print one the second we’re home.”

Most people don’t spiral into existential dread when they reach for a can of soup. Caleb never makes me feel silly for it. He just quietly keeps me safe in the produce warzone, holding my hand like it’s the only thing anchoring me to Earth.

Freedom tastes like slightly overpriced iced coffee and the blessed silence of a car door closing behind me.

After the horror show that is the Skyhaven grocery store—and a few more errands that blur into a carousel of parking lots, scanners that do not beep, and one very enthusiastic old man trying to sell Caleb a juicer—we finally head back to the only place I feel truly safe these days: the invisible fortress nestled in the middle of nowhere, lovingly hidden away by whatever technological wizardry Caleb has whipped up.

As soon as we step inside, I kick off my shoes and prepare to collapse into the couch like a Victorian maiden with a weak constitution.

But Caleb? Caleb is a man of principles.

“Nope,” he insists, plucking the iced coffee from my hand like I’ve broken some sort of sacred code. “You said you’d help carry the groceries. Come on, grocery warrior. Let’s see those battlefield skills.”

“I hate you,” I mutter, but drag myself back outside like a martyr with three degrees of social exhaustion and a tragic backstory.

I carry the bags that crinkle and rustle and smell like garlic and dignity. Caleb, meanwhile, walks beside me, smug as hell. Every time I reach for something heavier, he watches. Not helps. Just watches, arms crossed, like he’s judging an Olympic event.

By the time I get to the case of water bottles, I pause, sigh dramatically, and fix him with a squint. “You’re the one with the robot arm. How much can that thing lift, anyway? Does it have hydraulics, or is it just for show?”

His brows shoot up, like I’ve surprised him. Good. I meant to.

It’s the first time I’ve brought it up since… well, since I saw it. I do it casually, like I’m asking about the weather, because I want him to know I’m not tiptoeing around it. I see him. The good, the bad, the… uh, metal, and I’m not going anywhere.

He smirks, leaning on the doorframe. “It’s pretty strong.”

“Strong enough to do pull-ups on?”

He huffs out a laugh. “Could you do pull-ups at all?”

I gasp. “Excuse you.”

“Excuse me?” he echoes, openly grinning now.

“I absolutely can do pull-ups.”

“Mhm.” He lifts his arm and flexes it dramatically. “Alright then, show me.”

I stare at him. Then at the arm. Then back at him. “You’re not serious.”

He just raises an eyebrow, pompous as ever.

“Fine,” I lament, stepping forward. “But if I fall and break my dignity, that’s on you.”

“I’ll catch you, but I’m not responsible for your pride.”

I jump up, my hands gripping his arm, and somehow—against all odds—actually manage to do what I consider is an impressive amount of pull-ups. Three. AND A HALF!

I feel like a goddamn superhero.

“Ha! How’s that for a little pull-up action, huh?” I grin, feeling like I could conquer the world with my noodle arms.

Unfortunately, those noodle arms are already betraying me. When I go to grab the case of water, it’s like trying to lift an entire planet off its orbital path. My arms shake under the weight, my fingers barely wrapping around the damn thing, and I give it a half-hearted tug, making a noise somewhere between a grunt and a whimper.

Caleb’s grin widens as he watches my struggle. Oh, he’s loving this.

I think I might collapse under the weight of a case of water, because obviously my ego wasn’t enough to carry me through the rest of the day.

With one smooth motion, he scoops me up, sitting me comfortably on his arm, while also grabbing the case of water with maddening ease. I glance at him as he saunters inside like it’s no big deal.

“Can’t let you do all the heavy liftin’,” he winks with that playful, self-assured smirk.

We’re in the middle of putting the last of the groceries away when Caleb’s earpiece buzzes. The Fleet doesn’t seem to care about weekends, holidays, or anything resembling personal time.

They’ll call him at all hours, day, night, morning… with stuff. Whatever stuff is, I have no idea, but I know it’s never anything good.

Caleb presses the earpiece, his expression shifting into that stern, clipped tone he always uses with them—far removed from the warmth I’m used to hearing from him. “Yes?”

Silence for a beat.

“Good. Send it to me,” he commands, each word like a frozen shard.

Just like that, the conversation ends with a click.

I roll my eyes but keep quiet, finishing putting away the last of the groceries. I already know what’s coming next—his attention is about to be consumed by whatever mysterious task the Fleet’s sent him.

“I have to review somethin’,” he admits, rubbing the back of his neck. “But it shouldn’t take long. After I’m done, we can bake cookies, or more accurately, you can watch me bake cookies.”

I wave him off. “Go ahead and take care of your Fleet business.”

As he disappears down the hall, I sink into the couch, remote in hand, the TV glowing as some trashy reality show unfolds—exactly the kind of guilty pleasure you wouldn’t want anyone to know about. The kind that’s bad in all the best ways.

Peace doesn’t last long.

I hear his footsteps first. They reverberate down the hallway, and I freeze. His arrival folds into the room like a storm cloud slipping through the seams, saturating the air until it’s velvet-thick, pressing down on my lungs with the hush of a held breath.

Then, he stops.

His eyes find me—serrated as drawn blades, stripped of their warmth. What once held galaxies now glints like obsidian. It burrows beneath my skin, a crawling tension I can’t quite name, and yet… I’m rooted, caught in his stare like a pinned insect under glass.

I hesitate before pausing the show, almost as if I don’t want to break the stillness that’s settled between us. “What’s going on? Why are you looking at me like that?”

His answer is simple, clipped, and devoid of anything even remotely friendly. “Follow me.”

It isn’t a request—it’s a command, fortified with iron. My jaw clenches, the motion tight and slow, a silent act of rebellion. I weigh the thrill of defiance, of staying rooted and staring him down until one of us fractures.

The air between us hums, volatile and electric, daring me to rise. So I do—every motion deliberate, a declaration etched in the line of my spine. I don’t blink or look away.

Neither does he.

I follow him into his office. He waits for me by the desk, arms crossed and posture drawn tight as a bowstring.

He points to his computer screen. “When were you here?”

The picture on the screen is grainy and dark, barely recognizable, but I know that crater.

My gut twists, but I force the lie out. “What are you talking about?”

His hand comes down on the desk with a crack, making the office feel too small and tight, but I refuse to flinch.

“Inara, I’m not fucking around. I’ll give you one more chance to rethink your answer. I ask again, when were you there?”

My lips bend into a smile, a brittle crescent carved from ice. Inside, a chill unfurls—quiet, creeping, merciless. “I said, I don’t know what that is.” The words leave louder, thrown like a gauntlet at his feet. Daring him to challenge me.

A shadow fractures through his eyes, meteoric violet flickering like a warning light before the blackout. I stand my ground, though every nerve in my body howls to flee. His lips peel back, not in a smile, but in the quiet snarl of a predator who’s just decided it’s time to bite.

He turns, and with a couple of sharp taps on the keyboard, the screen changes. The grainy image disappears, replaced by a video—grainy, glitching, jagged snapshots of me in that facility.

“Would you like to amend your statement now?” He growls.

I stand my ground, my chest tight, every muscle in my body ready to lash out. I don’t even blink. “No.”

Caleb’s stare churns like a sky on the verge of breaking, and the space between us hums with a peril I can’t name but feel in my bones. He doesn’t utter a word, yet the room bends around him, gravity folding inward, as if even silence is compelled to obey.

He moves like a loaded weapon—smooth, precise, inevitable. Every step he takes, I answer with one of my own, retreating only when I must. The wall finds me before I can decide what to do next, cool against my spine, but I don’t wilt. My chin lifts. My eyes hold his like twin blades drawn in defiance.

Caleb stops just short of touching me, his breath ghosting over my skin. His hands slap the wall on either side of my head, sealing me in a cage made of flesh and fury.

His eyes rake over my face, searching, calculating, betraying nothing except that something in him is wound too tight.

“You’re keeping secrets from me,” he accuses, low and lethal, like I’m one of his subordinates.

I laugh—if you can call it that. It’s more of a weapon than a sound, brittle as a bone snapped under pressure. “You wanna preach to me about keeping secrets?”

The words burst out before I can stop them. Everything I’ve been holding back, all the questions gnawing at my insides, spill out in a rapid fire.

“Why did my Evol unlock that damn backdoor programming? Why did I feel like I knew that facility like it was home? Who the hell is A-01? What is Project X-Aether?”

Caleb’s jaw tightens, his breath steady, but he doesn’t reply. His silence only makes my frustration burn hotter.

“You’re not going to answer, are you?” I hiss, my voice rising. “Just like you never answer.”

He’s close enough to burn, but the words that fall from his lips chill me to the marrow—each syllable a blade dipped in snow. “You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into.”

The words explode out of me like a cannon. “You’re a goddamn hypocrite. You’ve got a closet full of shit you’re not telling me. You’re the one I can’t trust.”

I hurl every ounce of fury into my palms and slam them into his chest. He doesn’t move—not a twitch, not a flinch. It’s like striking the side of a mountain and expecting it to bleed.

My eyes narrow as I realize the futility of it. I duck under his arm, sidestepping him and heading straight for his desk.

“Let’s discuss secrets, shall we?” I hiss, glancing over my shoulder while my fingers fly across the keyboard.

The hidden, encrypted file slides into view, and I feel an intoxicating rush of satisfaction settle as I pull up the backdoor to unlock it.

When I glance at Caleb, his posture tightens, a subtle flex of muscle, and his jaw clenches, as if trying to cage whatever storm is brewing beneath his calm. He’s not the steady force he pretends to be.

“What are you doing?”

I keep my focus on the screen, pulling up the command prompt and running a script I’m all too familiar with. The encryption falls away, piece by piece, as I slide into the file with the video files. Each one pops up in a separate corner of the holographic display.

I access my watch, scroll through the official DAA reports, the cold, clinical ones that show exactly when Caleb went missing, the days he disappeared, and the fact that he was in the hospital for a full month.

The images blink into life on the central display.

I turn around, my stomach burbling with blind animosity, and I lock eyes with him. “You lied. You said you had special training, but you were in the hospital for a month after going missing.”

Caleb stands there, frozen, his eyes darting between the holographic images on the screen and my face.

“Care to explain that?” I demand, my voice steady, though my hands are trembling.

There’s no apology in him, no sign of remorse. Just silence.

I take a step forward, no longer willing to tiptoe around the truth. “Secrets are like radiation, Caleb. Keep them buried long enough, and they stop protecting people—they start poisoning them.”

Chapter Masterlist

A03 - Note: Not all chapters are available there yet because I haven't had the time to copy them all over.

#lads fanfic #love and deepspace #lads caleb #caleb x mc #lads smut #caleb fluff #lnds caleb #caleb love and deepspace #love and deepspace caleb #caleb lads #caleb smut #calebmc #caleb #named mc #gravity between us #first person pov

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mirims1997 · 1 month ago

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A Line Crossed

Summary: Following the Pr written statement released by Ashlyn, Bellingham’s new love interest, Jude Bellingham finds himself in the midst of media scrutiny. In an attempt to save his image, his mom hires a sharp Pr agent who takes over to fix Jude’s tarnished reputation and along the way ends up mending his heart.

Chapter 3: Speak so I can see you

Of all the warnings Mrs Renée could have given Miriam in that intense call, impromptu meetings at her not-so-secret-anymore spot should have been first. Except that meeting Jude here on a random saturday night is not on her task list or potential work hurdles to be mindful of.

It is plainly the fruit of her terrible luck.

“We are so not doing this Bellingham.”

Miriam huffed as she kicked his football into the far distance, a childish protest against the absurdity of the situation.

“Come on! Why did you do that?”

Jude sighed and flailed his arms ridiculously as if running after a ball is not his bread and butter.

“Oh, you are asking. I love that for you. Jude, darling, I work for you but I am not here to entertain your whimscal sense of humor and peculiar desires. That’s for one. Two, what the actual hell are you doing here, on your own, in public, on a saturday night? Do you have a mob wish?”

Miriam could feel her face gradually redden as she lectured the manchild in front of her and paced around him. Of all the many defects she could associate someone like Jude with, recklessness seemed so out character. But here he is, in all of his 6 foot something glory, proving her wrong, once again. Because Jude famous Bellingham thinks a hoodie can magically conceal him from being noticed in the middle of Madrid, the city for whose football club he starts every freaking game.

“I am not in public. You can’t be delusional enough to think that one person, yourself, can count as public. You have a bit of an ego there. I am here to ball. You know, a baller balls right? I do not need to be coddled all the time. Surely, you understand that or are you so self-centered that you cannot see outside of your own beliefs and rules?”

He was seething. Everything about him from his tense shoulders to his piercing gaze and husky voice screamed unbridled frustration. Miriam was the same, almost shaking as she felt his words scratch at every solid surface she’s built so carefully around herself. Who does he think he is spouting judgements about her character so lightly? He doesn’t know her.

She scoffs then summons the last bits of patience and professionalism she has left in her and speaks so coldly that Bellingham stiffens at her tone.

“Does Denise know? Surely she doesn’t. Look Bellingham, I could care less about what you do in your life. It definitively does not spike an ounce of my interest. Tonight, both of us are still free of one another, given that my contract has yet to be completed. But starting tomorrow, you are to listen to everything I say for as long as Denise hires me, and I will be damned before someone, even yourself, can stand between me and a perfectly done job. Have a fantastic night Jude.”

Jude’s beyond bewildered. His face a mixture of shock, anger and something else yet to be identified. Miriam can feel how unsettled she made him. His lost gaze follows her as she picks up what is left of her Ensiamada, pushes past him, and leaves the place without sparing him a glance. His silence, however, haunts her all the way back to her room.

As she finally lays in her bed tossing and turning, unable to get a wink in, a lot of thoughts torment her. Did she manage to lose such an important job a day in by being mouthy? Was Bernando right about her all along? Is she too tense and too cold to be firsthand navigating public relations? But then again Why is Jude so easily getting under her skin and managing to mess with her peace so soon? Her questions swirled around her head unanswered until her exhaustion lent itself to sleep.

————————————————————————

On the suburbs of the city, Jude is no better. Sitting up in his bed, he thinks of the short haired minx that managed to break his cool and get under his skin in the span of 24 hours. When his mom told him that she hired a top notch Pr agent and the best at their company, he imagined someone far older with years and years of experience at their belt, someone far wiser, someone far more unproblematic, someone far uglier…

What he didn’t expect is to enter that meeting room and come across someone so bossy, so full of life, so unusual and yet so appealing. Of course, that is before she opened her mouth, put him in his place and proceeded to spout orders like an uptight middle aged school teacher. Their first meeting made him understand how vexing she can be and he hated that. He has never met someone so young who carries themselves around the way she does, so effortlessly commanding yet so calm, collected and arsy about it.

“Babe, are you awake?”

His constant tossing and turning must have woken Ashlyn up. Not a great timing, really.

“Yes. I had coffee. Must be the caffeine.”

He turns on his side, hoping to end the conversation there. But Ashlyn has other plans. He can feel her freshly manicured hand reach for his abs as she hugs him from behind, presses against him and softly caresses his hard pecks.

“Is there anything I can do to tire you out?”

She whispers in his ear so seductively. Under normal circumstances, he would have turned around, pinned her down and made her scream his name for hours. But tonight, he didn’t feel like it at all. He pushes her hand away in the gentlest way he could muster and tells her that he has training in the morning and the he appreciates the offer but a good night’ sleep is all that he needs.

He doesn’t look at her as he tells her his poor excuses in one panicked breath. He has learned that It is better not to look at someone when you deny them something they want. Fame taught him that.

He could hear her sigh before pulling away and whispering an almost inaudible good night. Yet Jude doesn’t have it in him to feel for her. He remains unmoving as she drifts back to sleep alone and cold in their shared bed.

————————————————————————

His alarm goes off and he dreads the day already. Exhausted and sleepless, he pushes himself out of bed hoping his training session and being around the lads would steer him away from his bad mood. Having grown up in a peaceful environment, Jude has not learned how to deal with conflict. He hates it and avoids it at all cost. Knowing that his mom hired someone whose character and his own scream impending conflict is stressful.

He goes about his routine, eats his breakfast and promises Ashlyn to make it up to her when he gets back as he kisses her on the way out.

Denise is already waiting in the car, ready as always to drive him to The Ciudad. He gets in, hugs her and leans back in his seat, hoping to doze off for a bit. But his mother does not give him that.

“So, I’ve talked to Renée. The tabloids are going crazy over fans’ reaction to Ashlyn’s TikTok video. It was a grave mistake. Just fyi, the meeting with Ashlyn would be moved to today. You are both to go. Miriam would be giving you certain instructions. So, yes. It will be at 7. Plenty of time for you to shower and get ready and plenty for your barbie to look like a barbie.”

“Mom. I believe we’ve talked about this. I like Ashlyn. She makes me feel good. There is no reason for you to bring up the fact that you don’t like her every time we speak about her.”

Denise huffs and keeps quiet for the rest of the car ride. But all Jude could think about is how weird it would be to have someone like Ashlyn with someone like Miriam in the same room.

————————————————————————

“You are sluggish today, mate.”

Kylian never hesitates to say what’s on his mind. That is one of the main reasons why Jude likes him so much. Unlike what the media believes and is constantly on about from portraying them as secret enemies to fake friends, Jude and Kylian have become close mates so quickly.

“I know right? I am knackered.” Jude yawns and collapses on the changing room bench.

“Someone’s been up all night.”

The whole squad bursts out laughing as Vini wiggles his eyebrows at him like he has him all figured out.

“That is precisely why I am single.” Camavinga adds. “I don’t think I can handle both, a girlfriend and training. But kudos for that, Jude.”

Jude does not have neither the desire nor the willingness to reveal what actually kept him up at night so he just chuckles and plays along, letting the lads have their go at him.

Kylian watches him in silence. And on his way out, he pats him on the shoulder before quietly telling him that he is ready to listen if he needs to talk it out. Jude gives him a thankful smile before shoving him out of his way, their love language at its best.

————————————————————————-

Going through her powerpoint presentation for the 10th time does not ease Miriam’s nerves. In the short span of forty eight hours, she has managed to meet Jude twice and both encounters have been as smooth sailing as the Titanic. A knock sounds on the door and she immediately stands up, smoothes her satin shirt and ruffles her hair.

“Enter.” For someone so nervous, her voice sounds too confident.

Ashlyn enters first. And Miriam is finally confronted with the realization that Castro is probably everything a man in our day and age would desire. Hair wavyied up to perfection, make up done so immaculately leaving no potential skin defect visible. Lips covered in both rouge and gloss to make them pop even more. False eyelashes only detectable to someone who knows their way around makeup. Nose flawlessly contoured. Veneers. Body clad in a tight black dress. Boobs pushed out and perfectly symmetrical. Nails pointy and painted red. Perfect. Just perfect.

Jude enters next exuding a calm confidence.

“Hello Jude, Ashlyn. Please sit down.”

In the back of her mind, Miriam thinks that it makes sense. They make sense. She remembers that infamous line from the early 2000 movie Something Borrowed: “hot people are supposed to be with hot people.” This is precisely why people are so up in their business. They wanted Jude with someone they can identify with. Ashlyn was not that person.

“So, Ashlyn. It is obvious that some of his fans, mainly his fangirls” Miriam looks pointedly at Jude and he smirks at her and shrugs, not at all taking the dig. “We need to rectify that.”

“But how? They are so obsessed with him. They keep bringing up lies about me. It is so frustrating. I don’t like it.”

Ashlyn is a slow speaker and seems to be quite unaware that the meeting is not so much about her as it is about Jude.

“I understand. But this comes with dating a public figure. It has a Schrödinger effect. I mean..”

“Observers, aka my “crazy fans” decide the outcome of our relationship regardless of whether it is set for success or not.”

Jude continues so casually as if he didn’t explain a complicated physics concept so accurately and simply.

Miriam’s heart almost beats out of her chest as she glances at Jude and finds him already watching her, head titled and lips pulled in half a smile. A blush creeps up her neck. He is intelligent. That realization hits her like a truck. She holds his gaze for a second and tries her best not to cave and smile back. He catches that and smiles even wider.

Ashlyn unaware of the weight of their interaction, ignores the whole explanation.

“Um. Actually, I dated Michael B Jordan, you know the ACTOR? And that didn’t happen soo.. Maybe it is a soccer thing?”

Miriam inwardly cringes at how American that sounded. “Soccer” while dating a football player should be illegal.

“It shouldn’t matter. What I was trying to say is that you cannot predict people’s reactions. Jude is very admired in the world of football. That comes with both advantages and disadvantages. Now that the harm is done. We need to promote your relationship in a different light. People should see something in your dynamic that makes you identifiable with. I’ve brainstormed a couple of ideas we can go through and see if they are possible logistically.”

If there is anything Miriam prides herself on, it is how rigorous she can be when it comes to putting her ideas onto visible structures.

She pulls out her presentation and Jude tunes in. Ashlyn takes longer as she responds to a text. Jude takes note of that, glances at her disapprovingly and whispers “focus.”

“So, a couple should thrive best in a social environment that has other couples. We do not have to stray away much. Jude, I believe a number of your teammates have partners. Yes?”

“Yes. From my age group, Aurelien has a girlfriend. Fede and Brahim too.”

“Exactly. I’ve done my research and I found out that Aurelien’s birthday is next week. This will be a perfect opportunity for you both to attend, bring a gift and act in love.” Jude does not miss Miriam’s not so spontaneous use of certain words. She can feel his gaze burning a hole in her side profile but she avoids eye contact at all cost. It is one thing to be so easily understood and it is totally another to acknowledge that in such a context.

“Alright. Respectable effort but how will that be visible to the public eye. We tend to keep our parties quite private. So pictures are rarely leaked. Do you suggest we post one with Aurelien?” Jude is proving to be much more helpful than Ashlyn who seems to be glued to her phone. The mention of posting, however, seems to spike her interest.

“I like the idea. I think posting together for the first time will silence the haters.”

“Not at this point. It won’t. It needs to be a picture taken without your awareness. Something you’d think one of the guests took without your consent. A blurry picture perhaps but clear enough to know it is the both of you. A picture of you chilling on a couch, leaning into another? Nothing too superfluous.”

“Bingo. That’s a good idea. I will make sure to inform Aurelien of an extra plus one. I will provide you with the location of his residence and all the details soon.”

What he is insinuating does not escape Miriam. She stares at him questioningly, her mind going over every possible unsavory scenario. Ashlyn is not so quick to see his intentions.

“Why would we need an extra plus one?”

“Miriam is joining us. She will be taking the picture and keeping us a lovely stalkerish company.” He lets out an unadulterated laugh and Mirim can’t help but smile. He was not as one-dimensional as she thought. Jude had layers. And that is a thought she does not let go beyond that.

————————————————————————

After they shake hands, Jude lingers a little longer by the door. Ashlyn has already left to take a call.

Unaware of his presence and so lost in her own world, Miriam unplugs her laptop and opens the top and second buttons of her blouse. Jude can’t help but stare at the birthmark that sits so gracefully on her collarbone. A quiet beauty about it just like…Realizing what he is doing, Jude snaps out of it and clears his throat. Miriam nearly jumps in fear.

“What the…? You scared me. JUDE! I hope you have a valid reason for creepily lurking near my door.” Although her words seem so cutting, her tone shows no hostility and the way she says his name definitely confirms it. She is joking around. That alone magically loosens all the tension he carried around the whole day.

“I just wanted to thank you and to apologize for the nonsense I spoke last night in the park. I was projecting. You shouldn’t have been at the end of that.”

Jude prayed Miriam could see how sincere his apology was.

“I think you should should watch “Dark”, a lot of nerdy concepts to enjoy.”

The laugh she lets out next shouldn’t have made him feel the way it did, but he could feel his chest expanding and warmth seep inside of him. As he reached for the door handle, Miriam calls his name so softly, he falters, once again, at the door.

“Bellingham?”

“Yes?”

“Get some sleep.”

He does not turn around but he walks the entire hallway smiling to himself.

————————————————————————

A longer chapter huh? Jude girlies, let me know what you think! It would be my absolute pleasure to read your thoughts! Your comments are my muse! So please do not hesitate. Much love to your girlies! ❤️❤️❤️

#hey jude #jude x reader #real madrid #jude bellingham #bellingham latest #kylian mbappe

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morgana-ren · 2 years ago

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Why do you think Bailey has such regret/panic after he fucks the PC?

I think that ultimately, there's a few reasons why that is.

For starters, Bailey has cultivated a 'no bullshit, no excuses' atmosphere in his orphanage. You have a set date he expects payment, and if you don't have it, you pay another way-- he extracts value from you, one way or another. However, that doesn't mean what one might think it would mean in a devious concept (at least not regarding Bailey himself.)

We know Bailey has some sort of miserable past likely mirroring your own. The only thing that seems to shake him is that attic. It alludes to the fact that he may have grown up in the orphanage, or maybe before he bought it, it was something different and darker entirely.

The way he seems to have gotten over it is by separating himself entirely from any form of sentimental or gentle emotion. Like poof, gone. Not a fucking ounce of humanity left in that man. Not one. He found a goal, and he sticks to it steadfast. That goal is to-- more or less, anyways-- to never be vulnerable again. The town he lives in is sick, and it's wrong. Something is going on in this place that makes people exceptionally more licentious; more rotten. Dark desires that most people would never even conceive of entertaining are rather commonplace here. In more ways than one, they have everyone-- victims and perpetrators-- by the balls.

One way to crawl your way to the top would be to remove yourself from that situation-- and then take advantage of it. If you're not looking at anyone as a potential victim of your lust, but rather purely as a paycheck, it removes a lot of the complications. The town still has a facade of law and order, as we can see if you frame Leighton, or just allow Briar to get raided, the cops at least pretend to do their jobs when confronted with cold, hard evidence.

Bailey has avoided this outcome because, plain and simply, he doesn't indulge. Doesn't even consider it. He doesn't take advantage of his charges in the way one might expect. In the way that Leighton does, or the way that most of the people in this perfidious town do-- with pure, unadulterated lust and base desire.

Bailey is all about the paycheck, which has the double advantage of making him rich, and riding him under the radar. Both of these things, when coupled with his raw power, leave him relatively untouchable.

Let's examine what sleeping with the PC means knowing all of this.

Well, having sex is in and of itself a vulnerability. Especially in the way it's instigated with him. It's actually sort of brilliant: it literally breaks every single rule he has. Even the unspoken ones.

He shows humanity in being seduced. It reveals a weakness, both to him and to someone who could potentially take advantage of it. It shows that he very much does suffer from base human desire to the point where it's actually boiling over from his repression.

And how you seduce him has him breaking his very strict rules on payment.

No mercy, and no leniency. That's what one can usually expect from Bailey. No amount of batting your eyes and pouting your lips at him will get you what you want. It might work for everyone else in this shithole, but not him.

....Except it does.

In fact, it works so unbelievably well, that he pounces. Literally.

He loses all sense in that moment. Just goes right out the goddamned window. You ask him for a little extension on the payment, which should be an automatic 'no' without even thinking-- except he makes the mistake of looking at you when normally, he probably wouldn't. He would just keep his nose in his paperwork and point wordlessly to the door.

(This shows a pique of attention when it comes to the PC themselves. He seems to indulge them a little more than he would anyone else, which you see on several occasions.)

The PC doesn't even technically outright ask for anything. Just puts on a little show in the most minor sense, and Bailey straight up loses his mind. Shoves you to the floor and crawls on top of you right there, tearing at your clothes and trying to get his cock in you as quickly as physically possible.

Desperation. That's the word for it.

He breaks his most iron rule and pretty much every other one in one swift motion (or several, lmao) and he loses from it-- at least how he tries to view things.

He has to honor his word. You help up your unspoken part of the bargain, and while he is a complete bastard, he's not a scumbag. You get your damn extension.

And then there's the matter of the power you have over him, and know you have over him now. Lusting for someone is, in the most base sense, them having a form of power over you. You want something from them, and whether you'd like it to or not, that impairs your judgment regarding them. He wants to be seen as this iron-willed monster. Unbreakable and unmovable. Not even human.

But his grunting and panting and hissing over you shows that he is all too human for his own liking. Because not only did he give in to his lust, but he enjoyed it. Enjoys it so much that even if you ask him to stop, and take it all back, he won't. He'll keep fucking you even if you beg him to stop and try to beat him away, which shows that he is just like everyone else in this fucking town.

Even he has a weakness.

Bailey doesn't casually have sex just to have it. You'll never see him at the brothel, and he never touches any of his charges, or anyone else for that matter. That puts a weight of importance on sex to him, whether he means it to or not. That means there's something so special about you that he indulges.

That's where the regret stems from. It breaks his own mental image of himself. It breaks every one of his rules. Everything he bases himself on and spent years building crumbles beneath your touch. It shows him that he's weaker than he thought he was, and all because of, what is to him, the whining and mewling of an orphan girl he's supposed to be 'taking care of.'

I imagine that's why he turns colder afterwards. He cannot risk that happening again. Can't risk you worming your way into his heart the way you manage to do with everyone else. You'd ruin everything because you let him ruin you.

He owns you, and you're his property. If he thinks too long on that, he might start getting ideas.

And he can't have that.

#degrees of lewdity #bailey the caretaker #dol bailey #fuck this dynamic is so good god please someone make a mod #or teach me how #It doesn't have to be some lovey dovey bullshit but god let me ruminate on the love/hate/lust dynamic

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dyns33 · 6 months ago

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Flufftober 2024 - 18 The Corinthian

If you asked the Corinthian if he liked his job, he would have a hard time answering.

Most of the time, he took great pleasure in being a nightmare. Most of the dreamers he visited were not good people. He was there to reflect their darkness, their monstrosities, their worst sides. Even if he was normally supposed to make them think and push them to be better, the Corinthian was mostly satisfied with seeing their terror.

But sometimes, he landed in the dreams of simpler, almost innocent people. Even if no one was completely innocent.

Again, he could find it amusing to scare these idiots who did not dare to live their lives fully, who respected the rules, taking no risks.

And then, there was Y/N. His exception.

If Morpheus had noticed that he had not done his duty well on several occasions on the nights he had to visit this particular human, he never said anything.

The first time, the Corinthian had wondered if there was a mistake. Why would such a pure girl need to dream of him ? Aside from making her cry and avoid sleep for several days, his intervention would bring nothing positive.

He couldn't explain why he didn't want that with her.

"Hello? " she had greeted him the first time she had seen him.

"Hello. Lost ?"

"I don't know. Where are we ? Do I know you ?"

"Not yet." he had purred, smiling.

"I feel like I know you. You seem nice."

Normally, the Corinthian would have found the remark stupid. Because he didn't seem nice, not at all, even when he took on an innocent face to approach his prey, who were simply too foolish to notice the dark aura that surrounded him.

But this time, with Y/N, he had frozen, losing his smile, thinking that he wouldn't mind being nice for once, being liked by someone, knowing her and becoming friends.

They had spent the night talking, until she woke up. It had been hard not to see her again for several months, even if time passed differently in the Dreaming.

The Corinthian couldn't even be sure that he would see her again one day. He could have visited her in secret, or escaped to go see her in the Waking world, without worrying about the trouble he might have.

It was a real joy for him to find her again. He thought he knew this feeling, every time he made a dreamer tremble with terror, but apparently he was wrong.

"Cori ! I'm so happy to see you !"

"Not as much as me, my angel."

Every moment spent with her was wonderful, he cherished them all, without realizing how important it was.

Because there came a time when it had been far too long since he had seen her for his liking. It could have been a good thing, that Y/N didn't have nightmares so often.

But when he visited Lucienne, pretending to look at the dreamers' books without any interest, he grimaced when he saw that Y/N's had an ending.

"An ending ? What does it mean, when a book has an ending ?"

"… You should go back to your post, Corinthian." the librarian sighed sadly.

"Answer me !"

"You know it very well, my nightmare. Don't yell at Lucienne because of the nature of things, she has nothing to do with it."

"… No."

While he couldn't blame Lucienne, or even Dream, Corinthian cursed his father Time, and his older sister, leaving the castle screaming. His master didn't stop him.

His eyes not allowing him to cry, the Corinthian simply sat near the place where he had been created. He then thought that if he was unmade, maybe Death would be kind enough to take his hand and take him to see Y/N.

Taking revenge on the other mortals, he waited for the moment when Morpheus would come. He didn't really want to be a nightmare anymore. He only wanted to be Cori.

#kinktober 2024 #the corinthian #the corinthian x reader

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writingpandagoth · 23 days ago

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Title: Sharp Tongues, Soft Hearts (Severus Snape x Female!Reader)

Summary: You were chaos wrapped in lip gloss. He was the quiet boy in the corner until you pulled him into your glittery world of mayhem. Years after Hogwarts, fate reunites you and Severus Snape at the castle—but time hasn’t dulled the tension between you. Not even close. Now both professors, old memories clash with new emotions in a story full of sharp banter, aching glances, unsent letters, and the slow unraveling of everything you never said.

Part 7: Almost On The Dancefloor

The end of the year came too quickly.

Final exams passed in a blur of ink-stained fingers, last-minute spell reviews, and your girl gang raiding the library for every single Advanced Potions book ever written while Severus gave them inputs that weren’t in them.

You and Severus sat side by side in every class, your elbows brushing occasionally, your eyes meeting more often than they probably should.

Trunks were packed. Final scrolls handed in. Teachers grew impatient and distracted, and even McGonagall had let a few minor rule-breakings slide.

Everything had slowed…

Except your heart.

You hadn’t said it aloud but you knew you are madly in love with Severus. He walked beside you now like it was second nature. He handed you your tea without needing to ask how you took it. He stood closer than he used to, like he’d forgotten what personal space means.

And when he looked at you…

It was quiet, Soft, Grateful and hungry in a way that makes your stomach twist.

One quiet night in the common room you and Severus sat on the couch side by side like you always did now. Most students were in bed early but you couldn’t sleep and neither could he.

The fire there had long since been banked to embers but none of you moved from your positions. You knew that the last Day here would come soon and with no turning back.

The silence was heavier between you two, of things unsaid and of everything that hovered between you, just barely touching the surface.

“Do you think we’ll see each other again I mean after we left and find our way in life?” you asked, your voice quieter than usual.

Severus liftet his head to where it was resting again the back of the couch, his dark eyes met yours. “I…I hope we do. I am not quite ready to say goodbye to you”

You nodded once, trying not to let the ache show standing up.

“Guess this is it, then,” you said lightly. “Up into the real world”

You turned to leave but before you could take a step his fingers curl around your wrist gently. He stood there, his expression unreadable. Like he was still waging war with himself.

“(Y/n),” he said — just your name, but there was something fragile in it.

You raised a brow, not letting yourself hope too hard. “Yeah?”

His hand tightened just slightly around your wrist. And then — like he was making the most important decision of his life — he stepped forward.

His hand came up to your cheek. His eyes searched yours for a heartbeat longer before his arms came around you pulling you in a warm embrace.

„I don’t want to say goodbye to you we will find a way to see each other again I promise“

„We better. Because I really don’t want to lose this“

And for that moment everything seemed to be perfect once again.

On the last night in Hogwarts The Great Hall didn’t look like it always did. Everything’s golden. The ceiling is enchanted to look like starlight streaking across velvet skies. Floating candles dip low over a wide, polished floor where seventh-years twirl in gowns and tailored robes. Music swells, soft and old.

You’re late. Intentionally.

When you enter, heads turn.

Your dress is deep emerald, off the shoulder, hugging your body like it was stitched to you by magic. You walk with fire in your eyes and glitter on your collarbones.

But none of that matters.

Because he’s the only one you’re looking for.

You find him in the corner of the hall, standing alone near the edge of the crowd. He’s dressed in black robes—clean lines, subtle embroidery. He’s watching you approach with that one look on his face that makes your stomach do flips.

You cross the floor like it belongs to you and stop in front of him.

“Dance with me,” you say.

He blinks taken aback by your absolute boldness. “What?”

You offer your hand. “I want to dance with you”

He hesitates but only a few second later he holds out his arm for you, making you beam at him. You grab his arm and pull him onto the floor.

To your surprise he isn’t stiff or awkward as you believed he would be. Quite the opposite.

His hand came to rest on your waist almost like he’s afraid he’ll break you, the other hands firmly in yours as he pulls you closer.

“You never cease to surprise me” you whisper.

“Thanks Merlin for that or you would have burned the whole school down just out of boredom”

You laugh—loud and real. And just like that the mood was set between you.

He leads you with confident strides over the dance floor as if he had done this a thousand times before. You let him guide you through the rhythm. His hand stays grows firmer on your hip and his gaze… his gaze burns.

“I think,” you murmur as the music slows, “I wanted this more than I realized.”

“What?”

“This. You. Us.”

He swallows hard, his steps slowing down until coming to a halt.

“You’re not going to disappear after tonight,” you say softly. “Are you? You will write me letters won’t you?”

„I promise I will.“

Your hand that rested on his shoulder slips down to his his chest, resting just under his collar. “There is something I want to try”

His breath is shallow. “Y/N…”

You lean in slowly and your noses brush briefly. The air is electric. His hand tightens on your waist.

“Kiss me” you whisper. “Please”

He closes the gap.

And then—

“Y/N! Sevy!” Cassie slams into the both of you, obvious to the moment she just interrupted. Behind her Leona and Nyra join.

„We so need to dance! This is our song come on!“

You couldn’t even react and you were dragged away by the girls you shared 7 years together.

„But I was…“ You turn back to Severus but the moment is gone and so was he.

Nyra had noticed that something was off when you didn’t dance with them as usual to which you spilled to them how Severus and you nearly kissed.

„Oh my god I am so sorry! I really didn’t want to break that up“ Cassie cried out in honor at herself.

„Its alright I will see him later.“

You didn’t see Him again after that not in the common room and not when you stepped onto the Hogwarts express back home.

Kings Cross station was packed. Everywhere you looked friends were saying farewell and wishing each other luck.

Your Girls are crying and laughing in waves, pulling you into hugs, promising letters, promising everything. Leona holds your hand too long. Cassie won’t stop talking and Nyra just smiles sadly at you.

One after the other they disappear into the crowd on their way into their own lives.

You can’t focus because you’re scanning the crowd hoping to see Severus so you can speak to him again and say goodbye and then you see him.

On the platform across from you. Alone.

Severus stands like a shadow against the silver mist of the train smoke. No trunk. No wand in sight. Just his dark robes, windblown hair, and that familiar weight behind his eyes.

He’s already looking at you and your breath catches. He watches you like there’s something he wants to say—needs to say—but doesn’t know how.

You take a single step forward as if you could reach him if you tried pulled in like a moth into the flame but so does he.

And for a split second, it feels like you might finally reach him.

A train moves in taking the sight of him from you and when it finally started moving again the moment’s gone.

And so is he.

You never heard from him again.

But you still remember the way he looked at you that day on the platform. You still think about it.

He looked like he wanted to ask you to stay.

#fanfic #severus snape x reader #severus snape #harry potter

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quill-firefly · 4 months ago

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Actually, I Want My Deadbeat Dad Back (Luke Castellan-Centric Fanfic)

Taking a little break from the usual fanfics I write because this entered my brain and it must be removed otherwise I will not get a good night's sleep. This is taking elements from both PJO and Epic the Musical. I've seen a lot of Percy getting time travelled back during the Epic!Odyssey (especially since it's like a shock for him to see what Poseidon was like back then). So now I'm punting Luke to the past.

Except Hermes, while obviously still retaining his personality traits in Epic, is not bound by the ancient rules of gods not interfering so he is keeping this strange little son of his with him.

Also this is a bit of a darkfic with Wingfic AU elements because I said so. Aka, Luke and Odysseus have little wing-ears because of their relation to Hermes.

When he stabbed himself with the knife, he expected to wake in front of Charon and be banished to the fields of Asphodel. Hades, he wouldn’t be surprised if Zeus himself tossed him down into Tartarus.

What he did not expect was to wake up, half-drowned as a stranger stood over him. The man’s face was familiar, but it was mostly the wings where ears should have been that caught Luke’s attention. He coughed, forcing himself to sit up as his eyes tried to adjust to the sunlight that shone down. He looked up, his voice soft and disbelieving, “Father?”

“What?” The man moved back, a momentary heartbreak in his brown eyes. Then Luke felt the sharp end of a blade against his neck. Wouldn’t be the first he found himself at the end of a weapon today. His hands scrambled against… sand, and that was when Luke finally took in where he was.

This was not the Underworld.

He kept his face neutral, but his heart hammered quickly in his chest as he took in the beautiful island landscape. He had been in Olympus just a few moments ago… He turned back to the familiar stranger, “Who are you?”

“Who are you?” The man shot back. Luke noted that the stranger wasn’t quite keen on sharing his name first. The sword hadn’t moved any further, but he didn’t dare try to disarm the man. Something about the man’s demeanor - and the lack of information Luke had about him - showed that he probably wouldn’t hesitate to skewer Luke like pork barbecue. Then the man was kneeling next to him. It made Luke uncomfortable to see those wings - quite similar to his own, which really only meant one thing.

“Look, you can clearly see our shared relation. Put down the sword.”

It wasn’t just the wings that gave the stranger away, but rather the mischievous glint in his eyes. Luke had enough of seeing it in the mirror and in his siblings’ gazes. The man narrowed his eyes. Standing up, the man moved his cape to the side, giving Luke a clear view of a shipwrecked boat and a couple of men staring awkwardly at him.

Now, it has been years since Luke had indulged himself in remembering the ancient Greek heroes, but his mind was quick to give him a horrifying answer as he took in where he really was.

“No no no no no.” He could almost hear the lingering traces of the mad Titan’s laughter in his mind as his situation finally sunk in. He stood up, nearly stumbling back into the sand as he tried to get away from the stranger. Sadly, he was too slow as his arm was immediately grabbed. He could hear the man bark out something, perhaps a question?

He tried to slow his panic, turning his gaze back up to… By the gods he could hardly accept it.

“Is this your island?”

He shook his head, wishing he was dead. “It’s not.”

—

Despite how much the fates hated him, being brought back to the past was not the worst thing that has ever happened to Luke Castellan.

Where to start?

What about his whole life being damned before he was even born?

What about his mother losing herself while he could do nothing but watch?

What about his deadbeat of a father who never once took the time to care?

What about his siblings and the rest of the Half-Bloods, left to be forgotten by their parents, sent out to die in meaningless quests for gods who would never remember their names?

Ah… and isn’t that where he keeps going back to.

Luke won’t pretend that there wasn’t a piece of him that wasn’t being selfish when he joined the forces of Kronos.

The scar of his failed quest was still fresh, the taste of his own blood still lingering on his tongue when the dreams began.

Kronos had offered him a chance to fight back against the gods, had consoled him when even his own father wouldn’t.

He had been a child. A scared and hurt child.

How could Luke have said no?

Maybe that really wasn’t the start of it, but gods know that he was always destined to fall.

Deep down, Luke knew it began even before he was born. He was but a pawn in the game of the gods - even if he had in the end decided to let go of all that pain and hurt.

Still, the neglect doesn’t go away easily - especially now that he was kept alive by that damned Titan who clearly didn’t want him to rest.

Even so, his mind kept going back to that quest.

That ridiculous quest for a golden apple.

What did his father even need it for?

He would never know. He failed after all.

And the scars remained with him even now, thrown so many years back into the past.

Even now…

He could still feel the emptiness at his back, the loss of the weight that once was there.

When he was younger, he used to enjoy taking long flights throughout Camp Half-Blood.

He remembered the hours he spent with his younger siblings, carrying them in his arms as he flew.

He recalled how a younger Annabeth and Thalia would tentatively reach out, always worried that he’d shriek at them in an instinctive attempt to keep them away from his wings, only for him to curl a protective wing around both of them.

Despite how much he resented his father, Luke loved that he had inherited wings.

He loved those wings, and some nights, he could bring himself to love his father for being able to claim him in that way.

His father may have cruelly abandoned him and his mother, but unlike most of the demigods, at least he had been claimed - long before he ever set foot in Camp Half-Blood.

Then the quest.

Ladon.

Those claws.

… He used to enjoy taking long flights.

—

The rest of the Ithacan crew kept their distance, though Luke could tell they were curious about him.

It wasn’t everyday that one saw another Hermes-descendant, and as far as he could tell, he hoped to keep up that appearance. They didn’t need to know he was actually a demigod. Maybe the lack of back wings was a blessing, they wouldn’t have any clue that he wasn’t just a descendant like Odysseus.

His heart fluttered as the thought crossed his mind.

Never in his whole mortal life would he have expected nor wanted to meet any of the ancient Grecian heroes.

Just another joke from the Fates.

Fuck, what was his life?

He watched as the infamous King of Ithaca paced the island, a heavy sadness on the man’s shoulders. Luke must have just arrived after the great loss of the man’s crew to Poseidon.

Funny how they shared that similarity… being screwed over by a child of Poseidon.

Though, Luke felt prideful enough to believe that he wouldn’t have yelled his name out like Odysseus did.

If the lost king wasn’t stressed about their predicament, Luke was sure he’d be under heavy interrogation - but after his admittance that they were on Circe’s island (because at this point Luke didn’t give a damn about accidentally ruining the past considering his own predicament), Odysseus was strangely silent. He was thinking of a plan. Luke knew how quick-witted the Grecian hero had been.

The man had sent a few of his men away, further into the island. Now, he was thinking of his next move.

Luke didn’t really care enough to warn him about what was going to happen.

As if right on cue, one of the men that Odysseus had sent stumbled out of the forest. Odysseus had reached out for him immediately, holding him by the arms as he demanded where the rest of the crew were.

Pigs. They were currently pigs.

Luke would have laughed, but he didn’t want to draw attention to himself. He was already on thin ice for being a stranger that somehow washed-up on this island at the same time as them (Luke was not about to explain that he was from the future).

At least Odysseus hadn’t called him out on his lie. He didn’t even call Luke out when he lied about his name.

He should probably thank his father that Odysseus probably took pity on him since they were of kin, but right now Luke didn’t want to invoke Hermes’ name - not when he didn’t know what his father was like in the past.

Instead, he leaned back against a tree as he watched Odysseus have a quick argument with the man. Then they were both rushing into the forest, the other man trying to stop the king from entering any further.

As he watched them disappear into the trees, his eyes following after them, Luke couldn’t help but feel as though something in the foliage was staring back.

His back burned.

—

“Hello, little bird. That was a silly stunt that you pulled.”

This was Tartarus. Kronos sent him to Tartarus.

Luke clawed at the god’s arms, his wing-ears flapping frantically as he tried to escape his father’s tight embrace.

Why couldn’t he have had this when he was a child?

Even if he had sacrificed his life, Luke had no love for his father. At least, none that he wanted to give anymore.

As the god kept him from escaping, his eyes met Odysseus’.

He knew the story.

He knew what Odysseus had done to get home.

Still, Luke felt betrayed.

“Thank you, darling. Here’s the moly.” With his face pressed against Hermes’ chest, Luke could feel the crackle of divine energy - and it scared him. Even the arms that caged him held all the power that the gods wielded.

This was not the father he knew.

His father pretended to be a mailman.

He rarely showed his divine self.

He watched as Odysseus reached out for the plant, refusing to meet Luke’s gaze.

This wasn’t how the story goes. Hermes assisted Odysseus for… Hades, Luke didn’t know. Hermes helped because why not?

So why was he suddenly a bargaining chip?!

“Let go of me!” Even as the arms continued to tighten, Luke did his best to flail out of the god’s embrace, his wing-ears flapping fitfully. “Don’t touch me!”

“Oh you know how demigods are, darling! Stubborn and reckless. Little Loukanos here has hit quite the rebellious phase. Scared me when I returned to my palace to find him missing. Little bird tossed himself right out into the sea. Can you imagine it?” The god laughed, and Luke wished he had continued his war with the gods.

The audacity!

Hermes was lying, and they all knew it.

Odysseus knew it.

“Hermes… thank you.” The king said softly, a hint of guilt and hesitation in his voice. Luke felt somewhat vindicated at least that Odysseus felt some semblance of regret. Not that he would save him, but it was the thought that counted.

“Don’t thank me, friend. You very well may die.” There was an amused smile in the god’s tone, and Luke shivered. He wasn’t sure he’d ever heard such blatant carelessness in his father’s voice.

“Good luck!”

He heard faltering footsteps, and soon there was nothing but silence.

It was just him and this version of his father now.

Those arms eased around him, but Luke wasn’t stupid enough to believe that he was free. Hands gripped the back of his shirt, as if the god was searching. He dared to look up, scared of those irisless eyes. The Hermes of the future had the same blue eyes as Luke’s.

He really didn’t know this version of his father.

“Now that dear Odysseus is gone, you and I should have some father-son time, hm?”

The god’s smile was strained.

“Let’s talk.”

The god leaned down, his mouth close to Luke’s wing-ear.

“Tell me, little bird, where are your wings?”

—

As a father, Odysseus would do anything to protect his son.

The thought doesn’t ease his guilt, even though a part of him knew that this was the right choice.

He knew his men were in danger, but he spared a single glance back to where he had left Loukanos with Hermes.

When he had first seen the young man, Odysseus had been surprised to find a fellow Hermes-kin. Then Loukanos had opened his eyes, and he’d called him father.

The “father” had taken him aback, but mostly it was the haunted look in the boy’s eyes that scared him.

Odysseus knew war.

He saw it in the eyes of his crew.

He saw it on his own.

His only hope is that he would never have to see that same look in his own son’s eyes.

Really, it was for the best that he left Loukanos with Hermes. He didn’t know where the boy had come from and Odysseus had enough men to worry about. He couldn’t take Loukanos with them once they left the island.

Besides, Hermes had said that the boy was his son who had escaped from Olympus.

Nevermind that Odysseus knew the god had lied.

Nevermind that as far as Odysseus was aware, his own grandfather - a son of Hermes - had never mentioned anything about Hermes keeping any of his children on Olympus.

Nevermind that Loukanos had looked terrified when Hermes had forcefully dragged him into his arms.

Odysseus had tried to think of another way, any other plan that didn’t require such a sacrifice.

But Hermes had flashed those irisless white eyes at him, a daring grin on the god’s face.

Try it, King of Ithaca. I dare you.

He needed the moly.

He needed to save his crew.

He needed to get home.

He needed to see Penelope and his own son.

Odysseus could only hope that Hermes would have no ill-intent towards Loukanos. After all, Hermes was a father himself. Surely he only had the best intentions for his son.

He could just delude himself that Loukanos was some spoiled demigod. There were plenty of spoiled royals. He’d had the displeasure of meeting them himself. Loukanos was probably just one of those.

Even if the boy had refused the embrace, Odysseus had seen how much Hermes had been so happy to hold Loukanos in his arms. How he refused to let go.

Odysseus would trade the world to have his family in his arms.

What did Telemachus even look like?

Had he gained the same wings that most Hermes-kin had?

Odysseus felt his wing-ears twitch, the heartbreak nearly consuming him as he thought of his son.

What he would give to be like Hermes right now.

He shook his head, grasping the moly tightly in his fist. It was a worthwhile deal. He couldn’t regret it.

He had a crew to save.

He had a kingdom to return to.

And he had his own family to think about.

Loukanos will be fine.

—

Luke was not fine.

“I don’t remember siring you.” There was a hand on his chin, tilting his face as the god observed the scar on his face, tracing it with clawed fingers.

Luke would have given anything to have the future version of Hermes. His actual father knew how to pretend to be human. This Hermes had no such reasons to play pretend.

“But I look at you and I feel a great sense of loss.” The god’s voice turned into a soft croon. “I look at you and feel as though I have a mortal heart to break.”

“...Right.” Luke tried to take a step back, cursing the Fates as he remembered that he had been cornered into a tree. “Like you said, ‘as though you have a mortal heart,’ don’t worry about it too much. Just let me go and we can pretend—”

“I don’t even know your name, little bird.” Hermes’ other hand gripped his arm, keeping him from darting sideways.

Luke wished Kronos had teleported the knife with him. Sure, Luke didn’t want to fuck around and find out if he tried to stab this Hermes, but it would have been better than being defenseless.

“It’s Loukanos—”

The grip on his chin tightened, and the god’s eyes glowed briefly.

“Don’t lie.”

He took a breath, trying to stop the erratic beating of his heart. “It’s Luke. Luke Castellan.”

Hermes frowned, relinquishing his grip. “Luke Castellan of…?”

He wracked his mind for an answer, but anything he said would have been seen as a lie. Weakly, he mumbled out, “...Of Connecticut?”

“Of what?” Now it was the god’s turn to be confused. Luke took the opportunity to quickly dart past his father’s arm, trying to put as much of a distance between him and the god.

He had barely made it a few steps before the god was on him. He covered his face as he landed on the ground with a huff. He could feel the end of Hermes’ caduceus at his lower back, keeping him from crawling away.

“Your words don’t register as a lie, little bird. But I can’t quite recall a place known as… Kanetikut? Ah, and I don’t think I remember which mortal woman you come from—”

“Of course you don’t. Typical of you not to remember mom.” Obviously past Hermes wouldn’t know Luke’s mom yet, but the comment enraged him.

“...You have a lot of anger towards me, little bird.” He felt the weight of the caduceus lift, and Luke scrambled back to his feet. At least this time, the god didn’t follow after him. Instead, he was staring at Luke with birdlike curiosity, as though he were a shiny trinket. “You dress strangely too. There’s something very odd going on here, little bird. Where are you from, really?”

“Like I’d ever tell you.” He scoffed before rolling his eyes. “The only place I should be in right now is the Underworld. So, do your job and drop me off.”

“You don’t look dead to me, Luke.” The god grinned, but the amusement quickly dropped. “Though I suppose you feel as though you’ve died. Your poor wings—”

“And whose fault is that?” He snarled, wishing more than anything that this really was his father. He had wanted so long to ask the god why he had sent him on that quest.

Why did he even want that stupid golden apple?

“Ha! Certainly not me, darling. I didn’t even know you existed until a few minutes ago.” Hermes tutted, as if lecturing a small child. “Still, you blame me, don’t you?”

Before Luke could respond, the god was suddenly in front of him, arms pulling him into an embrace. “While it isn’t my fault, I won’t leave you to suffer alone.”

“Wha—” He screamed as the god suddenly flew upwards, carrying Luke in his arms.

The god only laughed, as if this was nothing but a game to him.

“No need to be scared, little bird. Your father has you.”

Luke nearly screamed again as the god jokingly loosened his grip. “Where are you taking me?!”

“Home, little bird.” The god smiled, “I don’t ever want to feel the loss of you.”

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

Author's Note:

So some notes.

*In the ancient times, it was more common for children of gods to display non-mortal traits. In the modern world, however, the non-mortal traits have become rare as a necessary consequence of keeping demigods from getting murked lmao. Luke just got lucky (or not) that he inherited Hermes' wings.

**As Odysseus is only a descendant and not really a direct child, he only inherited the wing-ears (though this isn't usually a guarantee and they could very well just have mortal traits - Odysseus is just lucky). For the direct children of Hermes, they always inherit both the wing-ears and the actual back wings. So yes, no flying back to Ithaca for Odysseus.

***Past Hermes could sense that Luke was a direct child and not just a descendant. While he's being very playful and stuff, he's actually freaking out that Luke is missing his wings. Also, since the gods were more hands-on in interacting with mortal lives back in ancient times, Hermes can easily just take and keep Luke. He's gonna keep this strange little son of his close by. Also also, technically it doesn't make sense but past Hermes could sort of feel that Luke was going to be a great loss to him (since in modern times, Luke was Hermes' favorite child). He feels a deep love for this son of his that he doesn't quite remember having.

#percy jackson and the olympians #pjo #pjo fanfic #epic the musical #epic hermes #epic odysseus #luke castellan #luke castellan-centric #wingfic #darkfic

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