#mysterious lady with water powers

[deebris]

Between us

Batfamily x batsis (platonic!)

Synopsis: This would be the first night you and Bruce would spend together as father and daughter, something you had been eagerly looking forward to. Everything seemed peaceful during dinner until the main singer of the restaurant, Bruce's ex-girlfriend from many years ago, decided to show up and stir things up.

Warnings: Mentions cheating, discrimination agaisnt people with physical disabilities (not from Bruce, not from you), a bit of angst, fluff at the end.

Word count: 5.2k

Note: This is part of The Mysterious Visitor universe, but for those who haven’t read it: the reader is Damian’s twin (though there are no physical descriptions of her), and Talia kept it a secret from Bruce even after her son became Robin. The reader began living with the Batfamily at the age of 13.

You smiled as you reached the last step of the staircase and heard the melody of Dream a little dream of me being played. This restaurant wasn’t very different from those you used to visit with your mother, but it was still different in many ways. It was a large hall, full of yellow lights and whispers from the various conversations happening simultaneously, but what caught your attention most was the singer. Her voice was powerful, yet as soft as a feather. Her arms moved gracefully, as if she knew precisely where to guide them.

Today, it was just you and Bruce, but you had barely entered the place before several men in fine suits began greeting him and making jokes, most of which you didn’t understand. Your smaller figure went unnoticed, and you made no effort for this, staying in your personal silence while you admired the chandeliers and walls with wide eyes. The place wasn’t discreet and was obviously very expensive.

You liked observing people. Many beautiful young women were laughing, but what drew your attention were the unique hairstyles and dresses each of them wore. As Bruce tried to follow the waiter to your table, someone would rise from their own seat every few seconds to talk to him. Yet despite all the handshakes, he never let go of your hand. Until an older lady noticed the little girl Bruce Wayne had brought along:

“And who is this young lady, Bruce?” she asked with a warm smile, and you finally stopped looking around to focus on the people your father was conversing with.

“This is my daughter, Ophelia,” he said, calling the woman by her first name with familiarity. Bruce had a certain affection for her, as she had been a friend of his mother when she was alive.

“Oh! Martha would have been so happy to see the two of you.” She placed a hand on her chest and gently stroked your chin. “And where have you been hiding her?”

“She lived with her mother, but she’s staying with me now,” Bruce replied, beaming at the lady, who excitedly called her husband and son, likely around your father’s age, to come greet you. They were among the few people you truly enjoyed meeting.

It didn’t take long for you two to finally reach your table. Bruce pulled out a chair for you to sit, then took his own. The waiter immediately poured wine for him, while your glass remained filled only with water.

“Do you like the music?” he suddenly asked, noticing how you were staring at the musicians.

“I do,” you said, starting to fiddle with the napkins. “I tried playing the flute once,” you mentioned, and Bruce loved when you initiated conversations without realizing it. It made it easier for him to learn more about you, and in a way, it was an endearing trait of your personality.

“Tried? Why did you give up?” He kept the conversation going, relaxed in his chair and entirely focused on every small expression you made.

“I didn’t have enough breath to blow,” you snapped your lips in frustration, remembering how disappointing it was not to be able to play. Your father wanted to laugh internally but did everything to hold it back, knowing it would irritate you. “Do you play anything?”

“I used to play piano, but I’ve had no time, and I barely remember the last time I touched one,” he squinted as he spoke, and you felt sad seeing how much he seemed to miss the instrument.

“Why is there a woman in costume over there?” you asked suddenly, changing the subject entirely, and your father had to turn his head to see whom you were talking about. There was a woman in flamboyant clothes and a white wig talking to a man Bruce recognized as the owner of the establishment.

“She’s the opera singer who used to perform here when it was still a theater.” He got comfortable in his seat again and opened the menu. “She only goes on stage at 10. If you want, we can stay and watch her later.”

“This used to be a theater?” you perked up, scanning the room again, trying to imagine how it must have looked years ago, without all these tables and with an audience facing the stage. Bruce smiled internally, having caught on that your curiosity had been piqued.

“When the old owner died, his son decided to turn the place into a restaurant,” he glanced briefly at you and noticed how you were expecting him to say more. “The boy didn’t live in the city, and when he came back, he thought the business was too archaic. But he decided to keep some of the staff as a tradition.”

“I wish I could have watched a play here,” you said, frustrated, resting your head between your hands. Bruce thought about telling you to take your arms off the table but dismissed the idea.

“You’ve never seen one?” He turned to the next page, evaluating the meals.

“No… Only on TV,” you replied, poking at the edge of the other menu the waiter had left for you but not bothering to open it.

“We can go one day. I’ll take you,” he said after finally deciding what to order, but before calling the waiter, he looked at you curiously. “Have you decided what you want to eat?”

“I…” you hesitated for a moment. “Can you choose for me?” you asked with pleading eyes.

Bruce frowned. He opened his mouth to understand but closed it immediately. He had noticed details about your behavior like this in recent weeks—small, seemingly insignificant things that still managed to catch him by surprise. It was normal for children your age to choose what they wanted to eat, but it seemed Talia had been very strict about your diet. Alfred prepared your meals, and Bruce couldn’t recall you refusing any of them. Fortunately, you seemed easygoing in this aspect.

“Are you sure you don’t want to choose? Something savory instead of sweet?” he suggested, and you thought for a moment but nodded. Bruce knew about your fondness for sweets, which made him sometimes push you to avoid them.

Bruce raised his hand to call the waiter, but suddenly a high-pitched female voice approached from behind. Neither of you had noticed when the singer had finished her song, stepping away from the microphone while the band played without vocals, heading toward your table.

“Bruce Wayne!” she called out excitedly, placing a hand on his shoulder. Your father looked at her, not expecting her to come over, barely noticing the man accompanying her until he also started speaking, though more loudly than her.

“Miss Conti,” Bruce muttered her name uncomfortably. “Mr. Williams,” he acknowledged the restaurant’s owner. After Williams took over the place following his father’s death, Conti was hired as the main attraction. The two had a public affair, something socially frowned upon, but for some reason, the man’s wife tolerated the scandal.

“Mr. Wayne, I needed to talk to you. Are you enjoying the evening?” Williams attempted to start, but he was interrupted:

“Oh, come on, Bruce. You know you can call me Cecilia,” the woman chimed in, rubbing your father’s shoulder with her thumb before removing her hand completely and then noticing you sitting next to him. She opened an even bigger smile, though her eyes didn’t follow suit, widening with curiosity. “And who’s this lovely girl here?”

Bruce let out a small laugh, happy to mention you. “This is my daughter.”

“I didn’t know you had a daughter. How’s Richard doing? Still as confident as when he was a boy? God, he must be a grown man by now.” She made comment after comment but didn’t give Bruce a chance to respond before she started speaking again: “Oh, but you’re such a cute little thing.” She approached your chair, cautiously analyzing your face, running her fingers over your earlobe and then sliding them along your jaw. You had no other reaction but to thank her, feeling uncomfortable with her touch and very confused about who they were.

“You’re very beautiful too, Miss,” you said sincerely. The woman before you was truly stunning. Her blonde hair was impeccably styled in an elegant bun, and her makeup remained flawless, without a smudge. She wore an orange dress adorned with small sparkling stones that glimmered under the lights. Your teenage eyes were captivated by her appearance. She didn’t seem to be more than 40 years old.

“Oh, hearing her speak makes her even more adorable,” she gestured in the air as if wanting to pinch your cheeks, softening her voice the way people often do when talking to pets.

“A really lovely young lady, if I may say so,” Williams added with an awkward smile as he pulled a chair from another table to sit. You looked at Bruce, confused, thinking it would just be the two of you. The woman did the same but, instead of fetching one herself, asked a random man in a staff uniform to bring her one. “Remember what we were discussing at the city library’s grand opening, Wayne?”

“George, forget business for a second. Let’s have some fun,” Cecilia cut him off. “Where did you two come from?” she asked you both.

“We were at the auction,” your father answered, tense at their lack of social grace. If you hadn’t been there, Bruce wouldn’t have hesitated to be rude and tell them to get lost, but in front of his children, he tried to keep that side of him in check.

“Oh! The one the opposing candidate, DuPont, organized?” she added a malicious tone to her voice, as if implying something. “I must say, I never thought I’d see you supporting one of your biggest competitors in Gotham’s mayoral race, Bruce.”

“We’re competitors, not enemies,” he tried to respond lightly. “Besides, I don’t see why we couldn’t end up collaborating.”

"You should have declared support for the current mayor. The citizens of Gotham tend to reelect the same names, as you well know. Carnegie will win again," the other man interrupted. Bruce, impatient, clenched his fists under the table, frustrated with the direction the conversation had taken. He had hoped for a quiet dinner alone with you to get to know you better, but it seemed he had chosen the wrong place.

"Mr. Williams, no offense intended, my only reason for being here is to have dinner with my daughter. Please, let’s put politics aside for tonight." He wished he could ask both of them to leave, but suddenly, Cecilia started talking to you. Bruce, visibly irritated, called the waiter, wanting to finish the meal as quickly as possible so he could leave. After placing his order, he turned to you and asked, "Carbonara?" Seeing you nod, he ordered that too.

"I'll go for an arugula salad with truffles," Cecilia said, her smile becoming increasingly irritating, seemingly oblivious to Bruce's displeasure.

"For me, a lobster ravioli with lemon foam and caviar," Williams added, just to be included, and you grimaced at the thought of caviar.

"What did you think of the auction? Did your father buy something special for you?" Cecilia turned to you at the table, with a noticeable interest in getting your attention.

"It was interesting, Miss Conti," you replied simply, using the surname you remembered your father mentioning.

"Oh, dear..." Cecilia said in a falsely disheartened tone. "Bruce drags you to these boring events? Girls your age usually prefer to go to the movies or something like that."

"I like movies," you said, irritated, not quite understanding what she was getting at. "And I enjoyed the auction. There were some very beautiful paintings there."

"Argh, I hope you’re not talking about those by Isabela Zaragoza." She picked up a wine glass the waiter had served a few minutes earlier and drank. "She can only sell her works at charity auctions." She let out a sarcastic laugh, and Mr. Williams joined in.

You looked at Bruce for a response, but all you saw was a hard look. Your father was hardly looking at any of you, breathing deeply with impatience. You didn’t like what they were doing; it seemed cruel, even though you had no idea who Isabela Zaragoza was.

"Oh, Bruce. You know it's true." She rolled her eyes, and it was clear that Cecilia was the dominant one in the duo, always very talkative and starting conversations. "In all of Gotham City, the only one who buys her art is your father. It must be out of pity; someone who paints with their feet probably won't get very far in their career."

You were shocked by what she said. It was something so unexpected to hear that you froze in place completely. It was absurdly cruel, and seeing your wide eyes, along with Bruce's furious expression, made Williams, who had been laughing with her earlier, become nervous.

"Cecilia!" He whispered her name sharply. "She was just joking. Zaragoza is a fantastic artist." He tried to ease the tense atmosphere, sweating coldly.

"I must say she paints better with her feet than you sing with your mouth, Miss Conti." Bruce suddenly replied in a dangerously low voice, and it seemed to hit a nerve with her, as the calluses that were forming in her voice knocked her confidence. He knew he was wrong to try to humiliate her back; it wasn’t a mature move, especially since he didn’t want you to take that as an example.

You let out a quiet laugh at that but immediately stopped when Bruce looked at you. He had a soft sadness, not of disappointment, but of concern. He regretted his own behavior and knew he would need to talk to you about what Cecilia and he had said later. The woman in question tried to laugh with you at first but miserably failed. It was obvious that Bruce had wounded her ego.

"When we were dating, you praised my voice a lot, Bruce." She suddenly mentioned, and you looked at him in surprise. You hadn’t noticed how your father had almost frozen in place before asking:

"You and my dad used to date?" Your voice carried genuine curiosity, and Mr. Williams beside you seemed uncomfortable with the topic.

"Yes, dear." She looked at you, then turned her face to Bruce mockingly. In the background, you could hear your father clearing his throat, trying to draw your attention away from the subject, but he couldn’t. "It's been many years. It was fun for a few months, that is until Robert found out, of course." She laughed a little too loudly for the setting, taking another sip from her glass.

"Who is Robert?" You asked, your voice dropping, your playful smile now gone due to the strangeness of the conversation.

"Oh, he was my husband." She said it as if it were nothing, and Bruce suddenly stood up from the table, moving to his seat and pulling you to leave. His expression had crumpled like paper as he stood up automatically, still processing what she had said.

"Let’s go." Bruce told you, embarrassed but trying to mask it with an expression of fury.

"But the dishes haven’t even arrived yet, Bruce." Cecilia melodramatically added, placing a hand on his arm, a silent request to stay.

"We're leaving." He repeated more firmly, pulling you by the shoulders away from her. Bruce leaned a bit over the table to face her head-on, and with harshness, he unleashed his anger on her: "I know what you're trying to do, you viper, and you will regret this. Never dare to approach me or her again."

"Did I say something wrong?" She spoke cynically, finally showing an expression that matched her feelings for him: disdain.

"Wayne, we can resolve this." William stood up from the chair, visibly shaken. The meticulous plan he had been crafting for months was crumbling before his eyes. Bruce's funding was the key to expanding the restaurant, and Cecilia had ruined everything. "I'm sure we can forget this incident if Ceci apologizes."

Bruce felt the tension rise in his body, the throb of a vein in his forehead, while the heat of irritation burned under his skin. "Do you think I’m going to accept something like that? In front of my daughter?" He spat the words, struggling to maintain his composure. His fists were clenched, ready for a blow that never came. It was only when you gently tugged on his arm that he made the decision to leave. As you walked out, William's frustrated shouts echoed through the hall, his anger directed at the blonde woman, who was furious at being dismissed immediately.

Bruce's frustration was palpable. The last thing he wanted was to deal with someone as inconvenient as Cecilia, especially in your presence. The shadow of his reckless past still hung over him, an open wound. Women like her were living reminders of the regrets that haunted him, of thoughtless choices he would do anything to change.

Near the exit, you spotted the opera singer again, and the memory of what your father had promised you tugged at your heart. "Aren't we going to stay to hear the opera lady?" your voice carried a twinge of sadness.

Bruce sighed, his fingers gently squeezing your shoulders, but the discomfort was evident on his face. "Sorry, I know you wanted that." The weight of the situation was palpable, and he couldn’t help but imagine what you were thinking about him now.

The chauffeur, caught off guard by the rush, quickly opened the door. Bruce, however, did not wait. He let you enter first, slamming the door shut as soon as he settled in. Inside the car, he exhaled the air he hadn’t realized he was holding, diverting his gaze to you. His focus was on the scenery, his face too serene, but he noticed how you were biting your nails—a small sign of nervousness.

He swallowed hard. What a terrible way to end the evening, right next to you. The silence hung heavy in the air, and he feared asking what was going through your mind. Who would have thought? Bruce Wayne, afraid of the words of a child.

For a moment, he watched you press your cheek against the glass, your eyes wandering over the city lights.

"S/n," he called your name, his voice hoarse. You murmured in response, waiting for him to continue. Bruce opened his mouth, but the words got lost along the way. His expression hardened, and he turned to the window as well, the silence remaining until you arrived at the mansion. And you, very focused on observing the movement of the streets, didn’t mind.

When you arrived at the entrance, Alfred was already there, helping you take off your thick coat at that very moment. The butler was surprised at how quickly the two of you returned. He knew that Bruce wouldn’t take long because of you, needing to sleep early, but he hadn’t expected it to be at this hour.

"Master Bruce, Miss Y/n. Did something happen?" He asked, noticing your silence. For Bruce, this was a common demeanor, but whenever your went out, you returned home commenting on every tiny detail of everything you saw.

"Boring people." You replied with a grimace, using that false tone of indifference that Alfred knew how to identify very well.

"Boring people?" He returned rhetorically while glancing at Bruce, who silently took off his own coat and exited the room without saying goodbye to either of you. He had certainly overheard the brief conversation but was ignoring you two. "There are always a few." The older man said with a smile at you.

“I don’t like going to places with a lot of people; it’s annoying having to give everyone an explanation. But it was nice to go out with Bruce.” You started voicing your thoughts aloud, and Alfred knew you wouldn’t hold back in front of him.

Sometimes he felt like you treated him as a sort of confidant, a diary, but then he realized you didn’t make an effort to hide anything from anyone in particular, except for extremely specific things. Another clear sign of Talia. She must have raised you to be like this, as no other girl your age would likely be so open.

“Did you have fun with him?” The butler continued encouraging you.

“Yes!” You became animated again, just as you had on other occasions. It seemed like all you needed was a little push to break the ice. “He let me place bids at the auction. I even competed with someone.”

“Did you win?”

“Yes!” You repeated the exasperated expression. “In the end, I almost didn’t place a final bid because the money got really high, but Bruce said to keep going.”

“And what did you get?” Alfred asked, guiding you to the kitchen. At some point, you would ask for his hot chocolate, so he preferred to get ahead of it.

“It was a compass from the colonial era.” You followed him and sat in the middle chair at the counter, one of the seats in front of the stove, since watching the butler cook had become one of your hobbies. It happened so often that everyone knew that chair was yours, and only you sat in it. “The money went to the children from the orphanage, so Bruce said I could.”

“Well done.” He replied, very focused on something but still paying attention to every word you said. Just then, Jason entered the kitchen, surprised to see you there, just like Alfred.

“You got back early.” He commented, recognizing the situation, raising his eyebrows at the butler, who gave him a keen look as he watched him head for the fridge. “What happened?” The boy asked, lacking any real interest.

“Bruce argued with a couple at the restaurant after the auction.” You said, resting your head on the counter, and Alfred could feel his ears itching. He had finally arrived at the point he wanted. “I saw a motorcycle like yours when we were coming back.” You added for your brother.

“Bruce argued at the restaurant?” Jason questioned you, ignoring your last sentence, not out of malice, but because he didn’t expect the animated man who had left home earlier to come back with such news.

“It wasn’t really a fight.” You tried to correct yourself, feeling guilty for revealing this since neither of them seemed very happy. “He just ended up discussing.”

Alfred extended an arm toward Jason as if asking for permission to interject in the matter. “Miss Y/n, who did Master Bruce argue with?”

You worried you were saying too much and might upset Bruce later because of it, but the way things happened, you knew the people at the tables around must have seen the scene, even if they didn’t know the context. Sooner or later, they would know who the parties involved were.

“A man named... Williams I think.” You whispered, looking at a random point as you tried to remember his name, losing Jason’s incredulous expression as he recognized the name of the place’s owner. “And a woman named Cecilia Conti.” The last name made Alfred nod silently, as he remembered the woman well.

“What did those two do to annoy him?” Jason dared to ask, looking at the butler with curiosity. The man was good at hiding feelings, but he sensed that Alfred knew very well the last person. The name wasn’t strange, but still, it wasn’t someone Jason recalled being mentioned with any importance.

The delay in hearing your answer made the two of them stare at you again in confusion. You pulled your hands from the counter and joined them in your lap, never meeting their gazes. It was an uncomfortable situation for you, and unfortunately very disappointing, but you knew Bruce wouldn’t want you to go around sharing this. If you were in his shoes, you wouldn’t want anyone to know either. It wasn’t something that should be simply said.

“I don’t know.” You whispered again, looking up to see if they believed you. Obviously, neither of them did, but Jason was clever and changed the subject.

“So you saw a motorcycle like mine, huh?” He moved closer to you, holding a bottle of tonic water he had taken from the fridge. “Which one was it?”

“I don’t understand motorcycles.” You replied with a discouraged huff.

Jason glanced at Alfred and noticed that he was watching you both the whole time. Knowing him well, Jason realized that Alfred would go after Bruce to understand the story since you obviously didn’t want to tell.

“I was going to take a look at the exhaust on mine. Want to come with me?” He asked, remembering how you enjoyed learning a bit more about how the systems worked when he showed you last week. “I’ll let you get your hands dirty this time.”

“Are you serious?” You asked excitedly, smiling when you saw him shrug, but you quickly widened your eyes as you remembered something: “I can’t, I need to sleep. First day of school.”

Your statement made Jason check his wristwatch, looking at the time. He looked at you as if feeling sorry, saying, “Good luck, squirt.” And he headed to the garage of the Batcave, from which you suspected he had just come.

Alfred was happy that Jason was bonding with you. Knowing the boy's genius, the older man thought he would resist developing some kind of relationship, very different from Dick. But apparently, your nature pleased him since he didn’t shy away from spending time in your presence, like now.

Before midnight, you had already washed your hair and were trying to dry it with a hairdryer, but it was a bit difficult to stretch your arm back. You were clumsy, and usually, your mother did that for you, but after a few minutes, you managed. The problem was that everything got messy, and you wanted to sleep so you wouldn’t be tired the next day, but you had to detangle it or it would be worse. You must have been very focused while trying to fix your hair because you didn’t even notice your father opening the door.

“You’ve got everything ready.” Bruce said, analyzing the clothes on your sofa, with his hands in the pockets of his dress pants, having only taken off his jacket. “Excited for the first day of school?” He asked you with a strange tone.

“I think I’m more nervous.” Your response came with a furrowed brow, wondering what the day would be like. You had never been to school before, and it seemed Damian and Tim were really good there, so you felt a bit pressured to at least try not to embarrass them with poor performance.

“I still remember how it was for me.” He continued, watching your uniform with a melancholic gaze, reliving some old memory. Bruce liked how well ironed everything was, and it made him proud to know that you did it all by yourself. “You’ll do fine, trust me. A girl like you won’t have many problems making friends or getting good grades.”

“Alfred helped me choose the shoes.” You pulled out a pair of low-heeled white dress shoes to show him. They were delicate and would certainly stand out against the uniform. “Aren’t they pretty?”

“They are.” Bruce smiled, looking more at you than at the shoes themselves. “Have you eaten?” He asked, concerned.

You grimaced and took a moment to respond, letting out a hesitant “Yes.”

“Did you really eat?” He gave you a disapproving look, not convinced.

“Hot chocolate.” You let out the answer you knew he didn’t want to hear. You ate a bit of everything, including healthy stuff, but your sweet tooth was hard to control.

“You have to eat something besides sweets before bed.” He said, trying not to give in to the remorseful look you gave him. But the feeling of guilt hit him, knowing he should have ensured you had dinner at the restaurant.

“But I already brushed my teeth.” Your mumble made him sigh, searching for words to bring up a topic he wanted to avoid at all costs.

“Sorry... For what happened there.” He took his hands out of his pockets and sat on the bed, extending his arm for you to come to him. “You shouldn’t have had to hear that.” His voice was in an unnatural tone, firm and grave, but your silence notably bothered him.

“S/n.” He called your name, seeing your face look up to meet his. “You can be angry. You don’t have to pretend.”

“Why should I be angry?” Your question was innocent. Although it was disappointing, you didn’t feel angry at him. Besides, before you got to know him for real, Bruce Wayne was already a famous figure. His personal life was constantly in the newspapers.

“I want you to know that back then I was young and stupid.” He ran his hand along your arm as if wanting to offer some kind of comfort. The realization that you could have changed your opinion about him was killing him since you two left there, and he worried about doing something wrong concerning you, as Bruce wanted your trust, and he knew Talia wouldn’t let any mistake slip by before coming back and throwing it in his face. “I’ve changed. Do you understand me?”

“So you wouldn’t do that again?” You asked calmly, and that relieved him.

“No, never again. That was the first and last time.” He placed the hand that was on your arm to gently caress your cheek, suddenly remembering the time. He couldn’t take much more of your time. “There’s something more important I want to talk to you about as well. What Conti said about Miss Zaragoza…”

“It was wrong,” you quickly added, noticing how conflicted he seemed about what had happened.

“And what I said after…” Bruce continued, trying to find the right way to say it, but you spoke up again:

“That was wrong too.” Your soft voice sounded in understanding.

“Smart girl.” He smiled slightly, placing his hand on top of your head. “Can you do me a favor?”

“What?” you asked, rubbing your sleepy eyes.

“Can you not mention Miss Conti to Dick?” Bruce continued looking at you attentively, noticing the silly expression on your face. He felt genuinely grateful to see that the incident hadn’t affected your mood towards him. “Your brother doesn’t like her either.” Bruce gave you a light pinch on your side, which made you laugh.

“Alright!” you murmured as you got up, now excited thinking about the day ahead. “No telling Dick.” You emphasized, already pulling the covers up to lie down.

Bruce had also stood up, going to the switch to turn off the light when your voice sounded again: “Can you take me to school tomorrow? Just to the entrance.”

“I will,” he replied calmly. “And no more sweets for the rest of the week. I won’t go easy on you.” Bruce said finally, turning off the switch and carefully closing your bedroom door.

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KEEP IT CASUAL ★ HOSHINA SOSHIRO

DAY SIX ➵ rumor has it hoshina’s got himself a fuck buddy, and your friends are all dying to know who the mystery girl is. you’d clear things up…if it weren’t you they were gossiping about. so, you do what any sane person would—you steer clear. only problem is, he’s not exactly known for his patience.

cw ➵ dom/sub dynamics, casual relationship, heavy breeding kink, creampie, rough sex, manhàndling, hair pulling, degradation, name calling, face fucking, blòwjob, deepthroating, fingéring, squírting, semi public sex, unprotected sex, creampie

wc ➵ 7.6k

kinktober masterlist

The low buzz of conversation filled the ops room as the post-mission monitors cycled down to standby mode, casting the console banks in a moody dimness. You sank back in your chair with an audible exhale, shrugging off the lingering tension like a weighty second skin.

Beside you, Okonogi let her sleek locks tumble free as she dragged her ponytail loose. With her eyes closed, she worked delicate fingertips against her temples as if to physically dispel the lingering data streams from her consciousness.

"Well, that was...intense," Aiko groaned from across the room, her languid stretch making the chair groan softly. "But we killed it as always, ladies!"

Murmurs of exhausted agreement rippled through the cluster of support staff. You kept your expression carefully neutral, concentrating on your outward monitor while inwardly hyperaware of the pronounced ache between your legs.

Because with every micro-shift in your seat, you felt the thick, obscene remnants of Soshiro's ardent efforts from earlier...viscous evidence of the wild, punishing lovemaking session he'd subjected your body to before the mission ops couldn't commence in earnest.

Flashes of blinding rapture sparked behind your eyes in fragmented bursts: the brutally perfect sting of his palm cracking across your bare ass as punishment for making noise...the indecent squelching suction of his thick cock pounding into your swollen depths over and over until you sobbed...the sublimely cruel flick of his wicked tongue around your clit while your thighs shuddered against his ears...

You bit back an involuntary moan, silently thanking every deity you could name for the dimness concealing your furious blush. The ache in your core only intensified further with each subtle provocation reminding you of Soshiro's generous parting "gift" still smeared and throbbing within...

"Okay, but did anyone else notice Vice Captain Hoshina out there today?" Yumi's lower tones broke through the post-op daze like a splash of ice water. "Or am I just so touch starved that I'm projecting my thirsty vibes onto him?"

The suggestive lilt in her voice said she knew damn well she wasn't imagining things. An anticipatory hush fell over the desks as multiple sets of eyes swiveled towards Yumi with an almost audible gleam.

"Oh no, honey - I noticed him too!" Emi purred throatily without missing a beat. She reclined further in her chair, one foot propping up on the edge of her console as if to maximize her own visibility. "All that raw, barely-leashed power and brute strength just simmering beneath the surface and ready to BURST with each swing of that sword?"

Titters of salacious delight greeted her overtly lascivious pause. You tried to focus on keeping your breathing measured and even, but were viscerally aware of your pulse thundering against your blushing throat. Because Emi's lurid insinuations only cast your thoughts spiraling to how accurately she captured Soshiro's merciless, feral intensity when truly unleashed upon your quivering body...

You recalled with perfect clarity the last time you'd been the object of that simmering ferocity let fully off the chain. Three nights ago, behind the soundproofed walls of the training room after hours as he'd pinned your naked, sweat-slicked form against the mirror with punishing force.

"You want this, my sweet slut?" he'd growled in that sub-rumbling baritone saturated with bestial promise. "You want your master's thick cock stretching you wide and ruining this greedy little hole of yours once and for all?"

Your whimpering assent had shredded on a desperate keen when Soshiro abruptly hilted himself balls-deep within your swollen pussy in one brutally unhurried stroke. The volcanic heat of him stuffed so relentlessly full inside robbed your lungs of air, leaving you gasping and boneless as he loomed behind - a conquering force of nature poised to split you asunder over and over again...

You tamped down hard on the sizzling memories even as a fresh gush of arousal pulsed needily against your throbbing walls. It took every ounce of wherewithal not to audibly whine or squirm.

Meanwhile, the salacious gossiping had only escalated further while you spiraled.

"I bet the Vice Captain tastes as intensely delicious as he looks when he's all sweating and riled up like that, too." The explicit slurp Aiko tacked on left nothing to the imagination. "God, I would murder just about anyone for a chance to get a mouthful of him after a mission that brutal..."

A round of scandalous giggles rang out over the desks as your cheeks flamed darker than ever before. Of COURSE Aiko would imagine such depraved cravings towards the man. And of course, you knew first-hand just how utterly transcendent indulging in that very sordid desire really was when sinking to your knees before Soshiro. How his thick, punishingly delicious cock stuffed your mouth so completely full, your jaw ached exquisitely as he pumped in and out with escalating savagery...

You'd swallowed him down to the root on that occasion like the obedient slut he'd called you. Forced to breathe in desperate snuffles through your flaring nostrils as Soshiro grasped brutal handfuls of your hair, anchoring your mouth as an eager receptacle for his lust. Only when you were sputtering and drooling around his shaft did he allow you respite, thick ropes of salty cum hosing across your tongue while he groaned his perverse pleasure...

Another treacherous gush of liquid heat caught you off-guard, forcing you to shift minutely and bite your lower lip to stifle a plaintive noise. Outwardly, you remained every inch the demure, focused operative reviewing post-op data alongside some of your peers. Inwardly, you were a boiling maelstrom of lust-soaked humiliation and rampant need.

Because their casual, lurid fantasizing and rumors amounted to so little when held against the viscerally depraved undercurrent of your relationship with Soshiro. How he revelled in making you the most fucked-out, overstimulated little toy - rendered profoundly insensible from having every one of your limits smashed and boundaries redrawn around his potent,mercilcally uncompromising lovemaking.

"Wait, but...since we're on the subject of the Vice Captain getting riled up..." Emis's voice took on a lasciviously loaded tone that immediately commanded the room's attention. "Has anyone else heard the whispers going around lately about him maybe having a...special lady friend of his own that he's been getting alllll riled up for behind closed doors?"

The tension in the air immediately kicked up several shuddering notches as every support staff operative stopped breathing in unison. Even Okonogi's usually stern features betrayed feverishly piqued interest at those delicious implications.

As for you...in that endless suspended moment, you felt every ounce of arousal and lingering fluids sloshing within your abused and claimed body turn to molten panic. Because they were finally approaching the subject permanently etched into your every waking thought and fevered dream.

The forbidden, utterly perverse reality of you being the secret lover in question - Soshiro's chosen conquest and receptacle for every licentious, primal urge he couldn't vent upon any other. Your only role to feed his basest hungers and cravings for total carnal domination over a yielding, feminine form built for the express purpose of desperate pleasuring.

You shuddered hard enough for the wheels of your chair to squeak against the console alcove as a fresh bloom of humiliation washed over your features. The girls' speculating scrutiny prickled like smoldering embers against your cheeks.

Over the next few minutes, every tiny detail and explict rumor you'd been trying so diligently to ignore was about to spill forth like a bursting delta of perverse conjecture. They would doubtlessly paint vile, viscerally pornographic imagery with every crude supposition - all while failing to even graze the shuddering, soul-shattering truth.

That after each mission or training regimen, it was you and you alone who became Soshiro's personal oasis for slaking his needs. That he claimed you over and over in bestial, punishing raptures - stretching you to the point of delirium while spasming deep inside, pumping raw viscous lashings of his essence into your core until you grew drunk on his musky feral musk.

That he had turned you into an obscenely babbling, ruined thing - mewling and thrashing and enduring ritualistic despoilments of your body again and again without reprieve, your only solace being the sublime respites between each shattering orgasm where he whispered salacious praise into the sweaty hollow of your throat.

The mere reminder of what was to come while trapped among their obliviously speculating ranks caused you to silently keen. You covertly pressed your trembling thighs together, desperate to alleviate the liquid throbbing echoing from your innermost chambers.

But it was no use. Every subsequent rumor exhaled into the ripe air only stoked the smoldering coals of your hunger higher...until your entire being cried out for Soshiro's deliverance in the form of complete despoilment - mind, body, and soul - before their very eyes.

"Wait, back up - did you say the Vice Captain might have a lover?" Chika sputtered, eyes wide behind her glasses. "As in, some special lady friend he's been shtupping on the down-low?"

A weighted pause crystallized as all eyes turned towards Emi with rapt fascination. The sly grin curling her lips spoke volumes before she even had a chance to confirm the tantalizing rumor.

"Oh, there's definitely some people going around alleging as much," Emi purred in a treacly lilt that had your pulse kicking up a notch. "In fact, things are getting pretty heated about the mysterious identity of this supposed lover and just what kind of freaky bedroom activities might be going on..."

The weighted silence that followed her lascivious statement seemed to crush inwards from all sides. You fought to keep each inhale steady and measured, feeling the dense viscosity of Soshiro's earlier deposit shifting indecently within your clenching walls at every provocation.

Like a lurid siren song, it beckoned you to surrender to the truth - to reveal yourself as the one providing your powerful Vice Captain with succor in his most primal, unrestrained throes of need. The one bearing the stickied evidence of his virility at this very moment as a perverse trophy.

The thought alone made you shiver with humiliated yearning even as Okonogi tutted in clear disapproval.

"Oh for gods' sake...are we really stooping to such sophomoric gossip now?" she chided, glaring around the room. "Have some discretion and professionalism, ladies. We all know rumors like that are utter bull—"

"But what if they aren't, though?" Ayumi suddenly cut in with palpable glee. "I meannn...let's be real here, Okonogi. Our Vice Captain is like, the human embodiment of raw alpha dominance, right? That kind of raw sexual intensity HAS to get channeled somewhere beyond just training and fighting!"

A salacious titter circulated in the wake of her words. You bit down hard on the inside of your cheek until you tasted copper, fighting the mortified urge to sink beneath the desks and simply disappear. Because where they projected lurid speculation and pedestrian fantasy, your reality with Soshiro dwarfed everything on an order of magnitude.

"She's kinda got a point..." Chika chimed in with exaggerated thoughtfulness. "Just picture it: the poor guy's probably all pent up after all those ops. He HAS to be unleashing that somewhere when the pressures build too much, right?"

More depraved chuckles and giggles swelled around you as a fresh gush of slick arousal pulsed deep within your abused body. Because that's exactly what transpired after each and every assignment - Soshiro storming into whatever private oasis you'd arranged, seizing your pliant form with bruising force and subjugating you for hours on end in an endless gauntlet of volcanic couplings.

His ruinous thickness would ream you asunder again and again in merciless strokes until the potent, musky seed he'd been hoarding boiled free in hot, viscous lashings...only for his ferocious hungers to roar back to life minutes later, the cycle beginning anew until you became a spent, thoroughly abused mess of oversensitized nerves shaken to your very core.

"Well aren't you all just charming today," Okonogi grumbled through gritted teeth. "Whether or not Vice Captain Hoshina engages in...intimate relations during his personal time is utterly irrelevant. We should focus on—"

"Okaaay, but can we at least take a sec to appreciate what an absolute monster in the sack he must be?" Emi interjected before the lecture could gain momentum. "I'm talking full beast mode...utterly destroying some poor girl through multiple orgasms and leaving her wrecked in the best way possible for days afterward!"

You whimpered audibly before you could bite it back, memories of Soshiro's last marathon claiming session assaulting your consciousness in vivid detail. The look of ravenous possession distorting his chiseled features as he hilted himself inside your slick, swollen entrance over and over...the steadily escalating volume of your frantic cries as he hammered his pulsing, volcanic length against that sublime innermost cluster of nerves repeatedly...his ruthless stamina and refusal to allow you even a moment's respite as you pathetically begged for mercy amid each shattering climax only to be hurled towards bigger, more brilliant heights of rapture...

Emi released another lurid chuckle, either not catching your stifled noise or willfully ignoring it. "Ooh yes, I can picture it now...Vice Captain just railing her silly from behind, putting that athletic cock to goooood use stretching her out and making her see stars over and over again..."

A breathless chorus of tortured gasps and giggles greeted the gauche fantasy as more wanton giggling erupted. Only you remained frozen in mortified silence, dizzy from the memories and visceral recollections pummeling you alongside each descriptive stroke.

Because that was among Soshiro's favorite methods of possessing you completely - gripping your hair in a punishing fist and dragging you back into his waiting shaft in one ruthless stroke, mouth agape and vertebrae straining to accommodate his ferocious pace from behind. Over and over he would split your swollen pussy lips apart with violent snap of his toned hips until every upstroke ground agonizingly against that spongy cluster inside and sent you spiraling into oblivion.

Only after you dissolved into an animalistic, mewling wreck in the wake of your latest orgasmic spiral would Soshiro finally allow you ragged relief as he snarled his own savage release to the hilt. You'd gasp and shudder brokenly while he pumped obscene ropes of viscous heat into your abused quim, painting your womb in thick virile ropes until you grew delirious on the potent musk alone...

"Maybe we should...change the subject?" Okonogi's hesitant suggestion only drew more snickering derision, easily overshadowed by the wave of obscene conjecture washing over the room now.

"Nah, where's the fun in that? This is JUICY stuff, Okonogi!" Ayumi all but crowed with wicked delight. "But seriously, what are the odds Vice Captain Hoshina is super gentle and tender with his secret lover? I feel like such raw, unfettered power like that HAS to demand surrendering control in bed too, right?"

More affirmative murmurs of agreement cut through the low din, your fingers clenching into bloodless crescents in your palms. Because they couldn't be further from the truth in assuming any sense of vanilla 'tenderness' held sway during your trysts with Soshiro.

Instead, his almost ritualistic claiming of your body embodied the most exquisitely merciless domination imaginable. You were a powerless plaything to be subdued and thoroughly used until lying shattered and spent in the ruined aftermath, an empty vessel to be pumped endlessly full of his searing essence until leaking and insensate.

No, there was no 'surrendering control' to be had - only being stripped of all remaining autonomy in stages until you became an overwrought flesh-puppet and Soshiro held the strings. An endlessly overwhelmed conduit through which he vented his basest, most violently licentious hungers without restriction or limits of any kind...

"Nah, I bet with all that brooding quiet intensity our Vice Captain rocks, he's probably a total beast in the sheets!" Emi's husky intonation rang with shuddering promise even through the outrageous slang. "Pinning that secret lover down and making her whole world shake with how hard and deep he—"

"Oh my GOD, do you even HEAR yourselves right now?!" Okonogi's outraged shout detonated through the crackling quiet with startling abruptness. Fortunately, you were ready - the ample distraction provided cover for a tiny, relieved gasp as more liquid fire blossomed outward from your very core.

For a long, pregnant pause, everyone simply stared at your flustered team leader in stunned silence. Finally, Aiko let out a bark of sardonic laughter that rapidly infected everyone else like a virus until you were surrounded by unchecked amusement on all sides.

"Aw relax, Chief! We're all just blowing off a little steam here after that crazy heat from the mission," she soothed with a placating wave. "No harm, no foul in a little good-natured gossiping about our dear Vice Captain's...extra-curricular activities, right? Isn't that what you innocent young ladies get off on fantasizing ab—"

This time, it was your turn to whip around with matching outrage painting your flush across your features - playing directly into the innocent, doe-eyed persona they'd all somehow cast you into over the years. As if you would never be party to such salacious conjecture about a direct superior's personal affairs!

That harmless, virginal act effectively sliced through the ribald atmosphere with startling efficiency. Though you knew it was only a matter of time before the torrid gossip stream picked back up in full force once more...

Leaving you hopelessly squirming and slickening around Soshiro's musky parting gift as each fevered recollection came barging back in to stake its claim upon your fracturing thoughts. Just another tantalizing prelude to the moment he inevitably stalked into your midst like a ravenous beast, senses immediately honing in on the debauched syrup of your delirium until—

The heavy thud of boot steps preceded Soshiro's arrival, each measured fall carrying an authoritative weight that sliced through the hushed atmosphere like a granite obelisk.

Conversations petered out in fitful spurts as he stalked into the ops room, shoulders rolling fluidly beneath his fitted jacket. You felt rooted to your chair in a full-body stilled trance, suddenly hyperaware of every indecent shift and subtle glug of Soshiro's lingering deposit pulsing within your depths.

His eyes were shuttered to mere slits beneath heavy lids as the Vice Captain executed a languorous sweep of his surroundings. Though outwardly relaxed, you detected the infinitesimal dilation of those flaring nostrils - scenting the airborne currents like a predator detecting potential incursions upon his territory.

Which is exactly what this space represented while the mission transpired and the room hummed with activity. His domain to command as he saw fit without interference or question. A realm you and the other operatives submitted to his watchful oversight in totality.

But something in the weighted stillness alerted Soshiro that some subtle line may have been edged over in his temporary absence. You could perceive the nearly subliminal stiffness entering his shoulders, each micro-movement radiating a sensual coiled menace as his roving stare continued dissecting every occupied station.

Until, at last, his searing focus settled directly upon where you remained trapped in posture of perfect stillness. His heavy-lidded gaze raked over your form in a molten brand, seeming to scorch away every layer of modesty and formality until only naked, vulnerable truth remained.

Soshiro's tongue peeked out to drag across his lower lip in one slow, considering sweep. You tensed imperceptibly, instinctively clenching around the tepid smear of lingering spend in anticipation of whatever unvoiced judgment roiled behind that burgundy stare.

"Everything all right here, ladies?"

The rich, sub-basso rumble of Soshiro's inquiry sluiced through the weighted quiet like a lascivious caress along your feverish skin. You struggled not to squirm, gut clenching at his tone's undisguised implication that something was clearly off-kilter upon his arrival.

"N-Not at all, Vice Captain!" Okonogi promptly squared her shoulders with a determination bordering on overcompensation. "We were just...discussing the mission debrief and objectives for the next cycle."

Soshiro's weighted stare didn't so much as flinch from its heavy study of your flushed expression. You could practically sense the potent curiosity and smoldering undercurrent of possession radiating off him in waves, inexorably dragging his next words straight into your core.

"I see..."

The low, gravel-rough utterance seemed to shiver along your nerve endings like a physical caress. Each subtle hitch and micro-tremor jolting through your frame felt magnified tenfold beneath Soshiro's watchful, piercing perusal.

"In that case, Y/N," he rumbled after a pause far too salacious and suggestive to go unmarked. "I'll need you to provide me a detailed account in my office shortly."

His tongue made another considering sweep over his full lower lip as the weighty syllables rang out with subterranean promise.

"There were a few operational aspects I want to go over more thoroughly..."

You shuddered finely despite your best efforts, feeling the salacious demand undulating between each lascivious cadence like serpentine heat. Some primal, feminine part of your psyche stretched out in breathless longing towards Soshiro's scrutiny - craving nothing more than to unfurl yourself for his rapacious appraisal behind closed doors.

To disrobe each inch of propriety and protectively he shielded you with until only quivering truth remained naked before his hunger. Open...pliant...ready to accommodate and receive whatever scorching reprimands or bestial attentions he deemed fit to inflict...

But outwardly you remained frozen with carefully cultivated opacity, painfully aware of the entire room's scrutiny trained upon the two of you with rapt interest. You forced your gaze to meet Soshiro's burning stare directly, chest constricting with the effort of keeping your voice level and unbothered.

"I...have reports to file, sir," you managed in a tone of vaguely apologetic neutrality. "Perhaps we could go over it another time?"

For an endless, loaded moment, Soshiro betrayed no outward reaction save for the slightest tightening around those sensual full lips. You imagined you could detect the harshgrate of enamel grinding mere inches away as his jaw torqued infinitesimally tighter.

Then, without fanfare, he inclined his head in a measured fraction of a nod - belying none of the raptor-like intensity simmering behind those hooded crimson depths.

"Very well," he rumbled in a cadence dripping with unspoken assurances. "Don't be too long - I'll be expecting that report on my desk by the end of the day."

He let the words resonate with iron finality for a suspended beat before turning on his booted heel with that same coiled, predatory grace he'd entered with. Not another look was spared for anyone else as the Vice Captain stalked out of the room, movements telegraphing that same subtle aura of male power and virility.

Only once the echoes of Soshiro's measured footfalls faded into silence did you become properly aware of the weight of multiple stares bearing down upon you from the others arrayed around the room.

Confusion, uncertainty, unmistakable embers of piqued curiosity and prurient envy...every shade of turbulent emotion simmered within their variously flushed expressions as if begging to breach the surface.

Yet you couldn't begin to find it within yourself to explain or dissemble before stoking those percolating flames any further. Instead, you simply exhaled a shaking breath and studiously avoided their questioning looks - too consumed by the lingering brand of Soshiro's stare and the soul-trembling promise it heralded for whatever was to come later.

Much, much later when you could finally unveil your truth for him once and for all. Just as he demanded with that low rumble and unspoken glyphs of lascivious fire smoldering in your wake.

The empty hallway stretched in shadowed silence before you as you made your way towards the exit, footfalls echoing with hollow finality. You'd lingered as long as possible in the operations room, determined to avoid any further confrontation after Soshiro's loaded summons earlier.

However, the steady emptying of staff as evening crept closer eventually forced your departure. You steeled yourself against the prospect of potentially crossing paths with the Vice Captain en route. The thickening tension simmering between you two felt ready to detonate into a supernova at the slightest provocation.

You rounded the corner, almost home free, when a powerful hand shot out and clamped around your elbow in an inescapable vise. A startled cry withered in your throat as you were forcibly hauled sideways with blistering momentum into the gaping threshold of an unoccupied meeting room.

The breath expelled from your lungs in a harsh rasp as your back collided with the wall. You had a fleeting second to take in the dim, stale atmosphere around you before an immense presence materialized - utterly blotting out all else as searing heat and masculine musk engulfed your senses.

"Did you really think you could avoid me that easily, little one?" Soshiro's subterranean rumble dripped with dark promise against the sensitive whorls of your ear.

You shuddered helplessly as his powerful frame pinned you in place, the scorching brand of his body aligned against yours in one searing line from chest to hip. Soshiro didn't afford you even a breath to respond before his mouth descended in a punishing, open-mouthed invasion.

The shocked gasp you exhaled was swallowed whole as he instantly took scorching possession of your lips. His tongue plunged past your slack defenses in a relentless, thrusting cadence that stoked blazing embers low in your abdomen.

Finally, Soshiro wrenched his mouth free with a carnal growl that reverberated straight to your shuddering core. You gasped desperately for air, mouth swollen and glistening with the lingering evidence of his ravenous claiming.

"I asked you..." he rasped against the reddened curve of your throat, drunk on drinking in your debauched state, "Did you think you could avoid me so easily after those tantalizing whispers started making the rounds?"

All you could manage was a tremulous whimper as Soshiro nipped viciously at the thundering pulse in your neck. Sharp bursts of pleasure-pain blossomed with each punishing graze of his teeth - possessive markers of his dominance scoring your sensitized flesh.

"I should have known better..." He snarled the words like ash and gravel, "Than to expect my sweet little slut could keep her mouth shut and her damn thoughts in order around the others."

He punctuated the heated condemnation by grinding his clothed cock against your core in one savage roll of powerful hips. You jolted against him with a gasping cry, suddenly aware of your own swollen pussy gushing fresh desire with each delicious provocation.

"Open," Soshiro growled against the pliant seam of your slack lips. "Let me see if your greedy little mouth can make up for your shitty excuses."

Before you could react, he seized a fistful of your hair in an unforgiving grip, cruelly angling your skull back as he plundered your mouth anew. His kiss was nothing but liquid heat and savagery - all violation and sin and rapacious demand to surrender utterly. You could only keen against the ruthless onslaught as his tongue forged deeper, stroking and consuming without quarter.

At last, Soshiro wrenched his ravening mouth free with a bestial snarl, the thin trail of saliva connecting your swollen lips only enhancing the depravity. His ruby gaze bored into yours with banked, molten intensity that made you want to spontaneously combust.

"Strip." The guttural command brooked no argument as he took an unhurried step backwards, freeing you from the cage of his lush heat. "Down to those cute little panties of yours, slut. I want to see the aftermath of my...earlier efforts before ruining you all over again."

You trembled bodily at the dark promise laced behind each provocative syllable. But you knew better than to hesitate or dissemble. Not when Soshiro's eyes had taken on that churning, vermillion glaze of absolute predatory hunger.

With shaking hands and stuttering inhales, you obeyed the directive - shucking your uniform until you stood nude before him save for those last shreds of modesty. Soshiro's intense scrutiny raked over your freshly bared form in long, devouring sweeps that made you want to instinctively squirm.

His eyes darkened to pools of crimson fire as they settled on the apex of your trembling thighs. You swallowed thickly, paralyzed beneath his raptor-like focus zeroing in on the ripe, musky evidence of his earlier claiming still glistening against your flushed folds.

"Look at you..." Soshiro growled in a tone skirting delirious rapture, "My sweet little whore - still dripping and swollen with her master's cum after all these hours, leaking like the perfect cocksleeve she is."

A tremor wracked your entire frame as fresh slick bloomed outward from your molten core at his crass words. The humiliating, delicious recollections flooded back in - vivid daydreams from earlier in the day, fueled by idle gossip and your teammates' unwitting conjecture.

Except in reality, their crudest suppositions didn't even manage to scratch the surface of your fealty and submission towards your utterly dominant Vice Captain. In the end, Soshiro alone reigned supreme over your broken, ruined form.

Only he could pour such perversities behind your ears with honeyed relish and make you swoon towards his very boots in supplication...

*"On your knees, slut," Soshiro ordered with an insouciant flick of his fingers as he began unbuckling his belt. "Since your efforts to remain discreet proved so utterly ineffective today, I believe my sweet little toy deserves an extra thorough inspection to ensure my seed took proper root this time."

You didn't even pause, immediately folding into a kneeling supplication and prostrating yourself at his feet. Soshiro's approving grunt made heat flush through your body as he unzipped his fly and fished out his rigid cock in a single languid motion.

It stood proudly from its nest of coarse black hair, the ruddy tip glistening with a droplet of translucent pre-cum. Your mouth instantly flooded with moisture at the sight, the need to worship and taste him once more a physical ache throbbing inside.

Soshiro's lip curled knowingly, as if sensing the direction of your thoughts. Then he was leaning forward, fingers winding through the silken strands of your hair in a cruel grip that forced you to arch towards his waiting shaft.

"You know what to do, slut," he purred darkly. "Open."

The moment the command left his lips, you did as instructed. Your mouth parted without hesitation, tongue unfurling and throat going slack in supplication. A soft growl of approval vibrated the air around you, accompanied by the heavy musk of arousal filling your nose as Soshiro began dragging his swollen cockhead back and forth against your tongue.

"So perfectly obedient for me..."

He didn't have to issue the next order, the unspoken command reverberating like an electric charge through your veins. Your lips immediately sealed around his throbbing tip and you suckled gently, laving the underside with wet, eager strokes of your tongue.

Soshiro groaned in low satisfaction as he fed inch after glorious inch into your throat. You swallowed around him, welcoming the weighty intrusion with practiced ease. He held himself there for a protracted moment, simply savoring the tight clutch of your throat constricting around his engorged head.

Then, without warning, he drew back only to snap his hips forward again with brutal intent.

You gagged violently, the thick glans punching the back of your throat and causing reflexive tears to spring into the corners of your eyes. You forced yourself to relax, jaw slack and breathing shallow, as Soshiro continued his punishing thrusts.

His pelvis rocked against your face in a steady, driving rhythm that made your cheeks hollow with each withdrawal. You sucked with desperate enthusiasm, coaxing and massaging every turgid ridge and bulging vein.

The air grew damp and stifling with each forceful collision, the obscene squelching of your drool and his pre-spend painting a lascivious picture. Soshiro's head fell back as he let out a ragged, feral moan that made your gut clench with anticipation.

"Such a good little toy..."

You preened at the praise, eyes fluttering closed in bliss as you eagerly accepted the brutal pounding. Your mascara had no doubt begun running in black rivulets down your face, joining the saliva dribbling out the sides of your stretched lips.

Your pussy ached fiercely, slick and swollen, desperate for the same ruthless attention Soshiro was lavishing upon your mouth. But you knew better than to seek any form of friction or relief. Not when the man standing above you owned every part of your being, commanding you like a well-trained plaything.

"I'm close..."

Soshiro's voice came out strained and guttural. You moaned in anticipation around the thick column of flesh impaling your throat, the reverberations causing a visible shudder to race up his spine.

"Swallow every drop, slut," he grunted between ragged breaths. "Don't miss a single fucking—"

He cut off with a choked cry, his entire body seizing in a powerful shudder as his orgasm exploded through him. You felt his cock swell even further within your mouth, the heavy spurts of hot, thick fluid painting your throat white as you greedily swallowed down his spend.

You drank him in with ravenous, eager gulps, determined not to miss a single drop. Only once Soshiro had fully emptied himself into your waiting maw did he finally release his punishing grip on your hair. He slowly withdrew his softening cock, giving it a few gentle tugs to clear away the last dregs of cum and saliva onto your swollen lips.

Then he was crouching down, forcing you to meet his hooded gaze. One hand reached out to cup the back of your skull, pulling you forward for a searing, languid kiss. He swept his tongue inside to taste himself within the heated recesses, drinking down his essence with a low, satisfied growl.

When he pulled back, Soshiro's lips remained mere inches away - close enough to share the same humid breath. He traced his thumb along the curve of your jaw, his expression uncharacteristically tender and indulgent.

"That's a good girl," he murmured huskily. "Such a good, obedient toy. So sweet and eager to please...and ready to take whatever I give you, aren't you, Y/N?"

You nodded, the flush on your cheeks deepening at his approving, almost worshipful words.

"Good," Soshiro hummed in satisfaction, his lips quirking up in a small smirk. "Now get up and bend over the table. I need to check just how thoroughly I've bred my little slut..."

He punctuated the command by trailing his fingertips lower, ghosting over the swollen peaks of your nipples before dragging across the slickened plane of your abdomen. Then, without preamble, he slid those digits lower - right past the waistband of your sodden panties and straight into the molten heat of your core.

You choked out a gasp, arching towards his hand as he stroked you with languid precision. Soshiro leaned forward, the warm puffs of his breath fanning across the sensitive shell of your ear as he purred, "Plus, I need to give you another loador two to replace what's dripping out of this lewd, perfect pussy..."

He punctuated the final words by curling his fingers deep inside you. You whimpered at the delicious pressure, clenching around him, craving something much thicker and harder to truly satiate your ravening hunger.

"That's it, baby girl," he rasped, the molten edge in his voice a physical brand against the delicate skin of your neck. "You know I won't be satisfied until you're stuffed full of my cum. So why don't you show me exactly how much you want my cock...?"

A shudder wracked your frame as Soshiro's fingers withdrew, leaving behind a sticky webbing of silken arousal bridging his glistening fingertips. Without pause, he rose and circled the table, the heavy thud of his boots against the carpeted floor ringing out in deafening finality.

You followed, the sound of your heart thundering in your ears drowning out all else. You bent over the edge of the conference table, ass presented shamelessly towards the man looming at your back.

There was no hesitation as you arched into the position, spreading your legs and pushing your sodden underwear down your quivering thighs. You heard Soshiro's rough exhale, sensed the intensity of his gaze as it raked over the slick, swollen lips of your core.

Then the weighty clunk of his belt buckle echoed through the still air as Soshiro freed himself once more. His hand grasped the ample swell of one cheek, kneading the flesh in his grip as he dragged the head of his cock through the copious slick between your thighs.

You shuddered in anticipation, eyes clenched tightly shut as his cockhead pressed against your entrance. You knew without a shadow of a doubt what was coming. But you could never prepare yourself for the mind-shattering pleasure-pain when Soshiro slammed his hips home, his swollen shaft splitting you wide open and hilting him balls-deep inside.

You cried out at the invasion, the sudden blistering fullness making tears prickle behind your closed eyelids. Soshiro didn't grant you even a second to recover before withdrawing and driving back in with a savage thrust.

You gasped at the force of the blow, nails digging into the polished wood surface as the entire table shifted under his powerful lunges. Soshiro fucked you with a brutality that stole the very air from your lungs, each punishing thrust driving you further towards the precipice of incoherency.

The filthy squelch of your wet pussy around his pistoning cock filled the room, intermingled with Soshiro's ragged snarls and your own gasping moans. The pleasure-pain was exquisite, a burning stretch that left you quivering and pliant beneath him. You didn't even realize how close you were to your peak until the sharp smack of Soshiro's palm against the sensitive flesh of your ass brought you crashing over the edge.

Your climax slammed through you in a tidal wave, making your pussy clamp down around his thrusting length and hot liquid gush from your folds. You felt Soshiro's hips stutter for the barest fraction of a second before resuming his brutal pace.

"Did I tell you you could come, slut?" He growled against the shell of your ear, his voice low and dangerous. "Are you really such a filthy little whore that a spanking was all it took for you to gush and cream all over my cock?"

The humiliation was an exquisite knife-twist, a lashing strike that made a fresh rush of arousal flood your pulsing core. Soshiro's answering rumble of approval vibrated against your neck as he nuzzled the damp flesh, inhaling your scent.

"So eager, so hungry for my cum. Well, since you've been such a good little cocksleeve, I think you've earned the privilege of getting a nice, hot creampie..."

You whimpered and arched against him, instinctively pressing your ass towards his thrusting hips in supplication. Soshiro's answering chuckle was low and throaty, sending another shiver down your spine.

"You enjoyed it, didn’t you," he purred against the damp skin of your throat. "Being watched, gossiped about, having all those perverted daydreams of mine exposed. You fucking loved it."

His words were punctuated by a punishing thrust, the blunt head of his cock driving deep and making you see stars. Soshiro's hands reached down to seize a bruising grip on your hips, his tempo becoming erratic and savage as his own orgasm rapidly approached.

"You love it, don't you, slut? Knowing your friends and colleagues can only imagine what it's like to have me fuck them raw, but they'll never experience anything half as depraved as you do..."

Soshiro's hand snaked forward, his thumb reaching down to press hard against the throbbing bundle of nerves nestled within the slippery folds of your pussy. Your mouth parted in a keening cry, the tension inside you coiling ever tighter.

"You like knowing that you’re the only woman worthy of my attention, my lust, my cum...knowing that every filthy fantasy and daydream they can conjure will never, ever measure up to how it feels when I fill you up, Y/N."

A strangled sob wrenched itself free from your throat as the pressure building inside reached a fever pitch. With a snarl, Soshiro buried himself to the hilt, the swollen tip of his cock lodged deep against your cervix.

The feeling was enough to send you over the edge. White light burst behind your eyes as another orgasm ripped through your writhing form. Soshiro's name tore itself free from your lips as your pussy clamped around him, milking his shaft with greedy convulsions.

With a final, savage grunt, he followed suit - pumping rope after scorching rope of thick, potent cum straight into your molten core. You felt the heavy, wet spurts coat your inner walls, filling you up and searing him into your very being.

It seemed to go on forever, each twitching spurt accompanied by a hoarse groan of pleasure. At last, he collapsed heavily against your back, his panting breaths ruffling the damp tendrils of hair clinging to the curve of your throat.

Dimly, you felt Soshiro nuzzle the damp, heated flesh, his lips pressing gentle kisses against the thundering pulse in your neck. A shiver rippled through you as his spent cock twitched one last time, a trickle of sticky heat spilling out and coating the insides of your thighs.

"Fuck, I needed that," Soshiro finally rasped, his voice a low, guttural rasp.

You could only muster a soft moan of agreement, too wrung out and spent to manage anything more coherent. His answering chuckle was warm and indulgent as he slowly withdrew, the feeling of his softening shaft pulling free from your dripping pussy making you gasp.

The sensation was soon replaced by a thick, viscous gush of his seed flooding out, pooling onto the floor between your trembling thighs. You didn't have the energy to care, or even bother to pull your soaked panties back up. Instead, you simply sagged forward, letting the table take the brunt of your weight as you let out a long, contented sigh.

Behind you, you heard the rustle of clothing as Soshiro put himself back together. A gentle hand landed on the curve where your ass met your thigh before trailing up the smooth expanse of your back. You shuddered, biting back a moan, as those wicked fingers dipped down, tracing the seam of your swollen, well-used entrance.

"Look at you..."

Soshiro's husky drawl was thick with satisfaction. You didn't have to open your eyes or glance behind to picture the self-satisfied smile curling his lips. You could only shudder as he pressed his fingers deeper, swirling his fingertips through the sticky, pearly concoction dripping from your core.

"Fucked stupid and covered in my cum," he mused, the smug amusement lacing his tone making a flush crawl up your neck. "I'm not surprised the others couldn't keep their mouths shut after hearing the way you scream when I'm pounding this tight, slutty pussy..."

You couldn't stop the whimper that escaped at the provocative words, nor the renewed surge of heat flushing outward from your swollen, hypersensitive core. It was a futile effort to try and clench around his lingering fingers, but you couldn't help the reflexive motion.

You heard Soshiro's soft snort as he withdrew his fingers with one last, parting sweep through the sticky mess pooled between your thighs. You could hear him sucking the remnants from his fingertips, the obscene slurping noises only further stoking the embers of desire simmering low in your belly.

"Don't worry, baby girl," he crooned, leaning down to press a chaste kiss against the corner of your mouth. "We've still got an hour before we have to clean up. Why don't we spend it seeing how many times I can make you come and ruin this carpet in the process?"

You moaned and nodded weakly, opening your eyes and meeting his hooded gaze. Soshiro smiled, a wicked flash of white teeth and crimson heat.

"That's what I thought."

[luvsfics]

SERENDIPITY CH. 3 — house of the dragon

Jacaerys Velaryon x Stark!Reader

[ Sexual tension, innuendo ]

Series masterlist

Description: As Lord Cregan Stark’s most trusted adviser and sister, she had stayed by his side as the prince of the realm made his petitions for support of his mothers claim and to help aid their side in the war. Though, the prince had more of an effect on the younger stark sibling than the other.

series warnings: sexual descriptions, angst, adultery ??, death, violence, sexual tension, and more.

The scent of Lavender filled the air of the chambers as the Lady Stark sat in the warm water of her bath, her nerves on edge for the night to come. Arina sat near the tub, scrubbing her lady’s arm.

“Don’t be so nervous, my lady. He is just a man.” Arina attempted to soothe her nerves, yet to no avail.

“I know, i cannot understand what is wrong with me. I am usually very well with men.” Lady stark took joy in toying with men who saw her for only her beauty, she drew them in close before letting them feel her brother’s wrath.

Both her and her lady-in-waiting found amusement in seeing how far the men would go for her just because she was a beautiful woman. Men only think with their cocks, not their hearts. And she wanted a man that was the opposite and who would love her for who she really was.

“I cannot wait to see this mysterious prince who caught the eye of my lady.” Arina smiled before her lady rolled her eyes, giving her a smile.

“Men are the easiest thing to swoon when you are beautiful, beauty is the most dangerous power in the world.” Arina said.

Lady stark hummed in agreement before casting her eyes on her lady-in-waiting. Her beautiful ginger curls and gorgeous blue eyes made her the most unique woman in winterfell. She was a kind woman, taking care of everyone around her. In some ways, the Lady Stark looked up to her.

“Alright, let’s get you dress.” She said as the lady stood from the bath, revealing her bare body to the woman in front of her.

“Not meaning to be crude, my lady, but with a body like yours, you shouldn’t have much troubles with attracting the prince.” Arina winked at the bare woman before they both bursted into laughter.

Arina wrapped a robe around the woman as she sifted through her wardrobe, pulling out a beautiful black dress.

She smirked at the dress in hand, “this should do just fine.”

The lady stark giggled at the woman, feeling rather excited for the feast after all.

Chatter and laughter filled the hall. Cregan and some men and the prince sat at the end of the hall at the long table filled with delicious foods and ale. With introductions and jokes filled the air, the prince felt at ease with men around him.

Though, the Lady stark caught his eye as she and her lady-in-waiting walked into the hall. He had never seen beauty as rare as hers. Though he was betrothed to Baela, and she was a wonderful girl, he couldn’t help but fawn over the Lady stark.

“They call her the winter beauty, y’know. She really is the most beautiful girl in the north. Took all the looks from her mother and Lord Stark here is stuck lookin’ like his father!” The men boasted with laughter as Cregan smiled and scoffed at the joke.

The men began talking of Northern women as the two came over, Her lady-in-waiting falling into the arms of her husband, a man with dirty blonde hair and striking green eyes.

The Lady Stark pressed a kiss to her brother’s cheek before sitting beside him, the opposite side from the prince.

“Before our Lord Stark here wed, he was a real ladies man!” A man said, shaking Cregan from his shoulders.

“Tell the prince, M’lord! Northern women fuck like mad women! Best feelin’ in the world!” Another said, all the men laughed as they chugged their ale.

The prince’s gaze met the Lady Stark’s, though, hers was already on him. A curious look casted on her face, as if she was trying to read him.

His mind became flooded with the idea of her beneath him, or perhaps on top of him. The dress she had on made her breasts look amazing, as they practically spilled out of her top. The explicit thoughts about her made him feel terrible, how could he think about a woman that had been nothing but kind to him like that?

He quickly tore his gaze from her and chugged the ale in his jug to ignore the growing bulge in his breeches, groaning as he was finished with it. The men around him cheered, proud of the prince’s efforts.

What he didn’t know was that the Lady was imagining some of the same thoughts he was. Her small clothes becoming damp with her arousal. She gulped at the feeling, becoming more aware of her surroundings as she became hot with all the people around her.

“So, how is it up south, my prince?” One of the men asked. Jace was glad for the distraction, “Much warmer than this climate, I’d say.”

“Too cold for the princeling?” A woman asked from a man’s lap.

“The prince is a dragon. Dragon’s thrive in heat. I wouldn’t think you’d understand.” Spoke the Lady stark, defending the man from the teasing joke.

His head whipped towards the woman, as did everyone else’s. Everyone astonished at her sudden quip.

Jacaerys had never felt more desire for a woman as he did now. All manners and restraint he had learned from his mother were mere seconds from being thrown out the window.

She quickly rose from her seat, whispering an excuse before racing off to her chambers. The arousal she felt was eating at her, wanting to crawl out of her like a beast.

She panted out heavy breaths as she reached her chambers, feeling feverish as the prince plagued her thoughts.

Her lady-in-waiting rushed in just moments after. “What happened?” She said as she took her hands into her grasp.

“Why do I feel such things for a man I just met? He must have bewitched me!” She sighed as she sat down at the bench in front of her bed, bringing Arina with her.

Arina giggled at her lady’s jest. “Everything will be alright, my lady. You cannot hide from your feelings and desires.” She said as her lady laid her head on her shoulder.

“I have never felt this way for anyone..” she pouted. Arina silently laughed, “Love is a silly thing, my lady. It is the most confusing yet most wonderful thing. Even in the earlier stages.”

“It is not love, Arina. It is just a silly crush!” She rose her head from her shoulder.

“Whatever you say, my lady.”

[ TAGLIST 💌 : ] @aegonswife @melsunshine

[mechaknight-98]

Brave (NSFW) FT Jihyo

Part I

Author’s note: …I’m so whipped for this woman, but hey it’s not so bad

In the vast expanse of the galaxy, corruption and exploitation ran rampant, fueled by the four major intergalactic oligopolies. As a result, space piracy surged across every sector, becoming both a refuge and a rebellion against these oppressive powers.

Among the numerous pirate crews, some stood out for their strength and notoriety. The Marvelous Pirates were considered the premier crew to join, while the legendary Whitebeard and Gold Roger pirates were revered as royalty for their long and storied histories. Yet, there was one name that struck fear into the hearts of even the most powerful oligarchs: "Diabolos the Dreaded."

Little was known about Diabolos, except that he had brought three formidable privateers of the oligarchs to their knees. Then, one day, he vanished without a trace, leaving behind a legacy shrouded in mystery.

On a distant, uncharted planet, Jihyo woke up to the sound of her alarm, groaning as the morning sun streamed through her window. Another morning, another day in her idyllic paradise. She reached over to wake her sleeping boyfriend, only to find his side of the bed empty. He was already up and out, leaving her to start the day on her own.

As she searched for him, she felt around and noticed a note on the nightstand by his side of the bed.

"Work needed me there earlier so I can't ride in with you today, but I already made lunch and breakfast for you, Yo-Yo (picture a yo-yo drawing instead of the word yo-yo made with Jihyo’s favorite colors). -Dio" the note read.

Jihyo smiled at her boyfriend's thoughtfulness and kindness. She thought about how lucky she was to have found him two years ago while he was going to the restroom. As she got up, showered, and prepared for the day, she remembered that today marked their second anniversary and that she needed to find a gift for him. Unable to hide his enthusiasm and love for her, he had already taken her to a lovely dinner at one of the nicest restaurants in Seoul and given her a beautiful cobalt and silver dress that she adored. But she couldn't quite think of what to get him.

Despite being a sweet, big, lovable guy, Dio remained somewhat of a mystery to her. He loved the sea and night sky and enjoyed oceanic/astrophotography and graphic design, which he did for work at the nearby college's ocean and astronomy-related studies. Other than that, he was very reserved and guarded, and she knew little about his family or friends. she didn't have to worry about it too much as she had all day to think about it. As she moved through their homey apartment, she noticed all of the little memories that they had made over the years; the tickets and movie poster from their first date framed, the snow globe from their trip to NYC, the photo from her tour. all these memories made her smile, as she moved throughout their little abode. She smiled as she walked out ready to start the day.

While Jihyo was getting ready Diabolos was already neck-deep in his shift. The University had him taking pictures of a rare whale that had been sighted off the coast for them. After finishing up with the crew they smiled.

“Okay, that should be enough photos for now.” The leader and head of the oceanic studies department says. Dio nods as both get out of the water. The air is cold but refreshing.

“Hey, Dio. How did your date with your girlfriend go last night? She asked

Dio smiled, “Oh fantastic. She was so happy with how things turned out and you were right she loved the dress,”

The head of Oceanics nodded “Good. Oh hey, before I forget there was the lady she was looking for you. Her name was something with a V or B like Vol or Boljune or something.”

Diabolos tried to hide his anger.

“Oh really? Good to know.” He said through gritted teeth the calming waves of the ocean doing little to brighten his now dour mood. The head of Oceanics noticed this and responded,

“Is everything alright?”

Diabolos nodded and said, “Yeah just an ex.”

The head of Oceanics needed no explanation further. They sailed back to shore and docked the boat before uploading the pictures. While in the office the professor dismissed him saying, “Well that was all I needed help with. You’re free to go,” Diabolos nodding began to leave before wishing her well and going to see Jihyo.

On his way, Diabolos reminisced about better days with Voljune before everything went wrong.

The dimly lit cabin of the spacecraft was filled with the gentle hum of the engines as Diabolos sat across from Voljune. They were in a secluded corner of the vessel, far from the busy control center. Voljune, with her striking features and curious eyes, studied him intently. She noticed he was watching a spinning globe of Earth his home planet in his hand.

“You’ve always had a fondness for Earth,” Voljune remarked, her voice a mix of curiosity and nostalgia. “What do you miss most about it?”

Diabolos leaned back, a wistful smile crossing his lips. “A lot of things, really. But the music stands out. All of the music out here sounds in space it’s so samey and ostentatious. But then There’s something just something about earth music that always brings me back.”

Voljune’s interest was piqued. “Music? What kind?”

He reached into his jacket and pulled out a small, well-worn device. After a few taps, he turned the screen toward her, displaying a vibrant image of Jihyo from Twice, her radiant smile captivating even in a still photo. “This is Jihyo. She’s part of a group called Twice. Their music is… it’s special. It lifts your spirit, fills you with energy.”

Voljune leaned in, her eyes studying the image with genuine admiration. “She’s beautiful. You’ve got excellent taste, as always.”

Diabolos chuckled a hint of pride in his voice. “Thanks. It’s not just her looks, though. It’s her passion for music, the joy she brings. It reminds me of the best things about Earth.”

Voljune returned the device, a thoughtful expression on her face. “She must be quite extraordinary for you to speak of her like that.”

“She is,” Diabolos replied, a softness in his tone. “Being around her feels like being connected to Earth’s best parts. The joy, the culture, the life.”

Voljune looks at the picture more intently memorizing Jihyo’s features and characteristics “You know seeing her up close makes me realize you have…what’s the phrase you taught me… oh right a type, because you definitely have one.” Voljune teases.

Diabolos raises his eyebrows as Voljune drapes her arms around his shoulders and stares into his soft brown eyes, “You like strong women. Women who can fight for themselves, but ones who are soft and gentle. You also like fit with a big bust and wide hips, and a rather plump…” Diabolos cut Voljune off before she could finish. Voljune smiled at her favorite human and how he always flustered so easily.

“Regardless I miss home and hope I’ll be able to get back soon,”

Voljune nodded, a knowing smile playing on her lips. “Perhaps Earth isn’t as mundane as I imagined. You’ve certainly given me something to think about.”

For a moment, silence filled the cabin, punctuated only by the steady hum of the ship.

“You should come with me to a concert someday,” he suggested, breaking the quiet. “I think you’d enjoy it.”

Voljune laughed softly, a rare warmth in her voice. “I might just take you up on that offer. Who knows? Maybe I’ll become a fan.”

Back to the present day, Jihyo smiled when she heard that Dio was here to see her. She sent him up. When she saw him she ran into his arms and said

“You know I missed you this morning.” Diabolos smiled at Jihyo before bringing her in for a kiss.

“I know and I’m sorry, it’s just that Senwan discovered a new whale species and she wanted me to take pictures of the first in-nature sighting.” Jihyo pouted but it quickly turned into a smile as she said,

“Okay, but tonight and tomorrow you're mine.”

“But don’t we have the double date with Dahyun and Dracul?” Diabolos reminded Jihyo who nodded and cursed herself slightly.

“Right well then after Dinner you’re mine,” Jihyo said. She smiled as Diabolos looked at her with eyes full of affection and concern.

“My my I must say Diabolos you have outdone yourself.” Voljune rings out. In a flash Diabolos swings and takes out his imagined saber. He turns to see Voljune saunter closer her blue skin contrasting the pale beige light. She smiles at Diabolos. As she approaches the nearby plants wilt slightly in her presence. The air seems to grow colder around her.

“Good to see you haven’t lost your edge darling,” Voljune says.

“Dio, who’s this?” Jihyo asks and Diabolos moves to a protective stance that has him in between Jihyo and Voljune and says, “My ex!”

Voljune pouts, “Oh come on Darling. Don’t be like that after all you don’t even know why I’m here. It’s the least you could do after you disappeared.”

Jihyo tenses as she watches Diabolos cover her from this blue lady. She also wondered where he got the sword from, but she still trusted him.

“What do you want?” Jihyo asked which surprised both Voljune and Diabolos

“Oh my, she is a strong one. I guess I was right after all Darling you do have a type,” Voljune said with a smile.

“You heard her what do you want and be quick about it,” Diabolos said

“Well, I just came to warn you that my sibling is coming to earth to take over and find you.”

Jihyo watched Diabolos’ sense of self, his essence, darken with an emotion she’d only seen bits and pieces of whenever he woke up from a nightmare. She couldn’t place it and she didn’t like seeing him in that place. So she stepped in front of him

“Listen here, lady you are not about to come out of nowhere and talk to my man like that, and this sibling of yours better be careful because I am not letting either of you have access to him.” Voljune smiled. She knew her next host would be in case of emergency. She stared at Jihyo before sighing.

“Okay well then I’ll go, but darling you better watch out because my sibling has their eyes set on having you this time and not your mentor.” Jihyo watched nervously as Voljune left. She then turned to Diabolos furious and asked

“What was that all about.”

The darkness she saw earlier abated and Diabolos sighed,

“Do you want the longer version or the short version?”

“Short for now,” Jihyo said.

“Voljune is part of a "parasitic race that takes over people and runs a trafficking ring. She is the twin to another who took my body for a joyride They rule a major portion of the universe, along with 3 other big "oligarchy families."

Jihyo noticed Dio's eye twitch meaning he was hiding something. Jihyo scowled “Dio You’re lying. There’s more.”

Dio sighed unsure how to respond.

Jihyo relented in her stare when she saw his discomfort. She knew if she pushed her way through that she might really upset Diabolos. So she retracted. While this was going on halfway across the galaxy Narset watched a live feed of Earth with dispassionate interest.

Narset sits languidly on a floating chair, surrounded by swirling holographic projections. Her expression is one of utter disinterest as she gazes at the rotating image of Earth.

She idly flicks her fingers, adjusting the holographic displays. "This little blue planet," she muses, her voice dripping with condescension. "They call it Earth. Hardly seems worth the effort, doesn't it? I mean the dominant species are good slaves but so are several other planets."

An attendant reports on Diabolos' activities on Earth. Narset waves her hand dismissively, scoffing, "That Diabolos… just a slightly sapient monkey with delusions of grandeur, but he was a useful monkey. Got me this body after all. I wonder how he survived the severing, but it doesn't matter too much. He couldn't stop me then. He won't now."

Narset leans forward, inspecting a holographic map of Earth with strategic points marked "I won't even need to dirty my hands," she says, a smirk playing on her lips. "Send one of those weak Bio-claimers. They'll handle this primitive world well enough."

She reclines back, turning her gaze away from the Earth display. "Why waste resources on a rock that poses no threat?" she mutters, her voice trailing off as she shifts her focus to more pressing matters in her empire like the regent ball she was to attend soon or any other number of things.

An attendant nods, acknowledging her command. "Yes, my lady. As you wish." The hologram of Earth fades away, replaced by other pressing concerns of the galaxy, leaving Narset disinterested and already moving on to the next item on her agenda. As she walks out she muses to herself.

"I wonder what Voljune sees in you little monkey."

Later that night back on earth the bio-claimer lands, and begins to destroy Seoul. The reason why Seoul was chosen as the target was because Narset figured that the best way to show Diabolos his inferiority was to send the Bio-claimer to his home.

The monstrous bipedal amalgamation rampages through the city. This leads to him interrupting Jihyo, and Diabolos' intimate times when they get the Evactuation notification.

Diabolos and Jihyo were making out and enjoying a late dinner since their plans got disrupted due to the monster. Diabolos gets up and goes to deal with it.

His walk to face the bio-claimer is like a block and a half away. Diabolos summoned his Imagine blade and then Slashed through the Bio-claimer in one strike before going back to Jihyo.

Jihyo paced the length of their small apartment, her eyes darting to the clock every few seconds. The distant sounds of chaos in the city had subsided, but Diabolos hadn’t yet returned. Her mind raced with worry, envisioning every possible scenario. She knew he’d return, but couldn’t shake the fear.

Suddenly, a soft knock echoed from the door, jolting her from her anxious thoughts. She approached cautiously, hesitating before pulling it open. There stood Voljune, her blue skin marred with bruises and cuts, her usual confident demeanor replaced by fatigue.

“Voljune?” Jihyo’s voice wavered with surprise and suspicion. “What are you doing here?”

Voljune staggered slightly, leaning against the doorframe. “I came to warn you,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “This is just the beginning for Diabolos. It will only get harder from here.”

Jihyo’s heart sank, her concern for Diabolos magnified by Voljune’s words. “What do you mean?”

Voljune took a shaky breath. “Narset won’t stop. She’ll keep sending worse until he’s overwhelmed. If you want to help him, you need strength.”

“What are you saying?” Jihyo asked, a mix of fear and determination in her eyes.

“You need to merge with me,” Voljune replied, her gaze steady despite her injuries. “I can give you the power to stand by him.”

Jihyo’s mind spun with the implications. She barely knew Voljune and was wary of her motives, but the desperation to protect Diabolos overpowered her hesitation.

“I… I’ll do it,” Jihyo agreed, her voice firm despite the panic rising within her.

Voljune nodded, a hint of relief in her eyes. “This will hurt, but it’s the only way.”

As Jihyo steeled herself, Voljune stepped closer. In a sudden, fluid motion, Voljune’s form shimmered and dissolved into a blue mist, enveloping Jihyo. The sensation was both cold and electrifying, as if icy tendrils were weaving through her very being.

Jihyo gasped, clutching the doorframe as Voljune’s essence merged with hers. Her vision blurred, and she felt a surge of unfamiliar energy coursing through her veins.

Within her mind, Jihyo heard Voljune’s voice. “You love him too, don’t you?”

“I do,” Jihyo admitted, surprised by how natural the response felt. “I just want to protect him.”

Voljune’s presence pulsed with understanding. “We’re not so different, you and I. We both care for him deeply, even if our methods have been… complicated.”

“You’ve seen him at his worst, haven’t you?” Jihyo asked, feeling the weight of shared memories.

“Yes,” Voljune replied softly. “But I’ve also seen his strength, his kindness. That’s what drew me to him.”

“And you think merging will help?” Jihyo asked, a mix of skepticism and hope in her thoughts.

“Together, we can be stronger. For him.” Voljune’s voice was steady, and Jihyo could feel the sincerity behind her words.

As the merging process continued, Jihyo felt a sense of solidarity with Voljune. Their shared love and determination to protect Diabolos formed a bond that transcended their initial distrust.

When the sensation subsided, Jihyo blinked, feeling a new awareness and strength within her. She steadied herself, her heart still racing from the unexpected transformation.

Just then, the door creaked open further, and Diabolos appeared, his silhouette framed against the dim hallway light. His eyes widened in surprise at the sight of Jihyo, standing with an intensity he hadn’t seen before.

“Jihyo?” he asked, concern etched on his face. “What happened?”

Jihyo met his gaze, her voice steady as she replied, “I’m ready to help you, Dio. Whatever it takes.”

Diabolos’ mood soured as he saw familiar spots in Jihyo’s eyes. He stiffened, and Voljune knew she’d been caught, but she couldn’t really process that now as the merging process was still very new and Jihyo was her first human. As their memories and minds merged, Voljune got to see domestic Diabolos—how considerate and caring he was—while Jihyo saw Dreadful Diabolos, the warring pirate whose legacy tore through several planets and galaxies.

At first, the memories of Diabolos clashed in her mind, causing Jihyo to yell at Diabolos. “Don’t come near me, you lying monster!” she yelled, and Diabolos had to cool his temper, because the one thing he didn’t want to have happened occurred. Jihyo merged with Voljune, and he was having difficulty processing it, but he remained calm.

“Listen to me, Yo-yo,” Diabolos said, scratching his head, a gesture Jihyo recognized as him trying to find the right words. “He always does that when he’s about to say something important,” Jihyo thought.

But Jihyo and Voljune were still working on the kinks of this little endeavor and were still at odds.

“How dare you lie to us. You are a monster/hero. Why are you so different with her?” Jihyo’s voice was overlaid by Voljune’s. Diabolos’ eyes narrowed, and Voljune noticed the micro twitches in his jaw, the barely restrained anger simmering beneath the surface. “He’s holding back, trying not to lose control,” Voljune observed.

Emotions fought within him, but in a calm, stern voice, he said, “That’s enough.” It was a tone unfamiliar to both Jihyo and Voljune, but to them both, it radiated strength and authority. It served as an anchor point as Jihyo was able to calm down enough for the memories and the extra consciousness in her body to settle, and as they did, more memories of Diabolos flooded through. These memories didn’t show Diabolos as a conquering warlord or a caring worker but the human he was when he was playing a role.

They showed his heart, caring, competitiveness, drive, and determination, and in these moments, both Voljune and Jihyo saw Diabolos in his totality. This let them calm down enough to let the merge finish. As it did, Diabolos’s rage (and other confusing emotions) began to rise.

“Voljune, why would you do this?” Diabolos questioned, as he did he took a long drawn out breath, a sign that he was trying to think through his emotions.

Jihyo and Voljune looked at Diabolos with genuine surprise. The hurt in his voice and his expression were things he couldn’t really mask with anger nor his other emotions swimming inside. They saw them all, and Jihyo responded.

“I wanted to be by your side with this, and I was worried that I’d lose you if I couldn’t fight with you.”

Diabolos sighed, his shoulders slumping, a sign that Voljune recognized as him feeling overwhelmed. “I never wanted to have to fight or have you fight with me,” he said adamantly.

Jihyo scoffed and said, “Why not?” Jihyo and Voljune asked in sync. As more memories merged with each other, they felt their mutual love of Diabolos heighten their emotions.

“Because…” Diabolos stammered, his hand moving to his head again, a gesture Jihyo knew meant he was wrestling with his words.

Jihyo’s and Voljune’s tempers began to rise as all the memories of Diabolos giving her the “princess” treatment. “Because you think I’m dainty, that I can’t—”

Before she could finish that statement, the response she got was startling. “Because I’m evil, and no one should be stuck with me. Because I believe that everyone exists to hate me or make me hate myself, and for that crime they should be eradicated, and the only peace from those violent intrusions in my brain is from when I’m fighting or spending time with you. But now my heart’s all fucked up because I don’t want you to get hurt or strung up in my bullshit,” Diabolos yelled, his body tense, a raw display of vulnerability that both Jihyo and Voljune could feel.

Jihyo felt her heart race a little. Diabolos rarely cursed around her, especially with such force that she felt excitement and desire run through her body, which overwhelmed Voljune. She had never felt so desired, so needed, and that, in combination with the hormones dousing her, melted her mind to where all she could think about was throwing herself at Diabolos. But she pushed down both of their need for Diabolos right now.

As the rawness of Diabolos’ confession hung in the air, Jihyo felt a complex swirl of emotions coursing through her, intensified by Voljune’s presence. Her heart pounded, both from Diabolos’ words and the newfound energy within her.

“That's not what I expected,”* Voljune admitted quietly within Jihyo’s mind. “I thought I knew him, but this vulnerability and anger it’s… It’s something else.”

“I know,” Jihyo replied, her mental voice softening. “It’s why I love him. There’s so much more to him than the warrior he shows the world.”

Diabolos stood before them, his posture tense and defensive, as if bracing for rejection. But as Jihyo looked at him, she felt the internal conflict settle into a determined resolve. She took a step forward, bridging the gap between them, and reached out to touch his arm.

“Dio,” she said gently, her voice steady, infused with both her own emotions and Voljune’s. “We’re not afraid of your past. We’re here because we believe in you, in who you are now. We’re not leaving you.”

Diabolos’ eyes flickered with uncertainty, but Jihyo could see the hope buried beneath his defenses. He scratched his head again, a gesture of hesitation and thought, and she couldn’t help but smile at the familiarity of it. Despite all of these new things she was learning about him he was still the same easily flustered man she’d fallen for.

“We’re stronger together,” Jihyo continued her grip firm on his arm. “You don’t have to face this alone.”

Voljune added her voice to Jihyo’s, the two of them harmonizing in their shared determination. *“Let us stand with you, Diabolos. We can face whatever comes next together.”

Diabolos exhaled, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. He looked at Jihyo, then at the reflection of Voljune’s presence in her eyes, and nodded, a silent agreement passing between them. He noticed Voljune’s color shifting from cool blues to fiery reds it surprised him as red was Jihyo’s favorite color.

“Okay,” he said, his voice still rough but more composed. “Together.”

Jihyo felt a warmth spread through her, the connection between them deepening with this shared understanding. She leaned into him, feeling his strength and vulnerability, and knew that whatever challenges lay ahead, they would face them side by side.

As they stood there, united in purpose, Jihyo and Voljune began to learn how to navigate their shared existence. They could sense each other’s thoughts, their hopes and fears intertwined, and they realized that together, they were a formidable force.

Voljune also realized that Jihyo would be her last host. This was the closest she had ever felt to a host and it frightened and excited her.

Diabolos wrapped his arms around Jihyo, pulling her close. The embrace felt different, with Voljune’s presence subtly altering the dynamic, but it was comforting nonetheless.

“We’ll figure this out,” Jihyo murmured into Diabolos’ hair, and he knew she was right.

“We will,” he thought, ready to face whatever the future held.

The next few days were definitely awkward between them. Voljune and Jihyo loved to tease and flirt shamelessly with Diabolos and this only increased as they would constantly egg each other on.

The afternoon sun streamed through the apartment windows, casting warm light on Jihyo and Diabolos as they lounged in the living room. Voljune's presence was subtle but noticeable to Diabolos, her energy blending seamlessly with Jihyo’s.

Jihyo stretched out on the couch, giving Diabolos a mischievous glance. “You know, Dio, I was just thinking about how much you love those rare steaks. Voljune and I were wondering if maybe you’d like to grill some tonight?” She tilted her head, letting the light catch her eyes, which now occasionally flickered with Voljune's fiery hues.

Diabolos shifted in his chair, trying to maintain his composure. “Uh, yeah, I could go for that. You know I can never say no to a good steak.”

Voljune chimed in, her voice echoing softly in Jihyo’s mind, “See how he tries to stay cool? Let’s push him a bit more.”

Jihyo leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand as her cleavage peeks through. “And maybe afterward, we could watch that old space opera you love. Voljune mentioned she’s curious about why you like it so much.”

Diabolos cleared his throat, his cheeks tinged with a hint of red as he tried to look in the right places. “Well, it’s got great action and… uh, the soundtrack is pretty epic.”

Voljune added playfully, “He’s getting flustered. Let’s see what else we can do.”

Jihyo stood up and walked over to him, casually brushing her fingers through his hair. “And I couldn’t help but notice how you always scratch your head when you’re trying to figure out how to impress me. It’s adorable.”

Diabolos laughed nervously, reaching up to scratch his head unconsciously, realizing too late that he’d fallen right into their trap. “You’re both relentless, you know that?”

“That’s the point,” Voljune teased, her presence giving Jihyo an extra edge in their playful banter. “He likes the chase, even if he won’t admit it.”

Jihyo grinned, wrapping her arms around his neck from behind the chair. “We just love seeing you flustered. It’s nice to know we still have that effect on you, even after everything.”

She moved around to sit on his lap, her arms encircling his shoulders. Voljune’s energy added a subtle warmth, a comforting presence that enveloped him.

Diabolos shook his head, trying to maintain his usual cool demeanor but failing spectacularly. “You two are impossible.”

Jihyo pressed a light kiss to his cheek, her lips lingering longer than usual, sending a shiver down his spine. “But you wouldn’t have it any other way, right?”

Diabolos finally relaxed, a genuine smile breaking through his flustered facade. “No, I guess not. It’s… kind of nice having you both here.”

Jihyo rested her head against his, the closeness bringing a soothing calm over them all. Voljune’s presence added a gentle pressure, like a hug from within, reinforcing their bond.

Jihyo ran her fingers through Diabolos’ hair, her touch both teasing and tender. “You’re always so tense. Let us help you unwind.”

Diabolos sighed, leaning into her touch. “You’re too good to me.”

Jihyo chuckled, Voljune’s laughter echoing in her mind. “You deserve it, even if you don’t believe it yet.”

With the afternoon light casting a golden hue over them, Jihyo and Voljune shared a silent moment of triumph. Their connection was stronger than ever, and Diabolos’ flustered delight was proof of their successful teamwork. As they sat together, surrounded by warmth and affection, Diabolos knew he wouldn’t want it any other way.

That night Jihyo learned that living with Voljune inside of her was going to be an… adjustment. Despite their high compatibility, Voljune had never been in a human before so everything was new to her. The major thing was the sensitivity difference. At this point, Jihyo had been off of birth control for a while and was accepting of the fact that at some point Diabolos was going to impregnate her eventually which kept her normal most days and throughout most of her cycle. Voljune however had never experienced human female ovulation and it hit her (and by extension Jihyo) like a truck.

When Jihyo woke up in the middle of the night because of Voljune feeling her horniess for the first time it was unpleasant. To make matters worse Voljune had turned her body’s sensitivity and hormone up to 20. Her reasoning is that it would help her become stronger quicker as they become more symbiotic with each other.

“Fuck Jihyo moaned waking up from a disastrous wet dream that had her squirting all over the bed. When she stopped the sheets were ruined and her mind was mush. Voljune wasn’t much help either as both she and Jihyo were adrift in a storming sea of lust and needed Diabolos to ferry them to safe harbor. They reached out to his side of the bed only to find it empty. Jihyo worried as to where he was went to look around for him, as he was never up this late on an off day. Her fears were partially abated when she saw him standing alone on their shared balcony overlooking the city. She smiled but began to feel the heat rising within her. She needed him inside her in some way shape or form in the next fifteen minutes or she was going to do something drastic. Voljune was no help as she was so overwhelmed by the sensitivity of everything Jihyo felt like the fact that her shirt fabric rubbing against Jihyo’s nipples got her so wet in turn making Voljune even hornier for Diabolos making Jihyo even hornier and more sensitive. By the time Jihyo had located and began approaching Diabolos her panties and shorts were ruined. Jihyo approached Diabolos and wrapped her arms around his waist.

“Everything okay Dio?”

“Yeah, Yo-yo just go a lot on my mind.”

“You wanna talk about it?” Jihyo asked.

She felt Dio ease and turn to her. He was taken aback by how flushed her face was and how hard her nipples were.

“Um, Yo-yo are you okay?” Dio asked concerned. Jihyo nodded then said.

“I do need you but it can wait.”

Diabolos made the executive decision to help Jihyo out before she exploded.

“No, I can wait it looks like you’re about to die from horny.” Diabolos joked. Jihyo smiled. Diabolos hadn’t really smiled so genuinely at her since Voljune arrived. Speaking of Voljune had never felt what she was feeling now, but the way Diabolos looked at her and cared for her (Jihyo) made her lose it. So lost in lust all she could say was “fuck me” repeatedly. Jihyo heard this and rolled her eyes before bringing Diabolos back into their love next. She smiled as she got on her knees.

“Can I please suck your cock?” Jihyo asked/begged. Diabolos was a bit concerned as Jihyo must have been hit really hard by her needs because this wasn’t a common occurrence, but he knew if he stopped or intervened here it would be a long day so he let her have her way with a gentle nod. Jihyo smiled as she yanked his shorts down along with his underwear. She marveled at his cock. The thick veiny appendage stood proud for her as it always did. She smiled before kissing it. Diabolos groaned. Jihyo smiled.

“Looks like you need this as much as I do.” She cooed before taking him into her mouth. She started slow. She ran her tongue all over his shaft as she bobbed around his rod. Jihyo’s mind began to blank as she slowly became sloppier and picked up speed. She kept bobbing as a long line of drool began to drip from her pretty lips to her chest. She knew what she was doing to Diabolos. She knew he was almost ready to fucking ruin her just one more piece was needed. She stopped sucking his cock eliciting a groan from him as she took her shirt off and started massaging her spit into her tits this lewd display served its purpose as Diabolos picked her up and laid her flat on the counter

Voljune and Jihyo breathed in deep. As they watched Diabolos’ his eyes were hungry as was his cock. As he lifted them he stuffed Jihyo’s ruined panties into her mouth. Her arousal scent hit her like a brick through a glass wall, as her snug walls let in their favorite occupant. Voljune and Jihyo moan in unison as he bottoms out in them. He thrusts slowly but Jihyo nor Voljune want it slow and easy they want him to fuck them.

“More” Jihyo moans as she feels Diabolos thrusting. Her insides begged him to be rougher. Her moans reach Diabolos' ears’ as he speeds up inside her. Jihyo moans euphoric as Diabolos picks her little body up to get better leverage as he ravages her. Jihyo and Voljune moan as he takes them.

“Yes! Yes! Yes!” Jihyo and Voljune moan in Jihyo’s mind together. Diabolos watches as Jihyo’s tits bounce hypnotically while he fucks Jihyo her walls are so snug that he can feel his orgasm build quicker than normal but he can’t stop. He keeps thrusting inside her Jihyo notices he’s close and takes out the panties unable to control herself she says to Diabolos, “In me.” Diabolos is brought out of his lustful haze for a moment only for Jihyo to repeat her words. Dio asks if she’s safe today

“I’m not safe babe.” She says

“Voljune has made me so wet and horny for you. Don’t you think I need no I deserve a creampie. I mean we’ve been together two years, don’t you think it’s time we start a family. So do it! Cum in me. Make me a mommy make me yours,” Diabolos loses control as he cums inside Jihyo hearing that. Her womb fills with his seed and she looks at him and smiles but she still sees his rampant lust which causes Voljune to make her even wetter for him. Jihyo moans as he continues thrusting inside of her. He sees now mixing with her viscous slick and pooling under them in a turgid and lewd sludge. Their bodies need more stimulation so Diablos continues thrusting inside of her. Jihyo moans as the sensation drives her closer to another orgasm.

“Cum please cum.” Jihyo moans as she reaches another peak. Voljune is numb inside from all the pleasure and intimacy of being with Diabolos and feeling him rearrange her guts was a euphoria she didn't know she needed. The pleasure tears through both of them as they are subjected to Voljune’s first orgasm in this body Jihyo and Voljune moan as they squelch and squirt all over Diabolos’ cock. All of this cumming on Diabolos causes him to fill Jihyo again as she moans and takes another load inside her. Diabolos overwhelmed falls back on the chair and stares at her beautiful tanned body now covered in a sexy layer of sweat. He grows hard again but is too tired to take action for now.

The rest of the day follows suit. Diabolos would recover Jihyo or Voljune would take their turn breeding him then he'd be worn out, they take a break until 2 am the next day. Where Jihyo wakes up so she can set her alarm to go to Dance practice later that night. In that quiet moment, she notices Diabolos’ scars and wonders how he got them.

The next day

Jihyo and Voljune arrive at the Twice practice studio is brightly lit, with mirrors lining the walls and a polished wooden floor ready for rehearsal. The energy is high as the group prepares for their latest routine.

Jihyo enters the studio, her gym bag slung over her shoulder. She’s wearing comfortable workout clothes, and her hair is pulled back into a neat ponytail. The other members of Twice are already stretching and chatting, filling the room with a warm and lively atmosphere.

"I see your companions are already here," Voljune observes, her voice echoing in Jihyo’s mind. "They seem quite enthusiastic."

"They always are," Jihyo replies with a smile. "We’re all really excited about this new routine."

“Jihyo!” Nayeon calls out with a smile, waving her over. “We were just talking about how you always bring the best snacks. Did you bring any today?”

Jihyo laughs and sets her bag down. “Of course! I’ve got some healthy energy bars and a few treats for later.”

"Your foresight is commendable," Voljune comments. "It seems they depend on you for sustenance as well as leadership."

"Snacks are the secret to a happy practice," Jihyo jokes internally, watching her friends dive into the bag.

As they finish their snacks, Jihyo leads the group in their warm-up routine. She moves with confidence, guiding her friends through stretches and exercises. The studio echoes with the sound of their synchronized movements and shared laughter.

"You lead with such grace," Voljune notes. "It's no wonder they follow you so willingly."

"We’re a team," Jihyo responds. "Everyone brings something special."

“Remember to focus on your breathing,” Jihyo reminds them, her voice encouraging. “We’ve got a long practice ahead, and we need all the energy we can get.”

With the warm-up complete, the music starts, and the group begins rehearsing their choreography. Jihyo is at the front, her movements precise and fluid. She radiates determination and joy, inspiring the others to give their best.

"Such artistry," Voljune remarks. "I see why you’re so passionate about this."

"Dancing is freeing," Jihyo thinks, her heart full. "It’s like nothing else matters."

“Great job, everyone!” she calls out after a particularly challenging section. “Let’s run it again from the top and see if we can make it even smoother.”

The members nod, determined to perfect the routine. Jihyo watches them with pride, offering tips and corrections where needed.

After a couple of hours, they take a break, collapsing onto the floor with sighs of relief and laughter. The room is filled with chatter as they sip water and catch their breath.

Sana nudges Jihyo and asks, “So, what’s new with you and Diabolos? Are you two planning anything fun?”

Jihyo smiles, her cheeks turning a light pink. “We’re having a rooftop dinner soon. It’s supposed to be a surprise, but I’m really excited.”

"I sense great affection when you speak of him," Voljune teases gently. "Your bond is strong."

"He’s… special," Jihyo admits, her heart fluttering at the thought.

The group erupts into playful teasing and giggles, their camaraderie evident.

As the practice winds down, Jihyo gathers the group for a final run-through. The room buzzes with focused energy, and their performance is seamless, a testament to their hard work and unity.

“Fantastic work today, everyone,” Jihyo says, clapping her hands. “We’re ready for the show, and I know we’ll be amazing.”

"You inspire them," Voljune says, a hint of admiration in her tone. "This is a rare and beautiful thing."

"We’re all in this together," Jihyo replies, feeling grateful for her team and the connection she shares with Voljune.

With that, they pack up their things, exchanging hugs and words of encouragement. Jihyo feels a sense of accomplishment and excitement for what’s to come, both with her group and her upcoming date with Diabolos.

Jihyo is walking home from the studio, the sun beginning to set, and painting the sky in shades of pink and orange. The streets are quieter now, the hustle and bustle of the day giving way to the calm of the evening.

As she walks, Jihyo feels the comforting presence of Voljune within her. The dance practice has left her energized but reflective, and she decides it's a good time to address some important matters with her new companion.

"Voljune, are you there?" Jihyo thinks, opening the mental channel between them.

"Always," Voljune replies, her voice gentle and attentive. "How are you feeling after practice?"

"Good, really good," Jihyo answers, smiling to herself. "But I've been thinking about how we’re going to make this merger work. I think it’s important to establish some boundaries and parameters, so we both feel comfortable."

Voljune’s presence shifts slightly, an indication of her attentiveness. "I agree. It’s a unique situation for both of us and understanding each other is key."

"First," Jihyo begins, "I’d like to have some privacy when it comes to my thoughts and feelings about certain things. There are moments that are just… personal, you know?"

"Of course," Voljune responds, understanding. "I’ll do my best to respect your privacy. I don’t wish to intrude more than necessary."

"Thank you," Jihyo replies, feeling a sense of relief. "And if there are times when you want to be more involved or communicate more directly, just let me know. I want to make sure you feel heard and included."

"I appreciate that," Voljune says warmly. "I’ll be mindful of when I interject. Your life is yours to live, and I’m here to support you."

As she walks, Jihyo considers the best way to share control over their shared existence. "When it comes to making decisions, especially about Diabolos and the others, let’s make sure we discuss things first. I trust your judgment, but I also need to stay true to myself."

"That’s fair," Voljune agrees. "And if there’s anything that concerns me, I’ll bring it to your attention. Our partnership should be built on mutual respect and understanding."

Jihyo nods, satisfied with their progress. "Also, if there are moments when I’m too overwhelmed or emotional, I’d appreciate it if you could help ground me. I think your perspective could really help."

Voljune’s presence feels reassuring. "I can do that. And if you find me becoming too intense or overbearing, please let me know. I’m still learning about human emotions and dynamics."

"We’ll figure it out together," Jihyo assures her, feeling a sense of partnership and camaraderie.

As they approach Jihyo’s apartment building, the conversation leaves her feeling hopeful about their future together. The city lights flicker on, casting a warm glow over the streets.

"I’m glad we talked," Jihyo thinks, a sense of gratitude in her heart.

"Me too," Voljune replies. "Thank you for trusting me, Jihyo. I’ll do my best to honor that trust."

As they approach Diabolos and Jihyo’s apartment building, the conversation leaves her feeling hopeful about their future together. The city lights flicker on, casting a warm glow over the streets.

"I’m glad we talked," Jihyo thinks, a sense of gratitude in her heart.

"Me too," Voljune replies. "Thank you for trusting me, Jihyo. I’ll do my best to honor that trust."

As Jihyo climbs the stairs to her apartment, she hesitates for a moment, considering how to bring up one last topic that’s been on her mind.

"Voljune, can we talk about something else?" she asks, a hint of embarrassment coloring her mental voice.

"Of course," Voljune responds, her curiosity piqued. "What’s on your mind?"

Jihyo takes a breath, feeling slightly awkward. "It's just… my body has been feeling super sensitive lately. It's like everything is dialed up to eleven, and it's kind of overwhelming."

Voljune’s presence shifts to one of understanding. "Ah, I see. My enhancements might be amplifying your sensory perceptions. I can adjust that for you."

"That would be great," Jihyo admits, relief evident in her tone. "I love being able to feel more connected, but it’s been a bit intense, especially during practice."

"I’ll make the changes gradually," Voljune assures her. "Let me know if you feel more comfortable."

As they continue their ascent, Jihyo notices a gradual easing of the heightened sensations, her body relaxing into a more natural state.

"Thank you," she thinks, a wave of relief washing over her. "This feels much better."

"I’m glad," Voljune responds warmly. "We’ll find the right balance together."

With their new understanding and adjustments in place, Jihyo heads inside, feeling more connected to Voljune and ready to face whatever challenges lie ahead.

As Jihyo and Voljune step into the apartment, the cozy space greets them with a familiar sense of comfort. Jihyo heads straight for the kitchen, setting down her bag and rolling up her sleeves.

"What should we make tonight?" Jihyo asks, surveying the ingredients in the fridge.

"How about something simple, like stir-fry?" Voljune suggests, her presence is a calming influence.

"Sounds perfect," Jihyo agrees, pulling out vegetables and beef (one of Diabolos’ favorites). As she begins chopping, a thought crosses her mind.

"Voljune, I've been wondering about Diabolos’s scars," Jihyo begins, her voice tentative. "They seem so… deliberate. Do you know how he got them?"

Voljune hesitates for a moment before responding. *"They’re from a process called 'the Severing.' It’s something my sibling, Narset, would do when moving to a new host. It’s meant to disconnect the host’s essence, and body by having Narset absorb the entire host. she does it because she never wants to face a face she's worn before. It is considered highly taboo in our culture

Jihyo pauses, her hand stilling over the cutting board. "But it didn’t kill Diabolos?"

"No," Voljune replies, a note of confusion in her tone. "That’s what’s strange. The Severing should have ended him, yet he survived. He is changed though. He was angirer after the severing, but he seems to have as you humans put it “mellowed out” I am glad you helped him there "

Jihyo pauses her chopping, “Diabolos angry. He was and is one of the kindest people I know.”

“I see that, but it's still strange his shift in both cases,” Voljune responds

As Jihyo resumes chopping, she ponders this revelation. "Do you have any idea why he might have survived?"

"I’ve thought about it," Voljune admits. "Diabolos has always been unique. His willpower, his drive… they’re extraordinary. It’s possible his essence was too strong for the Severing to fully take hold."

Jihyo considers this, her mind turning over the possibilities. "Maybe it’s more than just his willpower," she muses. "Maybe there’s something about him that we don’t fully understand yet."

"It’s possible," Voljune agrees. "There’s much we don’t know about his past or what truly drives him."

As they cook together, the rhythmic chopping and sizzling filling the kitchen, Jihyo reflects on Diabolos’s resilience. It adds another layer to the man she loves, deepening her appreciation for his strength.

*"Maybe we should just ask him.” Jihyo muses for a bit

Voljune stops their body with a jolt, “I don't think that's a good idea the last time I did that he went on a revenge-fueled rampage against Narset only to disappear for multiple years.” Jihyo laughed as their memories sorted themselves and the timeline began to make sense “While the violence and rage he displayed in Voljune’s memory was still concerning all the positive memories of him overridden her discomfort.

“Hey Voljune so how does this severing work and why is it so bad?”

“Well it's simple it's the process of my species overriding the host’s body to consume them to make my species stronger. Typically this is done as a way for one of my species to free themselves from a particularly nasty host but Narset used it as a show of dominance over her host and our people. I can't imagine the pain Diabols went through as his body was turned into a feeding ground for my sibling. It is the highest violation of our symbiosis accords.”

Jihyo nodded before asking, “Diabolos survived that?”

“Yes but as you have seen it wasn't a completely painless survival.”

“Whatever the reason,"* Jihyo thinks, "I’m grateful he survived. I can’t imagine my life without him."

"And now, you’re both stronger together," Voljune adds, her tone warm.

The door opens as Jihyo and Voljune finish cooking to a very relaxed Diabolos entering. Jihyo smiled seeing him.

“Hey Dio how was your day?” she asked with a happy smile.

Diabolos brightened and said, “Oh it was the best they asked to do photos for the zoo and I got to take pictures of the cutest panda.” Diabolos said as he showed Jihyo Voljune took over for a brief moment and said,

“It's good to see that you found other uses for your recon skills.” Diabolos looked into jihyo's eyes and through her eyes Voljune got to see a glimpse of the “Dio” that came home to Jihyo every day

“Are you jealous Jihyo?” asked internally. Voljune felt A little bit more of her consciousness merge with Jihyo's lessening the boundaries between them. She couldn't describe what she felt besides happy. She smiled at Diabolos but then pouted as she remembered and in a spontaneous instance of them being fully synched and their memories fully merged they asked

“Babe, why did you leave? I missed you. You left me all alone. What happened?”

Diabolos was taken aback as he watched this surreal experience of Jihyo+. Seeing the hurt in her eyes his heart softened towards both girls.

He sighed and said, “I wasn't really in a great place emotionally or in any way really. I had just been severed after Narset ripped Gira out of me and severed me leaving major parts of my psyche/personality and overall sense of self were gone besides anger. Anger that was fueled by hatred of Narset. Enough Hatred to reduce a planet to ash.”

That explanation startled both girls but they let him sit in his silent turmoil as he fought with his past.

They watched as he got up and went to the shower. Curious they approached the door and heard silent sobs in the bathroom.

Jihyo asks Vlojune if he will be okay,

Voljune hesitates “I'm not sure. As long as I've known him he's struggled with escalating things too far, and the isolation it causes. He lives life at maximum everything and it's vibrant it's beautiful but it's intense. He can't turn off that thing that pushes him. That thing that drives him. It's made him do some truly amazing things and some truly awful things. You and I share that trait with him but whatever it is it consumes him and keeps him awake at night. What haunts his nightmares is just how much he likes giving in to that thing inside him. When we talked earlier about his survival I wasn't surprised he survived he very nearly expunged my brother from himself at numerous junctures out of sheer will. What surprised me about it was what he did after.”

Jihyo listened and then asked, “What came after?”

“That is a story for another time,” Voljune said as the two set him a plate.

A few nights later Jihyo takes Diabolos for his surprise birthday date.

The rooftop garden is bathed in the soft glow of evening lights. The table is elegantly set with a variety of Diabolos’s favorite dishes. The city skyline provides a breathtaking backdrop, with twinkling lights mirroring the stars above. Soft jazz plays in the background, adding to the ambiance.

Diabolos arrives early, his nerves evident as he adjusts the table settings and glances at the sky, anticipating Jihyo and Voljune’s arrival. He fidgets with his cufflinks and checks his reflection, trying to look his best.

Jihyo and Voljune arrive, Jihyo is dressed in a flowing, elegant dress that compliments the evening’s mood and her delectable curves. Voljune and her agreed that tonight they were going to spend the whole night setting Diabolos’ heart ablaze. Her eyes shine with excitement as she spots Diabolos. She gives him a warm hug and a quick, affectionate kiss, while Voljune’s presence subtly enhances her confidence. Diabolos’s cheeks flush with a mix of surprise and pleasure.

As they sit down, Jihyo serves Diabolos his favorite dish with a teasing smile. “I hope you’re hungry, Dio. I made sure to get everything just the way you like it,” she says, her voice playful. Diabolos smiles grateful for Jihyo. The last few days had really been weighing on him and whenever that happened violent intrusive thoughts began to pile in his skull.

Voljune chimes in through Jihyo, “And don’t think we forgot about your tendency to hoard the last sweet. You might have to share this time.”

Diabolos laughs, visibly flustered. “I’ll try to be on my best behavior,” he replies, playfully rolling his eyes.

During the meal, Jihyo and Voljune decide to play a game of truth or dare. Jihyo starts, “Okay, Diabolos, truth or dare?”

“Truth,” Diabolos replies, bracing himself.

“What’s one thing about yourself you’ve never told anyone?” Jihyo asks, leaning closer, her eyes sparkling with curiosity.

Diabolos hesitates, then admits, “I used to have a secret hobby of painting landscapes. It was a way to escape everything else.”

Voljune, through Jihyo, whispers in Diabolos’s ear, “Dare him to sing one of his favorite songs.”

Jihyo grins mischievously and says, “Alright, now for a dare. Sing us a verse from your favorite song.”

Diabolos chuckles, his face reddening, but he obliges before belting out the first of “What Was All About” by Sum 41, causing Jihyo and Voljune to laugh and cheer him on.

Jihyo’s smiled “You're quite the singer have you ever thought about being a trainee?” she asked teasingly. Diabolos shook his head exacerbated before saying an emphatic no.

As the night progresses, Jihyo and Voljune use their combined knowledge to touch on personal topics. Jihyo softly says, “I remember you mentioned how hard it was to balance your career and personal life. How do you manage it now?”

Diabolos smiled and said, “It's simple one step at a time, plus I have the best girlfriend in the whole universe, and yes I'm not being hyperbolic.

Voljune adds through Jihyo, “And what about those quiet moments you cherish the most? We want to hear about them.”

Diabolos smiles and holds Jihyo’s hand. She and Voljune jump at the gentle strength behind his grip.

“I will never forget the time you waltzed into that in-n-out with Sana and the rest of the girls and you sat right across from me with this big toothy grin.”

Jihyo laughs as she's genuinely touched by the gesture.

Diabolos looks touched by their interest and shares stories of his struggles and triumphs. He appreciates how they blend their knowledge to create a more profound connection.

During a lull in conversation, Jihyo gently brushes a strand of hair from Diabolos’s face, her fingers lingering. Voljune’s influence makes the touch more intimate, and Diabolos shivers slightly, his breath catching.

Voljune subtly guides Jihyo’s hand to rest on Diabolos’s arm, enjoying the way he responds to the contact. “You look so handsome tonight,” Jihyo murmurs, her voice infused with affection. Diabolos smiles and then says, “You know yo-yo you look absolutely stunning tonight as well.” Jihyo smiles as she gets up to kiss his cheek.

As the music changes to a slow, romantic tune, Jihyo stands and extends her hand to Diabolos. “May I have this dance?” she asks with a playful smile.

Diabolos takes her hand, and they move to the center of the rooftop. Voljune’s presence adds a radiant quality to Jihyo’s graceful movements, making the dance fluid mesmerizing, and glowing literally. Diabolos is drawn into the rhythm, his initial awkwardness melting away as he holds Jihyo close.

After dancing, they find a cozy spot on a plush blanket, lying back to gaze at the stars. Jihyo snuggles against Diabolos, her head resting on his shoulder, while Voljune enjoys the peaceful moment. They share their dreams and fears, their voices blending in a harmonious conversation.

As the evening winds down, Jihyo and Voljune share a tender kiss with Diabolos, their affection evident. Diabolos wraps his arms around them both, feeling the warmth and connection they share.

Jihyo whispers, “We’ll face whatever comes next together.”

Diabolos nods, his heart full of gratitude and love. “Together,” he replies.

They sit quietly for a moment, the stars their only witness, knowing that whatever challenges lie ahead, they will face them together.

[ckret2]

Chapter 70 of human Bill Cipher pretending he's not the Mystery Shack's captive for ten minutes:

This happens!

Whoops, sorry, zoomed too far in.

This happens!

Way more important and exciting.

####

Bill lasted—based on the sun's position—about a couple of hours before this body's needs knocked him out of his meditative mindset. He sat up with a sigh, checked his tanlines—the stripes he'd drawn across his abdomen were already darkening into a nice, angry burn—and glanced over at the lake to see what the Pines were up to.

At the moment, Mabel was holding a foot-long wiggling, glittery, gold-scaled trout in a net and grinning proudly. Stan wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pointed at her in excitement as Dipper snapped a picture of them. Stan opened a cooler for her to drop the fish in. Mabel's face fell, and she hugged the fish protectively. Stan's shoulders sagged; but after half a minute of unsuccessful negotiations, he relented and pointed at the lake. She dumped the trout back in the water.

Bill clicked his tongue in disappointment and muttered, "If I'd thought they'd catch the golden trout, I would've told 'em that thing's like the holy grail to the Fishmasons." Stan probably would have insisted they keep it just so they could get something on Eugene. Bill wasn't emotionally invested in their feud; but the trout did grant three wishes. Bill could use that kind of power.

Oh well, he could tell them later. Maybe they'd get lucky and hook it again. Bill got to his feet. "Hey, old lady. I need to stretch my legs." Stretch his legs, look for entertainment, and forage for food—they were planning to be out here all day, but there hadn't yet been a grocery trip to properly stock his new fridge chest and he didn't trust Ford's nutrition pills, so he'd only brought along a bottle of hot sauce and a bottle of sprinkles and hoped he'd manage to find some food once he was here. (And if he didn't find any—well, at least he had hot sauce and sprinkles.)

"Okay," Abuelita said. She turned a page.

He put his slippers back on, dug his condiments and eye patch out of Abuelita's bag—his eyes were getting tired—put on the patch, and scanned the beach. "Hey. Looks like somebody's grilling hot dogs over there."

Abuelita made a noncommital sound of minimal interest.

"Hot dog might be nice," he said. "Looks like the grill's a biiit over thirty feet away, though..."

"Okay," Abuelita said again.

"So." He waved his braceleted hand demonstratively. "Shall we?"

"Eh. I don't want a hot dog." She slid the enchanted bracelet off and dropped it in the sand.

Bill stared at the bracelet, then stared at her. "What, that—really? You're just... really?"

"What am I, a cop?"

Good enough for him. "You're all right, lady." He wrapped the extra thread around his wrist, put on the second bracelet, and glanced at the Stanowar again to make sure the Pines weren't about to catch him off his leash.

The family was crowded around watching as Ford reeled in something heavy. He grinned excitedly as the hook dragged up a patch of soggy khaki fabric; and his smile vanished when his coat grabbed the boat with a furry hand. As the family scrambled to the far end of the boat, Bigfoot—wearing Ford's lost coat and a full set of scuba gear—climbed aboard the boat.

Ford punched Bigfoot in the face.

"Oh," Bill said. "Bigflipper. That'll keep 'em distracted for a while." Satisfied, he meandered up the beach.

He plastered on a bright smile as he approached the family with the hot dogs, veered around the husband working the grill, and walked right up to the wife sitting on a beach towel, eating a hot dog, and watching her kids play in the water. "Heeey, Wanda! What are you doing here! Look at you, you look terrific!"

The woman looked up at Bill from under her sunhat in bafflement. "I—hi? Sorry, do I...?"

"Sure, it's Goldie! Washington State! Fifteen years ago! We were in the same study group, remember? East Asian history? Honestly all I remember about the class is the other girls and that fifty percent of it was about Confucianism."

Wanda's eyes lit up, and then un-lit as she realized she still didn't recognize Bill. "Oh—heeey! Wow—sorry, guess I've slept since then."

"Don't worry about it, I'm just good with faces. Anyway, from what I remember," he jabbed a thumb toward the man at the grill, "at the time most of your attention was on Danny."

Wanda laughed again, a little more easily. "Right, god. I can't believe I made it through that semester with passing grades."

"Hey, you were still the only one in the group who could remember what order all those dynasties came in..."

Bill kept Wanda distracted for another couple of minutes with small talk about the study sessions he'd spied on out of boredom from a library stained glass window; and then, when he saw one hot dog had been set aside fully grilled and mustarded but as-yet unclaimed, he said, "But hey, I won't distract you anymore! Those kids look like a handful." While both parents turned to look at the kids, Bill snatched up the unclaimed hot dog, strolled down the beach, and called back, "It was good catching up!" That whole performance probably hadn't been necessary, he might've been able to time his loitering to swing by just as the hot dog was left unguarded; but it had been more fun this way. He didn't get to have a lot of conversations these days. Less where he felt like he was the one in control of the conversation.

He soaked the bun in hot sauce, dumped some sprinkles on the mustard, and took a bite while he glanced out at the lake again to see how the Pines were doing.

At the moment, Ford had Bigfoot in a chokehold from behind. Stan hit him with a right hook. Bigfoot kicked Stan in the chest with one immense flippered foot, and he tumbled backward into the lake.

Looked like none of them would be paying attention to anything on the beach any time soon. No need to go straight back to his cell. He scanned the rows of beachgoers sitting out by the lake, looking for fresh entertainment.

Bill's gaze fixed on one of the humans. One of these things is not like the others, one of these things doesn't belong. Amongst all the tourists in their swimsuits, one man—standing ramrod straight, dressed in a black suit, holding a heavy black device with an antenna—stuck out like a sore pale thumb in a pitch black bandaid.

An agent from the Bureau of Covert Investigations. The "eagles." The same guys that had covered up President Quentin Trembley's existence, a brief sightseeing trip Bill had taken to Roswell via nuclear testing-induced dimensional rip, and the miraculous and disgusting resurrection of cult leader/possession puppet Silas Birchtree; and, the guys that had been trying to find Bill's portal in Gravity Falls since they'd detected it in the '80s. Bill wasn't the eagles' biggest fan.

But they'd never been a big enough potential threat or a big enough potential help for him to intervene in their operations. In the mid '80s, when the lead investigator in Gravity Falls had been putting together his case, Bill had considered pulling some strings and manipulating them into taking over the portal from Stanley, before concluding they'd be more likely to disassemble the portal than activate it and it was better off in Stan's clumsy care. But all the same, he'd kept watch over their operations. 

And this, if he wasn't mistaken, was the lead investigator himself. Agent Powers. What was he doing here? Bill had thought the case was closed last year after Ford wiped their memories and sent them packing. Maybe Powers was here about Trembley? Depending on what the Pines had entered into the memory gun, the eagles might still remember that part of their operations in town.

Bill would kinda like to know where Trembley was these days. He studied the agent as he slowly finished his hot dog; and then he moved in.

"Hey there, agent!" Bill clapped a hand on his shoulder, making him start, and beamed brightly. "Welcome to town! What brings you to Gravity Falls?"

"Pardon?" Agent Powers gave Bill an appraising up-and-down look—threat assessment, probably—caught sight of his bikini top, and quickly looked him in the eye. "How did you know I'm an agent?"

"Oh, that's easy! I'm psychic."

Powers opened his mouth, paused, and then squinted skeptically at Bill.

"Just kidding. You've got an earpiece, a business suit at the beach, and the government's favorite car."

"Oh." Powers turned to glance toward where he'd parked. "Yes. I suppose so."

"Say! If you want a more covert vehicle, you oughta go to Gleeful Auto in town. You'll blend right in. Just tell 'em Mr. Locke sent you."

"Who's Mr. Locke?"

Right, Bill supposed he didn't look like much of a "Mr." at the moment. Humans didn't consider bikinis gender neutral for some reason. He took a split second to decide whether he'd get any practical benefits from trying to push past the agent's initial perception of his gender, and couldn't think of any. "Friend of mine!"

"Ah." Powers nervously looked Bill up and down again; then cleared his throat and glanced away, cheeks flushed faintly pink in the heat. "Right. Thank you, uh, citizen."

"No problem!" If Bill remembered his suits right, this agent was an easy target. Believed in "collaborating" with "local informants"; wasn't very good at the covert part of the Bureau of Covert Investigations. "You don't look like you're in town on vacation! Investigating anything interesting at the lake?"

"Well..." Powers flashed Bill a quick sideways glance before nodding vaguely toward a couple of people in dive suits further up the beach. "If you must know, we've picked up some evidence of the lake recently flooding its banks. Which is strange, because the amount of rain this area's received can't account for how high the water climbed..."

Not here about Trembley, then? "Flooding? Think there's any danger, agent? In our quiet, harmless little town?"

"No, no. Nothing like that," Powers said quickly. "But, I've said too much. I should go." He shifted his footing anxiously. He did not go.

What was that about? Bill glanced down at himself; he still looked perfectly human, didn't see anything that should make a government agent nervous. Was it the lack of shaving? Was that too Seventies Feminist for Mr. Government Suit? Was the eyepatch setting off his secret agent "Soviet supervillain in a spy movie" instincts? He couldn't have noticed Bill stealing a hot dog.

Should Bill press his luck? (Stupid question—of course he should.) "Say, you keep giving me these odd looks, agent! Anything you wanna say?"

His pink cheeks flushed darker. "Er, no, no ma'am. It's just, I uh..." He gestured vaguely toward Bill, "I... couldn't help but notice that your... sunscreen is a bit streaky."

Bill glanced down at his tan lines. Streaky? He thought the burn lines were coming out pretty crisp.

The agent went on, "I was wondering if you needed help applying it more evenly." It took a split second for him to realize what he'd just said; and then he went even redder.

Bill raised his brows. Huh. "Nooo, I'm great, thanks. It's supposed to look like that."

"Oh." Powers's brow furrowed in confusion. "All right." He nodded. "In that case, I really should be going, then."

"All right!"

But Powers hesitated again for a moment before finally moving up the beach away from Bill.

Well. Interesting. Interesting reaction.

He checked on the Stanowar again to make sure the Pines hadn't seen anything. At the moment—he squinted—they seemed to be playing poker with Bigfoot. He must not have liked Mabel's playing (unsurprising; she was an incorrigible cheat), because he picked her up and chucked her in the lake.

"She's fine," Bill muttered. "She's got her life jacket." They were good about that in this town.

He watched as Powers met up with the divers farther along the beach; and then he headed back to his towel.

####

Bill had decided his front was sufficiently roasted and was struggling to apply new sunscreen stripes to his back so he could flip over, when he overheard somebody say, "Oh hey, Toga Lady?"

Bill twisted around, already grinning in greeting before he'd even seen who was talking to him. "Heya!" It was Broken Heart and two of the others. Wendy's gang. Robbie, Tambry, and Nate. "What are you guys doing out here! You don't look like the beach types!" (In deference to the environment, all three of them had donned swim trunks and sandals; but that was as beachy as they'd gotten. Nate and Tambry were in black t-shirts advertising metal bands. Robbie was still in his hoodie. Robbie's legs nearly glowed white.)

"Hanging," Tambry said, one arm around Robbie's back and face glued to her phone.

Nate elbowed Robbie. "Dude, he's Toga Guy, remember?"

"Toga 'Lad' would be better," Tambry said.

"You sure?" Robbie asked. "Sh—he's kinda..." He gestured vaguely toward his own chest, realized that probably wasn't the best way to make his point, and finished, "uh... bikini."

"I don't want to spend my day arguing about whether I've got the right to go topless!" Bill got to his feet and planted his hands on his hips. "I could talk my way out of trouble with the police—it's the tourist parents I'm worried about." He pulled up one strap to examine his shoulder. "It's gonna ruin my tan, though."

They took in his tan in progress: several horizontal lines across his lower torso and upper thighs, a few disconnects vertical lines stretched between the horizontal ones. Tambry glanced up from her phone, snorted, and started typing faster; Nate said, "Dude, are you trying to make bricks like the triangle guy?"

Bill froze, mouth open. "Uhhh..." Sure, that was the objective—he just hadn't really expected humans to find it that obvious. Nosy little pattern-seekers. "I mean—"

"That's cool," Tambry said. "Stick it to the man."

Robbie had screwed up his face a bit, but at Tambry's reaction, he shrug-nodded and conceded, "Yeah, it's kinda punk, I guess."

Nate said, "Praise Bill or whatever, right?" He laughed. "Yeah, I thought about getting a tattoo of him. Up here or something?" He pushed a sleeve up above the snake tattoo wrapped around his left bicep to show the blank spot on his shoulder. "But my parents would flip if they ever found out. Maybe I should do the brick thing too, it's way subtler." Nate turned to the other two, lifted up his shirt, and said, "Hey Tambers, do you think I'd look cool with bricks around my waist?"

She didn't look up. "No."

"What if I got an eye on my chest too?"

"Let me think. No."

Bill watched this back and forth with wide-eyed stunned silence. Hold on. What? Praise Bill?

"Pfff, whatever!" Robbie rolled his eyes. "Hey, you're gonna regret getting a Bill tattoo once I get my sick symbol off the anti-Bill circle. It's like... giving me a permanent rock-paper-scissors win against you. For the rest of time."

Nate laughed. "Shut up, whatever man! The circle didn't even do anything."

"It would have! It was, like, glowing!"

"Heeey!" Bill stepped into the trio's line of sight again. "Right, yeah, praise Bill, by the way any of you wanna help me get my back?" He turned around to gesture over his shoulder. "Little favor between punk weirdos?"

"Yeah, sure." Tambry tucked her phone into Robbie's hoodie pocket and held out her hand for the tube of sunscreen. "Just continue the lines around your back?"

"You got it." Bill lifted his arms. "And try to keep the bricks evenly spaced."

"What is this stuff? Some kind of suntan lotion?"

"It's more like anti-sunscreen," Bill said. "By the way, you probably wanna wash your hands after this unless you want sunburned fingers." He wiggled his own fingers, which were faintly flushed from applying the first layer of sunscreen that morning.

"Hey, anti-sunscreen," Nate said, "you could call that, uh... sun-beam." He paused. "No wait, that's already a word."

Robbie laughed. "You're an idiot."

"Sooo," Bill said. "Is the triangle guy cool now? Not—not asking for any particular reason. Just curious."

"Oh, yeah," Tambry said. "Like half the school's decided he's our crazy anti-authoritarian counterculture chaos god now?" (Bill was adding that to his business card.)

Robbie said, "Somebody set up a shrine to him in a hollow tree stump behind the school. People started making animal sacrifices to him during finals week."

Nate said, "It's chicken nuggets and cafeteria tacos, but. Y'know. We didn't say live animals."

"Huh! Interesting!" Bill tried, unsuccessfully, not to sound too excited. He was hip with the youth. Who'd imagined! This was what he got for hanging out with the town's cops and politicans, he could've been exploiting this for a month. "But I think he prefers receiving gold!"

Nate laughed. "Dude, I'd prefer receiving gold, too. What we have is chicken nuggets and tacos."

"Fair enough," Bill shrugged. "By the way—if you want a Bill tattoo? The traditional style is to shave your hair and get his eye above your forehead, right here!" He tapped his skull over his brain's frontal eye fields. "It tells him right where to enter."

"Oh, sweet! That's perfect," Nate said. "I can shave, get a tattoo, and just keep my hat on until my hair grows back. No one will ever know!" (Bill tried to imagine hair growing out of his eyeball, and wished he hadn't.)

Robbie said, "Hey, weren't the Pines like... not letting you go outside because you knew him or something? That's what Wendy said."

That wasn't the story he'd told her. He'd have to find out where she'd picked that up. "Or something. It was more because of dumb academic ego-measuring contests than anything to do with that."

"So, they finally letting you outside alone now?"

"Only for group trips." Bill pointed out at the lake.

The three teens squinted toward the boat. "Whoa," Tambry said. "Are they arm-wrestling Bigfoot?"

"Oh, yeah. It was poker earlier."

For a moment, all activity ceased as the teens watched the battle out on the lake. Nate sat in the sand and propped his chin in his hand. Figuring Tambry was done with his stripes, Bill plopped onto his beach towel to watch as well.

Bigfoot defeated Stan, and Soos switched places with him to try next. Soos lasted five seconds before Bigfoot flipped him into the water. Melody scrambled to help pull him back aboard as Bigfoot pumped his fists in the air victoriously. Bill snorted.

"Bad luck," Robbie said. 

"I could beat him," Nate said. "Hey Robbie, think I could beat him?"

"Pfff, no."

"Bet Wendy could," Tambry said, recording through her phone as Bigfoot generously indulged Dipper and Mabel's attempt to take him on as a team. The guys murmured vague agreement with Tambry.

"Buuut anyway," Bill said, reluctant to let the conversation get too far away from himself, "yeah, I might've talked to the triangle guy a couple, several times."

"That's pretty cool," Nate said. "Hey, we oughta hang sometime, I bet Lee'd wanna hear about that. It'd probably drive Wendy crazy, but..."

Tambry let out a dismissive pff. "The triangle stuff's been driving Wendy crazy all year. She can take it."

"Not a fan?" Bill asked.

"Nah, she thinks the whole thing's creepy. Her and Thompson both."

"I think the whole cult thing's fine," Robbie said magnanimously. "As, y'know, one of the people prophesied to defeat him. If he ever really came back and caused trouble, we could handle it."

Bill tried not to roll his eye. Bold words out of a guy who, a couple of years ago, had left a plate of spaghetti in the woods to see if an "evil triangle" urban legend was true, and had thrown up when Bill dragged him into a dream state to show him just how true it was.

On Earth, urban legends about Bill tended to pop up and wither away in waves around the epicenter of his latest area of influence—like mushroom rings spreading away from a patch of ground they'd depleted of useful nutrients and left to die. Bill suspected the local urban legend Robbie had stumbled upon had been passed down in Gravity Falls for thirty years by teens misinterpreting Old Man McGucket's crazy ramblings about a "demon triangle" and "spaghettification."

He was always torn on whether to encourage or quash such urban legends: on the one hand, it was handy for humans to know he existed and was available for deals; but much less handy when they warned each other away from him. More than once, knowledge of him had nearly broken into the mainstream, and he'd had to put all his other plans on hold to focus on deflecting the whistleblowers' information into obscurity.

Apparently encouraging the spaghetti one had been the right move, if a year after his brief conquest of Gravity Falls the teens were offering him sacrifices rather than cursing his name.

Nate punched Robbie's arm. "Why would he cause us trouble? He's our chaos god, remember? We've given him offerings!"

"I like that attitude," Bill said. "Hanging out sounds fun! We'll... figure something out sometime." As soon as he found a way to make the Pines let him go outside without being surrounded by babysitters. Wouldn't that be humiliating, a full adult hanging out with teenagers and it's the adult who isn't allowed outside without a chaperone. No, that wasn't an option. If he came with an adult attached, they'd ditch him in a heartbeat for being too much of a drag.

The teens made their farewells and headed down the beach, Tambry and Robbie with their arms around each other again. Tambry wiped the anti-sunscreen off her hand onto the back of Robbie's hoodie.

As they went, they walked past Agent Powers—who was looking right at Bill.

Bill stared. The agent quickly looked away.

He didn't like that one bit. As he adjusted his position to lay face down on his towel, he said, "Hey, Dolores. You get the feeling we're being watched?"

"Hm?" Abuelita glanced up from her book toward Bill, then looked where he was looking. "Government." She made a disapproving noise and turned back to her book. "Nothing but trouble."

"You said it." Why was Powers so focused on Bill. He couldn't possibly be in any kind of trouble, he hadn't even existed until a month ago. And the eagles probably didn't know that, did they?

Nothing Bill could do about it in the middle of a beach trip. He propped his chin in his hand and checked on the fishing crew again.

In a fury, Bigfoot had ripped the motor off the back of the boat and lifted it over his head. The Pines family huddled together at the other end of the boat, trying to shield their heads.

A golden trout jumped out of the water, arced majestically through the air, and smacked Bigfoot in the face. Bigfoot stumbled backward and tripped out of the boat.

Hm. Maybe letting the trout go had been the right move. Bill shut his eyes and lay back down.

####

The sun was low and most of the beachgoers had gone home when the Stanowar chugged back to shore, battle-weary, disheveled, and dissatisfied. Except for Ford, who was wearing his sopping wet coat over his waders, holding one boot, and pleased as punch.

"Hey!" Bill shouted. "How'd it go!" He surreptitiously tossed half the bracelet over to Abuelita. She quietly slid it on.

Crankily, Stan yelled from the dock, "You didn't mention Bigfoot in a scuba tank!"

Bill shouted back, "Bigflipper wasn't there when I looked! What, did you expect me to check the entire spacetime continuum to find you the perfect fishing?!"

Faintly, he could hear Ford say, "See, I told you his proper name is Bigflipper."

Mabel repeatedly poked Dipper in the arm as they crossed the beach. Dipper flinched each time. "Ow, ow—Mabel. Cut it out."

"That's what you get for forgetting your sunscreen, bro-bro!"

Dipper's arms and face were bright red with a sunburn. "I didn't forget! I put it on at the beach, right before we left!"

Bill grabbed up Abuelita's empty water bottles and tossed them in the nearest trash can, along with the rest of his tube of anti-sunscreen before anyone could get a good look at it. He ignored the kids and said to Stan, "But it was a good fishing spot, right?"

Stan grumbled, but grudgingly admitted, "Yeah. Until tall, brown, and hairy showed up. We caught four fish! That's gotta be at least as good as the guys from the lodge, right?"

Bill winced. "Ooh. Sorry, they went by an hour ago with eleven fish."

Stan let out a roar of outrage and threw his fishing rod in the sand.

"Grunkle Stan, you don't go fishing to catch fish," Mabel said. "You go fishing to catch memories! Look at this!" She held up a bunch of photos. "This is a whole scrapbook spread right here! We caught sooo many memories."

"And my coat," Ford said. He was admiring his #1 Grunkle pen, which he'd taken from the coat pocket.

"I'd rather have fish," Stan grumbled. "All right, c'mon. Let's get..." He trailed off, looking past Bill. "Hey, is that...?"

Bill glanced back over his shoulder, and grimaced. Agent Powers and his protégé were watching them from the far end of the beach. Bill quickly turned back around. "Yep. Your old friends from last summer," he said. "They've been scoping out the beach all day. I don't know what they're here for—but you probably wanna get out of here." More importantly, Bill wanted to get out of here—but he didn't see any benefit to letting them know he was nervous.

"He's right," Ford said. "If they see us long enough to recognize us—and his memories start coming back..."

"Who are they?" Melody asked.

Soos whispered loudly, "I'll explain it in the car." Bill bit back the need to point out that whispering didn't make a difference as far away as the agents were.

"I don't get it," Stan said. "What are they doing back here?"

"You wanna go ask him?" Bill asked. Stan grimaced.

The Pines and Ramirez families piled back in their vehicles and headed out. Bill had the uneasy feeling that Agent Powers was focused on the Ramirez's truck as they left.

####

(How long have I been promising the Agent Powers plot, since like the May before last or something? Here it is!!

Next week, either we launch straight into the Powers plot, or I finally have the Axolotl chapters (it's chapters plural now) sufficiently edited and we do that first, because once we start the Powers plot there's no place for a break until it's over. Hopefully the Axolotl chapters will finally be ready by next Friday, but if they're not...... tough. It's fine though, you'll live.)

[guzhufuren]

New posters, message, part of a soundtrack and information about upcoming chinese BL The General's Son, show from the director of Word of Honor

"Green mountains are hidden in the distance, the waters are far away, the bright moon is always shining, the world is full of happiness."

Genres: wuxia; revenge Number of episodes: 24 Episode runtime: 18 minutes

Lead actors: Li Kaiwen as Li Jianwei; Dong Zifan as Chen Xiaoxi

Director and executive producer: Ma Huagan (Word of Honor, The Legend of Anle, Sword Dynasty) Art director: Liu Jingping (Love and Redemption, A Dream of Splendor, Wonderland of Love) Screenwriter and chief producer: Zhou Shucheng Executive producers: Zhuo Zuoqing, Yang Qi Co-producers: Jiang Yuxin, Li Shike, Dong Xinyu Co-director: Wang Xue Producers: Jiang Zhengpeng, Liu Wei, Xu Heni Planning by: Luo Yuting, Luo Gaoqiang

Filming finished this June. Will not be broadcast in mainland China. Original script.

Synopsis: General Li's family were killed on New Year's Eve. Li Jianwei, the youngest son of the Li family, escaped death, but disguised himself as a courtesan and went to Wei Mountain to seek revenge. Chen Xiaoxi, the young master of Guigu, has a lively and eccentric personality, becomes increasingly close to Li Jianwei, who has tried his best to win him over. Chen Xiaoxi's sister, Xiao Hetao, is simple and kind. She discovers that Li Jianwei came for revenge, and dies to resolve the hatred between the two.

Characters:

Li Jianwei. Twenty years old, the youngest son of General Li Fei, he is loved by the whole family, standing like an orchid and a jade tree, smiling like the bright moon. He should have had a bright future, but his fate changed overnight. In order to get revenge, he went undercover to Weishan, enduring humiliation and patiently executing his plan step by step.

Chen Xiaoxi. At the age of twenty, we meet the young master of Weishan Guigu. He was born pure but had evil eyes. Under his lively and sunny appearance, his face looked like that of a devil's. In fact, he was rough but kind, and treated people with sincerity. Unfortunately, fate played a cruel joke on him and his mother died.

Xiao Hetao. At the age of seventeen, Chen Xiaoxi rescued a human child from a wolf pack. Innocent and romantic, she was very simple and naive. Gui Rong and others gave Xiao Hetao the purest and most innocent living environment, but she hoped to resolve the hatred of everyone with her own power.

Princess Qingyuan. Thirty-four years old, a graceful and elegant lady, smart and tenacious. She was in love with Chen Dawang when she was young. After Chen Dawang's death, she firmly refused marriage arranged by the magistrate's office and spent many years in Zhejiang. While helping Li Jianwei to take revenge, Qingyuan, the deputy envoy of the Chang'an Supervisor Zi Ke, has been trying to find out the truth about Jian Jishan from 20 years ago.

Chen Dawang. At the age of 38, we meet the leader of Guigu in Huishan. Twenty years ago, he was a major general in the Loyal and Brave Army led by Chen Weishan. Entrusted by the general, Chen Dawang and his party lived in seclusion in Guigu for twenty years, just to avenge the Loyal and Brave Army and reveal the truth to the world one day.

Sizhou. 24 years old, a descendant of the Loyal and Brave Army, he was a martial arts expert but became blind in two days. Because he was indebted to the Lord of Qingyuan, he stayed by his side and waited for investigation. While helping Li Jianwei to get his revenge, he also hoped to find out the truth of the old case of the Loyal and Brave Army from 20 years ago.

Wan Qianhong. Thirty-eight years old, owner of Baihua Villa, with mysterious martial arts and deceitful tricks. When she was young, she fell in love with Li Pu, who concealed his identity. Later, Li Xifei and Huang Jueda broke off all ties with Wan Qianhong. Since then, Wan Qianhong deeply hated Li Pu and all men in the world. Behind the hatred, Wan Qianhong missed her daughter so much that she mistakenly recognized Xiao Hetao as Zaotian's daughter. In the end, they ended up loving each other but not being able to be together.

Shi Tou. Eighteen years old, a good martial brother of Chen Xiaoxi, grew up in Jianweishan. He is the beloved son of Uncle Hua and Aunt Hua, with a simple and straightforward personality. He was happy and naive until Xiaohe died. The joy he did not even have time to express became the biggest regret in Shi Tou's life.

*text from informational brochures was converted with image to text online programs, translated through google translator and edited by me with some help of online dictionaries. i do not speak chinese, so there are most certainly mistakes in the text. purpose of this translation is to give you the general idea

[nothingbutsweetwords]

ɴᴏʙᴏᴅʏ'ꜱ ꜱᴏɴ, ɴᴏʙᴏᴅʏ'ꜱ ᴅᴀᴜɢʜᴛᴇʀ

ᴀᴇᴍᴏɴᴅ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ!ɴɪᴇᴄᴇ

"ɪ ᴅɪᴅɴ'ᴛ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ'ᴅ ᴄᴀʀᴇ ɪꜰ ɪ ᴄᴀᴍᴇ ʙᴀᴄᴋ…"

Word count: 6,800.

Fandom: House of the Dragon.

Pairing: Aemond x Reader!Velaryon!Niece.

DISTANCE — 9. Her.

At first, her days had been monotonous and boring. She rarely left her room, and even less so the castle. Immersed in a life that contrasted drastically with the ceaseless hustle and bustle of the former.

There, far from King's Landing, she found herself yearning for the life she had left behind. Closed off to life in Dragonstone, which was simpler, slower, and she could not find solace in it. She missed the Red Keep, which, although no longer felt like home, was at least familiar. The constant hum of activity and the presence of people she once took for granted seemed like a distant dream.

But most of all, she missed him. The void left by his absence was palpable, a constant ache that never quite went away. His absence haunted her thoughts, making the already stark contrast between her past and present even more pronounced. The memory of him was a specter that lingered at the edges of her mind, making the solitude of Dragonstone feel even more isolating.

She found refuge only in the company of her mother, her lady-in-waiting, and her brothers. Joffrey, still too young to ride his dragon, provided a source of innocent joy. Luke and Jace, when they weren’t engrossed in training or flying, shared special moments with her that briefly alleviated her loneliness.

She couldn't help but feel envious of how easily her brothers seemed to have adapted. She acknowledged that her difficulty was purely her own fault; she couldn't completely let go of her previous life. She deeply longed for her past, melancholic.

Her memories were vivid with the bustle of the city and the castle coming to life, the constant coming and going of servants and guards, the plush softness of her mattress, the warmness of his chest, the distant chimes of the Grand Sept’s bells, the depth of his gaze, and the calm sea, always present, gently caressing the bay and framing the view from her window, a soothing backdrop to her daily life.

Despite the dangers and politics that filled every corner, for her, King's Landing was synonymous with belonging and security; it was all she knew.

The transition to Dragonstone was jarring, an abrupt shift that left her reeling. The moment she set foot on the island, she was struck by its untamed beauty and raw, almost menacing energy. The rugged cliffs, the relentless waves crashing against the shore, and the brooding sky all seemed to echo a wildness she found unsettling and violent.

She allowed herself to explore, tentatively at first, then with growing curiosity. She marveled at the sea, how it changed hues under the shifting light—cleaner, deeper, more vibrant than the waters of Blackwater Bay. The night sky, free from the haze of city lights, seemed brighter. The nights, though lonelier, were filled with peace and reflection.

The energies of her ancestors seemed to throb in the draconic sculpted walls, as if the stones themselves narrated the history of her forebears. Every dark corridor, every imposing tower, every silent room vibrated with the presence of those who had walked there before her. In the library, filled with knowledge and more books than she had ever seen, words were inscribed on ancient scrolls and tomes, preserving tales of bygone eras. The cliffs that bordered the island and the smoking Dragonmont were full of arcane mysteries, revealing forgotten feats and silent tragedies. The caves, home to legendary dragons, were sanctuaries of life, brimming with a raw and primordial energy. The entire  castle emanated a glorious force and the island seemed to hum with a magnificent power, a testament to the grandeur and might of her ancestry.

The connection she felt with the place deepened, and as she accepted this, a newfound peace washed over her. King's Landing would always hold a piece of her heart, but Dragonstone had claimed her spirit, her soul, and her unwavering loyalty.

She began to understand that it wasn't merely a place of exile or a temporary stop, but her true home. It was a living bond with her real identity, and each time she thought of her previous life, the memory faded, becoming less significant.

Her initial apprehension transformed into a resounding devotion, turning Dragonstone into the most cherished landscape she had ever known.

Soon, Daemon's visits became more frequent, and no one was surprised when they witnessed the Valyrian wedding. The ceremony was nothing short of magnificent, with dragon banners fluttering in the wind and ancient rites performed under the watchful eyes of the gods. 

When both families united, it only brought more joy and harmony. She already loved her family deeply, but the female presence of Baela and Rhaena was something she profoundly thanked.

However, there was another emotion that had slowly evolved within her, refusing to fully resolve. While she may have stopped yearning for King's Landing, there remained someone there she could not forget. This lingering longing was a shadow in her heart, an echo of the past that refused to fade completely, keeping a part of her spirit tethered to the city she had left behind.

At first, she was engulfed in confusion, questioning if, that fateful night, perhaps, she had overstepped boundaries—if she had misinterpreted his silent signals and misunderstood his whispered words.

Then came a deep, shadowy sadness. The day she departed, she had not only lost her father and the place where she grew up, but also her closest and dearest friend. It felt as if she had left behind a piece of her soul along with her childhood.

In the wake of this sorrow, an all-consuming anger took hold. She had sacrificed so much, standing steadfastly by his side through his darkest hours, and yet, a simple visit in the wake of her father’s death felt like the least acknowledgment she deserved in return. The injustice of it all ignited a flame within her.

Every fiber of her being ached for a reunion with him, even as she dreaded the prospect of facing him again. Her dreams were haunted by visions of him riding Vhagar, soaring through the skies in search of her. She imagined letters arriving, responses to her heartfelt missives, yet such never came, and those dreams remained unfulfilled.

With the impending journey, as the anniversary of the King's coronation and his nameday approached, the inevitable reunion loomed on the horizon. It promised a family gathering that, though eagerly anticipated, also filled her with profound fear.

Since moving to the island, her mother had constantly spoken of one particular thing. "She's restless," she would remark with a knowing glance, "because of you."

The islanders had told her mother: “She hasn’t been like this in years, not since she lost her rider.” At first, she paid little attention, not wanting to get her hopes up, attributing the rumors to local superstitions. But soon, she began to notice the signs.

Every morning upon waking, she would see her flying near her window, watching her with inquisitive eyes, as if trying to understand who this new inhabitant of the island was, attempting to discern the nature of her presence.

During her training sessions on the beach, she often felt a sudden, cool shadow sweep across her, and when she looked up, there she was, her powerful wings creating gusts that made her hair dance. Often accompanied by Vermithor, who kept watch from above but never descended.

At first, the proximity unnerved her, but over time, it became comforting, even familiar. There was something in those ancient eyes that awakened a sense of recognition, something she couldn’t explain.

One afternoon, after an intense training session with her brothers and and with her and Jace's seventeenth nameday celebration on the horizon, she found herself on the coast, basking in the splendor of the landscape.

The sky was painted in shades of orange and pink as the sun dipped below the horizon, bathing the island in a warm, golden glow, a sharp difference to the usual gloomy days. 

That day, something within her roared with the same power that emanated from the creature. She felt an unspoken connection, a deep, primal awareness that the dragon was near, resonating through her very core.

As she stood by, her senses were suddenly alive with anticipation. She appeared, skimming so close to the water that the sea’s mist kissed her face, as though conveying a message from fate itself.

Her heart raced as she watched her turn in the air and come back, her wings slicing through the clouds. The dragon turned her head towards her, letting out a soft roar, almost like an invitation.

Without a second thought, she began to follow, feeling her steps guided by a higher force.

The dragon flew at a deliberate pace, allowing her to keep up before tucking its wings and disappearing into a cavern. She climbed the slopes of Dragonmont. The path was treacherous, with loose stones and narrow ledges. Fortunately, she wasn’t wearing a dress, making her ascent easier.

Anticipation and nervousness filled her. The tales resonated in her mind, and although she wasn’t sure how to proceed, an inner voice urged her to keep moving forward.

Reaching the mouth of the cave, she paused for a moment, catching her breath and taking in the view behind her. The island lay sprawled out beneath her, the setting sun casting long shadows and turning the sea into a shimmering expanse of molten gold. She turned back to the cave, the entrance dark and foreboding, yet filled with an irresistible allure.

Gathering her courage, she stepped into the dimness. The air was cool and damp, carrying the scent of earth and the faint, sulfurous hint of the volcano.

It was vaguely illuminated by the sunlight filtering through cracks in the ceiling, casting a beautiful dance of shadows on the walls.

Suddenly, she saw her. Lying on a bed of rocks and moss, silver scales glimmered like scattered stardust. A majestic being of contained strength. Her eyes, a deep blue, resembling two flawless sapphires, locked onto her with intense scrutiny. Upon sensing her presence, she greeted her arrival with a low rumble.

It was a truly imposing and beautiful sight. Her neck was long, and her size colossal. With caution and respect, she approached, mesmerized. 

She kept her hands visible, her movements slow, and her breaths gentle, hoping that she could sense the sincerity of her heart and the absence of fear. The dragon lifted her head, observing her with a calm yet watchful curiosity.

The moment felt eternal, a breath of time where they studied each other. She continued to close the distance and slowly extended her arm. “Māzīs” she whispered softly, the word carrying her hopes and intentions.

Silverwing approached, her movements both graceful and powerful, took a step forward, and after a few seconds, lowered her enormous head, aligning it with the extended hand. She raised it further, and when she finally touched her, she felt a connection, an invisible bond that seemed to pull her heart towards the being. Silverwing created a magical aura around both.

She knew, with firm certainty, that this was her destiny.

A warm glow enveloped them, and Silverwing emitted a low, guttural sound, a harmonious mix of purring and roaring. A shiver of recognition and wonder coursed through her as she realized that this moment was far greater than her own.

As her hands traced her warm body, she began to whisper: “Nyke kivio naejot rigle ao.” The dragon closed her eyes, enjoying her touch and voice. A bond of trust and understanding began to form and she felt a wave of emotions, primarily a sense of belonging.

With a huge smile on her face, she walked slowly around her, maintaining the contact, caressing her sides with gratitude and reverence. The scales gleamed, reflecting the filtered sunlight. At that moment, she felt that not even the moon could rival the dragon’s ethereal beauty.

Silverwing lowered herself, pressing her chest against the cavern floor, creating a natural platform for her to mount. With a sense of mutual trust and understanding, she accepted the silent invitation. Using the aid of the extended wing, she carefully climbed onto her back, feeling the powerful muscles beneath her and the unwavering strength of her new companion.

It was a bit challenging, as there was no saddle after so many years without a rider. With her legs spread on either side of her body, she stroked her back and grasped the horns that adorned her neck, securing her position.

“Sōvēs, Gēliotīkun” she said, the words carrying a blend of awe and command

The dragon responded with a soft grunt of assent, her wings slowly unfolding like enormous sails ready to catch the wind. They were a marvel in themselves, of impressive span, extending beyond what her eyes could grasp, with silver membranes shimmering with blue flecks at the slightest movement.

The cavern filled with the sound of wings beating and a powerful creaking beneath them, resonating like a gentle thunder. She held on tightly, feeling a tingle of anticipation.

With a sublime thrust, Silverwing flew out of the entrance and soared into the open sky.

The wind whipped against her face, but rather than being bothersome, it felt like a liberating caress. The horizon stretched before them in endless splendor. She let the adrenaline and exhilaration flood her veins.

From the heights, Dragonstone looked even more magnificent, all merging into a visual symphony that took her breath away. She felt part of something much larger than herself, and as they flew, every fear and doubt seemed to evaporate.

They left everything far behind. She leaned forward, feeling the cool breeze caress her face and play with her hair, undoing her braids and freeing her curls while she held tightly.

“Aderī!” she shouted.

They climbed even higher and faster, passing through the clouds. And there, at the boundary between land and sky, the dragon roared with a joy and power that reverberated in the heavens like an echo of her own cries of happiness. 

It was a sound of triumph and unity, an announcement to the world that they were now an unstoppable force.

As she adjusted to the rhythm of flight, she allowed the tension in her hands to relax, letting the moment envelop her completely.

The feeling of freedom was indescribable, as if she had been released from the chains of the earthly world to explore the celestial realms. 

Silverwing soared with the regal grace of a sovereign over her domain, her wings beating with a powerful and confident rhythm that spoke of absolute mastery and majesty.

She descended gently towards the coast, giving her time to steady herself. Then she flew so close to the water that she could feel the mist on her face and fill her lungs with fresh, salty air. The waves crashed against the rocks, sending bright splashes in all directions, just as they had whenever she had seen them before.

They circled around the castle, their shadows casting over the walls and towers. The guards and residents of the castle looked up in awe, gazing at the magnificent figure of the dragon and her new rider, a sight not seen since the times of the good queen.

The dragon ascended once more, spiraling up into the sky before diving into a thrilling descent as she cried out with excitement.

“Ninkiot!” her voice carried by the wind.

With a gentle landing, Silverwing descended onto the shore, her powerful legs sinking into the sand as the waves gently lapped around her.

Carefully, she dismounted, her legs trembling slightly from the excitement of the flight and her heart pounding, almost wanting to escape her chest. She stroked the dragon’s neck, whispering “Kirimvose” as she walked across the wet sand. 

As she reached her front, the solemn creature lowered her head, large eyes watching her attentively again, strengthening the bond between them beyond mere duty or tradition. With that gesture, she allowed her to lean against her forehead again, a clear sign of acceptance, an indication that she had chosen her as her rider. 

She closed her eyes, letting tears of joy flow freely. She tried to embrace the sturdy neck, and though she could not wrap around it, she felt the powerful breath vibrating under her arms.

On the beach, they remained still, enjoying the tranquility that followed the journey. The rhythmic lullaby of the waves and the warm glow of the setting sun created an atmosphere of serenity. Her life had taken a definitive turn, finding in the silver dragon not only a rider-dragon relationship but a faithful and powerful ally, and a sacred bond between two souls, a reflection of her own spirit.

As the sun slowly slid below the horizon, painting the sky with fiery reds and purple hues, they watched together the vast ocean stretching before them.

Thus, enveloped by the twilight that wrapped the world in a soft dusk, they sealed their bond with a silent promise, a tacit oath of eternal loyalty and companionship.

As the sun bid farewell with its last glimmer of light, she prepared to return to the castle, but not before giving the dragon one last affectionate stroke. As she turned, she noticed a figure at the entrance between the rocks: it was Jace, his eyes wide with amazement at what he had just witnessed. Seeing him, her smile widened even more, and she ran towards him.

“You did it!” he exclaimed, unable to contain his excitement. She nodded with a joyful laugh, and he greeted her with open arms, lifting her and spinning her in the air.

“This is... it's truly amazing!” When he set her down, he planted a kiss on her forehead and hugged her tightly. “We must celebrate” he declared enthusiastically.

“I do not wish to make Rhaena feel left out” she replied, still a bit concerned about her sister.

“Are you serious? You have just claimed a dragon, and you want it to go unnoticed?” Jace looked at her incredulously. “This is monumental.” She laughed, and taking his hand, she dragged him towards the castle.

“We shall celebrate our nameday on the morrow, and, quietly, this as well” she said, their voices echoing between the stone walls on the way to the castle.

“Would you carry me? I feel as my legs might give out any moment” she asked, and Jace chuckled softly, bending down so she could climb

With a small leap, she rested on his back, feeling the security and strength of her twin. “We need to have a saddle made. Although, I must admit, seeing you fly without one was impressive.”

She leaned forward, whispering near his ear: “I felt free, like it was the most natural thing.”

“It will be even better with a proper saddle” he said, nodding to himself. She laughed. She had enjoyed it that way, but she knew they would feel more at ease knowing she had something to hold on to.

Both Daemon and Baela were at Driftmark, so it was just the two of them, their mother, Joffrey, Luke, and Rhaena.

Their arrival did not go unnoticed. When the doors of the hall where they used to have supper swung wide open, and Jace set her down on the floor, she was greeted by a wave of emotions and smiling faces.

Rhaenyra was the first to approach, her eyes filled with pride and joy. “I’m so happy for you, my love” she said with a radiant smile, hugging her tightly. “I knew she was meant for you.”

Her siblings, with admiration in their eyes, surrounded her, congratulating her.

However, among them all, one stood out. Despite being the only one without a dragon, her face reflected genuine happiness for her achievement. Rhaena approached with a warm smile, her eyes shining.

“I knew you’d make it someday” Rhaena said, hugging her tightly.

She felt a deep sense of gratitude and love. Gently stroking Rhaena’s back, she responded with empathy: “Your time will come as well, I am certain of it. You’re strong and brave, and your dragon is waiting for you, just as mine did for me.”

Rhaena nodded, her eyes filled with determination. “I know” she said, with unwavering faith.

She felt a wave of pride for the younger sister, whose resilience and hope were admirable. “And when that moment comes,” she added with a smile, “I will be the first to celebrate it with you.”

She had been fraught with anxiety, and the soothing sensation of flying alongside her cherished dragon was her only respite. The thought of possibly withdrawing from the impending journey loomed over her, yet deep down, she knew she couldn’t evade it forever. Before the moon could wane, she found herself walking toward the main courtyard, where the dragons and their riders were busily preparing for the upcoming journey.

The festivities were still some time away, but her mother had decided to travel ahead of time, as news of the king’s declining health had reached, and she wanted to spend more time by his side.

In the bustling courtyard, Daemon, commanding the attention of all around him, stood beside Caraxes. His authoritative voice cut through the air as he directed those who would remain behind at the castle. The earlier departure of the other servants had ensured that every detail in King’s Landing was meticulously prepared for their arrival, leaving nothing to chance.

Jace and Luke were checking the straps and harnesses of Vermax and Arrax, while Baela and Rhaena were already mounted on Moondancer, as was her mother on Syrax.

Her youngest brother was especially excited, bouncing from side to side, eager for his first flight. It had taken considerable coaxing from both him and her to convince Rhaenyra to grant permission for them to travel together on dragonback.

“Silverwing looks magnificent!” Joffrey exclaimed. “I can’t wait to fly with her.” She smiled at his joy.

A few days before, she had introduced them. She knew her dragon was known for her gentleness, but she still needed to make sure she felt comfortable.

Silverwing had a new saddle, all black with the Targaryen heraldry in silver, as well as other details, in her honor. 

She mounted first to secure everything. The dragon braced herself well against the ground to assist in the little one’s mounting, who, with the agility of youth, had no trouble getting on. He settled in front of her, his face full of awe.

“Are you ready?” she asked with a smile, observing the excitement on his face, before adjusting both their harnesses.

“Yes!” He exclaimed, his eyes sparkling with anticipation.

Once everyone was ready, Silverwing led the flight.

The journey was an incredible experience. Both Joffrey and she were delighted with everything they saw. He, marveling at the views for the first time, and she, still awestruck by the beauty of flying over the vast expanse of the realm.

The trip took less time than she had expected, and not enough to fully accept what was to come. Seeing King’s Landing after so long was strange. Though she didn’t wish to return, her heart was melancholic. It was pleasant to see it again after such a long time, and from a different angle.

From afar, she spotted the enormous shape of Vhagar, who, too large to enter the Dragonpit, was sleeping on the meadow. Once close, she stirred, curious about the visit, and when Silverwing landed, they exchanged friendly roars.

The dragon keepers, those who had been there the longest, had informed her of Silverwing’s fondness for freedom, and she intended to respect it. Unlike the others, she would allow her to rest freely on the green of Rhaenys’s hill.

Joffrey’s mouth was open, amazed by the imposing dragon, as he had never seen her before. She couldn’t help but let out a small laugh at this.

“Do you think Tyraxes will grow that big?” He asked, his eyes filled with dreams and hope.

“I think Tyraxes will grow even bigger, my dear” she replied with a smile.

Once they were on the ground, she took her little brother's hand, and after thanking Silverwing for a good flight and wishing her rest, they began to walk toward where their family and the carriages were waiting, ready to travel to the Red Keep.

Joffrey, as curious as ever, kept asking her about Vhagar, and she happily responded, delighted that he shared her interests.

“Vhagar is the oldest and largest” she explained as they walked. “She has seen many battles and served many brave riders.”

“Who is her rider now?” he asked, his tone full of wonder.

“Prince Aemond, our uncle” she replied, gently squeezing his hand. It had been a long time since she had spoken his name out loud.

When they reunited with their family, her mother hugged them as if they hadn’t seen each other in months, ensuring that they were well and ready for the next stage of the journey. Then they split up, with Rhaenyra, Jace, Joffrey, and her on one side, and Daemon, Baela, Rhaena, and Luke on the other.

Rhaenyra took her hand in the carriage, aware of the significance it held for her. “Everything will be alright, my love” she murmured gently.

Her siblings, peering out the windows with a mixture of curiosity and wonder, marveled at the sights they hadn't had the chance to explore.

“I know, mother” she replied, her voice tinged with both gratitude and a hint of nervous anticipation.

When they passed through the gates and were formally presented at the castle entrance, the door opened. It was their mother who went out first, followed by everyone else. Her fears and desires came true simultaneously, as he was conspicuously absent, leaving a hollow space where his presence should have been.

The king stood there, a shadow of his former self—his features more weary and his steps slower, but his eyes sparkled with a radiant joy. He had a beaming smile and nearly dropped his cane in his eagerness to embrace his daughter.

“It’s been so long” he said, his voice trembling with emotion.

They stayed embraced while the others, except for Daemon, offered a courtesy to the queen. She merely greeted from the stairs, her smile a mere flicker that failed to reach her eyes.

The greeting between Alicent and Rhaenyra was tense, unlike the warm embrace everyone else received from the king, who then continued chatting with his brother.

They then headed to their usual floor and dispersed to their respective rooms.

When she arrived, Lyra was already starting to prepare a hot bath. Seeing each other, they smiled, and she walked over to hug her.

“Thank the gods I was already preparing the bath” Lyra said with a smile.

She chuckled at the comment. Perhaps it was for the best that she hadn't seen him, given the state she was in.

Inside, she wrestled with conflicting desires: a part of her wished to never see him again, while another longed to see him immediately, to finally unburden herself from the weight she carried.

As she wandered around the room, her gaze lingered on the familiar surroundings. Once grand and spacious, it now felt confined compared to her quarters on Dragonstone. The room seemed to stand still in time, every piece of furniture and every detail evoking a rush of memories that tangled with her turbulent emotions. Despite her efforts to appear composed, inside, she felt a storm of nostalgia and unease.

“It’s so weird” she murmured as she took in the unchanged space.

“Yes,” the lady agreed, her tone light and soothing, “I think you took all its warmth with you.” Lyra gestured toward the now steaming bath, indicating that it was ready.

She began to undress. As she sank into the bathtub, allowing the warmth to dissipate the accumulated nerves, she relaxed her tense body. Each drop of water seemed to carry away a piece of her anxiety. She let out a sigh of relief.

The soothing scent of rose oil provided a brief respite from the day’s intense emotions, although her mind continued to spin.

Lyra, with the familiarity that only close friendship could offer, and understanding the emotional rollercoaster she was going through, placed the garments on a chair near the tub and approached with a warm smile.

“How are you feeling?” Lyra asked, her voice full of concern and empathy, helping her wash her hair.

She sighed, contemplating how to respond. “I feel as though I am caught between two worlds” she replied softly, gazing at the steam rising from the water. She began to surrender to the soothing sensation of hands working through her head as she closed her eyes.

“It is quite natural to experience such feelings. You have endured a great deal, and returning to a place so full of memories can indeed be quite challenging.”

She nodded thoughtfully. “Yes, I suppose you’re right. I merely wish to rest before facing everything.”

When she finished, she stood up and stepped out of the bath, taking the hand the lady extended. Lyra wrapped her in soft towels to dry her off and guided her to the mirror next to the window.

From there, they could see the sea, choppy, as if it too was aware of the return of its lost inhabitant and the reunion that would soon follow.

“Do you want to attend supper, or would you prefer to remain here?” Lyra asked gently.

“I believe I will stay here,” she replied, “I’m too fatigued.”

“Would you like to be left alone, or might you appreciate some company?”

“I’d love your company” she said. “If it’s not too much trouble, I’d appreciate something simple to eat.”

Lyra nodded. “You know,” she said while helping her into the silk gown, “the first days are always the hardest. However, with time, matters tend to settle.”

“I hope so” she replied, her voice tinged with uncertainty. “It’s strange to be back here. I am pleased, yet at the same time…” She sighed, at a loss for words.

“I understand” Lyra said, giving her a small smile.

She nodded, grateful for the support. Lyra left the room to fulfill her request, and in the meantime, she sat in a chair near the window, watching the twilight darken the sky over King’s Landing. The view gave her a mix of sadness and anger, reminding her of what had been.

Soon, Lyra returned with a carefully prepared tray, laden with simple delicacies, and placed it on a small table near the window. She then lit some candles, creating a cozy and calm atmosphere.

“Is there anything you’d particularly like?” Lyra asked as she settled in.

“Everything appears perfect” she said, serving herself some bread and cheese. Although the exhaustion was evident in her eyes and the tension didn’t fully dissipate, she felt a bit more at peace with each bite and every exchanged word.

Finally, she looked at Lyra, trying to mark her nervousness. “Have you seen him around in recent days?”

Lyra frowned slightly, thinking about her recent observations. “Yes, I have encountered him a few times. He seemed quite tense, always immersed in his training.” She looked down at her food.

“People change, just as circumstances do” Lyra said, offering her a sympathetic glance. After a thoughtful pause, she added: “Perhaps there’s a chance to clear the air, understand where things stand.”

“I’m not sure I wish to speak to someone who has seemingly disregarded my existence for years” she admitted with a sigh, her voice heavy with hurt. She set her fork aside, the weight of her emotions apparent. “The very thought of it makes me ache.”

Lyra nodded. “I know” she said. Then she asked, “Perhaps discussing what you intend to wear tomorrow might serve as a distraction.”

A faint smile touched her lips as she considered her wardrobe. The conversation drifted to fashion choices and the trivialities of attire, Lyra’s questions drawing her into a more relaxed state.

“Thank you for listening, Lyra” she said. They had always been close, but with each passing year, they seemed to grow closer. The trust had deepened, and they could talk about other things. Now, Lyra was more than just a lady-in-waiting; she had been a witness to the highs and lows of her life, a confidante who understood more than words could express.

“I shall always be here for you” Lyra said sincerely. “Now, try to unwind. Tomorrow will be a new day and, with any fortune, it may provide greater clarity regarding how to proceed.” She nodded. The journey, though short, had been tiring.

As Lyra took the tray to remove it, she went to her bed to lie down. She tried to filter out the noise of the city and focus on the murmur of the sea. She closed her eyes and let herself be carried away by the comforting familiarity of those sounds, trying to find an anchor amid the uncertainty surrounding her.

Her thoughts continued to revolve around what tomorrow would bring. The encounter with him after so long was inevitable, and although she had tried to prepare for the moment, she couldn’t avoid feeling a mix of emotions that kept her awake. Her mind replayed the possible words and gestures they would exchange.

Hours passed in a whisper of thoughts and sighs until she finally found sleep.

In Dragonstone, it was an uncommon event for the sun to shine in its full splendor, with no clouds to soften its rays. So, as soon as she felt the warmth of the first light of dawn filtering through her window, she began to blink awake, adjusting to the light. Lyra was already there, moving with the efficiency and grace of someone who knew every corner, preparing the outfit they had planned the day before. When she saw her stirring in bed, she smiled and handed her a cup.

"Good morrow" Lyra greeted softly, her voice as serene as the morning breeze. "I brought you some water."

She took the cup with a grateful nod, savoring the coolness of the water as it invigorated her senses and prepared her for the day ahead. Once finished, she got up, stretching her sleepy body and trying to focus on mundane tasks to avoid thinking about him.

Upon arriving at Dragonstone, she had clung to her old routines with a meticulousness born of habit, one that had only changed on the night of his nameday, many years ago. Every day, she had adhered to a strict regimen—her hair tied neatly, every curl perfectly in place, and light blue garments worn in honor of her late father, setting herself apart from her family. 

It might have been her attempt to hold on to his memory, a tribute, or a desperate effort to maintain an identity she felt slipping away.

But the wildness of her new home had weaved its magic around her. Over time, she rediscovered her joy and sense of self. She was a Targaryen, proud and strong. The light blue was replaced, no longer confined to the past, she had embraced the rich hues of black, red and silver. Her hair, once restrained, now flowed freely, a declaration of her freedom.

Lyra helped her into the black dress they had chosen. It was elegant but not too striking, fitting for the occasion. As she adjusted the final details, Lyra's approving gaze and kind words made her smile. "You look astonishing."

"Thank you, Lyra" she said, feeling a wave of confidence wash over her. 

"Ready?" Lyra asked, her voice soft yet filled with encouragement as she approached the door. Taking a deep breath, she nodded in response.

As they left the room, arms linked, the atmosphere in the castle was bustling, as always.

She and Lyra walked through the hallways, heading towards the hall. The path seemed both eternal and fleeting, each step bringing her closer to the crucial moment she had imagined so many times.

As they approached, the echo of conversations grew louder, mingled with the buzz of anticipation filling the air.

"It's exciting, is it not?" Lyra commented, her eyes scanning the lively scene around them.

"Yes, it is" she replied, "and a little overwhelming."

"You will be just fine" Lyra assured, gently squeezing her arm in support before taking her leave.

As the doors opened for her, she looked up, instinctively searching for him, but he was not yet present, so she entered with a bit more relaxation, her steps steadier.

She walked with a composed grace toward the family table, where conversation and laughter were already in full swing. She paused to greet each person in turn, exchanging smiles and brief words. 

Two vacant seats awaited between Daemon and Baela. They began speaking softly, sharing updates and laughter. 

Soon, her other two siblings arrived hand in hand. Joffrey, with his contagious cheer, gave her a warm hug before heading to his place, and Jace took the empty seat next to her.

“Thank you for abandoning me at supper last night” he teased, a mock annoyance coloring his tone.

“My apologies” she said, placing a quick kiss on his cheek that made him roll his eyes in exaggerated irritation. “But Luke was there.”

“Just look at him” Jace said, nodding towards Luke, who was engrossed in animated conversation with Rhaena. The sight made her smile, reassured by how Rhaena seemed just as engaged and entertained as Luke.

A few minutes passed, and at the king’s signal, breakfast began to be served. At that moment, the remaining people arrived, and the murmur in the room paused for a moment.

Everyone immediately rose to greet the queen as she entered, flanked by three of her children. Her heart raced, and her legs felt as though they were encased in lead.

Aemond followed closely behind the queen, impossible to ignore. His towering height and commanding demeanor made him stand out. As their eyes met across the room, the world seemed to blur, leaving only the two of them in focus.

She couldn't tear her gaze away from him. Each breath felt heavy with the weight of years and memories. Aemond's eyes locked onto hers as he approached, but upon reaching the table, he turned his gaze away with studied coldness.

Alicent was the only one to greet aloud, while the others simply took their places on the opposite side of the table, and everyone proceeded to sit down again. Her mother leaned back slightly in her chair to see her better. When she felt her eyes on her, she gave a reassuring smile, a gesture of gratitude for her unspoken support.

The servants resumed their duties, continuing to bring breakfast.

Despite the attempt to focus on the meal, her eyes kept drifting back to Aemond. It was as if some magnetic force drew her to him—part of her yearned to seek solace and fall into his embrace, weep uncontrollably on his chest, letting her tears speak for her, while another part wanted to unleash her frustration, confront him with all the anger she'd accumulated over the years. In either case, she would have asked him why.

His face betrayed nothing; there was a mask of stoicism that revealed no emotion, impenetrable. The round-cheeked boy she once knew had gone, replaced by a tall, slender man with chiseled, sharp features and an almost intimidating, forbidding aura.

His left eye, still covered by a patch, did little to diminish his striking beauty, which had grown darker and more enigmatic over time, and that drew her inexorably.

The turmoil within her was intense, stirred by his very presence, leaving her feeling both drawn to him and pushed away. It was bothering her that he always managed to evoke such deep and contradictory emotions.

The breakfast continued in a strained blend of courtesy and underlying tension, but her mind kept circling around him. She could barely manage a few bites, her stomach churning with unsettled nerves.

“And how do you find life in Dragonstone?” Her grandfather, ever the gracious host, broke the silence with a kind tone. “You know you will always have a place here.”

“We find it most agreeable” Jace responded with genuine enthusiasm. “And the dragons do as well. They seem to thrive there, growing faster and stronger.” She smiled at her twin's comment, appreciating the truth in his words about the unique charm of Dragonstone.

“I heard the princess has officially become a dragonrider” the king remarked with evident admiration.

“Indeed, my king. And to be truthful, Silverwing has claimed me more than I have claimed her” she said, her smile widening at the fond memory.

“The mount of the Good Queen Alysanne” he said with a note of respect. “It suits you well.” Although she knew she would never be a queen, his words touched her deeply. Jace gave her hand a reassuring squeeze.

As breakfast concluded, the group began to rise, and the servants appeared to clear the table, signaling the end of the meal and the beginning of the day's activities.

Sorry for the little to nothing of Aemond! And I know nothing of High Valyrian, sorry for any mistakes!

Māzīs: Come.

Nyke kivio naejot rigle ao: I promise to honor you.

Sōvēs, Gēliotīkun: Fly, Silverwing.

Aderī: Quickly.

Ninkiot: Land.

Kirimvose: Thank you.

@helaenaluvr @purplegardenwhispers @callsignwidow @scarletbedlam @fics-i-love-and-recommend @oh-you-mean-me @squidscottjeans @fossface

[starrynightmuse]

Sign of the Times 🏛⏳️ I. Broken Dragonfly Wings

Aemond Targaryen x reader, Library of Alexandria AU

(Title inspired by the Harry Styles song)

Blurb: It's summer in Alexandria, Egypt, and the heat has reached sweltering heights. Children dash toward the banks of the Nile, eager to find relief in the cool waters while ladies fan themselves under the shade of palm trees. Thick mud huts keep families cool under the boiling sun. It would be 1,892 years before the first ice cubes would be invented and nearly two millennia until air conditioning. Even Jesus Christ wouldn’t be born until another 48 years. But you have the teachings of Aristotle and the works of Euclid. You're the first and only female scholar at the Library of Alexandria, the first institute of its kind. All your life has been spent in the pursuit of knowledge — until the arrival of a mysterious young scholar named Aemond. 

Series warnings: period typical misogyny, ancient academia, teacher x student relationship (but they're the same age), violence, fire, sexual content (18+), reader is loosely based off of Hypatia of Alexandria, Targaryens x Ptolemies crossover, character deaths, inaccurate history for the sake of storytelling, accusations of witchcraft, debates on fictional religions, Plato, Daemon being a menace.

Word count: 5,380

Series Masterlist

Your heart was racing, terror coiling in your stomach like a serpent, but you refused to let it show as you looked out at the mob of angry faces around you in the pavilion.

“Traitor!”

“Death to the witch!”

“Kill her!” 

You knew there was no escaping this. This was the end. Yet, even as fear flooded your chest, you refused to let go of your pride. You held your head up high as Prince Daemon approached you where you kneeled. He looked down at you, his cold eyes gleaming in sick satisfaction.

"I'm giving you one last chance, witch," he said, his voice hard and uncompromising. "Renounce your unholy ways and convert to the Faith of the Seven, and you shall walk away unharmed."

You looked up at him, refusing to back down. You hypocrite, you thought. When you spoke, your voice was steady and firm. "I cannot.”

The prince's expression darkened. He stepped closer to you, his lips close to your ear so that no one would overhear.

“There is nothing left for you. It's over. Save yourself and the crown will grant you mercy,” he hissed.

You spat at his face. "If the right to think is treason, then I embrace it proudly. I refuse to remain supplicant to a crown that fears the power of knowledge and labels it treachery."

Daemon's lips formed into a cruel snarl. He stepped back and turned to the crowd, opening his arms in a dramatic display. "The punishment for witchcraft is death!" his voice boomed. The crowd erupted, snarling and roaring like a pack of lions.

Your heart raced as the people closed in with stones in hand, hungry predators circulating their prey. You took a final deep breath, bracing yourself for the onslaught. The first stone hit you, a dull throb of pain that quickly gave way to sharper, intense sensations as more stones followed. You feel your knees collapsing to the hard floor. In reflex, you cover your head with your arms. You shut your eyes, and the last thing you saw was the memory of a single blue eye.

🏛⏳️

6 months earlier.

There's a buzzing in the air, and not just from the hum of people in the atrium outside. Inside your classroom, a large blue dragonfly lazily flies in circles, your students taking turns swatting at it as it zips by. It’s an epaulet skimmer, or an orthetrum chrysostigma, a common dragonfly found around Egypt. Last month, you helped survey them with a fellow scholar who was putting together an account of all the various insects along the Nile River delta. The research project was commissioned by the Princess Helaena Targaryen herself, whom you've heard was quite fond of natural history. 

In the midst of your lecturing, the buzz of the insect feels amplified. In front of you sit nearly fifty pupils, all perched on wooden benches. Most of them are in their teens and early twenties, and all of them were young men with restless energy with wandering minds. While a few showed genuine curiosity, you knew that attendance was merely a formality to half of them, who were only present because their parents were wealthy aristocrats. Yet, you knew it was your duty to broaden their minds and instill some semblance of knowledge into their minds before they go on to graduate and become lords who make decisions that impact hundreds of people.

“Whether you believe in the Seven or the old gods, we accept that the divine has created all that we know,” you say, your voice carrying across the room. “Yet, the mechanisms behind how their creations work are a mystery to us mortals.”

There's a blur of blue near your eye when the dragonfly makes a landing on your nose. You swap it away and continue. 

“For example, what are the gears that drive a drought? Elders of the past have said that a drought is punishment from an angry sun god. Holy men today say it is the repercussion of having vexed the Seven. But how, precisely, do these divine beings bring this drought upon us?” You pause, pacing around the room. “Like observing the work of a craftsman, we can observe the handiwork of the gods. We can observe that volcanic eruptions are one tool that the gods use to give us droughts. Likewise, miasma from a plague, which spews vaporous acid into the atmosphere, can cause rising temperatures and dry up rivers. (Modern Fact check: Miasma does NOT cause plagues. They are caused by infectious bacteria and viruses.)

“Every natural disaster has forces, or causes, behind them. Although perhaps only the gods may know the truth of the workings behind these events, philosophers and believers of science have theorized why certain disasters come to be. Take earthquakes, for example. Compared to droughts, it is much harder for us to determine how earthquakes are created. Aristotle, for one, suggested that it is caused by winds in subterranean caves.”

One of your pupils seated on the front row raises his hand. Ebony curls, dark eyes that remind you of beetles, his robes a deep plum that only money can buy.

“Perhaps Aristotle failed to consider that earthquakes could just be Atticus's mother walking to the market,” he says, a cocky grin spreading across his face. His friend gives him a hearty slap on the back, nearly doubling over with laughter.

You offer a tight-lipped smile. "Thank you, Flavius." 

Some of your students were more mature than others.

Flavius's jolliness is short-lived, however. The dragonfly suddenly decides to dart into his eye and he lets out a startled shriek. He swats at the insect and tumbles forward off the bench. His friend roars even harder with laughter. Meanwhile, the dragonfly falls onto the floor, its delicate blue wings now broken. A couple students in the back crane their necks in curiosity as Flavius stomps his feet on the insect's body, crushing it mercilessly against the tile floor. Tiny blue limbs smear across the tiles, its wings in pieces like shattered glass. A life snuffed out in the blink of an eye.

Flavius settles back onto the bench, straightening his toga with an air of nonchalance. "Apologies, miss. Please, continue," he says.

You choose to ignore his interruption, redirecting your attention to the rest of the class. 

“When we attempt to unravel the mysteries behind the divine's creations, we begin to understand the natural world,” you say, thinking about the dead bug in front of you, its blue wings, the blue of the Nile, all the species of flora and fauna that have survived for eons thanks to its life-giving waters. “This is why we study the discipline of science.”

“Beyond these walls, I have heard many who deem it to be blasphemy,” a voice interjects. 

Your gaze shifts to a young man at the rear of the room. You've never seen him before, not in your classroom nor around the Library. If you've seen him, you would know. With his sharp features, nearly white hair cropped close to his head, and a leather eyepatch covering an angry scar on his left eye — his was not a face you would forget. 

“What do they call you?” You ask curiously, piercing blue eye meeting yours. He seemed a bit older than the rest of your students — perhaps in his mid-twenties, around the same age as you. You briefly wondered where he was from. His features stood out in a sea of dark haired Alexandrians.

"I am called Aemond, ma'am," his voice remained composed and respectful. "Just Aemond." There was a refinement in his speech that hinted of a privileged upbringing, yet the absence of a surname intrigued you. Perhaps he was an educated slave, adept at tutoring and managing the finances of the master's household — literate slaves were not uncommon in the Roman Empire.

"And what have you heard, Aemond?" you inquire.

"It is said that scientific inquiry is seen as an offense to the Seven," he responds evenly, referring to the gods. "Questioning their creations is considered sacrilegious." Several students nod in agreement around the room.

You paused for a moment, gathering your thoughts.

“It is true that outside these walls, the belief that science is sacrilegious is held by many people,” you say slowly. “Perhaps even now, some of you are wrestling with the idea, torn between conventional thinking and what you are learning at this institute. If this is the case, I implore you to consider this —” 

You look out at the faces of your pupils. Some are focused and deep in thought, while others are frowning. A lone blue eye is fixed on you.

"—What act of love is greater than seeking to understand the object of your affection? Mathematics, physics, and astronomy are not merely academic pursuits but they are expressions of love. They are avenues through which we seek to comprehend and appreciate the intricate beauty of our world.” You gestured around the room. “I am aware that some of you are followers of the Seven. Some of you are devoted to the old gods. But science does not seek to refute the existence of one God over another, nor does it attempt to debunk the existence of the divine altogether. Science seeks only to understand.” You look in Aemond's direction. He's watching, listening intently. “In attempting to understand the natural world, we may better love the divine and appreciate their creations.”

🏛⏳️

The remainder of the class concluded smoothly, and due to the sweltering heat, you dismissed everyone earlier than usual. Despite the hour not yet reaching midday, the air was thick with humidity, making the classroom feel oppressive. You had no desire to keep your students in the stuffy classroom for longer than necessary.

As the others rush to leave the room, you notice that Aemond was kneeling down and using a handkerchief to clean the dragonfly off the floor.

“Thank you,” you say to him earnestly. His brow is furrowed in concentration as he delicately holds the insect through the thin white cloth. He picks up a broken piece of an iridescent blue wing, the shimmer catching the light.

"It's an epaulet skimmer," you remark softly. But you're not looking at the bug, you're looking at him.

"Orthetrum chrysostigma," Aemond responds, using the scientific name. You regard him with curiosity. 

“My sister has a fondness for insects," Aemond explains. "She is extremely gentle with them. She maintains an extensive collection in her room — beetles, caterpillars, dragonflies, and the like. But she only gathers them once they've passed on. Her heart is too big to confine them before they've lived a full life." He gazes at the broken wing in his hand with a hint of sadness. You suspect that he is thinking of more than the fate of the squashed bug.

“Some cultures believe that dragonflies were once dragons who were tricked by a jackal to change shape into insects,” you say, looking at the wing in fascination. “Once they became a dragonfly, they couldn't transform back. As a result, they represented change and illusion.” 

You notice that Aemond's gaze is now fixed on you, a blue eye that reminds you of iridescent wings and the shimmering surface of the Nile on sunny days. You think of mirages in the desert, blue lapis lazuli on polished gold rings, the holographic shells of scarab beetles. 

“They must've been very grand in their past lives,” he remarks.

There's a short silence as you observe him, unsure of what to make of this strange new addition to your class. As your gaze shifts from his eyepatch to his eye, you notice that he's studying you too. Suddenly, you feel very exposed, as if he was somehow reading your entire life story just by looking at you. 

Breaking the tension, you extend your hand. "I realize I haven't properly introduced myself. It's been a pleasure having you in my class," you say, stating your name. He accepts your gesture, clasping your hand in a firm shake.

“You're the daughter of Theon. Your father is the greatest mathematician in all of Alexandria,” Aemond says. “I know who you are.” 

“Do you study mathematics?” 

“No. History and philosophy,” he replies. “But I've read enough across all the disciplines to know who the greats are.” 

“I don't think I've ever seen you around here before,” you note.

"I just started my studies here," he explains. "I arrived last night."

"Where else have you studied?" 

“Nowhere else. All my education has been from tutors hired by my family at home.”

"If you don't mind my asking, where do you come from?" 

He hesitates. “I've been around,” he says at last. 

🏛⏳️

That afternoon, you decided to teach your next class in one of the classrooms overlooking the sea. Arriving early, you unlatch the tall, arched windows, hoping to coax a gentle breath of ocean breeze into the room. As the soft light of the late afternoon filtered through, you arrange your teaching materials as the first of your students trickled in.

The class was on Euclidean geometry. As it happens, this was one of your favorite subjects to teach. You loved to move around the room, using various objects — such as a discus, a sphere, and even a pineapple — to illustrate geometric shapes and their properties. It was more than just memorizing formulas; it was about seeing and understanding the spatial relationships and practical applications of mathematics in the physical world.  

Two thousand years from now, Euclidean geometry would be the foundation for computer graphics, radiology, and geographic information systems. Without Euclid, you wouldn't have video games or anime. There would be no x-rays to help doctors treat broken bones. Without Euclid, there would be no Google Maps, nor would you be able to stalk your crush's location on Snapchat. 

Abruptly, you are cut off mid-lecture as a series of bold knocks echo off the door. You excuse yourself and open the door cautiously, finding yourself face-to-face with six armored men adorned in gold cloaks. You step out into the atrium.

"What is your business?" you ask, your gaze sharp and guarded.

“Prince Daemon Targaryen wants to speak to Theon of Alexandria. I'm told you're his daughter,” the guard at front says firmly.

“My father is indisposed. Whatever business you have with him, you can discuss with me.”

A sudden laugh rings out across the atrium. Every movement in the hall comes to a standstill as scholars pause their tracks and turn their heads. In front of you, guards quickly part ways for a tall man with long silver hair. His armor clinks as he strides towards you, his eyes mischievous like those of a jackal, reminding you of the ancient depictions of Anubis on temple walls. Adorning his shoulders is the same golden cloak worn by his men.

It was the unmistakable Prince Daemon Targaryen, brother of King Viserys and the consort of the crown princess Rhaenyra. But to the smallfolk, he is known as the merciless commander of the City Watch. 

Daemon looks at you like you are the scum on his shoes. “I don't have time for games, girl,” he says mockingly. “Where is your father?”

“Like I've said, he is indisposed,” you repeat, meeting him with a steady gaze.

“I have come a long way from the palace,” he says, offering a false honeyed grin. “You will fetch him for me.” 

You give a smile that mirrored his. It was common knowledge that Prince Daemon frequented the company of his mistress in the city more than he did his own wife at the royal palace.

"I speak the truth when I say my father cannot be here right now, and I apologize on his behalf. However, I am willing to assist you,” you assert calmly.

"This does not concern you," Daemon retorts dismissively. "I am here on business concerning your father's governance of this... academic institution."

"I am a professor here and a senior member of the Library of Alexandria," you counter, maintaining your composure. "After my father, you will find no one more knowledgeable about the affairs of this institute than I am."

Daemon scoffs, his tone condescending. "There are matters too serious to discuss with a woman.”

“Then I'm afraid you will have to come back another day, my prince.” 

“Where is your father?”

“He is sick. Unless you have a direct order from the king, I would prefer not to disturb him from his much-needed rest."  

The unspoken truth hangs heavy in the air — the Library is under the protection of the crown, and Daemon, despite his authority, is not the king. The prince's expression darkens, a sneer painting his features as his knuckles grip around the handle of his sword on his waist. You find yourself locked in a tense staring contest, both unwilling to yield. Moments tick by in silence, each waiting for the other to give in. Then —

“Very well,” he concedes, letting go of his grip on the sword. But you knew from his expression that this was far from over. Daemon casts a disdainful glance around the atrium as if the place offended him before turning and walking away from you. His gold cloaks follow him, their armor clanking all the way to the main doors of the library. 

It is only when the last of them exited onto the street that you allow yourself to release the breath you've been holding.

🏛⏳️

“Daemon Targaryen? What was he doing here?” You hear Cregan before you see him.

You're in the far corner of the main reading room, kneeling before a crate with a new shipment of scrolls that came in from Greece. Gently opening the lid, you discover a signed note from the head of the Platonic School of Athens. Ἕν οἶδα ὅτι οὐδὲν οἶδα. Αὕτη ἡ γνῶσις ἐμοῦ ἐστιν, it reads at the end. One thing I know, that I know nothing. This is the source of my wisdom. It is a quote by Socrates.

Cregan emerges from behind a shelf, his gray eyes wide with exasperation.

“I can't say that I haven't expected this,” you say to him, picking up a scroll and lightly dusting it off. “It is no secret that Daemon puts up with us only because of the pharaoh.”

“Well, yes. But to barge in here and demand for the Professor—” he means your father Theon.

“He's been sending us threats for months.”

Cregan paused. “When did this start?”

“Four moons ago, when King Viserys reinstated him as Lord Commander of the City Watch.” 

Daemon had been the commander of the city watch once before, but that had been years ago, and back then he was more interested in dealing with criminals in the worst parts of the city. But after some scandal with the Princess Rhaenyra, Viserys had exiled him to Rome. Now, he was back and had regained both his old post as leader of the city guard and the Princess Rhaenyra, whom he took to wife. However, this time, Daemon was turning his policing to the University of Alexandria, more commonly referred to as simply the Library. Apparently, scholars are the new criminals.

“Why didn't you tell me?” Cregan asked, clearly frustrated.

“I didn't want to burden you with it," you reply honestly. "You've been occupied with your research with Princess Helaena these past four moons.”

Cregan rubs his eyebrows. “What has he been threatening?”

With a sigh, you rise to your feet, making space on the shelf for the new scrolls. Cregan joins you, handing over scrolls from the crate as you arrange them carefully in their designated spots on the shelf. 

“He wants to shut down the Library if we don't — and I quote his words — ‘tone down on the science’,” you explain. "He's pushing for censorship, insisting that everything that is taught and published here must be 'safe' for the public. He claims it's about protecting the moral well-being of Alexandrians."

Cregan snorts derisively. "I wonder what his wife thinks of his moral well-being."

"That's an ad hominem attack, Cregan," you chide gently. But you're smiling.

“We're the best scientific research institution in the Mediterranean,” he says. “And, let's face it, we're probably the best in the entire world. We owe it all to King Jaehaerys's proclamation over 50 years ago, protecting our intellectual freedom. Even Daemon Targaryen can't derail something like that.” 

“Daemon doesn't like anything he can't control,” you say. “Nor does he like taking no for an answer.”

“He's a cunt,” Cregan muttered angrily. “His word isn't law but he sure does want to act like it. Did you hear he's been trying to ban all Northerners from entering Alexandria? Unless they're slaves, that is. It's utterly absurd. He's a Northerner himself. His entire family hails from the north—well, not the North, but north of the Mediterranean. Valyria is a small city-state in Greece. Still, that's north of us. If he wants only true Alexandrians in the city, maybe he should consider leaving as well." The Targaryens, although originally from Greece, had become the longest-reigning dynasty in Egypt, despite their non-Egyptian origin.

"What does Princess Helaena think?"

"Of Daemon?"

"Of the North."

Cregan blushes slightly. "She's mentioned that we should visit there together someday," he admits. “For research purposes, of course,” he adds quickly. 

You grin. Cregan has been your closest friend since childhood, and you swear you've never seen him as happy as he's been the past few months.

"She wants to see the direwolves and the aurora borealis,” says Cregan. “I promised her I'd show her around Winterfell when we go." Winterfell, Cregan's hometown, nestled in a far-off corner of the world where snow and frost dominate most of the year — a large contrast to the sandy dunes of Egypt.

“You like her,” you mused.

“Don't be absurd,” Cregan says, but he's failing miserably in hiding a smile.

There's a rustling among the shelves behind you, and the next thing you know, you're face to face with a single blue eye that reminds you of ocean water and iridescent wings.

"Sorry, I was told that the texts about Plato are in this section?" Aemond asks.

"Oh. Yes. Absolutely," you reply quickly, gesturing around you. "I mean, they're all here. Everything on this wall is Plato. We've just received a new collection of his works from Greece and we just finished cataloging and setting them up. They're on this shelf. Here." Your words stumble out awkwardly, and you feel your cheeks flush with embarrassment.

“Perfect,” Aemond says, looking at you. Neither of you move. Cregan eyes the two of you with amusement. 

“Well, I was just about to head out,” Cregan says cheerfully, sashaying past you. You turn, widening your eyes and mouthing no to him. Cregan simply grins as he disappears behind the bookshelves, leaving you with Aemond. 

“You read Plato?” you ask.

Aemond nods. “I am an admirer of his work,” he says. “You were one of my first introductions to him, actually. I read your thesis on him, An Exploration Into the Metaphysics of Plato, when I was sixteen.” 

“I can't imagine there would be many copies of that,” you say with amazement. “I wrote it when I was—”

“Sixteen,” Aemond says. You blink. He clears his throat. “I've been a follower of your work,” he adds shyly.  

“Oh. I'm flattered.” You’re blushing.

“Is it true that you started studying at The Academy when you were fourteen?” He means the Platonic School of Athens, founded by Plato himself over 300 years ago. Most scholars called it The Academy. It is the first university to ever open in western civilization.

You nod. “I learned mathematics and astronomy here, but my father wanted me to get a hellenistic education on top of it, so he sent me to Greece. I stayed there for four years before returning to Alexandria.”

“I have a brother who studies there,” Aemond shares, leaning against a bookshelf. “My mother, being an Athenian herself, insisted he be sent there. He writes to me sometimes, telling me about the professors he works with. I had considered studying there myself.”

“What made you choose Alexandria over Athens?”

Aemond smiles. “I'm at the center of the world here. It seemed foolish to want to go anywhere else,” he says, his gaze sweeping the library around him. After a pause, he asks, “What made you want to teach?”

“The fear of oblivion,” you reply. "It's the realization that everything we do, everything we learn, and everything we create could be forgotten someday. Teaching, for me, is a way to combat that inevitability. By sharing knowledge, by shaping young minds, I can hope to leave a lasting impact — a legacy that outlives me."

Aemond nods thoughtfully. "So it's about leaving a mark on the world?"

"In a sense, yes," you affirm. "It's about contributing to something greater than myself, ensuring that knowledge endures beyond individual lives and fleeting moments."

He smiles faintly. "That's a noble pursuit."

"It's what drives me," you conclude. As you look at each other, you feel his gaze tracing over your face with a strange emotion. Awe? Admiration? Before you can decipher his thoughts, a scholar approaches the shelf behind you, prompting you to awkwardly step aside.

"I hope you find the resources on Plato you're looking for," you say to Aemond, refocusing on the moment. You pause. "We're hosting a seminar on Plato's metaphysics tomorrow afternoon in the Rose Hall. You should join us."

Aemond smiles. “I’d be honored to.”

🏛⏳️

Daytime in Alexandrian summers can be hot enough to fry an egg on the sidewalk, but when the chill sets in at night, the city transforms into a completely different land. It is under the cloak of darkness that Alexandria truly comes alive.

You’re wrapped in a headscarf, its tail fluttering in the gentle wind from the Mediterranean as you navigate the narrow streets of the night market. Oil lamps and torches cast a soft, flickering glow as shadows danced across buildings decorated with a mix of hieroglyphs and hellenistic art. On the streets, you hear people speaking in both Greek and Egyptian, but also Persian, Moroccan, and other various African and Asiatic dialects. Various aromas filled the air— spices mingled with the savory scents of grilled meats and the sweet notes of baked pastries and delicacies from the far corners of the world. It was the New York City of the ancient world.

Weaving between stalls adorned with colorful fabrics and gleaming trinkets, you spotted one of the gold cloaks from earlier that day. Upon noticing you, he gave you a brief, curt nod before turning his attention sharply towards a group of rowdy children who were blocking the path of a passing wagon.

You make your way to an apothecary stall, securing the medicine your father needs before turning to leave. Suddenly, a hooded figure trips over a wooden crate and crashes into you, causing both of you to tumble to the ground. You fall flat on the cobblestones, his weight on top of you. Your basket with the apothecary vial shatters on the road.

“Ow!” he yelled. You struggle to push him off and get to your feet, then reach down to help him up, steadying him as he sways unsteadily. His hood falls back, revealing a mess of unruly white curls. 

Prince Aegon Targaryen. You’ve seen him a few times while going around the city. The eldest son of Queen Alicent, known to frequent the streets of Alexandria often. Aside from Daemon, he was the only royal that most of the smallfolk could recognize by appearance.

"Prince Aegon," you say cautiously, helping him steady himself. "Are you alright?"

He blinks a few times, focusing on you with bleary eyes. "Why, hello," he slurs slightly, attempting a lopsided smile. For a prince, he seemed dirtier than Diogenes and his barrel.

"Let me help you," you insist, guiding him away from the scattered shards of glass. You maneuver him towards a nearby bench, ensuring he sits down safely.

"I’m alright, I’m fine," he murmurs, running a hand through his disheveled hair. He groaned and vomited on the ground next to him. You pat him on the back awkwardly as he empties his stomach.

“Did my mother send you?” he said abruptly.

“What?”

“My mother. She sent you, didn’t she? I can’t catch a break these days,” he grumbled. “The woman is a menace. She’s become crazier since my brother got exiled. I can’t even drink in peace now. She’s sending her spies everywhere.”

You frowned. “I’m not a spy, my prince.”

Aegon wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and sits back heavily on the bench. He tilts his head up at you, scrutinizing you, and then he sighs and hungs his head.

“Forgive me,” he mutters, almost to himself. “I’m tired of the games. Tired of the scrutiny. I’m tired of the standards that she sets for me, and I’m tired of her disappointment when I fail to meet them. Can’t she see I don’t want any of this? Can’t she just let me be?”

You hesitate, unsure how to respond to the prince's candidness. He was clearly drunk and you’ve only just met him, and you’ve heard unsettling rumors about him. Stories of his frequenting brothels and fighting rings, of fathering illegitimate children and neglecting them. But in this moment, he seemed far from the crooked prince that people whispered about. He seemed like a child in need of comfort.

“Your mother worries about you,” you say gently. “She only wants what’s best for you.”

He scoffs bitterly. “Does she? Tell me, have you ever had a mother who would rather marry you to your own sibling for political gain than let you live your own life?”

You shake your head slowly. “I cannot say I understand fully, but I know you carry a heavy burden.”

“Sometimes I wonder if I’ll ever be free of it.” Aegon leans back, staring up at the night sky with weary resignation. “My brother was lucky. I’d do anything to exchange places with him.”

You recalled hearing news of Queen Alicent’s second son, who had been condemned to work in the mines of Nubia as punishment for the murder of his nephew. The usual penalty for murder was death, and much worse if the victim was a royal, but since the criminal was a prince himself, it changed a few things. The Nubian mines were typically reserved for lesser crimes in Alexandria.

“The one who was exiled to Nubia?” you asked Aegon.

He chuckles bitterly. “My brother didn’t get sent to Nubia. Mother loves him too much for that.”

You stayed quiet, not knowing what to say. You had a feeling that you weren’t supposed to be hearing this piece of information. Yet, Aegon didn’t seem to expect a reply. He’s looking up at the stars, as if he wished to fly off into the heavens and leave his miseries on the ground.

“Thank you,” Aegon finally said, breaking the quiet that had settled between you. Thank you for listening, thank you for not judging, thank you for watching out for my drunken mess. He rose to his feet, a bit unsteady but more composed than before. He took out a pouch of coins. “This is for… what I broke,” he said, gesturing to the remnants of the vial around you, shards of glass glittering under oil lamps. You thought of the broken dragonfly wings from earlier in the day.

You accepted the pouch gingerly. What he gave you was worth much more than the cost of the medicine, but you didn’t want to offend him so you decided not to mention it.

“Should I call the guards to escort you back to the palace?” you asked.

Aegon blinked, his gaze drifting momentarily. “No, no,” he said, waving dismissively. “They’re my uncle’s people. They don’t like me.”

"Will you manage on your own?" you pressed gently.

Aegon straightened his cloak and mustered a tired smile. "I always do," he said. 

With that, the prince turned and started to walk away. You watched as he disappeared into the narrow streets, his figure gradually blending with the shadows.

Chapter II: Coming Soon

[laughterliberator]

I don’t think lees understand the power they have in saying

“Tickle me.”

In a generation that emphasizes the value of consent better than any previous generation, hearing someone ask us to tickle them is like a breath of fresh air. A cool drink of water. All questions, all mysteries, all games go out the window because we know we’re wanted.

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how you fluster a ler.

[hezuart]

LN Channel Change AU Sequel: “Seven” {1} {2} {3} {here/final}

And they lived happily ever after. Or did they? We've established our main characters Mono (TV/space-time) and Six (Soul Sucking) have strange supernatural powers. I wanted Seven to have one too. (Hydrokinesis aka water bending)

Notes for how I came up with Seven's powers and the deeper meaning behind his interaction with Mono:

1. Each child has nightmare prophecies (something to do with Mono's time loop?)  at the beginning of their stories. Six's is the Lady, Mono's is the door that leads to the Thin Man, and Seven's is being pulled underwater. Six and Mono's nightmare visions are fulfilled at the end of their stories; revealing that the thing they dreamed about, they essentially become or usurp.  Seven's differs. His dream resolves in act 1 and he kills the Granny, the creature assumed to be the one pulling him underwater in his nightmare. But what if Seven's dream prophecy was still valid... even post-Granny? Being dragged underwater... for a different fate?

2. Seven is the only main cast character shown with the ability to swim. 3. "Seven Seas" anyone? Water is a symbol of purification & life, hence, Seven gains his new powers after he survived and Mono broke the timeline loop to start fresh. "Washing it away" so to say. 4. Water is a liquid; passive in nature, but powerful in circumstance. Seven is kind and sneaky but kills the Granny when continuously attacked and threatened by her. He does the same to the Octopus monster.

5. Water molecules have adhesion and cohesion, meaning water likes to stick to itself, and stick to other things. Seven has an attachment to Nomes. He is always drawn to other people and other creatures, wanting to help them. His belief is that survival chances are higher amidst a group. Water is also known for containing life, no matter how strange or deep, such as ocean fish that often travel in schools/packs often to confuse or fight off predators, thus, another reference to Seven's new life, and his teamwork with Nomes and Mono.

6. Seven is often in fandom depicted by a circle. A water droplet. 7. Seven collects flotsam; typically boat debris, but in this case, bottled messages that come from the sea. Yet another connection to water.

All this indicates heavy implication and well-fitting power to bestow hydrokinesis onto Seven. I was inspired by the INSIDE game's drowning chapter and Stanley and Stanford's secret boat hide-out on the beach from Gravity Falls. Which is why I have selected Mono, Seven, and all their future friends to a lovely and sunny (future) beach house, far away from everything they've suffered. And living near the largest body of water on the planet with a kid with hydrokinesis? ...Certainly has its perks!

But Seven gaining powers is important to not only their survival but also him. He was still nervous about Mono. He knew Mono was very powerful and mysterious. In more ways than one. Mono is stronger than him and can also use telekinesis on objects on the beach. He's a better food hunter and seems more like a leader. Seven also likes to lead, but he felt outshined by Mono. (I don't portray that well in my comic) Seven is weaker and defenseless. His only shining quality in comparison is his ability to swim, but even that can only get him so far. He risks his life for his Nome friends and loses his life doing so. Or so he thought. By a miracle, his powers over water awaken. He drains the monster of its water, beaching it. He walks to Mono in a new light. It's a new him. He holds up his hands as if to say "See? I'm like you now." He's leveled the playing field. (It also helps that he now has jurisdiction over power Mono cannot interact with) Now they are truly equal. Two kings; one of land, one of sea, both ruling the island in equal standing. Seven will never again feel like a burden left behind. (Seven's powers activating also has something to do with the fact he bit the Octopus creature to save the Nome. Mono and Six both consume their powerful prophesized enemies to gain some of their power, if they didn't already have some before. Seven biting into the Octopus's flesh and unknowingly consuming some of it may have jumpstarted his power deep within him, on top of him encountering Mono; supernatural kid extraordinaire that brought him through a tower wormhole to escape the city)

~~~

A threequel is planned, and maybe the last addition to this series, but the next one is not fully fleshed out yet so it may be another year until I can really touch upon it yet. Otherwise, hope you guys enjoyed!

[reaper2187]

Lady dimitrescu x female reader

The air hung heavy with the scent of damp earth and decaying roses. The old manor, once a testament to opulent elegance, now stood shrouded in an unsettling silence, its windows like vacant eyes staring into the encroaching darkness. You, a seasoned adventurer with a thirst for the unknown, had ventured into this forgotten corner of Transylvania in pursuit of a legend – the story of Lady Dimitrescu, a vampire of unparalleled beauty and chilling power.

The locals spoke of her with hushed whispers, their faces etched with a mixture of fear and morbid fascination. They told tales of her towering stature, her crimson gown, and her haunting, melodic voice. They warned of her insatiable hunger and the chilling cold that clung to her presence. You, however, weren't deterred. You were drawn to the mystery, the allure of the unknown.

As you stepped across the threshold, a shiver ran down your spine. The air inside was thick with an oppressive stillness, punctuated only by the rhythmic drip of water from a broken pipe. The dust motes danced in the faint beams of moonlight that filtered through the grimy windows, casting long, eerie shadows that seemed to writhe and twist.

The silence was broken by the soft click of your boots on the polished marble floor as you navigated the labyrinthine corridors. The once-ornate paintings now hung askew, their subjects staring down at you with vacant eyes, their faces frozen in expressions of eternal sorrow. You felt a prickle of unease, a sense of being watched.

Suddenly, a door creaked open at the end of the hall, revealing a grand staircase bathed in the soft glow of candlelight. A figure stood at the top, silhouetted against the light, her form impossibly tall and graceful. As she descended, you caught a glimpse of her face – pale and flawless, with eyes that seemed to hold both the promise of heaven and the threat of hell.

"Welcome," she said, her voice a melodious whisper that sent shivers down your spine. "I've been expecting you."

Her name was Lady Dimitrescu, and she was everything the legends had promised and more. Her beauty was undeniable, a captivating blend of elegance and power. Her eyes, a deep, hypnotic blue, held an ancient wisdom that seemed to pierce through your very soul.

She extended a hand, her long, slender fingers adorned with glittering rings. "I am honoured to have you in my home," she said, her voice laced with a hint of amusement. "Please, come in. Let us have a chat."

You hesitated, your intuition screaming at you to flee. But the allure of her presence, the undeniable power that emanated from her, held you captive. You took her hand, feeling the cool, smooth skin beneath your fingertips.

"Thank you, Lady Dimitrescu," you said, your voice barely a whisper. "It is an honor to meet you."

She led you through the manor, her movements graceful and fluid despite her imposing height. The rooms were a testament to her past wealth and extravagance – opulent furniture, shimmering chandeliers, and walls adorned with intricate tapestries. Yet, the air was heavy with a sense of decay, of a life that had been lived and lost.

As you explored the manor, you learned more about Lady Dimitrescu's history. She had been a noblewoman, a woman of great beauty and intellect, until a tragic accident had robbed her of her humanity. She had been transformed into a vampire, cursed with an insatiable thirst for blood and a life that stretched on for centuries.

She spoke of her loneliness, of the centuries she had spent trapped in this decaying manor, surrounded by the remnants of a life she could never reclaim. She spoke of her daughters, three beautiful and deadly creatures who shared her curse and her loneliness.

You listened, captivated by her story, drawn to her vulnerability despite the terror that pulsed through your veins. You saw a woman trapped in a cage of her own making, a prisoner of her own immortality.

As the night wore on, you found yourself drawn to her, to her beauty, her intelligence, and the undeniable power that she exuded. You felt a strange mix of fear and fascination, a desire to understand her, to unravel the secrets that lay hidden beneath her alluring facade.

You spent the next few days exploring the manor, learning more about Lady Dimitrescu and her daughters. You discovered hidden passages, secret chambers, and a world of darkness that stretched far beyond the confines of the manor itself. You witnessed the horrors that Lady Dimitrescu had inflicted on those who had dared to cross her, the bloodstains that marked the walls, the whispers of terror that echoed through the corridors.

But you also saw glimpses of the woman beneath the monster, the woman who yearned for connection, for love, for a life that had been stolen from her. You saw the sadness in her eyes, the longing that etched itself onto her face.

One night, as you sat with Lady Dimitrescu in the grand library, you confessed your feelings. You told her that you were drawn to her, that you saw the woman beneath the monster, the woman who deserved to be loved.

She looked at you, her honey eyes filled with a mixture of surprise and something that might have been hope. "You see me," she said, her voice a soft sigh. "You see the woman I once was, the woman I can never be again."

"I do," you said, reaching out to touch her hand. "And I love you, Lady Dimitrescu."

She pulled her hand away, her expression hardening. "You cannot love a monster," she said, her voice laced with pain. "You cannot love something that is dead."

"I do," you insisted, your voice firm. "I love you for who you are, for the woman you were, and for the woman you could still be."

She stared at you for a long moment, her eyes searching yours. Then, she sighed, a deep, mournful sound that seemed to echo through the empty halls of the manor. "I have not felt this… this warmth in centuries," she said, her voice barely a whisper.

You reached for her again, this time she didn't pull away. You took her hand, feeling the cool, smooth skin beneath your fingertips. It was a moment of connection, a spark of hope in the darkness.

But the darkness was never far away. The manor was a living entity, a creature of shadows and secrets. The whispers of the dead echoed through the corridors, the scent of blood hung heavy in the air.

One night, a group of villagers, armed with torches and pitchforks, stormed the manor. They had come to hunt Lady Dimitrescu, to rid the world of the monster that haunted their nightmares.

You fought alongside Lady Dimitrescu, your love for her fueling your courage, your determination to protect her. But the villagers were relentless, their hatred burning like a wildfire.

In the end, the villagers were victorious. They drove Lady Dimitrescu back into the shadows, leaving her wounded and alone. You were captured, imprisoned in the depths of the manor, your heart breaking at the thought of losing her.

But Lady Dimitrescu had not given up. She had found a way to escape, to break free from the chains that bound her. She returned to the manor, her eyes burning with a cold, vengeful fire.

She slaughtered the villagers, their screams echoing through the halls of the manor, their blood staining the floors crimson. She stood over their bodies, her face a mask of fury, her eyes filled with the pain of centuries.

She turned to you, her gaze searching yours. "You are safe now," she said, her voice a low growl. "No one will ever hurt you again."

You looked at her, at the monster she had become, the monster she was forced to be. You felt a pang of sadness, a sense of loss. The woman you had loved, the woman you had seen in her eyes, was gone. In her place stood a creature of darkness, a creature driven by rage and despair.

You knew that you could never be with her, not in this life, not in any life. But you also knew that you would never forget her, the woman who had captured your heart, the woman who had shown you the beauty of darkness and the darkness of beauty.

You left the manor, leaving behind the echoes of her screams, the scent of blood, and the memory of a love that had been lost. You walked into the sunrise, carrying the weight of her story, the weight of her pain, the weight of her love.

You knew that you would never be the same again. You had seen the darkness, and the darkness had seen you. And in the depths of that darkness, you had found a love that would last a lifetime, a love that would haunt you forever

[book--brackets]

Summaries under the cut

Stardust by Neil Gaiman

Young Tristran Thorn will do anything to win the cold heart of beautiful Victoria—even fetch her the star they watch fall from the night sky. But to do so, he must enter the unexplored lands on the other side of the ancient wall that gives their tiny village its name. Beyond that old stone wall, Tristran learns, lies Faerie—where nothing not even a fallen star, is what he imagined.

Where the Red Fern Grows by Wilson Rawls

Billy, Old Dan, and Little Ann—a boy and his two dogs...

A loving threesome, they ranged the dark hills and river bottoms of Cherokee County. Old Dan had the brawn, Little Ann had the brains—and Billy had the will to train them to be the finest hunting team in the valley. Glory and victory were coming to them, but sadness waited too. And close by was the strange and wonderful power that's only found...

The Witches by Roald Dahl

This is not a fairy-tale. This is about real witches. Real witches don't ride around on broomsticks. They don't even wear black cloaks and hats. They are vile, cunning, detestable creatures who disguise themselves as nice, ordinary ladies. So how can you tell when you're face to face with one? Well, if you don't know yet you'd better find out quickly-because there's nothing a witch loathes quite as much as children and she'll wield all kinds of terrifying powers to get rid of them.

The Kane Chronicles by Rick Riordan

Since his mother's death six years ago, Carter Kane has been living out of a suitcase, traveling the globe with his father, the brilliant Egyptologist, Dr. Julius Kane. But while Carter's been homeschooled, his younger sister, Sadie, has been living with their grandparents in London. Sadie has just what Carter wants—school friends and a chance at a "normal" life. But Carter has just what Sadie longs for—time with their father. After six years of living apart, the siblings have almost nothing in common. Until now.

On Christmas Eve, Sadie and Carter are reunited when their father brings them to the British Museum, with a promise that he's going to "make things right." But all does not go according to plan: Carter and Sadie watch as Julius summons a mysterious figure, who quickly banishes their father and causes a fiery explosion.

Soon Carter and Sadie discover that the gods of Ancient Egypt are waking, and the worst of them—Set—has a frightening scheme. To save their father, they must embark on a dangerous journey—a quest that brings them ever closer to the truth about their family and its links to the House of Life, a secret order that has existed since the time of the pharaohs.

Hatchet by Gary Paulsen

Brian is on his way to Canada to visit his estranged father when the pilot of his small prop plane suffers a heart attack. Brian is forced to crash-land the plane in a lake--and finds himself stranded in the remote Canadian wilderness with only his clothing and the hatchet his mother gave him as a present before his departure.

Brian had been distraught over his parents' impending divorce and the secret he carries about his mother, but now he is truly desolate and alone. Exhausted, terrified, and hungry, Brian struggles to find food and make a shelter for himself. He has no special knowledge of the woods, and he must find a new kind of awareness and patience as he meets each day's challenges. Is the water safe to drink? Are the berries he finds poisonous?

Slowly, Brian learns to turn adversity to his advantage--an invading porcupine unexpectedly shows him how to make fire, a devastating tornado shows him how to retrieve supplies from the submerged airplane. Most of all, Brian leaves behind the self-pity he has felt about his predicament as he summons the courage to stay alive.

Island of the Blue Dolphins by Scott O'Dell

On San Nicolas Island, dolphins flash in the surrounding blue waters, sea otter play in the vast kelp beds, and sea elephants loll on the stony beaches. Here, in the early 1800s, a girl named Karana spent eighteen years alone.

Karana had to contend with the ferocious pack of wild dogs that killed her younger brother, constantly guard against Aleutian sea otter hunters, and maintain a precarious food supply. Her courage, self-reliance, and grit has inspired millions of readers in this breathtaking adventure.

Stargirl by Jerry Spinelli

Leo Borlock follows the unspoken rule at Mica Area High School: don't stand out--under any circumstances! Then Stargirl arrives at Mica High and everything changes--for Leo and for the entire school. After 15 years of home schooling, Stargirl bursts into tenth grade in an explosion of color and a clatter of ukulele music, enchanting the Mica student body.

But the delicate scales of popularity suddenly shift, and Stargirl is shunned for everything that makes her different. Somewhere in the midst of Stargirl's arrival and rise and fall, normal Leo Borlock has tumbled into love with her.

The Phantom Tollbooth by Norton Juster

For Milo, everything’s a bore. When a tollbooth mysteriously appears in his room, he drives through only because he’s got nothing better to do. But on the other side, things seem different. Milo visits the Island of Conclusions (you get there by jumping), learns about time from a ticking watchdog named Tock, and even embarks on a quest to rescue Rhyme and Reason! Somewhere along the way, Milo realizes something astonishing. Life is far from dull. In fact, it’s exciting beyond his wildest dreams. . . .

Black Beauty by Anna Sewell

As a young horse, Black Beauty is well-loved and happy. But when his owner is forced to sell him, his life changes drastically. He has many new owners—some of them cruel and some of them kind. All he needs is someone to love him again....

Whether pulling an elegant carriage or a ramshackle cab, Black Beauty tries to live as best he can. This is his amazing story, told as only he could tell it.

Tuck Everlasting by Natalie Babbitt

Doomed to - or blessed with - eternal life after drinking from a magic spring, the Tuck family wanders about trying to live as inconspicuously and comfortably as they can. When ten-year-old Winnie Foster stumbles on their secret, the Tucks take her home and explain why living forever at one age is less a blessing that it might seem. Complications arise when Winnie is followed by a stranger who wants to market the spring water for a fortune.

[thisgirlnamedblusy]

how about some g!p donna with a partner that wants to try some strap warming and edge play while they watch a movie, partner reaching around every now and then to pet her shaft 'till she's close, only to stop and comforts her with kisses, cuddles, and praise until the movies done.

Yesss!!!! Thank you for your request!!! I hope you like it and sorry about the language mistakes!!! :))))

The waiting

Pairing: Donna Beneviento x Fem! Reader

Warnings: G!P Donna, smut, Minors DNI

Word count: 5,050

Summary: Revenge is served cold...

N/A: Sorry about the language mistakes!!! Requests are open!!! I'm waiting yours!!! I love you all!!! :))

“Can I come in?” You asked innocently, knocking on the doors of the workshop.

“Of course, tesoro,” a soft voice answered, one you had been waiting to hear since you woke up that morning.

Yes, starting a romance with Donna Beneviento may have been unexpected, but it certainly wasn't something you regretted at all. Only someone like you dared to sell her vegetables beyond the safe limit of the village, going to that dark forest leading to the old estate.

Donna was a strange woman, a powerful Lord, but she certainly made you anything but afraid when you met her. Self-conscious about her appearance, about the changes that the Cadou produced in her body, the doll maker closed even more into herself. Nothing that the cheeky and cheerful (Y/N) couldn't change, of course.

After several months of dating, you realized that sometimes, all a person needs is love.

“I bring you some tea,” you said, carrying a tray with two cups. She looked at you from her work table and put on one of her beautiful smiles. You weren't going to lie, that's precisely why you were doing it.

“You are very kind, (Y/N),” Donna said softly, caressing your hand and making you blush.

You smiled satisfied and sat in a nearby chair, leaving the tray on the table.

“Wait, wait,” she said, interrupting your attempt to grab your own cup. “Sit on the other side,” she commented, pointing to the opposite side from where you were.

“What? Why?” You asked with a frown.

She stopped in her work of painting a porcelain head and slowly pointed to the defect on the right side of her face. You huffed and rolled your eyes.

“Donna...” You sighed, tired of her complexes. “What difference does it make?”

“I prefer you to see the good part of my face,” she murmured, pretending to return to her work. You stood up and grabbed her shoulders tightly, leaning into her ear.

“You're beautiful, my love...” You whispered, giving Donna a soft kiss on her cheek. “I don't know how I have to tell you.”

She laughed sheepishly, pushing away your little harassment and shaking her head, but grabbing your wrist so you leaned down to kiss her on the lips.

“Too kind, (Y/N),” she whispered, running a hand over your chest and smiling for a moment before returning with the porcelain.

You nodded and obeyed her request, reluctantly switching sides.

“What are you doing?” You asked, taking a sip from your cup and watching with curiosity how her skilled hands worked. She didn't look at you, but another beautiful smile formed on her face.

“Well, I'm painting some heads," she explained, dipping the small brush with paint. You made a strange and funny face.

“Wow... In a different context it could sound a bit… Scary,” you said with a dark voice, to which Donna shook her head, amused by your comments.

“Shall I paint yours?” She asked, jokingly, running the tip of the brush across your nose, to which you immediately stepped back, wiping away the water she left on your skin.

“I thought I was much prettier without makeup, or so you said,” you whispered ironically, making the lady in black blush.

“You're always pretty, tesoro,” Donna responded, as always, not knowing that it was just a joke.

You should have known that a human relationship was an absolute mystery for her. Still, you were fascinated by her innocence.

“Well, well who's being too kind now?” You said, moving a little closer and kissing her cheek again. Donna paused for a moment, capturing your lips in a quick kiss.

Watching her work was almost hypnotic. A woman like Donna had nothing else to do but make those sinister dolls. Her loneliness had given her great mastery in that aspect. You looked at her with your head resting on your hand, repeating to yourself over and over again that you had been tremendously lucky to have Donna by your side.

“What?” Donna asked when she noticed your erratic thoughts and your lost gaze. You shook your head, smiling wider.

“Nothing, I’m looking at you,” you responded with a soft voice, sighing.

“You’re looking at me...” Lady Beneviento repeated, shaking her head, with a shy smile.

“You know it's my favorite hobby,” you said amused, moving the chair closer to hers.

“I thought your favorite hobby was to play hide-and-seek with Angie,” she said, without looking away from that sinister head.

“Do you think so? That's an obligation, not a hobby,” you joked, crossing your arms, sighing. “I prefer to keep her happy.”

Donna smiled again and shook her head, leaving that freshly painted head somewhere you could see it.

“What do you think?” She asked curiously, wiping off the paint with her hands.

“It’s…Gloomy,” you said, nodding, feeling a chill. Certainly, dolls were never your best friends, and even more so in the dark.

The lady looked at her work confused, searching for any flaw.

“Hey, hey, it was a joke, it’s beautiful, Donna,” you said, holding back your laughter. “Just like you,” you finished with a sensual voice, which made her suddenly look at you with a strange face.

“It seems that you are very flattering today,” she sighed, embarrassed by your eternal compliments, while she continued studying that sinister head.

You shrugged with an innocent smile. No, not innocent at all.

“Your body has also woken up quite a bit... Flattering this morning,” you said quietly, leaning closer to her ear. Donna seemed frightened by those words and she raised her knee to the table reflexively, causing the porcelain to shake.

“Well, I...” She explained with a broken voice, knowing exactly what you were referring to.

“Have you dreamed of me?” You asked, slurring your words in a mischievous way, to make her nervous, which you had already achieved.

“I always dream of you,” Donna responded, with a calmer tone, but with her breathing a bit labored. Well, that's what you wanted.

“Mmm,” you murmured, blinking repeatedly. “A nice dream, for sure. I think you were so happy...”

“Oh, well, that,” She said, shaking her head, understanding what you were getting at. “I'm sorry.”

“Why do you apologize?” You asked, amused, incredulous.

“Sometimes I... I wake up with... With it…. Hard … It's not because of anything in particular, it sometimes happens to me, that's all,” she explained to which you rolled your eyes.

“Donna,” you said, ignoring her absurd explanations and gently taking her face in your hands to force her to look at you. It was better to be direct with Donna. Otherwise she would never get the hint. She nodded with her eye wide and a confused expression. “Tell me, how long have we not made love?”

She couldn't help but look surprised, and pretended to think about it. The heat on her cheeks was quite evident.

“Um, I, I don't know, maybe, maybe three days,” she stammered, avoiding looking into your eyes.

“Four,” you corrected with a severe tone, but with the same tender look. “A long time, don't you think?”

Donna shook her head erratically. Certainly, she didn't know what to answer. Intimacy was always something she was terribly ashamed of, and you always took advantage of it.

“Oh, it is?” She asked with a trembling voice, while your hands slowly descended down her chest. Before her lips said something stupid again, you put a finger on them.

“Don't worry. It has an easy solution,” you purred, very close to her lips. She looked at you confused, but before she could react, you kissed her passionately, moving the chair closer again.

“Wait, (Y/N). Not here,” she protested timidly, nervous about the wet kisses that gave her no respite.

“Why not?” You asked, getting up from the chair to sit on top of her, on her lap.

“I have, I have to finish this work and...” Donna stammered as your hands traveled up her dress in a hurry, matching the soft movements of your hips.

“You'll do it later,” you said, dismissing her and unbuttoning the top of her dress, running your hand over her bare skin and making her gasp nervously, but excitedly.

“Sei molto impaziente,” Donna whispered, joining your kisses, your soft movements, overwhelmed by your tireless lust.

You smiled and moved your eyebrows triumphantly, sliding her black dress over her shoulders, revealing that soft pale skin that drove you crazy.

“You already know me,” you whispered in her ear, making her arms hug your waist, continuing with your kisses, with your caresses. “When I like something... It's hard for me to wait for it.”

She laughed and sighed, giving up. Actually, her body already gave her away seconds before, when you began to feel her own arousal pressing between your legs.

The wet sounds of kisses were rhythmically linked to your gasps. Your bodies moved with each other and your hands traveled lower and lower, gently stroking her erection and releasing it from its prison.

“Are you in a hurry?” Donna asked, surprised by your hasty gesture. You made a perverse face, but you didn't respond. You simply set about releasing yourself from your own underwear, leaving your dress on. You knew that turned her on.

“You're in a hurry,” you said with a serious tone, positioning her shaft at your wet and burning entrance, going down little by little, making her close her eye and moan from the contact. “Didn't you say you wanted to finish those dolls?”

“I…” The lady in black gasped, grabbing your body to steady you as she plunged inside. “I, I guess they can wait…”

Your walls slowly stretched, making you enjoy every inch of her erection inside of you, making your body adapt little by little, causing you immense pleasure, which you expressed with a not quiet moan.

“Shh, not that loud, tesoro, Angie can hear us...” Donna scolded you, moving her hips, making the pleasure of feeling you much more intense.

You laughed amused, finding the perfect position for you to start moving on top of her.

To prevent the doll from being alerted by your loud moans, the lady in black launched herself at your lips, forming a slow but at the same time hurried rhythm, letting your body rise and fall just as she needed it, just as you needed it.

You hung on to her neck, dancing with your hips to provoke her own moans, which you achieved shortly after.

When your hips began to shake too much, a horrible sound filled the room, the ring of a telephone.

“No, no, no, no. Don't even think about it, Donna,” you said, guiding her chin so she looked at you, noticing how her movements stopped little by little and her gaze turned towards the hallway.

“But, but it could be important,” she protested, which you prevented by grabbing her body more firmly and moving your hips so her shaft danced inside you as you liked.

“Wait, wait a moment… If it's important, they'll call again,” you said a bit desperately. “I'm so close, darling... Please...”

“No, I…” Donna said, making you moan as she lifted you by your legs, getting out and sitting you on the table, leaving you with your mouth open and your brows furrowed. “Wait for me, okay? I'll be right back.”

“Donna! Get back here! Now!” You screamed getting off the table, watching in horror as her erection was hidden again in the fabric of her dress as the lady ran towards the hallway. “Donna! Shit...” You sighed annoyed, crossing your arms and picking up your underwear from the stone floor of the workshop.

You snorted again and again. You were so close... And someone had the audacity to interrupt. Of course, Donna's duties as Lords of the village were her top priority, although you didn't imagine it was enough to leave you in that state.

“So? It was that important?” You asked annoyed, already fully dressed. She entered the workshop embarrassed, fastening her buttons again, letting you understand that this would not continue.

“No, well... I have, I have to go to a meeting,” she said, unable to look you in the eye, of course.

“Now?” You asked immediately, letting out all the rage inside you in the form of a sigh. “Donna… It's almost time for dinner.”

“It will only be a moment. Afterwards, we can have a romantic dinner and watch a movie, what do you think?” She said, putting on her dress and her messy hair due to your restless hands.

“What? Oh no, you're going to come back here and finish what you've started, my love,” you said in a threatening tone, approaching Donna and making her step back, nervous.

“Um, yes, yes, but, after the movie,” she said hurriedly, giving you a quick kiss and putting on that horrible veil, to which you groaned, helplessly.

“After the…? Oh, okay, whatever, Donna,” you sighed in annoyance, crossing your arms. The lady in black sighed as well, lifting your chin with two fingers.

“Don't be mad at me, tesoro,” she whispered, with that voice that made it impossible for you to feel any resentment towards her. Sometimes she seemed innocent, sometimes not that much. sometimes she seemed like she knew you better than you knew yourself.

You pulled away and tried to hide that small smile that formed on your face, shaking your head.

“You better make me the best lasagna in the world,” you hissed amusingly, to which she nodded with a shy laugh, leaving the workshop and leaving you alone and unsatisfied.

At least she kept that promise, as always.

It was a quiet dinner, free of hard feelings. The heat that was in your body dissipated little by little in the light of the candles and the taste of that soft and fruity wine.

“Okay, okay, it actually was the best lasagna in the world,” you said, pretending to be defeated, earning a pleased smile from Donna, a warm and affectionate smile. “Well, then… What do we do now? To the bedroom?” You asked impatiently.

Donna sighed and shook her head, reaching out with her hand to caress yours.

“No, now we're going to watch a movie,” she told you softly, which made you roll your eyes again and turn away from her caresses.

“So when…?”

“After the movie,” Donna said before you finished the question. “I told you before I left.”

“Oh, of course... Before you left me alone and desolate...” You joked, exaggerating the offensive tone of your words.

“Don't be dramatic, tesoro,” Donna whispered, getting up from the table and caressing your cheek, forcing you to look at her. “I promise I'll make it up to you, okay?” She said with a tender voice, irresistible for you.

“Oh, of course you will...” You whispered as she walked away from you, walking towards the elevator, with a slightly cruel idea in your head.

The cold and calculating idea of ​​revenge.

“Would you like this one?” The lady asked, already in her office, showing you one of the thousands of boxes she had, containing old movies. You nodded with a fake smile, which she didn't notice, thankfully.

“Come here,” you said, patting the small couch as the projector began to illuminate the white fabric. She nodded, sitting next to you, unprepared. Your revenge was near.

The first minutes were calm. You let poor Donna trust herself, caressing her hands, intertwining your fingers…. Nothing out of the ordinary, a romantic dinner and movie like the hundreds of them you had before your first kiss.

“But I'm not the policeman,” you said, reading the label of that silent movie. Donna laughed and looked at you tenderly.

“You know it, (Y/N),” she murmured, torturing you with her smile.

“Of course, it's one of my favorites,” you said, making a nice gesture of silence with your hand.

When you saw that the occasion was perfect, that Donna was distracted enough, you rested your body on hers, which she immediately hugged, placing a soft kiss on your hair.

It could be a tender moment, truly romantic, but you... Oh, yes, you wanted revenge.

Little by little, you raised your head to her neck, planting small kisses along the way, soft and innocent kisses for which she laughed shyly, oblivious to your true intentions. You bit your lip, moving your hand to her leg and up the black fabric of her dress.

She gasped in surprise, but she barely moved, assuming it was an affectionate gesture. Yes, Donna was so innocent...

Your kisses on her neck continued as your vengeful hand played with her body, caressing her leg, her belly, her chest… Everything but your main goal, which made Donna shiver with a chill.

She looked at you briefly, not with annoyance or tiredness. It seemed that your caresses had had the desired effect, since her lips approached yours, kissing them softly, slowly, in a tender and intense kiss. You smiled discreetly as her hands caressed your cheeks, pulling you towards her. You, a bit clouded by the pleasure of those kisses, remembered what your purpose was, and you put your hands on her chest, preventing her from getting closer.

“Shh, Donna, the movie,” you whispered in her ear, leaning her back against the couch and making her look at you amused, but disappointed. Just how you wanted her.

Far from stopping, you took advantage of that moment to let your hand rest on her leg again, holding it until Donna gasped in surprise at that burning touch. Her head turned back to kiss you. You didn't stop her, but you kept your distance.

Taking advantage of the distraction that those wet kisses provided. You raised your hand until you felt the area between her legs. Just like what you wanted, you wanted to feel it growing in the palm of your hand and that's what you would do.

“(Y/N)...” Donna whispered, among kisses, alerted by those soft caresses between her legs, caresses that were beginning to make her nervous.

“Does it make you nervous?” You asked amused, playing with the fabric, noticing how little by little, that lump was hardening in your hand while your mouth worked on her lips, on her neck...

“N, no... I, I like it,” she responded to your surprise, which made you raise an eyebrow and continue your soft movements, continue caressing her erection with your hand, through the fabric, just caressing, exciting her until she couldn't stand it anymore.

You smiled triumphantly, moving away from her but still caressing her. She looked at you with desire, with lust for that subtle touch. No, no, no. She wasn't going to get you to give up because of that.

Your hand left her shaft to rest on her cheek, causing her head to turn back to the illuminated screen.

“Look at the movie,” you whispered with a severe tone, but suggestive at the same time. Donna looked at you confused, blinking repeatedly, but she didn't say anything. She resigned herself to obey you, with a nervous breath and a prominent blush on her cheek.

You bit your lip again, reaching down to grab her dress so you could sneak it under the fabric, caressing her bare skin with your nails, making her gasp but not move.

Little by little your caresses intensified, reaching her underwear, which was unable to contain her arousal. You moaned at the contact, but held back, limiting yourself to running your hand along her covered shaft, gently, without rushing.

“What are you…?” The lady in black asked, looking at you curiously but with a pleased smile on her face.

“The movie, Donna,” you said, turning her head toward the screen again. She seemed confused, but your gentle touch pleased her enough not to complain. She was always so sensitive...

Donna nodded nervously, moving uncomfortably on the couch while your hand continued its fiery caresses and your mouth ravaged her neck, making her writhe in pleasure and close her eye.

You laughed, taking advantage of the fact that she didn't see you, and you pulled her erection out of the underwear, surrounding it with your hand, moving slowly, caressing the tip with your thumb. She didn't say anything, she just moaned at the feeling of your soft caresses on her most sensitive spot.

You moaned softly in her ear, showing your own desire as the embrace of your hand intensified a bit, just a bit, moving it up and down, trying to touch her as less as possible, making her moan at the sensation.

“Tighten me a little more, (Y/N)” Donna begged with a voice distorted by pleasure. You raised an eyebrow and obeyed, but only a little, just enough for her to relax again while you took care of her.

“Is that the way you like it, my love?” You asked with a velvety tone, making Donna nod profusely while your hand grabbed her harder, going up and staying at the tip, and then going down slowly, very slowly.

“Yes, yes...” she responded, heated and suffocated by your actions. Her hips moved to match the terribly slow movements of your hand, to get that rhythm she needed and you weren't going to give her.

“Shh...” You joked when you noticed how her shaft trembled in your hand. She wouldn't say it, but she was close, you could tell.

“Keep going, please,” Donna asked, her tone frustrated as your hand moved away from her erection to return to her legs, to the soft scratches of your nails on her soft skin. You smiled satisfied and shook your head.

“No, my love,” You whispered, making her look at you strangely and confused. “Oh, Donna, you're so good…” you said next, removing your hand from her dress to caress her cheek. “I love how sensitive you are.”

“Tha, thank you, (Y/N), but... But I...” she said confused, with a half smile and her hips asking for your hand to return. “Please, I want… I want…”

“Do you want some kisses? Of course, darling,” you said, ignoring the real question, ignoring her desperate cry for release.

The moisture that had formed between your legs was a sign that you liked that game, and much more than you thought. You supposed poor Donna, didn’t like it that much.

With a soft laugh, you leaned into her, kissing her tenderly, slowly, controlling the hunger you could feel on her lips, the attempts to get her hips to rub against yours.

“You are such a beautiful woman, Donna... You drive me crazy,” you whispered into her lips, making her look at you with a mixture of desire and confusion. “Did you know it?”

Donna nodded erratically, pleased by your soft words. She almost seemed to have forgotten about the need between her legs. You couldn't let that happen.

After a few tender moments of quiet kisses, your hand slipped back into the darkness of her dress, recovering her intact, trembling erection, and caressing it again.

Donna moved closer to you, as if not wanting you to abandon her again, moaning at the delicate and slightly faster movements of your hand on her sensitive area.

“I don’t want to make a mess on my dress but… I can't take it anymore, (Y/N),” she whispered, sounding terribly desperate. “Your hand is… Perfect…”

You slowed down again excited by those words that told you Donna was starting to lose control. The perfect time for revenge.

“Fine,” you said, jokingly, running your thumb over the shiny, wet tip, only to pull it away again, making Donna moan in annoyance.

“Are you playing with me?” She asked with a desperate tone. You had to stop yourself from laughing. She was so close… Maybe you had been too cruel.

“No, my love,” you responded in a soft tone, grabbing the hand that was tightly squeezing your chin. “You said you didn't want to make a mess on your dress ...” You purred, passing your hand through hers, which loosened its grip immediately. Donna looked at you with an almost painful grimace.

“Fanculo il vestito, (Y/N), please don't stop...” She said, with a hint of fury in her voice. You raised your eyebrows at her unusual expression.

“But Donna, don't talk that way,” you said amused, kissing her slowly on the lips, making her gasp and pull away from you abruptly, crossing her arms and kicking the wooden floor in a childish way. “You’re so beautiful... Don't say those ugly words.”

“You make me say them, (Y/N)” Donna sighed, putting a hand between her legs to relieve the tension on her aching and anxious shaft.

“Hey, keep your hands out, honey... We're watching a movie,” you said amused, withdrawing her hands, which made Donna snort with rage and look at you almost with hatred.

“Are are we watching it?” She asked ironically. You nodded and put on an innocent smile, wrapping your arms around her and pulling her head to your chest, caressing her comfortingly.

“Come on, be patient, when the movie is over I'll take care of you, okay? You are so beautiful, so delicate... I love you so much...” You said sighing, stroking her black hair with your fingers, enjoying that delicious lavender perfume.

“No, no, no. Now, (Y/N),” she said hurriedly, moving abruptly and leaning you against the couch, tugging at the edges of your underwear.

“How impatient you are, my love...” You said amused stepping back but letting your wet entrance exposed to torture her even more.

“I don't know who reminds me of,” she said, shaking her head, playing with her dress to release her erection and position it at your entrance, something that you prevented by sitting down again.

“Donna, stop,” you said amused, with a cheeky gesture with your finger. “Stay still, mm? I told you when the movie is over…”

She grunted, hanging her head and getting up from the couch, walking towards the projector. Knowing what her intentions were, you ran to prevent it.

“That's cheating, honey,” you said amused, guiding the woman towards the couch again, sitting her down in a comical way. “Sit down, there's not much left.”

“Well, well... So... So keep touching me,” Donna said angrily, gesturing for you to come back to her.

You shrugged, lying down next to her body and continuing your soft, tortuous caresses. The moans returned to the small office and her desperation was becoming more palpable, literally.

“Just like that, tesoro... I'm so close…” The lady said with a sigh of relief when she obtained that pleasure. “I'm going... I'm going to...”

Before she finished her sentence, you removed your hand again, making her moan sound more like a sob.

“Why, (Y/N)?” She asked with a look that made your body stir a little. No, you weren't going to falter, not at that moment, not so close to the end. “Is it because of this afternoon?”

You sighed, shaking your head, but with a smile on your face, looking out of the corner of your eye at the movie, which was already about to end. With an amused gesture, you caressed her cheek as she squirmed in frustration on the couch.

“No, it isn’t...” you said, exaggerating the words, showing what your true answer was. “I just want to finish watching the movie with this beautiful woman next to me, isn't it romantic?”

“You are an evil, vengeful witch,” Donna said, crossing her arms, looking down from time to time, trembling for the release she needed so bad.

“But you love me, right?” You asked in an innocent voice, caressing her cheek. Her furious expression relaxed with your gentle touch, causing her to give you a loving smile and nod slowly.

Donna tilted her head slightly to capture your lips. It wasn't an impatient or lustful kiss. It was different, almost like an apology.

“Forgive me for this afternoon, (Y/N). I know it wasn't fair, I'm so sorry,” she said softly, cupping your face in her hands and resting her forehead against yours.

“But...” You joked, biting your lip again, urging her to finish that sentence.

“Please, tesoro... Make me cum, please... It hurts...” She begged you in a low voice, wriggling again and putting pressure between her legs with her hand.

You sighed and looked at the screen, where a big, colorful “The end” indicated that it was time to end this unfair torture.

“Come on, look, the movie's over,” you said amused, kissing her fiercely, making your hand return to her erection, to which Donna moaned pleased. “You have been very good, Donna… You deserve to choose… Where do you want to do it?”

She smiled impatiently, wondering what the best option was. You knew her. Her finger rose pointing to your legs, now slightly open.

“Okay, honey, come here then,” you said in a loving tone, pulling her hand and kissing her again.

The intrusion was immediate, but it was rougher than usual, stretching your walls faster, but sending waves of pleasure inside of you.

“Hey, easy, Donna,” you joked, letting your body adapt little by little to her erratic, desperate movements.

“No, I'm not going to go easy, not now,” she said in a dark voice, grabbing you by the ankles and raising your legs while her thrusts went faster and faster.

You didn't care how painfully close she was, how much her erection throbbed inside you. She had suffered your revenge, and she deserved a reward.

“I'm close, Donna...” You said, letting yourself be carried away by those waves of pleasure, a pleasure that you had to contain throughout the entire movie.

“Oh, are you? Well, I'm sorry, (Y/N) but...” Donna said hastily, moaning with no discretion and staying deep inside you, finally releasing herself and covering you with her heat, filling you in a hungry way, caressing your walls with her warm seed. “I go first…”

You laughed, suppressing the instinct to continue moving for your own pleasure and caressing the woman in black, who fell into your chest, gasping with relief.

“It's been funny, hasn't it?” You asked, after a moment of silence, enjoying the love you felt with soft caresses.

“Funny?” She asked startled, getting up from your chest and looking at you with an accusing eye. “(Y/N)...”

[kc-writes-sometimes]

Crown and Kin | Chapter One

Ao3 Account | Masterlist

Chapter One: The Bastard with Violet Eyes

Word Count: 2,641

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Original Female Character

Summary: Daella’s journey takes an unexpected turn when she crosses paths with powerful figures in King’s Landing. As she navigates a world where bastards are often overlooked, Daella begins to unravel mysteries about her origins and the people watching over her.

Themes & Warnings: 18+, Character Death, Rape/Non Con, Future Smut, Canon Typical Violence, Canon Typical Incest, Angst, Dad Daemon Targaryen, Bastards and Brothels, Fluff, Friends to Enemies to Lovers, Canon Divergence, Dysfunctional Family, Team Black Centric, Slow Burn, Eventual Romance

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Daella of King's Landing

People rarely paid attention to bastards. Snow, Rivers, Stone, Hill, Waters, Pyke, Storm, Flowers, and Sand—all were cut from the same misshapen cloth. They came and went as they pleased, their movements unmonitored, their musings unheard. Whether they lived or died mattered little to those of importance.

A bastard boy might find glory in battle and be granted knighthood. He could gain both brothers and honour at The Wall, or even pursue knowledge within The Citadel. A lack of name or title did little to hinder a boy from charting his own course and seizing his freedom.

But for bastard girls, the world offered fewer paths. The highest honour they could achieve was to be sold to one of the more reputable establishments on the Street of Silk in King’s Landing. Most, however, ended up working and dying in the brothels of Flea Bottom, just as Daella’s mother had.

Daella didn’t remember her mother well. Was she truly a beauty? Did they share the same pale skin, dark waves, and violet eyes? Truthfully, she wasn’t sure if she remembered her at all. The memory of her had faded, worn down by the passage of each moon since her death. Daella recalled the somberness of the women when her mother died, how they cooed at her as though she were a lost lamb on the cusp of slaughter. Her mother’s name was still spoken sometimes, but always in hushed tones behind silk curtains and makeshift wooden doors.

From what Daella had been told, her mother was a rare prize in King’s Landing, where few had the privilege of keeping company with the Dornish, let alone bedding one. She was loved by guests and whores alike, giving everything and keeping nothing. She even spared a few Silver Stags for the City Watch to ensure the safety of the other girls, which was how Daella ended up where she was.

Her life had been a far cry from that of the ladies of the Red Keep, yet the women of the brothel had always provided for her as best they could. They’d kept her safe, warm, and fed, even subjecting themselves to the ire of men who noticed her skulking around the brothel’s dark corners. It was a strange thing, to be raised in such an establishment without the expectation or encouragement to join the trade. But the women had promised her mother they would care for her as their own, and they had.

As Daella pulled herself from her makeshift bed and set her feet on the cold ground, she could already hear the giggles and moans of the women upstairs. Some were just starting their day; others had yet to finish. She couldn't risk lighting one of the torches scattered around the room, so she fumbled under her bed for the shoes carefully stored there. Her hand brushed the rough black material, and with a small, victorious smile, she silently slipped them on. Peeking her head out of the room, she glanced down the dimly lit hallway to ensure no one had noticed her presence. The side door to the brothel, typically used by the City Watch when they didn’t wish to be seen leaving in the early hours, had often been her means of escape. Slipping through the doorway, Daella made her way onto the moonlit streets.

“Daella,” a gruff voice called from behind her. She turned sheepishly toward the sound, feeling her heart race in her chest. Her eyes adjusted to the darkness just enough to make out the figure stepping toward her.

“Ser Harwin,” she muttered, feigning innocence and stepping backward, just out of his reach. This wasn't the first time Ser Breakbones had caught her sneaking out. Their dance had become almost routine. She’d get caught, he’d chastise her, she’d run, and he’d chase her. But at only six years old, Daella could never make it far before he scooped her up and dragged her home.

“You know you’re not supposed to be out here by yourself,” he sighed, taking a few steps closer and sinking to one knee to look her in the eye. Even on one knee, Ser Harwin was a large man. The women in the brothel often remarked how broad and handsome he was.

“I only needed some air. I wasn’t going to go far,” Daella whispered, attempting to defend herself as she stared at the ground. “I promise.”

“Come, Daella, let’s get you home before you get yourself into trouble,” he said, standing to his full height. His pretty brown eyes watched her intently as he turned to lead her back. The moment he turned his back, she scurried into a nearby alleyway and ran, paying little mind to the shouting behind her. Ser Breakbones really should have known better by now.

The acrid stench of alcohol and unwashed bodies filled the air, causing her nose to wrinkle as she slipped through the throngs of people out enjoying the night’s revelry. Ser Harwin’s voice faded into the background, drowned out by the lively chatter of those pressed against walls or sitting on the floor, taking pride of place in front of the stone square where entertainers performed for coin. Her small stature proved useful as she weaved through the crowds just in time to see a plume of orange flame escape the mouth of the man before her.

Rosalie, her mother’s best friend, often said that as a baby, the only way Daella would quiet down enough to sleep was if the fire burned high and hot. The heat never bothered her, unlike the women in the brothel, who regularly complained that it was already too warm. Daella was almost certain the budget for firewood increased tremendously after she was born.

Another plume of flame pulled her from her thoughts as it ascended into the night sky. As Daella watched the flames recede, she scanned the faces of those surrounding the square. Her gaze froze when she noticed a towering figure across from her, dressed in black with both hands resting on a sword at his hip. The faces around him were a mix of shock, surprise, and wonder as they watched the fire dancers, but this man’s gaze, though shielded by a heavy hood, seemed squarely fixed on her.

“There you are,” came the deep, steady voice of Ser Harwin as he placed a gloved hand on Daella’s shoulder and spun her around to face him. “I’ve told you before, Daella, you can’t outrun a man of the City Watch. Although, you did make it further than normal this time,” he added, a slight smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. If Daella didn’t know any better, she might have thought he was proud that she managed to evade him for as long as she had.

“You only caught me because I was distracted,” Daella huffed, pouting as she crossed her arms. Her eyelids grew heavier as her gaze darted between the fire dancers and the swirling crowd. A yawn crept up on her, softening her pout as she fought to keep her eyes open.

As the crowd began to thin and the moon dipped lower in the sky, Ser Harwin grinned and said, “Come now, my little flame, let’s get you home before Rose has both our hides.” He swept Daella off the ground and tucked her against his side. His dark armour was as cold and unyielding as ever, except for the soft gold cloak draped over his left shoulder. Daella noticed his helmet was missing, likely lost during their game of chase, letting his brown curls fall into place at his jaw. No doubt he’d endure another one of the Commander’s long-winded lectures on the proper care and maintenance of City Watch equipment. The men often grumbled about those tirades when deep in their cups, though they wouldn’t usually dare speak ill of their Commander—unless encouraged by wine during their trips to the brothel.

Ser Harwin always whistled while he walked. He couldn't carry much of a tune, nor had Daella ever asked what he was whistling, but she found it soothing nonetheless, especially when she was on the cusp of sleep. As they turned into one of the alleyways leading home, Daella noticed a dark figure leaning against the wall along their path. As they drew closer, the man’s stature and presence became clearer. He held himself much like the figure she had seen earlier at the square.

“I didn’t take you for a man of depravity, Ser Strong,” the man said, eyeing Daella in Ser Harwin’s arms as he pushed off the wall. His tone was threatening, yet a hint of amusement coloured his words. “I would have thought this one was a bit young for you.”

As the man removed his hood, Ser Harwin inhaled sharply, tightening his hold on Daella. Raising her head from Ser Harwin’s shoulder, she tried to get a better look at their intruder. All she managed to notice was his long silver hair, which the moonlight caressed like it did the waters of Blackwater Bay during high tide. She had to stifle the urge to reach out and run her fingers through those strands.

“My Prince,” Ser Harwin said, bowing his head in supplication. “We were not aware you had returned to King’s Landing.”

“That would be because I did not send word. It seems the City Watch has grown careless in my absence.” The previous amusement in the prince’s voice was now gone, replaced by a steely edge. “If a man like me can infiltrate King’s Landing simply by walking through the main gate, I’d say you Gold Cloaks have quite the problem on your hands.” His mouth was drawn into a thin line, and Daella could feel the displeasure and frustration radiating from him. “I wonder, how many of you would even bother to look up if I flew Caraxes over the Dragonpit and across Flea Bottom?”

Daella’s eyes widened, and she gasped as the name slipped from his lips. The fierce conquest of the Stepstones by the rogue prince and Caraxes was a favoured tale among the smallfolk in King’s Landing. Yet, with so many versions of the story swirling around, she was never sure what was fact and what was mere embellishment. Some of the women even said the prince had finally gotten what he wanted—a crown of his own.

“I will be sure to bring your concerns to the Commander at first light, my prince,” Ser Harwin replied with a nod, attempting to move past the prince.

“You never did give me an answer, Lord Strong,” the prince said, his gaze settling on Daella. “But no matter, the answer is irrelevant. I’ve known of your preference for those of us with silver hair for quite some time.”

Ser Harwin’s mouth tightened into a thin line, but as the two men spoke, Daella felt his muscles gradually relax, his grip on her loosening. Before she could stifle it, a soft yawn escaped her throat, causing both men to turn their attention to her with faint smiles.

“Are we boring you, little one?” the prince asked, his lips curling into a smile as he stepped closer, his voice tinged with amusement.

Daella nodded, her eyes now able to take in his features as he approached. His jawline was strong, much like Ser Harwin’s, though the prince’s was clean-shaven. Where Ser Harwin’s nose was crooked from many breaks, the prince’s was perfectly straight. Her gaze wandered over his face until it met his eyes—eyes that were anything but ordinary. Instead of the usual blue or brown, she found herself staring into a pair of striking purple irises. While her own eyes were a pale violet, his were a deep indigo, so dark they reminded her of the midnight sky.

“Is she yours?” the prince asked, his gaze flicking back to Ser Harwin, a smirk playing on his lips.

“No, my prince,” Ser Harwin replied quickly, shaking his head. “She’s the daughter of one of the women who worked at the brothel. I promised her mother I’d look after her.”

The prince’s expression softened slightly, though a hint of mischief remained in his eyes. “A knight playing nursemaid. Now that is something I did not expect to see.”

“I made a promise,” Ser Harwin said, his tone firm but respectful. “And I intend to keep it.”

The prince studied him for a moment, then turned his attention back to Daella. “What’s your name, little one?”

“Daella,” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Daella,” the prince repeated, his voice gentle as he tested the name on his tongue. “A name as beautiful as the girl who bears it.”

A flush crept up Daella’s cheeks at the compliment, and she looked away, feeling suddenly shy under his intense gaze.

“Take care of her, Ser Harwin,” the prince said, his tone suddenly serious. “The streets of King’s Landing are no place for a child, especially not one as precious as this.”

“I will, my prince,” Ser Harwin replied, bowing his head once more.

The prince gave Daella one last lingering look before turning on his heel and disappearing into the shadows, his long silver hair the last thing she saw before he melted into the night.

Ser Harwin let out a breath he seemed to have been holding, his shoulders relaxing as the prince’s presence faded. “Let’s get you home, Daella,” he said, his voice softer now, almost a whisper. He adjusted his hold on her and began walking again, his pace quickening slightly as if eager to put distance between them and the prince.

“Who was that?” Daella asked, her curiosity getting the better of her.

“That was Prince Daemon Targaryen,” Ser Harwin replied, his voice laced with a mixture of respect and caution. “He’s a dangerous man, Daella. Stay away from him if you can.”

Daella nodded, though her thoughts were still fixed on the prince’s piercing purple eyes and the way he seemed to see right through her. Something about him stirred a strange mix of fear and fascination within her, a feeling she couldn’t quite place or understand.

As they approached the brothel, the familiar warmth and muffled sounds of the women’s laughter greeted them. Ser Harwin set her down gently just outside the door, his expression softening as he crouched to meet her gaze.

“You gave me quite the chase tonight, little flame,” he said with a tired smile. “But you need to be careful, alright? This city is full of people who would do you harm without a second thought.”

“I know,” Daella replied, feeling a pang of guilt for worrying him. “I just wanted to see the fire dancers.”

“And you did,” he said, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face. “But next time, let’s watch them together, alright? No more running off on your own.”

Daella nodded, the weariness of the night finally catching up to her. “I promise.”

“Good girl,” he said, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of her head before rising to his full height. “Now, off to bed with you. Rosalie will be waiting.”

Daella gave him a small smile before slipping inside, the familiar warmth of the brothel wrapping around her like a comforting blanket. As she made her way to her little corner, she couldn’t shake the image of the prince from her mind. Something told her that tonight was only the beginning, that her path and Prince Daemon’s would cross again. And when they did, she wasn’t sure if she would be ready for what it would bring.

But for now, she was just a little girl, a bastard with violet eyes, hidden away in the shadows of King’s Landing, where no one of importance would think to look.

Next Chapter ↠

[harleehazbinfics]

Home is where my heart is.

Chapter 5: Happy Hotel Table of Contents | Profile

Word Count: 2032

“—so ladies and gentlemen, I’m opening the first of his kind! A hotel that rehabilitates sinners!”

I give an amused hum looking at the TV then commenting, “Well, isn’t that something, hun?”

“Indeed so. How about we introduce ourselves later, sweetheart?” he mentions somewhat mysteriously holding the small of my back.

“Wow, look at you, perking up all of a sudden,” I said looking at him surprised, but he just raises an eyebrow at me, I shrugged and continued, “Well, you know. You just seem so disinterested in these matters concerning others, especially angels before.”

He laughs and replies, “Well, over the years of toppling overlords, angels seem to be the most troublesome bunch for now. Not to say I’d lose to those pesky flies from heaven.”

I nodded my head finding reason in his explanation. “That’s fair enough. Though, things have changed since you’ve been gone, Al. Even I’m attending those annoying meetings for you,” I complained.

“I apologize, my dear,” he coddled, “I know how fussy you get when you go for long without me.”

I gasped dramatically hand over my chest, “Me? Fussy? Should I mention that you would literally drag down a person that was just talking to me?”

“Oh, please. He was very clearly trying to hit on you, and you’re too nice to even turn them down, sweetheart,” he rebuts rolling his eyes.

“I could’ve handled it myself,” I harrumphed cheekily turning my cheek at him.

“Of course you would have, my darling,” he dismisses me playfully.

I scrunched my face at him which he only responded with a pinch on my nose playfully with a genuine smile on his face. I turn to face some demons who were charging at us, no doubt some of Mammon’s goons who accepted the job for some drugs, I sighed and waved my hand over their figures and watched as water appears and jets them off to the side. Tightening my hands into a fist encasing them in water to drown in, leaving them there.

“See. Very powerful,” I told my husband gesturing at the drowning fools that stopped releasing water bubbles from their mouth.

“Seems like you’ve also been busy for these 7 years apart,” he mentions.

“I’d rather not talk about it,” I glared off the side annoyed.

We appeared on the hill where this hotel that the princess of hell advertised earlier. My heart clenched when I hear her trying to call her mom wondering if Abby did as much when I disappeared so suddenly. She goes inside without noticing us.

Al, being the gentleman he was, knocked on the door first.

“Hel—” slam “—oh” slam

“Pff, you scared the poor thing,” I laughed at him crossing my arms. He pinches my cheek then turns back to the door.

“May I speak now?”

“You may,” she elongates crossing her arms trying to be authoritative making me chuckle at how cute she was.

“Alastor! Pleasure to be meeting you, sweetheart! Quite the pleasure. This is my wife, Miledy,” he introduced the both of us while he walks right in through the door, and continues rapidly, “Excuse our sudden visit but we saw your fiasco at the picture show, and I just couldn’t resist! What a performance! My I haven’t been that entertained since the stock market crash of 1929! Hahaha! So many orphans...”

I raise my eyebrow at him, then realizing he really doesn’t care much for other people’s well-beings if it was our family. I’m pretty sure he misses Abigail to this day.

“Hi, I’m Miledy. Aren’t you the cutest?” I cooed pinching her cheek dotingly. She awkwardly laughs at my actions and waits for me to pull away from which I did, seeing how polite the daughter of hell is. “Sorry about him.”

“Stop. Right. There!” a spear pointed at Alastor making both Charlie and I’s eyes widen at the aggression. “I know your game. I’m not gonna let you hurt anyone here! You pompous, cheesy, talk show shit-lord!”

He laughs drily and moves the spear away, “Dear, I wanted to hurt anyone here... I would have done so already.”

They back away frightened at Alastor’s intimidation the room changing, symbols and shadows flickering in the room while his eyes turned into their infamous stare.

“No! I’m here because I wanted to help!” he exclaimed.

“Say what now?” “Huh?”

“Help!”

I let him do his theatrics while I moved around looking at pictures framed on the wall finding many paintings of the Morningstar family, some probably with their close friends, and many posters of Lilith’s shows.

“So, who’s fish breath over here?”

“I beg your pardon?” I turned to the voice and met eyes with a pink spider sinner adapting a very... voluminous form.

“What’s the deal between you and smiles over there?” he asked jabbing his thumb at Al’s direction.

I just smiled at him and said nothing while the little lady asks, “Wait, you’ve never heard of them before? You’ve been here longer than me.” He shrugs making her continue, “The Radio Demon, The Siren? Two of the most powerful being’s hell has ever seen?”

“Eh, not big on politics,” he gives up slumping back on the couch where I sat next to him, much to his comfort.

“Hmm, I’d like to know how the masses see us,” I mused placing my chin on my hand curiously.

She bites back a groan and explains, “Decades ago, Alastor manifested in Hell, seemingly overnight. He began to topple Overlords who have been dominant for centuries. He and the Siren always worked together, always one without the other. She had the voice that only second to Lilith herself. That kind of raw power had never been harnessed by a mortal soul before. Then, he broadcast their carnage all throughout Hell just so everyone could witness their ability. Sinners started calling him "The Radio Demon" (as lazy as that is). Many have speculated what unimaginable force enabled him to rival our world's most ancient and destructive evils. But one thing's for sure: They’re an unpredictable source of danger, a wicked spirit of mystery, and a violent monster of chaos, the likes of which we can't risk getting involved with unless we want to end up erased!”

“Interesting,” I commented with a grin grazing my eyes over at Alastor.

“You done? He looks like a strawberry pimp,” he laughs looking back the pair.

She huffs then crosses her arms and answers, “Well, I don’t trust him!”

“To be fair, do you trust any man? Any men? Men?” he chides then laughing making the woman glare at her while I just stared at the both of them, my head resting on both my hands now finding their exchange fun.

I appeared beside Al as he waited for Charlie to decide, “Why are you suddenly invested in the princess?”

He shrugs and gives me a lazy grin and answers, “Well, it seems like fun.”

“Rightt,” I drawled out not asking him further, he may be like this in public, but I know he doesn’t do anything unless it favors him.

“Okay, so, Al. You're sketchy as fuck and you clearly see what I'm trying to do here as a joke.” She pauses, “But, I don't. I think everyone deserves a chance to prove they can be better. So, I'm taking your offer to help. On the condition that there be no... tricks or voodoo strings attached.”

“So, it's a deal, then?” he offers holding out his hand to take as the room glowed green and wind blowing past us.

“Nope! No shaking! No deals! I... hmm... As princess of Hell and heir to the throne, I, uh, hereby order that you help with this hotel. For as long as you desire,” she orders politely as Alastor fixes up his hair, “Sound fair?”

“Hmm...  Fair enough!” He hums as he inspects the room.

 “Smile, my dear! You know you're never fully dressed without one!” he teases Vaggie wiggling his finger under her chin to annoy her. “So where is your hotel staff?”

“Uh, well-.”

“Ohohoho, you're going to need more than that,” he remarks walking towards the pink spider,  “And what can you do, my effeminate fellow?”

“I can suck your dick!” he offers enthusiastically.

“HAH! No,” Al denies immediately while I gave the spider a harsh glare, a few of my water demons popping out of the ground menacingly making him whimper.

“You know what? I changed my mind!” he states awkwardly trying to save his skin.

“Well, this just won't do!” Al yells summoning his staff, “I suppose I can cash in a few favors to liven things up.”

He conjures up a nice fireplace and lifts up a black blob with a big eye, dropping it to the ground.

“Hi, I'm Niffty! It's nice to meet you! It's been a while since I've made new friends!” he introduces, “Why're you all women? Are there any men here?!  I'm sorry, that's rude. Oooh, man! This place is filthy! It really needs a lady's touch! Which is weird because you're all ladies, no offense.  Oh, my gosh! This is awful!  Nope! Nope! Nope! Nope! Nope!”

When Nifty walks past me I give her a pet on the head with a smile which she enjoyed, as Husker arrives along with a casino table.

“Ah, Husker, my good friend! Glad you could make it!”

“Don't you "Husker" me, you son of a bitch! I was about to win the whole damn pot!” he yells and facepalms when the money disappears.

“Good to see you too!” he replies clearly enjoying annoying Husk.

“What the hell do you want with me this time...?” he sighs defeated.

“My friend, I am doing some charity work, so I took it upon myself to volunteer your services! I hope that's okay!”

“Are you shittin' me?!”

“Hmm... No, I don't think so!”

“You thought it'd be some kind of big fucking riot just to pull me out of nowhere?! You think I'm some kind of fucking clown?!”

“Maybe!”

“I ain't doing no fucking charity job.”

“Well, I figured you would be the perfect face to man the front desk of this fine establishment!” he says summoning a bar, “With your charming smile and welcoming energy, this job was made for you! Don't worry my friend. I can make this more welcoming! ...If you wish.”

Husk stares at the bottle of cheap booze that Al summoned for him and exclaims, “What? You think you can buy me with a wink and some cheap booze?! ...Well, you can!”

Vaggie starts yelling while gesturing at the bar, “Hey, hey! Hey, hey, hey! No! No bar, no alcohol! This is supposed to be a place that discourages sin! Not some kind of mouth…brothel…man cave!”

Angel lunges at her effectively cutting her of and yells “SHUT UP! SHUT! UP! We are keeping this!”

“So, whaddaya think?” Al asks Charlie.

“This is amazing!” she answers happily rubbing her cheeks.

“It's... okay,” vaggie answers less enthusiastically while her arms crossed.

“Hahaha! This is going to be very entertaining!” Al pulls the three of us in and starts his little parody of the song Charlie sang that we listened to earlier.

“Hah! Well, well, well. Look who it is harboring the striped freak! We meet yet again, Alastor!” Sir Pentious greets valiantly making me smile.

Alastor only responds with, “Do I know you?”

He visibly deflates like a balloon and retaliates, “Oh, yes you do! And this time, I have the element of- SURPRISE! Ahaha! I'm so evil!”

With the power in Alastor’s hand he immediately shuts down Sir Pentious’ little parade. Summoning a portal of his black tendrils and smashing the blimp into bits. We watched as it was broken apart and him being thrashed around, making me feel bad for the poor guy.

“...Well, I'm starved! Who wants some Jambalaya? My mother once showed me a wonderful recipe for Jambalaya. In fact, it nearly killed her! Hahaha! You could say the kick was right out of Hell! Ohoho, I'm on a roll! Yes, sir! This is the start of some real changes down here! The game is set! Now... Stay tuned…”

[pursuitseternal]

“Scald Me:” Let the Vampire Lord Astarion tend to your every comfort, 🔥 update to “The Rogue You Were”

Ascended Astarion x F!Reader | E | 3K of comfort, bath sex

Summary: you have those nightmares again, filled with death and fear and tentacles. You seek comfort alone, wanting to scald the fear from your body, but only one man’s attentions will give you what you seek… and more.

CW: soft!Ascended Vampire Lord, Tav ptsd dreams, one scared maid, comfort, dexterous hands washing your hair, bath sex, tub sex, one very wet tile floor…

Ao3 link | Astarion Fic Masterlist

🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸

Months since you’ve turned immortal. Months since your nights on the road, your days covered in blood and your mind racing with the thrill of danger and the constant mystery that was your life.

You have a palace, a lover, your immortal life protected from enemies. Your nights are spent in orgasms and luxury, your days still involving blood, but not of your enemies. Only his. Only Astarion’s blood, rife with his Ascended power that he keeps flowing into you as well.

But still, the nightmares come, the feeling of death breathing down your neck, the ghost of a squirming tadpole in your brain. The faces of those lives you took sometimes flit before… enemies and innocents, monsters and villains. You wake sweating in your sheets, hands still feeling the stick of blood.

You still hear his ghost sometimes in your head, your Dream Visitor, before you knew who he truly was… Even undead, powerful and loved, you are haunted.

The fear of becoming an Ilithid, the need to fight and flee, it still runs hot in your cold blood.

On nights in your bed, you cuddle into Astarion for comfort, for warmth. The one thing that grounds you and protects you from those lingering phantoms.

But today, you wake alone, your lover yet returning from business outside the City. The chilling sweat makes you feel well and truly dead. You need to get warm, to wash away the hovering darkness of your trauma.

You rise from bed, eager for your morning bath. Something to warm you from the chill of your memories and chase the fear from your shivering body. Crossing into your bathing room, the maid, some little new thing hired, already pours the last pitcher of steaming water into the enamel tub. She shakes as you enter, her eyes cast away. But you thank her, regardless of her deference…

Until you dip your hand into the water. The waves of your angst, your irritation, they reach their own boiling point.

“This water is cold,” you snap. Your head lifts with ferocity to stare down the girl. She is young, shivering. But so were you once. “Unacceptable,” you hiss. “Would you have made it so for the Master?”

“N-n-no, my lady,” she fumbles quietly, keeping her head lowered. You can’t even see her face.

“Am I not also powerful? A hero of the City?” you feel the swell of your wrath pouring out, misguided, misdirected, but it feels so good to let it out regardless. “I want this water hot. Scalding. Enough to boil the flesh from your skull if you fail me again.”

“Tch, tch,” a warm, velvety voice pours over from the doorway behind you. “My consort, you don’t need to threaten to prove your power, darling.”

You spin, Astarion locking eyes with yours. He leans against the frame, handsome as ever, his hair just a little more unruly than normal, you perceive. Instantly he assesses your state, your inner turmoil, your hurt, your rage. And he meets it with a distant look of concern. “Run along, girl, and fetch your mistress water hot enough to scald her.” He jerks his head, the servant instantly rushing out of the room. If she is crying, she holds back her tears until she is clear of their sight.

Frozen, dread rushing in your veins, you can only grip the edge of the tub and let your body shake. The tremors don’t even cease once you feel his warm hands on your shoulders, rubbing them gently to bid the tension away. “You really should save your fangs and threats for our enemies, you don’t need the practice on little girls who will only cry themselves senseless at your power, my darling.”

You say nothing, swallowing as you stare at your reflection in the water. The hardness and pain in the new crimson of your eyes stares back. A transferred gift of Astarion’s power, it seems—your lasting reflection.

His touch leaves one shoulder, dipping his fingers in the bath, little ripples running away from the intrusion. “My dearest, why, this water is hot enough to turn you to a broth. Why don’t you get in?”

You hear the comfort in his tone, his gentle attempts to soothe you where you feel raw and frightened. But you can only hiss in reply, “Why don’t you get in then?”

“If you insist,” he croons, and you hear the slip of his clothes from his perfect, lustrous skin. “A long day of threats and placating, of flying back to your side the moment I could sense your fear in your sleep… I’ll need some extra rejuvenation to stay looking this good for you, my treasure.”

Your breath hitches, body frozen at the weight of his words, hidden behind his bravado. “You… you could sense it…”

He says nothing at first, waiting half-naked beside you, pale chest just perfect as the steam swirls around you both. Eyes searching yours, he takes his damp hand from the tub to smooth your hair off one shoulder. A simple gesture done hundreds of times already, a precursor mostly to feeding. Or fucking. But this time, it meant neither.

These were tender, little petal-soft strokes on your skin. Meant to soothe. He slips your dressing gown from your shoulders, careful not to touch your skin too much. “I can sense your pain as your maker, do not forget, be that a prick of your finger or the torment of your dreams.” His voice is soft, flowing over your shoulder, wrapping you in that purr, that velvet caress he uses to soothe you back to him.

For those times you are trapped again in fear and tentacles and gore. The times he assures you that you have not only his blood, his power, his protection, but his heart as well.

Mercifully gentle, his hand steadies around yours, moving it to caress the surface of the water. It sucks your fingers in, flawless surface breaking to take in your touch. You feel it this time, the warmth of the water, the heat of his hand pressed into the back of yours. You shiver. But his touch grips firmly around your hand, encouraging you to step inside the waters fully.

Steam sweeps around you, mist brushing your face, laden with sweet oils of orange flower and citrus. Sharp and clean and luxurious. One leg sinks into the bath, then the other. But nothing is as hot as the way his touch scalds you, softly guiding you down into the warm embracing waters.

You sink to your neck, gasping after a moment. After you realize his touch has left your flesh.

“Astarion,” you call, that old dread of waking alone with only your pain as friend grips fast on your heart once more. Spinning, the water slashes roughly over the enamel edge.

“Tch,” he sucks his teeth as he withdraws, the water soaking his pale skin, dripping down his legs, still half-clothed. “If money were a concern, I’d chide you for ruining these silks, my love.” His smirk warms you, your eyes now filled only with the sight of him.

His lustrous skin covered in rivulets of scented water, his muscles flexing as he frees himself of the rest of his drenched and ruined trousers. Even that sight of his softened cock makes you flush warmer as you glance it between his legs. Your chest eases as his eyes lock solely into yours. That now matching shade of crimson, that matching fang-toothed smile… you give him no room, forcing him to climb into the waters by sliding his ruinous body right down yours.

Not that he cares, not from that steep-angled tilt of his head or from the heavy, half-lidded gaze he rakes over your chest.

The slosh of water smacks the tile floor as he pulls you close, one hand sweeping a palm full of water to wash the tear streaks from your cheek. “You will have to thank me, to congratulate me, I have never flown so quickly from Waterdeep in my life, undead or not, when I felt your dreams,” he whispers.

“Flown?” you try to tease, but even that single word sounds forced and hollow in your tight and ravaged throat. “Mist… bat…?”

“Mist is far faster you know, my treasure,” he keeps his voice soft and rolling deep in his chest as he pours another handful of water to wash your neck. “And I was in such a state to hurry to your side.” His hand presses your cheek now, turning your face into his. “More memories of our… journey?”

He was careful in his words, as you are with him. You never mention his former tormentor and master, he never mentions the Emperor or Ilithids or the Absolute. Not unless you first bring them up.

Your breath shakes, but you nod. “It was…” you stop. The images that flashed in your dreams returning just as violently as before.

The warmth of his thumb strokes your lips, softly willing them to continue. “I’m all pointy ears, my treasure…”

That makes you grin reluctantly. Words you once heard so often, imbued now with his purring, powerful tones. The words of the Spawn in the voice of the Ascendant.

And that pet name for you that took to your heart instantly. His treasure. His most precious possession, for the man that has everything and that can give you anything. The thing dearest to him in the world.

And right now, he is yours. You didn’t even need to ask.

A loud swallow passes over your dry throat. “I dreamt of it all again, the Nautiloid, the Netherbrain…” you close your eyes, shutting them tight as if you could block out the visions in your mind. “Friends reduced to ash, to tentacles, lost forever…”

His palm presses against the side of your head to draw you near until your forehead nestles in the crook of his neck, cradled on the plane of his shoulder. “You’re not alone in this, remember, none of us were, neither of us are now,” he whispers against the top of your head.

He falls silent, little cupping handfuls of water to dribble over your cheek, through your hair, and down your back. Its warmth is far from scalding, but it slowly begins to soothe. “When those same demons come to plague me, my darling, I like to remember that first sunset after the Brain fell. The way my head felt suddenly lighter once it was free, the way the sun still kissed my face, scalding my skin with almost the same heat that I felt for you, my need for you, my treasure.”

“Hmmm,” you pause, letting your mind drift over the softer moments you had shared. “Remember how rakish you were in the Grove, the night we defeated the Goblin Camp…”

“It wasn’t all smoke and mirrors, empty bluster you know,” his fingers lift from the bath, pinching your face softly. “My little treat. Your cheeks were so rosy and flushed. There was no better place to burn off your bloodlust than my bed, darling…” he purrs into your ear, that sensual curl in his voice, that honeyed seduction that still catches you off guard. You hope in all the ages you will share with him, it never ceases to jolt you right in your belly with lust.

“You still shiver so, darling.”

You do in fact shake, even as his arm holds you against his skin, even as the water does begin to seep into your bones. “Then warn me. Nothing makes me feel scalding like you can, my love,” you whisper, turning to meet his gaze. You are met with such intensity, such vivid concern, you don’t need a spell cast to know you worry him more than any other being in this realm or the next when you get like this.

“What do you have in mind, my consort?” he begs the question, even as his hand moves through the water, fingers pressing at your hip to guide you closer. To move you onto him.

You press a hand on his chest, bracing against his mighty strength when he wants you on his cock—already erect beneath the waters. You can tell. “Won’t you finish washing me first? Before you make me very, very dirty?” you simper, eyes wide and lashes batting. That lust makes your innards thaw, the stiffness of fear draining from your muscles as he feigns a look of disinterest as he considers it. “I’m sure there are other ways for me to feel scalding, blistering hot than just slipping your cocking between my legs….”

You swirl the water around that length, watching his smirk twist all the more at the motion. “Only because I do so adore you will I allow it. Even still, you will need to come closer,” his voice rings with that powerful, silken chime. His hands grip hard into your ass, using that weightlessness of the water to swish you onto his lap. The warmth of his skin caresses beneath your thighs, your ass. That comfort of his body grounds you like nothing else in these realms. And you sigh, most of your fear and tension melting away at last.

You close your eyes, those lithe and dexterous hands begin to pour water over your hair. More of that scented oils fills your nose as fingers so skilled at picking locks and stroking your clit scrub into your scalp. “Mmm, delicious,” you begin to smile.

And he chuckles slowly at the echo of his own flirtation flung back in his face. “Savor it, pet. I’m sure there are ways to repay my kindness for kindness shortly.”

“You don’t mean kindness…do you,” you tilt your head forward again, meeting his eyes, and instantly you aren’t wet between your thighs from just the bath water any longer.

“No, little love,” his hands pull you flush, belly to belly, hard enough to make his cock prod up against you. “I do not.” His hands grip hard into your sudsy hair, just a bit of divine pain tingling as he tugs it, angling you head back, bearing your neck as his eyes scan that pale column he hungers for still. “Now, be a good girl, let’s get you cleaned, and then you’ll know just how hot you make me.” His hands pour water down your head over and over again, and your eyes flicker shut. The reverence in his touch grows edged with desire, you can feel his haste. His cock twitches every time you breathe in deeply, deep enough to make your breasts drag their straining nipples against his chest.

You shake your head from the longer trickles, a devious grin on your lips as you scoop a palm of water. “What about your turn… wash that sweat off your curls as you hurried to my rescue?”

“You wouldn’t dare get these flawless locks wet, would you?” he feigns a snarl. “I will not look like a drowned cat when I finally warm you from the inside out, my pet.” Quicker than breath, he grabs your hand midair and sinks it into the blissful warm waters again. He gives you that wicked, mischievous giggle to punctuate the quiet before he wraps both sets of fingers around his cock.

Hotter than the waters. Hard and awaiting and twitching the moment you catch its pulse. You feel him slide deeper into the waters, lifting you up just enough to instantly slot himself between your thighs. You gasp, the fullness so familiar and arousing, so comforting to be fit perfectly again.

Water begins to splash over the porcelain edge behind him as you join at last. Slowly, you pace yourself, letting the waters warm your skin as you ride him. His eyes bore into you, flickering down every now and then to watch your breasts dipping in and out of the bath as you keep your rhythm.

Astarion keeps his hands clawed into your hips, grounding you among the swirls and splashes that lap around you. Those crimson eyes still scan all about you, observing every detail, every bat of your eyes and tremor of your lips. Making fully certain he chases away those lingering ghosts from you…

Just as you do for him.

His lips curl as you increase your pace, your fingers now clutched hard around the ivory lip of the tub. You ride him with abandon, water cresting in waves to drench the floor. But you’re sure your cunt is far more drenched. The slick inside you hot from the sweet pressure he gives you, the little thrusts he makes when you sink back down to crush his thighs.

Breath matches breath, his mouth so close, so open, you lose all sense of what air is yours or his. The little groans you make grow more ragged, his voice in your ear as you hang your head. Lost to the growing swell of pleasure in your belly. “My love,” he purrs. “My consort and queen… my most precious treasure…”

The muscles of his thighs clench beneath you, hips now slamming up into with haste and recklessness. Out of control, he arches back, head resting against your gripping hands on the tub.

But his words, his undoing inside you, it’s all enough to throw you into that heat he conjures under your skin.

Heat so burning, the gush of your arousal as you come does scald you. You can barely whimper his name, feeling his own shudders of climax take him. You feel your juices trickle between your thighs, hot to the touch before the waters wash it away.

Those damp, silver curls rest on your shoulder, their flawless swoops wet and heavy from steam as he nuzzles against your neck. “Feeling better?” he sighs softly. “Scalding enough for you?”

You run your dripping hand into that tantalizing hair, raising him off your shoulder. That look of smug satisfaction, that glow of his own climax, flushing his pale skin and sharpening his defined cheeks and jaw, it steals your breath. “Always with you, my love,” you reply. “Always scalding.”