#oh lord i wish i knew how to draw

[illiterateswhore]

saw a post about fem vampire gf x masc werewolf gf and like, yeah, sure. but I need me a masc vampire gf x fem werewolf, like, immediately. masc vampire gf. right now.

[just-some-random-blogger]

Tin Soldier

Gwayne returns from Rook's Rest to King's Landing where his wife has been patiently waiting for him, knowing he would need stress relief.

Gwayne Hightower x Reader | 2k+ | cw: fem!reader, wife!reader, pwp idk what to tell you, ok nvm porn with feelings, gwaynes BRATTY, smut (piv, bdsm, pet play??, biting, marking, scratching), fluff can you believe that, typos, etc.

A/N: inspired by this post. i wish @barbieaemond and @targs-on-zorses a very much i hope you suffer

"Oh, praise the gods," I mutter under my breath once I spot the two knights entering through gates of the Keep. I dismiss my handmaiden and head towards them.

Gwayne and Criston spot me, the former's hardened face softens. I offer them a smile and clasp my hands, "very good. The Mother has delivered you whole." I nod in regard, "ser Criston."

The said man nods, "my-"

"You would greet another man before your husband, woman?"

I turn to Gwayne. His jaw clenches. I hold back a grin and pucker my lower lip instead, "I only wished to thank the Hand for returning my love to me with no missing limbs."

He scoffs. His horse trots in place. Gwayne does not enjoy that. He very much did not enjoy that.

"I should thank your husband for doing the same for me, my lady," Criston replies, making me turn back to him.

I smile. Gwayne dismounts. "Then I rejoice in knowing you both will return safely so long as you have each other."

A stable boy comes to get my husband's ride. He spares me no glance when he walks passed me. I turn to my feet with a chuckle, rubbing my belly that bubbled in excitement, "welcome home, ser." We share a nod before I chase after my lord.

He is walking incredibly fast.

I gather my skirts, "my lord!"

Gwayne does not stop. He only continues to storm to our shared chambers. When he reaches the stairs, I break into a sprint, laughing as I did, "lord husband!"

Needless to say, my calls fall deaf on his ears. I have to catch my breath once I enter the room.

"RETURN ME?!"

I close the door behind me, eyes not leaving my armored lover as he paces around the room. My breath hitches at the sight of him. Oh, how I missed the clanking of his steel uniform.

Gwayne turns back to me, pointing a harsh finger to the ground, "WOULD THAT I BE THE ONE RETURNED-

My eyes sparkle at his vexed expression.

"OH! IF YOU ONLY KNEW HOW COLE WAS-"

I reach for his breastplate, "twas a jest."

"Well, you jest wrongly," he glares, swatting my hands away. I press my lips together to suppress my smile. He charges towards the vanity, "you now not how insufferable that Dornishman is."

He begins to undo the cuffs on his forearm. Oh, by the Seven, he was actually upset. He never removed his own armor, not when I was present. I sigh, "Gwayne-"

"Do not-" he pulls roughly on his sleeve "-address me, woman."

I purse my lips and grab his shoulder plate. He shrugs me off dramatically and I reel back in momentary shock, only to huff and grab him by his steely collar.

He glares at me.

I raise my brows, mouth opening to start a new argument. But his face, marked with hurt, though dramatic, makes my heart tinge. I decide not to pursue it.

He recognizes this and lifts his nose. His brows quirk in challenge.

I tilt my head and sigh, "begging your pardon, my lord," I brush my hands down to the sigil on his heart, "tis distasteful to speak on matters I know not of."

Gwayne stares at me for a moment. I peer at him through my lashes, absentmindedly drawing shapes on his chest, "I submit. I wish not to quarrel."

He does not reply, but he visibly relaxes, save for the way his brows knit, "my lips."

My eyes fall to his mouth where a cut laid on the bottom corner, "yes. You've been cut." I pull away to grab some ointment for it, "we shall treat your lip again after your bath."

He watches as I go through the vials on the table. Just as I open the lid of the salve, I feel his rigid body press against my back. I look over my shoulder, gazing up at his face as he embraces me.

"You have not kissed them," he mutters, "you insult me twice, wife."

Oh, what darling. I pretend to think, "I thought I was woman."

"Wrong again," he takes the vial from me, setting it down with little attention. He turns me around and traps me against the vanity, "my woman."

He wastes no more time keeping our lips separate. Gwayne picks me by the waist and sits me on the table as his lips reacquaint themselves with mine. My body melts against him, my legs part to welcome him between and my hands sneak their way into his nape.

He pulls away, "damn this helmet."

I giggle but stop him when he tries to rid himself of it. He raises a brow then sighs, "not again."

"What?" I laugh innocently, "it suits you well."

He shakes his head but makes no further move to rid himself of his steel hat. He does however begin to bunch my skirts up. I mumble, "my tin soldier."

He groans. "Perhaps I'll fuck you in my helmet, vixen," he wraps my legs around him, "see how you like it."

I gleefully retort, "so long as you fuck me, ser-" he begins to kiss my neck, "I will be- OH!"

Gwayne sharply pulls away, face concerned.

I cover my mouth with my hands, "I'd nearly forgotten!"

He can do nothing but watch as I wrangle out of our position and shoo him away. He grumbles as I go through a drawer, "I got you a gift."

"Must you give it to me now?"

I laugh and turn back to him once I have it in my hand, "I find you will regret it if I do not give it to you sooner."

His brow quirks in interest.

I grin and motion with my head, "to the bed with you."

Gwayne is sat on the side of the bed in an instant. He eagerly looks at me. I saunter over with a look of mischief. His eyes widen when I kneel by his feet. At this point, he knew exactly what my surprise was and he simply reaches a hand out to me.

I place a bell in his palm. Gwayne releases a deep breath that breaks into an excited chuckle, "oh, my girl, you might regret this."

I simply look at him with a smile.

He stares at me, knowing then that our game had started. His lips part infinitesimally as he basks in the power he now had. He rings the bell, "you may speak your mind, pet."

"Thank you, ser."

Gwayne rings it again, "get me out of this fucking armor."

"Yes, ser," I say, coming to my feet to undo his top. I feel his eyes on me as I do so.

He releases a breath, hands coming to my side, "I have free rein on your body, do I not?"

"Of course, ser."

"Mmm," he rubs my ass then smacks it, "strip for me," he rings the bell.

I turn to him, "after I-"

"Now," he blurts.

I pull away from him and begin to undo the ties of my dress. It is a slight struggle but not impossible. Once my dress drops to the floor and I'm left in my shift, he rings his bell, "stop."

I still where I stand.

"And your smallclothes," he rings.

I oblige, pulling them and letting them drop to the floor. He reaches a hand out, ringing again, "come to me."

I take his hand and he spreads his legs. I sit on his lap and he rings, "you may proceed, pet."

I continue to undo his armor, "of course, ser."

Ring. "Kiss me as you do so."

I do not speak, only follow the command. I kiss him intermittently as I finally remove a shoulder plate. It is considerably harder to do than undoing my dress because of all the latches. I decide to prioritize undressing him, but it seems that was a mistake.

He snakes his hand up my skirt and squeezes my inner thigh, "my lips are wanting yours, pet."

"I am doing my best, se-"

"Well, try harder."

Gwayne thoroughly enjoys my struggle and unabashedly complains when I am not kissing him. I begin to grow increasingly frustrated when I prioritize kissing him yet finds it in him to complain about how hot his armor is. At some point, I begin throwing the metal I do get off him angrily to the ground.

His chuckle is deep, "careful, pet. That is your lord's armor."

"Fuck your armor," I grunt, chucking his cuffs to the floor.

He laughs and licks his lips.

"I was given permission to speak my mind, was I not? I mutter, sliding off his lap to undo the cuffs on his legs.

"I did not give you leave to leave my lap," he stares at me.

I glare at him and sit back down. He examines me for a moment, rings his bell, and chirps, "get off."

I sigh and stand.

"Uh-ta-ta-ta-ta," he grabs my arm and raises a finger. He looks up at me, shrugging, "what do we say?"

I suck in a breath and force a smile, "of course, ser. Thank you, ser."

"Good," he raises the bell before ringing it, "proceed."

I drop to my knees and continue to rid him of his wretched armor. He brushes my hair back and rubs my lips, "indeed again, you you are not kissing me."

I huff, looking up at him. His eyes sparkle as I say, "a thousand apologies, ser." I attempt to do the impossible, kissing him while undoing the cuffs on his shins. Amazingly, I eventually complete the task and do so with another huff.

Gwayne rings his bell and knocks on his helmet, "you missed one, pet."

I sit on his lap and place my hands on his shoulders. He watches me as I frown. I look at him pleadingly but he allows me no satisfaction. I have no choice but to take his helmet off. He snakes an arm around me, "hard, that one, was it?"

I place his helmet on the night stand and kiss him, "I wish to please my lord."

He smirks, "then shall you be rewarded." He carelessly chucks the bell behind him, causing me gasp, "Gwayne!"

"I enjoyed our little game but find I no longer have the patience for it," he grabs my thighs and turns me on him.

"That's why we keep losing the bell, you keep throwing it!"

"Fuck the bell," he quips, making me straddle him, "I want to fuck my wife."

The next thing I know, my dress is being ripped off and he's hastily undoing his breeches. I cannot help my laugh as I shift atop him to free himself, and once he is, I grind on his hardened cock, making him grit his teeth. I bask in the feel of him after removing his shirt. By the gods, how I've missed the feel of his chest on my palms.

He allows me to dote on his scars and freckles. I could weep at his beauty. He then sinks his head into the crook of my neck and I wrap my arms around him.

"My wife," he licks a stripe to my jaw, "I dream about your skin."

I brush my fingers up his hair and tug gently, "Gwyane."

"I miss your taste," he mutters in between kisses. He tightens his hold on me, "I miss your taste, miss your skin, miss your lips, my love," he rakes his fingers up my back, "did you miss me?"

I moan as I sink myself down on him. He squeezes my shoulders and drops his jaw.

I grab his cheeks and press our foreheads together, "missed you so much— missed your touch, missed having you inside me, missed your smart mouth."

He chuckles and kisses me, "missed yours." Gwayne begins to buck into me, arms tight around my waist.

I grunt and bring his face into my chest, throwing my head back as I ride him. He sucks on my skin, intent to leave evidence of him on me. I tangle my fingers into his hair then pepper kisses on his forehead. He smelled of sweat and dirt and ash; I relish every bit of him.

I whimper when he sinks his teeth into the side of my throat before suckling. I clench around him in response. I pull his hair and speak his name. He replies with a moan, grazing me with his teeth once more.

My riding becomes harder. The sound of our breath and the utterance of each other's names mingle with the creak of the bed and the wet sound of slapping skin. He grabs my hips, flesh spilling between his fingers, and bites his nails into me. He huffs, guiding me into faster and rougher pace.

I lean my forehead on his once more, darting my tongue to his lips. He chases my tongue, catching it between his teeth, then does the same to my lips. I whimper when I taste blood. He licks the iron off and trails kisses to my ear, "come on my cock, baby, want you to come with me."

I whimper out and nod, "Gwayne."

"Come on," he mutters, "come, my love."

Pressure builds inside me, and we soon both grow erratic. There is a thick silence before guttural cries reverberate through the room. My body comes alive. The thick, hot, pleasure is so intense my breath is knocked out of my lungs and I quickly feel myself seize up.

My husband, ever dutiful, sinks his nails into my thighs and fucks out every last bit of the melting sensation from the both of us. A hoarse noise rips from my throat and makes my toes curl into my soles. Gwayne even overcompensates and plows into me until I'm reeling. I knew it was too much for him too, and so I supply him with the shaky whimpers I knew he desperately craves.

I feel lightheaded by the time he stops. He rests his head on me before finally collapsing on his back, taking me down with him. His chest rises and falls rapidly, our skin now sticky with sweat.

His hands rest on my thighs. I bring mine to both his shoulders. I pant against his jaw, "that was intense."

He hums, "well," he huffs, "you missed me too much."

"No," I nuzzle into his neck and draw shapes on his skin, "you missed me too much."

He brushes his nose against my head, "I hate to be the bearer of bad news but I didn't miss you at all."

"Good. I didn't miss you either."

He rubs my skin, eyes fixed on the ceiling. Out of nowhere, he whines in a high pitched voice, "OH Gwayne- OH! You feel so gOOD- AH AH-"

I swat him and with a dropped jaw. I lift my head and glare at him, "I did NOT say that!"

Gwayne's eyes fall on me, lips pursing. He brings one arm behind his head and takes the other to my cheek. My belly flutters at the sight of him. He was beautiful like this, shining after our love making. His rough thumb rubs my face, "pity." He brushes my hair back, "I'm going to have to fix that."

I roll my eyes at him but I am unable to fight back my smile.

He smiles back. His eyes soften and his voice is careful, "... did you miss me, my love?"

"Gods," I nearly roll my eyes at the back of my head, "oh, my sweet boy. My sweet pathetic boy who I so terribly missed."

He grins. The lines by on his cheeks only deepen when he laughs.

My stomach rolls again. I speak in earnest, capturing his cheek, "every day, I thank the Seven that I bask in your beauty."

Gwayne's eyes rove over me. He rubs my arm, "we should have another babe."

I scoff, "Gwayne-"

[rowarn]

THEE DEARLY WED !

kyle 'gaz' garrick/reader | MDNI

tags: noble!reader, noble!kyle, arranged marriage (not to each other), forbidden love

cw: technically infidelity (kyle and reader cheat with each other despite both being engaged), loss of virginity, cunnilingus, wet and messy, body worship elements, consent, soft!kyle, piv, soft sex, simultaneous orgasms

a/n: thank u to everyone in the silly discord server for helping me decide on this one LMAOOOO i never woulda done it without you. also!!! don't expect any kind of accuracy on this, it is merely a work of fiction!

; it was decided when you were young that you would get married to someone you didn't even love. your heart belonged to the electrifying Lord Kyle Garrick despite him being in the same boat as you.

8.1k words

From the time you were a child, you had been fated to marry someone chosen by your parents. It was a silly, annoying custom among nobility and one you simply didn’t get a choice on. He was decided for you the moment you were born.

It’s all you’ve ever known. Your betrothed, Owen Knightly, was someone of high standing. It would be remarkably good for your family to marry into his. 

You may have even been content with the life you were given if he had never come into your life. Maybe it wouldn’t have been so bad if you weren’t in love with someone you simply couldn’t have. 

You met when you were children. You were barely five years old and he was a few years older than you. It was one of your fondest memories, one that always brings a smile to your face when you reminisce.

“This is Lord Kyle Garrick,” your mother had crooned as she introduced you to the young boy who knelt upon one knee and gingerly kissed your hand. It was a sweet, innocent display of affection that had you swooning right then and there.

Your families ran in the same circles, the Garricks were on equal social standing as your own family. Every party and gala that the two of you were invited to, you managed to gravitate towards each other. Both of you knew how wrong it was – how it would ruin both yours and your families lives if you stepped one foot out of line. But the draw between you two was undeniable. You could see it in his eyes when he stared at you from across ballrooms, the longing that you experienced just the same.

Fate was incredibly cruel and fickle. You watched as Kyle grew to be a handsome man, desired by aristocratic families from all over the country. He was handsome, well bred, and so kind. You’d have to be blind to not see how incredible of a man he was.

Anyone would be lucky to be his betrothed. 

You just wish it was you.

Unfortunately, the lucky person he was engaged to was chosen for him from the time of his own birth, someone whose status would benefit his family. The two of you were never fated to be together. It was a painful, irrefutable fact.

Still, that didn’t stop the two of you from making eyes at one another every time you saw each other at aristocratic gatherings. 

He was the only thing that made a long, boring gathering interesting. Every time you received an invitation to a gala or a ball, you felt the excitement of being able to see him again.

Even if you were with your own fiance and he was with his.

“Good evening, Your Grace,” Kyle greeted, bowing down to place a kiss to the top of your hand. 

“Hello to you, My Lord,” you smile, meeting his gaze for an electrifying moment. 

The two of you break eye contact quickly, all too worried about raising suspicion. 

Your gaze met his fiance’s who stood off to the side, nursing a glass of wine. She seemed completely disinterested in the conversation going on, instead glancing around the room. 

“Our wedding is coming up awfully fast,” your fiance mused, placing his arm around your shoulders affectionately, “Isn’t that right, darling?”

It made your skin crawl but you mustered up a proper, practiced smile to shoot him, “Yes, it’s just a few weeks away. Oh, My Lord, you’ll surely be attending, correct?”

“Oh come now,” your fiance chided, “Lord Garrick is surely preparing for his own upcoming wedding. He’ll be much too busy to attend ours. What a silly question for you to ask.”

“Nonsense,” Kyle smiled, a sight that made your heart race despite the irritation you feel towards your fiance’s condescension. His dark eyes flitted to you, dropping to your lips before meeting your husband’s gaze again, “I wouldn’t miss such a blessed union.”

“You flatter us, My Lord,” you breathe, biting your lip. Hearing the man you love praise your upcoming wedding, even if it was a charade he put on, made your heart ache terribly in your chest.

“My love,” Kyle’s fiance wraps her arm around his arm, making your heart seize up in jealousy.

Kyle barely glances at her, instead keeping those deep brown eyes on your, “Yes?”

“Can we dance?” she asks, pointing in the direction of all the couples currently dancing in the center of the room.

“Of course,” he agrees easily, bowing gracefully at you and your fiance, “Please excuse us.”

“I say we should have a dance as well,” your fiance says, taking your hand, without even bothering to see if you wanted to in his, to lead you to the group of dancing people. 

You fight back a sigh as he pulls your close against him, your chest pressed against his. One of his arms wraps around your waist, holding your other hand in the air while you rest your free hand on his shoulder. It was a practiced pose you’d learned all your life but it still made you want to curl your lip in disgust at being so close to this man.

The two of you begin to sway across the dance floor in time to the gentle rhythm of the music playing through the room. You stare over your fiance’s shoulder at all the people scattered around the ballroom. You find this entire endeavor to be rather dull, just high society people sucking up to one another in an endless cycle. 

“Isn’t that right, darling?” your fiance’s voice grates in your ear, drawing you out of your daydreams.

“What?” you ask, meeting his gaze, “I didn’t hear you.”

“You’re so cute,” he gushes, clicking his tongue, “Always zoning out. Don’t need to think about anything when you’ve got your fiance here.”

You bite your tongue, feeling your eyes twitch at his continued condescension, “I was just admiring the beautiful ballroom.”

“Indeed,” he hums as he spins you around the dancefloor, “As I was saying, however, that Lord Garrick is an incredibly refined man, is he not?”

“Of course,” you agree, wishing so badly you could look around the room to find the mentioned man just to catch a glimpse of his handsome face, “His family is held in such high regard, after all. It’s only natural.”

“Indeed,” your fiance agrees, “And his upcoming union will only increase their status.”

There’s a lapse in the conversation as you both continue to dance. The mention of your beloved’s wedding tastes bitter on your tongue, sullying your mood even more. You zone out until the music slowly comes to a stop, slowing your steps to a complete stop.

The music starts up again, another song beginning to play immediately. Your fiance opens his mouth to say something but stops short.

“Excuse me,” a familiar, smooth voice interrupts the two of you.

You turn to see Kyle standing there in all his glory, smiling kindly, “If you would be so kind as to let me have the next dance.”

“I was just about to go get myself some refreshments anyway,” your fiance grunts, passing Kyle your hand. 

He takes it gently, treating you like the finest, most delicate glass. It sends shivers down your spines, just feeling his skin against yours. 

“I thank you,” Kyle bows politely before leading you deeper into the crowd of dancing couples. 

Once hidden away from the prying eyes of your fiance, Kyle tugs you snuggly against him, assuming the same position you had before. His spicy, floral scent invades your senses and makes your eyes flutter at how nice it smells.

“Where did your fiance go?” you find yourself asking, though you don’t particularly care about her whereabouts.

“Not sure,” he responds, “Said she wanted to go talk with some friends.”

“I see,” you hum, eyes drifting to your hand clasped in his. His thumb occasionally strokes over the soft skin atop your hand.

“I’ve been dying to have a single moment alone with you this whole evening,” he confesses, keeping his voice low so no one nearby could hear the adulteress confessions coming from his lips.

“My Lord,” you breathe, your heart picking up as you meet his soft gaze. He looks at you in a way you’ve never seen him look at anyone else and it makes you flustered, “I was so happy to learn that you were also going to be here.”

“As was I,” he agrees, squeezing your hand in his, “I wish so desperately the two of us could slip away unseen.”

“It wouldn’t be the first time we’ve found ourselves alone,” you muse, chuckling to yourself.

“There will be a rather gaudy announcement shortly,” he says, “If you can slip away during it, I’m sure that no one will miss either of us so long as we’re back in time for the desert to be served.”

“Where shall we meet?” you ask, all too aware that this song was winding down.

“There’s a balcony overlooking the back gardens,” he says, the two of you slowly coming to a stop.

“I’ll be there,” he smiles at that, carefully dropping your hand to your side despite the fact neither of you want to let go of the other.

You miss his touch as soon as it’s gone but you know that you can’t maintain physical contact with him without gossip and speculation filling the hall. It’s already a dangerous game the both of you play with the way you’ve spent secretive moments alone despite your engagements. You crave so desperately to be able to love him publicly like other couples.

“I know you will,” he bows, kissing the top of your hand before turning on his heel and vanishing into the crowd on the other side of the room. 

You have no choice but to find your fiance afterwards, despite the way dread fills your stomach when you lay your eyes upon him. He’s standing among noblemen, chattering away.

When you come into view he beams, “There is my beloved betrothed,” he says, “Such a sweet little thing, no?”

“Ah yes,” one of the other men hum, looking you up and down in a way that makes you cringe internally, “You are a lucky man, Owen.”

“Aren’t I?” your fiance wraps his arm around your waist, tucking you firmly against him, “Such a lovely doll all for me. Not the sharpest tool in the shed, as expected, but such a pretty face. Anyone would be envious of a man like me in my position with a beautiful fiance on his arm.”

You want so badly to roll your eyes at his insults and pompous attitude. Instead, you tune out the conversation and choose to look out over the party hall where all sorts of people mingle. 

Your gaze finds Kyle from across the room. His fiance is on his arm and that prickly sensation of jealousy fills your chest but quickly vanishes when he looks away from the people he’s talking with to smile at you. 

The melodic sound of a bell ringing across the room gets everyone’s attention. It falls completely silent as the host approaches the top of the stairs, dressed extravagantly to the nines. As she begins to address the crowd, you catch Kyle slipping out.

You turn to your fiance, “I’m afraid I must go to the washroom.”

“Take your time,” he nods, “Do return before the cake is served.”

“Of course,” you smile and carefully follow Kyle’s lead and slip out into a side hall.

The labyrinth of halls were easy to navigate since they were all too similar to your own manor. The music and chatter from the party quickly faded the further into the manor you got until you were finally at the doors leading to the balcony. You push it open, slipping through the opening before letting them softly close behind you.

Kyle stood, leaning against the balcony, staring off into the gardens. He was beautifully illuminated by the full moon and it made you breathless.

He turns to look at you, smiling, “I knew you’d make it.”

“I always do,” you whisper, taking his outstretched hand when he offers it. 

“You look absolutely marvelous,” he breathes, pulling you close to him just like when you were dancing. Only this time, he spins and presses you back against the railing of the balcony. He crowds himself around you, leaning in to brush his lips against yours but not quite sealing you in a kiss. Your breath stutters in your chest, your noses grazing together from the proximity. 

“You look handsome yourself,” you whisper against his lips, “I wished so badly to be the one on your arm this evening.”

“You’re all I’ve thought about this whole time,” he assures, hands gripping your waist, pressing himself even closer to you until his hips meet yours, “Every time I look at her, all I can think about is you. I wish it was you I was marrying.”

“Me too,” you whimper, “Owen is such a pig. All he does is talk down to me. He thinks me nothing but stupid.”

Kyle clicks his tongue, “That idiot has no idea what he has. He has everything that I desire and he doesn’t even know how to appreciate the life handed to him.”

He reaches up and cups your cheeks, hands warm and soft against your skin. He smells so good and the dark look in his eyes, illuminated by the moonlight, makes your heart race. 

He can’t seem to help himself anymore, surging forward to press his lips completely against yours. You gasp into the kiss, winding your arms around his neck to pull him even closer. One of his arms winds around your waist, pulling you up onto your tiptoes so your chest is pressed completely against his. 

“I adore you,” he breathes before kissing you again, unwilling to break the kiss for more than a second as he talks, “I’ve never wanted anyone in my life more than you.”

As you’re hidden away on this balcony, secretly kissing the man you truly love while your betrothed is waiting for you to return back to him just down the hall, you feel tears pricking your eyes. You sniffle and Kyle pulls back, eyes softening at the sight of your tears.

“What is it, my heart?” he asks, thumbing your tears away despite the way more takes their place.

“I love you, Kyle,” you confess. 

“And I love you,” he smiles but it only makes you cry harder.

You pull him snug against you, hugging him as tightly as you can. He hums, winding his own arms around you to return the hug. His large hand rubs your back until you’re left just sniffling and hiccuping.

“I hate this,” you whimper, “I wish I could marry you.”

“I know, my heart,” he sighs, pulling back to cup your cheeks again, “These cards we’ve been dealt in this life are so unfair.”

“How am I supposed to marry that man when you’re all I want?” you ask, taking his hand in yours.

He nods his head, “I feel the same. I know for a fact you’re who I’m meant to be with.”

A silence lulls between the two of you as you both lament the lives you’ve been given. While you both had everything materialistic one could want, neither of you could have what you really, truly desired. 

With you still tucked against him, he whispers in your hair, “We should be getting back before anyone misses us.”

“I don’t want to,” you whine, “I want to stay here with you forever.”

“I know, my heart,” he mutters, “I wish that were possible.”

You sigh and haphazardly straighten your clothes out, “Let’s get the rest of this evening over with.”

“You head in first,” he urges you to the door with a hand on your back, “We don’t want anyone to see us come back together.”

You turn around and lean up, pressing one final, fleeting kiss against his lips before you turn and disappear through the doors. Leaving him behind makes your heart feel like a lead weight in your chest but you push through it and force one foot in front of the other down the winding halls.

You follow the sounds of the party still going, music and bustle of people getting louder and louder the closer you get. Stepping back inside, you notice everyone’s chatting happily and eating cake. Your eyes scan the crowd before falling on your fiance who is still chatting away with the same noblemen as before. You take a sharp breath, steeling yourself as you approach him, plastering a practiced, fake smile on your face.

“Ah, there you are!” he greets with a broad grin, “I’m sorry I didn’t get you a piece of cake. I didn’t quite feel like holding it.”

You suppress the urge to roll your eyes and instead shrug your shoulders, “That’s quite okay. I didn’t want any anyway.”

Your fiance nods, “Probably a good idea. Don’t want my betrothed putting on weight before the wedding!”

He and his friends laugh and anger flushes through you. Your jaw hurts from how hard you clench it shut so you don’t snap at your fiance. You catch movement out of the corner of your eye and turn to see Kyle’s fiance rushing up to him. He catches her as she throws herself into his arms and you once again feel the sting of jealousy. 

You avert your gaze and tune in and out of the boring conversation your fiance is engaged in. 

“Say, have you been crying, darling?” he asks, finally taking note of your red-rimmed eyes.

“Oh, no,” you laugh softly, “I’m afraid I’ve been struck down with a nasty case of allergies. All these roses must be emitting some dreary amounts of pollen.”

“Ah,” he nods, taking a bite of his cake as he looks around at the array of roses decorating the ballroom. “That makes sense. They are quite beautiful though. Perhaps we should have some planted once we’re married.”

You plaster on a fake smile again, “Maybe.”

He sends a smile to you in return before turning his attention back to the other men. You promptly tune out and let your eyes glance across the hall, hoping this entire ordeal will be over soon. 

Before long, the party begins winding down and people begin to leave, bidding goodbye to one another.

“Oh, Lord Garrick,” your fiance greets as said man comes up to the two of you.

“Hello,” Kyle smiles, “I just thought I’d come and say goodbye.”

“Oh yes, goodbye, My Lord,” Owen bows.

Kyle turns his gaze to you and lifts your hand to his lips, giving you one last kiss goodbye. You wish so badly you could feel his lips press against yours again but you know that won’t be happening again for a terribly long time.

“I believe the next time we’ll meet will be your upcoming wedding,” Kyle said as he straightened up.

“Most likely,” you nod, “Unless someone plans to have another party again.”

Kyle huffs a laugh, “I wouldn’t hold my breath.”

You smile at the sound of his laugh. His fiance tugs on his arm, bidding both you and Owen goodbye before they’re off.

“I guess we should head off as well,” he says, much to your relief.

Your bed sounds absolutely heavenly right about now. And you, quite honestly, just want to get away from your pig of a fiance and put this night behind you. 

Before you know it, the wedding is just a few days away and anxiety practically consumes you. It seems like the days pass all too quickly. The apprehension of a wedding you want no part of seemingly making it creep up faster. 

Your days are filled with wedding preparations. You and Owen spend your time sampling food to decide the wedding menu and signing invitations that are to be sent out as soon as possible. It’s a rather dreary time.

One weekend, you finally have a chance to escape the anxiety-inducing manor. You make your way into town, intent on doing a little shopping for yourself.

You’re wandering from shop to shop – thankful that you’ve managed to get out without any of the help on your tail. It was all hands on deck as the manor was prepared for the wedding and after-party, except for you, that is. 

You’re busy looking at an array of expensive, imported fabrics when someone calls your name from behind. You whip your head around and find Kyle standing there, pretty, brown eyes wide and sparkling.

“Kyle,” you whisper.

He says your name again, taking a few, long strides over to you until he’s standing in front of you, “I was passing by and I swore I saw you in here.”

“It’s me,” you smile, already feeling your heart race at having him so close to you once again. 

“I see that,” he laughs, raking his gaze down your body before finding your eyes once again, “You look lovely as always.”

“Thank you,” you feel your cheeks flush at the compliment, “What are you doing in town?”

“I had some errands to run,” he explains with a shrug, “What about you? I’m surprised to see you out and about with the wedding preparations.”

You huff, crossing your arms over your chest, “I managed to find an opportunity to get out of there while everyone was preparing the venue for the wedding. You should see the place, it’s a frightful vision with all the decorations and flowers.”

“Ah, of course,” he hides his laugh behind his hand, “The wedding is awfully close now isn’t it?”

Your smile fades and you hum, anxiously turning to look at the fabrics again, “3 days away, I’m afraid.”

Kyle falls silent behind you, watching as you comb through the materials. Your shoulders seem so heavy and there are dark circles under your eyes that no amount of powder on your face could hide. 

He reaches forward and snags your hand up in his, “Come with me.”

“Where?” you ask but eagerly follow behind him as he leads you out of the store. He could lead you to the end of the world and you’d follow him.

The streets are noisy and bustling, thousands of people going about their day and lives. It feels nice to not be tailed by your servants because this way you can just feel like a normal person in society. With your hand tucked within Kyle’s, you almost feel like a regular couple going about your day together. 

Kyle leads you through the maze of the streets before the two of you find your way to his carriage. The horses idly lift their hooves and step back down, clearly antsy to get going.

“Where’s your driver?” you ask when he opens the door for you.

“Left him at home,” Kyle answers easily, “Don’t worry I’m an excellent driver. You’re in good hands.”

“I’m not worried,” you giggle, sitting back when he slams it shut for you. 

The spicy, floral scent that seems to always waft off him still lingers in the cabin. The carriage rocks as Kyle hoists himself up into the driver’s seat, taking the reins for the horses before setting off. 

The hustle and bustle of town is left behind as the two of you make your way to a destination you don’t know. You look out the window, admiring the view of nature. With the gentle lull of the carriage and the soft sound of the horse’s hooves on the ground, you realize just how sleepy you are. The wedding preparations were apparently more exhausting than you realized.

Your name sweetly being called is what roused you. A soft hand cups your cheek and you open your eyes to see the handsome face of Kyle.

“We’re here,” he coos, taking your hands to help you stumble out of the carriage.

You look around, finding yourself standing in front of an imposing manor.

“Where’s here?” you mumble, rubbing the sleep from your eyes.

“Another manor that my family owns,” he says, slamming the door. 

“I see,” you hum, taking a look around. It’s a lovely place with neatly trimmed hedges and a fountain in the center of the circle driveway. 

“What about the servants here?” you ask, allowing him to lead you up to the grand doors.

“There aren’t any here at the moment,” he assures, “All the servants are currently occupied with my own wedding preparations. You don’t have to worry, we’re alone here.”

“That’s lucky,” you laugh, sharing a soft look with him.

Once the two of you are inside, you take in the beautiful manor. There’s a beautiful staircase and the walls are adorned with expensive paintings, some of which you recognize yourself despite not being too knowledgeable on art. 

“This was to be my home after my marriage,” he explains, waving for you to follow him up the stairs to the next story.

“I see…” you hum, trailing your fingertips over the beautiful wood banister but then pause, “What do you mean ‘was’?”

He stops in front of a door and pushes it open with a soft creak. You peek inside and discover a lavishly decorated bedroom. Being alone inside of a bedroom with a man who is not your fiance was incredibly improper. But Kyle is the man you love so you step inside with your heart racing in your chest. It feels so wrong, this rule was implemented in you your whole life being broken like this.

“I mean,” he hums, “If you’ll hear me out on what I have to say then the wedding will no longer be on. Neither will yours.”

Your heart lurches up into your chest as he leads you to take a seat beside him on the edge of the bed. He takes your hand in both of his, cupping it in his lap, stroking his thumb across your knuckles.

“What are you saying?” you ask, voice tight.

“I’ve been thinking about it for a long time,” he explains, “I want you. I don’t want to see you married off to that pig of a man they’ve set you up with. I don’t think I can live a life married to someone else when all I can think about every single day is you.”

“Kyle…” you whisper, squeezing his hand tightly, “Are you saying you want to call off the weddings? Our families wouldn’t–”

“No,” he grumbles, “I don’t want to call off the weddings. I want to marry you. Our families would never allow it but,” he takes a deep breath, “If we’re not under their charge anymore then what can they possibly do?”

“You want to run away?” you gasp, anxiety filling your chest when he nods, “But that-!”

“Our lives would be infinitely harder,” he smiles ruefully, “We wouldn’t have any of the comforts we have now. Our families wouldn’t support us. We’ll be disgraced by society and our friends. It’ll be hard but it would mean we can be together like we desire.”

“Kyle…” you whisper, eyes wide as you stare at him. 

“I understand it’s daunting. And if you choose to tell me no then I will do as you wish and continue to live my life this way,” he breathes, “I will continue to live with the agony of only getting to see you in secret, if that’s what you wish. But…” he reaches forward and cups your cheek in one big hand, “If you say yes then I will kiss you right now and I will show you just how much I love you and how much I need you to be mine.”

Your lips are parting before you can even make heads or tails of your own thoughts, “Yes, Kyle.”

Just as he promised, he surges forward and presses his soft lips against yours. The kiss is desperate and heated with one of his hands moving to cup the back of your head, keeping your lips firmly planted on his. 

You whimper into the kiss, the euphoria of having your love’s lips once again too much to bear. You feel the bedding beneath you as he pushes you down, holding his own weight above you with one hand to avoid crushing you. But you crave to feel his body against yours. 

You wrap one arm around his waist and pull him closer so his chest is flush with yours. Despite the layers of clothes separating the two of you, you can feel his body heat permeating through to you. 

That spicy, floral scent that wafts off of him is all around you. Your heart flutters in your chest and your hands tremble like leaves in the wind as you desperately grasp at him. He doesn’t break the kiss, even as you feel the hardened press of his member between your thighs. 

The air feels thick with every inhale, a foggy haze settling over your mind the deeper the kiss gets. After a moment, he finally breaks the kiss only to dive down to press his lips to your neck. His hands flutter around your clothes, working the buttons and ties open so the fabric can easily be pulled away from your body.

With every inch of bare skin exposed, his lips touch upon it and goosebumps rise in response. Your trembling fingers grip the expensive fabric of his shirt, needing to feel grounded to him as his lips wrap around one of your nipples.

You whine, back arching when his hand comes up to roll and pinch your other nipple between his fingers. You’d never been touched like his before and it felt electrifying, each swirl of his hot tongue making your thighs twitch where they rest around his lithe hips. 

“Kyle,” you gasp, “C-Can you–?”

“What?” he asks, barely separating from your breast to ask.

“T-Take off your shirt,” you request, cheeks feeling impossibly hot from the new stimulating pleasure your body is receiving. 

He chuckles, parting from the torture he’s inflicting on your nipple to sit up on his heels. He pulled off his suit coat, letting it fall to the floor. You watch with wide eyes as he pulls his tie free from around his neck before his fingers drift to his waistcoat to pull the buttons apart. You follow those long, pretty fingers as they meticulously undo his shirt button by button until the smooth expanse of his chest is exposed to your greedy eyes.

You reach up and slide your hands up his chest, pushing the articles of clothing off of his shoulder until he lets them drop to the floor to join his jacket. 

He’s on top of you again in seconds, large hands gripping your waist, your skin dimpling under the grip he has on you. You whimper when he cups your breasts, thumbing over your nipples as you sigh in pleasure. 

“Will you let me undress you completely, my heart?” he whispers, sounding breathless. 

“Yes, please, Kyle,” you nod, eagerly lifting your hips so he can free your lower half of the last bit of clothes that cover your body. 

He sucks in a deep breath when your pretty form is fully exposed to his gaze for the first time. He knew you were beautiful but like this, with shy hands over your bare breasts and smooth thighs clenched tightly together to hide the most intimate part from his greedy, prying eyes.

“You’re magnificent,” he whispers as if any louder would break the sanctity the two of you have cultivated together in this bedroom, “Why do you hide from me?”

“I-I don’t know,” you respond, cheeks burning hot as you avoid his gaze, “I feel so shy like this.”

He smiles, pretty teeth on full display, eyes crinkle up when he does. Gentle hands cupping your knees, he tenderly strokes your skin, “There’s no reason to be shy around me. I adore every inch of you and your body. Won’t you let me admire you like you deserve?”

His gaze is so soft and kind that you feel your body relax at his assurance. Your arms fall to your sides, letting him see those pretty tits again. His mouth waters at the sight of your perked nipples. 

But then you let your thighs fall open and the prettiest little cunt he ever could have imagined opens up to his greedy eyes. Your folds are shiny with a layer of slick and his tongue suddenly feels much drier than it did a second ago.

He realizes, in that moment, that he needs nothing more than to quench this apparent thirst right there between your legs. 

You gasp when he grips beneath your knees and spread you open even wider. Your hands fly to cover your face, unable to take the embarrassment that floods through you when his face gets closer and closer to your pussy. 

Two fingers dip into your folds, a loud, sticky noise sounding when he parts them. Your clit is puffy and swollen while your little hole twitches and drools messily at the contact. Slowly, almost painfully so, his tongue falls from his mouth to lick a wide strip over your cunt. You practically wail when his tongue drags over your clit, the little bud hard and twitchy against his muscle. 

His lashes flutter at the sound. It encourages him to lick over the bud again. It earns him another sound, like a little reward for every correct touch he gives you.

He focuses there, pinning your hips down when you start twitching and wiggling beneath him. His tongue swirls and swirls around your clit, drool and slick coating his chin and dripping down to the bed. He doesn’t care, the mess isn’t even on his radar. He’;s too lost in the sweet taste of you dancing on taste buds. You taste better than the most exquisitely crafted meal he’s ever had in his life. 

Your hands slam down to grab the bedding, fisting it desperately until the fabric creaks under your grip. The feeling of his tongue swirling and licking your clit is too much, you feel like you can’t take a breath deep enough. He moans and sighs softly into your cunt with every sweet little sound you gift to him.

One of his fingers finds your entrance, the little hole clenching pathetically around nothing. 

He detaches his lips from your clit, swallowing the sweet slick filling his mouth before asking, “Have you ever touched yourself here before?”

Your cheeks flush unbearably hot at the question but find yourself shaking your head, “N-No.”

He sweetly smiles at you, “I’ll be gentle.”

He hums thoughtfully and after a second, he begins sliding one of his fingers into you. It burns, even that minute stretch and his heart aches at the wince on your face. He leans forward and lets his tongue find your clit again, slurping it into his mouth so he can wrap his lips around it. The feeling makes your entire body tremble, your jaw falling open but no sounds actually come out. 

He doesn’t let you think too much about this feeling, using your relaxed, almost brainless state to introduce a second finger. It finally makes a whine break through from your chest, back arching and eyes rolling back into your head once he sinks them to the last knuckle. 

You never would have thought that something like this could feel so good. Your brain feels hazy, like no coherent thoughts can form. All you can focus on is how wonderful it feels to have Kyle’s thick fingers stuffed inside you while his pretty lips suckle on your sensitive clit. 

“K-Kyle!” you wail, feeling a hot ball swell up in your tummy.

“What is it, my heart?” he coos, looking up at you through his lashes. 

“I-Is it supposed to feel like this?” you meekly ask, lips swollen from biting them through your pleasure.

“Like what?” he asks, slowly moving his fingers snug inside your walls, careful not to hurt you. You’re coating them in sweet, syrupy slick and it’s a marvelous sight.

You twitch when he does that, your head falling back against the pillows, “Good.”

“You deserve nothing but pleasure, my heart,” he coos, eyes locking back onto the sight of his fingers stuffed inside your cunt. 

When he pulls them back, they’re coating in a milky white sheen. The sight makes him moan under his breath, carefully fucking you with them in preparation for something bigger. He keeps the pace slow, not wanting to overwhelm you with pleasure. His fingers crook upwards, hitting that gooey little spot inside that makes your hips buck up. Your cheeks burn when you hear the filthy, wet, sticky noises that come from where he’s fucking you open on his fingers.

He can’t believe he gets to see you like this; open and exposed for him. Any ounce of shyness has completely evaporated, allowing him full view of you in your basest, dirtiest state. 

“I’m a lucky man,” he huffs to himself, still fucking his fingers into that perfect spot in your cunt. You’re making the sweetest sounds and twitching so cutely on the bed from how good he’s making you feel on just his fingers alone.

You can’t even bring yourself to answer, too consumed with how fucking good it feels being fucked with his fingers. While you’re too dizzy to even think straight, he brings a third finger to your hole. 

It burns when he pushes it in but he brings his thumb up to rub your clit. You relax again, pain and pleasure mixing intoxicatingly, allowing the third digit to easily slide in alongside the others. 

He has you worked open on his three fingers, fuller than you’ve ever been in your life. You’re so hot and wet inside that it feels like his skin is burning, he can’t wait to know what it feels like to have you speared on his cock. 

“K-Kyle, wait!” you wail, reaching down to grip his wrist.

He freezes, letting you push his hand away. His fingers slide out of your cunt, your little hole clenching around nothing now that it was empty.

“What is it?” he asks, panic gripping his throat, “Did I hurt you?”

“N-No, I just…” you’re panting as you clumsily sit up, “I-I just wanted a break. It was…a lot.”

His anxiety melts off of him and he smiles, “Alright.”

“Can I…” you look down at his own pants where you can see the bulge of his cock against his thigh. Even clothed, it’s intimidatingly big. You swallow down the anxiety at the sigh and reach out to palm at him.

“Oh, let me undress,” he pants, quickly shedding the last few layers until he’s as naked as you are. 

His cock is long, thick and pretty. It’s hard, twitching against his stomach as it drools precum down the shaft. You lick your lips and reach your hand out, glancing at his face to make sure that he’s okay with it before your hand wraps around him. He sighs, shoulders relaxing where he stands at the first bit of pleasure on his neglected cock.

He reaches down to guide your hand, showing you how he likes to be stroked. Your movements are clumsy and your grip is unsure but the sight of his fat cock wrapped up in your pretty hand is enough to make his cock drool messily all over himself.

“Can I…” you look up at him, pretty eyes sparkling, “Can I use my mouth like you did for me?”

His cock twitches at the question, imagining what it would feel like to have his cock buried in your tight, hot throat. But he finds himself shaking his head despite how badly he wants it, reaching out to run his thumb over the seam of your lips. 

“It’s dirty, sweetheart,” he coos, “You don’t need to do that.”

“But you did it for me,” you argue, pouting at his words.

He smiles, “It’s different. I live only to give something as divine as you pleasure, my heart. You don’t need to degrade yourself for me like that,” you open your mouth to argue but he pushes you back onto the bed, “Besides, I want to get to the main event.”

“This isn’t over,” you pout but settle into the pillows, letting him arrange your legs so they’re situated around his hips. 

“Yes, I’m sure,” he laughs, “You are quite stubborn.”

“I’m glad you noticed,” you giggle, feeling incredibly at ease despite the imposing image of his monstrous cock resting on your stomach, showing you just how deep he’s going to reach when he’s inside you.

He leans down, letting his weight rest on one arm above your head. You feel safe, protected under his body like this and can’t help but wind your arms around his neck when you have him so close. 

“Can you just relax for me, my heart?” he asks, lips brushing against your ear as he uses his free hand to direct his cockhead to your drooling entrance, “Just relax…that’s it. So good for me.”

You’re so wet and slippery as he slides the head between your folds that it’s embarrassing. Your body twitches beneath his when he slips the head over your clit before pressing against your entrance again. Your jaw falls open as he pushes inside ever so slowly, centimeter by centimeter.

Your nails bite into his shoulders but he ignores it. He knows it has to burn, has to hurt with how tight your precious little cunt is around his big, fat cock. He forgives you for clawing up his back like this because it’s the least he deserves for bringing your divine body any kind of pain. But he knows it will all be worth it when he’s finally balls deep. 

You’re making the sweetest sounds as he works you open, sinking himself deeper and deeper with every passing second. Before long, he balls are pressing against your ass and his pelvis meets your clit. Your walls seize around him at the pleasure, a moan of his own breaking from his chest. There’s a deep ache from the way the tip prods against your cervix but even that still feels good.

You can’t keep quiet even if you wanted to as he begins slowly and gently working his hips back and forth. You have this delirious look in your eyes, they’re sparkling with your pupils blown wide and you stare at him like he’s a god. This pleasure you’re feeling for the first time is hypnotic, addictive.

“You can’t ever marry anyone else now, my heart,” he coos, gripping your chin so you look at him, “No man will ever be able to satisfy you like I can.”

You shake your head, “Don’t want anyone else, Kyle,” your words are slurred as you speak them, “Only want you. I only love you.”

“That’s right,” he whispers, sweat beginning to bead along his forehead, “Only me. You’re all mine, I won’t ever share you again.”

He pulls back to look between your bodies, seeing the way you’re creaming messily around his cock. It aids in the movements, makes them smoother and deeper. He prods against the gooey, tender little spot deep inside of you that makes your moans pitch higher and your pretty eyes roll back into your head. You’re the vision of sin. 

One of his hands finds yours, threading his fingers between your own as he pins it to the bed. He uses it as leverage to work his cock in and out of you. His hips slap against yours over and over again. 

He hits that tender, sweet little spot inside you that makes lights explode behind your eyelids. You eagerly spread your legs for him, wanting to feel him more and deeper. You’re gasping, moans being punched out of your lungs every time he sinks completely inside you. 

You’re making a mess around his cock, thick strings of sticky cum connecting his hips to yours. Filthy, sticky, wet noises of your cunt being fucked just like it deserves fills the room.

“Kyle,” you huff, jaw falling open as your eyes widen, “I-It feels…”

He knows. God, does he know. He feels the way your walls seize around him, clenching and spasming as the orgasm builds inside of you. His balls draw up, his own orgasm brewing inside him.

“Hold on for me, my heart,” he pants, “I want us to cum together.”

“Wh-What do you mean?” you manage to stumble out, eyes fighting to roll back into your head but you want to see him.

He looks beautiful, sweat coating his skin. The sun is dipping beneath the horizon outside, painting the room in beautiful shades of orange that only make him look ethereal. The light coming in from the window behind him gives him a halo, he looks positively enchanting and you find your mouth suddenly feels dry. 

This man is yours, all yours. He’s yours to hold and to keep. No one can keep you apart anymore. He’s here with you in this bed, sealing his own fate to be with you for the rest of his life because he loves you like he’s never loved anyone else in his life. 

From the day you were born, you were told you were to be with someone else. But you knew, in this moment, that you were truly destined to be with Kyle. You were put on this Earth for the sole purpose of finding him and loving him for the rest of your life. 

You squeeze his hand in his when he leans down, pressing his forehead against yours. You’re both panting and gasping into each other's mouths. 

“Look at me, my heart,” he whispers, cock aching and twitching within the tight, snug, grasp of your precious little cunt, “Don’t look away.”

You wouldn’t be able to look away even if you wanted to. He has you hypnotized, big, pretty eyes are deep pools of black. His pupils are blown impossibly wide and his lashes flutter with every wave of pleasure he feels within your pussy. 

Your body seizes up as that tight thread of pleasure suddenly snaps, “Kyle-!”

His lips meet yours, sealing you into a kiss as his brows furrow. The blissful clenching of your cunt brings him to his own end. He grunts as he spills inside you, rocking his hips to work both of you through the electrifying, dizzying high that you share together for the first time. 

You’re whimpering and whining into his ear as he works the two of you down with lazy, messy humps of his hips. His cock is softening, coated in a hot, sticky layer of your cum and his. It’s a filthy mess, dribbles from his length when he pulls out. Your cunt still clenches through the aftershocks, spilling out onto the bed – not that he cares.

Your arms wind around his waist and you pull him flush against you again. You don’t want him to go anywhere, you crave having his body close to yours as you catch your breath and wait for your heart to stop pounding like a scared rabbit. 

He lays on his side beside you, curling himself around your body as he tucks himself protectively into his chest. There’s a comfortable, soft silence between the two of you. You can hear the birds outside as they chirp and you can hear Kyle’s soft breaths and beating heart.

“We’ll stay here for a few days,” he suddenly says, “After that, everyone will begin looking for us. We’ll  have to leave town by then.”

“Where will we go?” you ask, affectionately kissing his chin so he’ll look down at you.

He smiles, brushing some stray hairs out of your face, thumbing over the soft skin of your cheeks where they’re still flushed hot from your activities. You kiss his thumb when he rubs it over your lips, “I’m not sure. Somewhere that no one will recognize us – where we can start a new life.”

“Anywhere will be a good life as long as I have you, Kyle,” you assure, leaning up to peck his cheek this time.

“I feel the same, my beautiful,” he kisses your forehead, “magnificent,” he kisses your nose, “betrothed to be.”

He seals those words with a sweet, soft kiss to your lips. 

this work belongs to rowarn. do not modify or repost to other websites. reblogs OK!

[serpentandlily]

Untouchable V - Azriel x Reader

Untouchable - Azriel x Rhysand'sSister! Reader ✨

Summary: For as long as you can remember, you have always had feelings for Azriel, your court's spymaster. But after centuries of watching him pine after your own cousin, hoping he'd eventually move on, your wish came true. He moved on-with Elain, your brother's mate's middle sister. Unable to watch him fall in love with someone else again, you flee from Velaris, from him. But things are a lot more complicated than that - more complicated than you ever imagined.

Warnings: angst, suggestive situations

➻❥ Part I ➻❥ Part II ➻❥ Part III ➻❥ Part IV ➻❥ Part V

➻❥ Part VI ➻❥ Part VII ➻❥ Part VIII ➻❥ Part IX ➻❥ Part X

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Part V

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Azriel couldn’t keep his eyes off her. Not when she was wearing those leathers that clung to her frame, highlighting her body from head to toe. Not when she had her wings out, her beautiful, magnificent wings. 

She was so effortlessly stunning. The most beautiful female he had ever laid eyes on. He knew no one would ever come close. No one had ever quite captured his attention like she had. His own personal forbidden fruit.

Every night he thought of her as he touched himself, of what it might feel like to have her, to claim her as his. The noises he would draw out of her. How beautiful she would look with a flushed face and swollen lips. 

And every morning he thought of what it might be like to wake up with her in his arms, for her beautiful smile to be the first thing he saw every day. He wanted that more than anything, more than even sex. He just wanted her.

A large hand clamping down on his shoulder jostled him from his thoughts. Cassian stood next to him, his lips pressed into a thin line. 

“Whatever you’re thinking, stop now,” he murmured under his breath. “Rhys looks seconds away from murdering you.” 

Azriel’s eyes flashed towards his High Lord, now noticing the piercing stare directed his way. Fuck. Had he been so obvious? He needed to get a hold of himself. It had gotten harder and harder to ignore his feelings for Rhys’s sister after she had confessed to feeling the same way about him. 

His eyes went back to watching the female Illyrians go through their training exercises. That's what they were here for after all. To check on their progress. Not to ogle at the High Lord's sister in her tight, enticing leathers. 

"He acts like her godsdamn father," Azriel hissed, unable to stop himself. 

Cassian gave him a troubling look. "He practically is, Az. He had to raise her himself since she was thirteen."

"And?" Azriel huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. "She's not thirteen anymore."

"Yeah, I can tell you've noticed," Cassian bit back, crossing his own arms as he stared at his friend. Azriel felt like rolling his eyes. It was enough dealing with Rhys and his overprotective nature. He didn't need Cassian to join. 

"Oh, fuck off. I'm just pointing out how ridiculous he is when it comes to her. She's nearly three-hundred. Do you remember all the shit we got up to at that age?" 

"No, I won't fuck off," Cassian snarled, unusually serious for once. "You're walking a very fine line, brother. It doesn't matter how old she is. He will always see her as that thirteen year old girl he found covered in their own mother's blood in the snow.”

“I was there too you know,” Azriel muttered, darkly. “I was the one that found them, the one that scared off Tamlin’s father and brothers.”

Cassian’s eyes softened. “I know, Az. I know. And I know how much Rhys thanks the Mother every day for that. But we made a promise to him, remember?”

Azriel scoffed. Of course he remembered. That day would always haunt him. He hadn’t even known at the time what exactly he had been giving up. 

“What are you trying to insinuate, Cass?” He glared at his brother. He could feel his shadows getting riled up behind him—a reflection of his mood. 

“I know you, Az. And I know that look on your face. You want to get your dick wet—go find some other female to stick it in,” Cassian murmured under his breath. “Stay away from Rhys’s sister. He might love you like a brother but he won’t hesitate to rip your throat out if you touch her, if you hurt her in some way.” 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Azriel replied, his face slipping back into a cold mask, his voice flat as he stared down Cassian. 

But Cassian only shook his head at him, patted him on the shoulder, and walked away, muttering a small prayer to the Mother under his breath. 

Azriel went back to observing the Illyrian females. If Rhys was so fucking concerned about him messing with his sister, than he could excuse him from his duty as her guard. 

Besides, none of it mattered. As long as that tattoo was on his body, it didn’t matter how he felt. He couldn’t touch her. And she would never be his. 

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Ever since that night in the study, you and Azriel had kept your interactions to the bare minimum. He was still your personal guard, which meant you couldn’t just stop seeing or talking to him while doing business in Hewn City. But the wound was still fresh, your heart was still aching, so it hurt just to be around him.

You had put off answering the Prince in hopes that Azriel would start making sense, would give up on whatever weird notion he had in his mind that he couldn’t act on his feelings for you. But he had offered you no more answers to the millions of questions you had. Had refused to even discuss it any further, so there was nothing you could do but move on. 

Which is why you and the majority of your family were in Vallahan. Rhys and Prince Cedric had exchanged some correspondence back and forth and while you weren’t accepting any marriage proposals any time soon, you weren’t completely opposed to getting to know Cedric more. 

So the Prince had invited you, your brother and a few of his courtiers to visit King’s Cross in Vallahan as his esteemed guests. Rhysand had brought along Feyre, of course, Azriel, Cassian and Nesta. Since Mor was already familiar with the faeries here, she had stayed back with Amren to run the Night Court while you guys were away.

Elain has also stayed back to watch over baby Nyx in Velaris with Nuala and Cerridwen. Some of the Valkyries had agreed to act as guards for the River House as well, to ease Rhys and Feyre’s minds. It was the first time they were leaving Nyx for longer than a day. But they didn’t want to bring him into foreign territory—especially not one across the seas. 

You had just finished getting ready for the first formal dinner here, deciding on wearing something from the Night Court instead of something in Vallahan fashion. You didn’t want the Prince getting any ideas that you had made up your mind.

The dress you put on was a dark, midnight blue. It fell to the floor, two slits on either side to show off your legs. The top was cut into a deep v and ended right below your breasts, connected to the skirt with leather straps that criss-crossed over your stomach. 

You left your hair down and opted for minimal makeup. Just the usual kohl around your eyes and a dark red lip oil. You looked at yourself one more time before stepping out of your room and into the quiet corridor. 

Azriel was already waiting for you, leaning against the wall opposite in his black Illyrian leathers. His expression was dark, his hair tousled with some pieces falling on his forehead. He looked up at you as your door closed shut behind you. You watched his eyes trail over your form, bringing some color to your cheeks.

You started making your way towards the dining chambers, Azriel following a pace behind you as your official guardian. You felt his shadows caress your thighs, cascade down to your feet. You clenched your fists in frustration.

“You cannot deny me and still try to have some claim over me,” you hissed under your breath. “Take your shadows back, Az.”

“I am your guard.” You heard his dark voice from behind you. “And they are simply helping me. It is for your protection, Princess.”

You whirled around at him with a glare. “That’s bullshit and you know it!” 

He stared at you with that cold, unfeeling face that only riled you up further. “You can think what you want, Princess. But I am only doing my job.”

You stalked towards him, pushing him back with a finger to his chest. “Send them away. Now.”

“No.”

You released a noise of frustration and pushed him against the wall. “I mean it, Azriel. I’m done playing your stupid games. Call your shadows off.”

“You’ve never had a problem with them before. Why now?” He stared down at you, unflinching. He flipped you so it was you pressed against the wall now. “It is for your safety so you will deal with it.”

“I hate you,” you growled, pounding a fist against his chest weakly. It was one of the biggest lies to ever come from your mouth but Gods, you were just so frustrated. 

Azriel leaned down, his hair brushing against your temple. “Hate me all you want, Princess. But if being your guard is the only way to keep you close to me, then I will be the best damn guard in all of Prythian so your brother has no choice but to let me stay near you. The shadows stay.” 

“You won’t have me but you won’t let me go,” you whimpered. “How is that fair, Azriel? You said you don’t want to hurt me but this…this is far worse than you rejecting me and moving on.”

“Because I can’t stay away from you,” he hissed back. “I can’t stay away from you, Princess, no matter how hard I try.” 

Your heart was pounding in your chest and you opened your mouth to shout at him, to scream and cry and demand he leave you alone but another voice cut you off.

“What’s going on over here?” 

You both froze as your brother’s voice traveled down the corridor. You turned your head to see him standing at the end of the hallway next to Feyre, his arms crossed as he stared intently at Azriel, who immediately took a step away from you. 

You cleared your throat, trying to ignore the weird tension between the two males. “My earring got caught in my hair,” you lied. “Azriel was helping me untangle it.” 

Rhysand didn’t look convinced but he finally looked at you. His face softened and he held out his free arm, the one not linked with his mate. “Come, little dove, walk with me.” 

You scurried past Azriel, not sparing him a glance, and took your brother’s arm, letting him escort you to dinner.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

You tried to suppress your yawn but it had been another hour of being dragged around the castle by the Prince and you were so tired. He seemed happy to give you a tour, a tour you swore you had already taken the first time you were here, so you obliged him. But now you just wanted to go back to your chambers, take a nice warm bath, and go to sleep. 

Your family departed from Vallahan two days ago, after spending three days here. You had extended your trip to the end of the week by the Prince’s request. Part of you did it to spite Azriel who seemed to detest Cedric and the other, miniscule part of you was genuinely curious about the Prince. But he was turning out to be a total bore. Nice, but dull. He lacked the sort of dry wit you liked in others. He was also extremely soft—too soft. As if he had never had to fight for anything in his life. 

“Are you tired, Princess?” Cedric asked, noting your yawn. Before you could even answer the question yourself, he continued. “I only have one last area to show you. I promise I saved the best for last.”

You gave him a half-hearted smile. “Okay, lead the way.”

He extended his arm out to you and you placed your hand in the crevices of his elbow. He led you out of the library he had just been showing you back into the hallway. Azriel trailed behind you, along with one of the Prince’s personal guards, Lasos. Cedric had insisted that the pair of you didn’t need guards whilst together, but Azriel had swiftly rejected that notion and Lasos had joined after realizing that Azriel wasn’t going to let you two be alone. 

You didn’t care. If Azriel wanted to be a brooding asshole, then you would let him. You weren’t forcing him to watch Cedric court you, he was doing it all on his own. And maybe you had acted a little extra flirty with the Prince just to rub it in Azriel’s face. If he didn’t want you as his own, then he would have to watch you be with another. 

“This is the Queen’s quarters,” Cedric announced as he came to a stop in front of two large double doors. “This is where my future wife would live.”

“The Queen lives separate from the King?” you questioned as he pushed the doors open, revealing a lavish sitting area. The walls and floor were made of white marble like the rest of the castle, gold embellishments decorating the interior. 

“If she chooses to,” Cedric smiled. “This is simply a space for her to have all to her own, to use for whatever she wishes. There is a similar area in the main castle where my parents live. My mother uses it as a music room.” 

“That’s lovely,” you replied with a bow of your head. 

Cedric went to close the doors before either guard could enter, but Azriel quickly stuck a hand out and stopped him with a glare. “It is improper to be behind closed doors with an unwed female,” he growled.

You wanted to roll your eyes. Since when the hell did the Night Court ever care about that? Cedric’s eyebrows rose but he gave the shadowsinger a nod. “Of course, my apologies.”

You turned your back to them, not interested in watching them have another one of their dick measuring contests. It had been like that the whole week so far. Instead you walked towards the window on the other side of the room that overlooked the gardens. 

You nearly jumped in fright as two hands ghosted over your waist and a sudden presence was behind you. It wasn’t the first time the Prince had touched you, but it certainly was the most intimate. You had occasionally brushed hands, shared a kiss on the cheek, perhaps walked too close together, and shared some charged looks in the past couple days. 

“It’s a beautiful view, isn’t it?” Cedric asked, leaning down to whisper in your ear. 

You blushed a bit at his closeness, swallowing before answering him. “Yes, the gardens here are gorgeous.” 

“Not quite as beautiful as you, though,” Cedric whispered, moving your hair to one shoulder. Your eyes widened as he pressed a soft kiss against your neck. And then another. His lips brushed against your ear and you gasped. “Never quite as beautiful as you, Princess.”

“Prince Cedric,” you mumbled. “We are not alone.”

He twisted you in his arms until you were facing him, his bright blue eyes sparkling. “Lasos is my most trusted guard. I can assure you he won’t speak a word of our transgressions.” 

You peaked at the male in question from over Cedric’s shoulder. Lasos had already turned around, his back facing the two of you. But then you looked at Azriel to see him intently staring at you, anger in his eyes. You were reminded of a time like this only a few weeks ago. Except it had been you watching Azriel and Elain.

So when Cedric asked, “What about your guard? Do you trust him to keep your secrets?” You smiled as you continued to stare at Azriel, whose anger was morphing into rage and whispered back, “Yes.” 

And let the Prince crash his lips against yours. 

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

You hummed to yourself as you brushed your hair, sitting at the vanity in your guest room. You were surprisingly feeling a bit more light after your time with the Vallahan Prince. You two hadn’t gone any further than kissing, especially considering you were never truly alone, but it felt nice to be wanted by someone. You were a bit sad that your time here was coming to an end. 

Soon you’d be back home. Back to reality. 

You set down the brush and stared at your reflection in the mirror with a sigh. You weren’t sure what you were going to do if Azriel started up again with Elain. You had no idea if what he had told you was true because everything he had said to you that night had only confused you. In the few weeks since then, you hadn’t noticed them together but you didn’t exactly go looking for them—not wanting to see something that would further hurt you. 

He still made no sense to you. You had seen the way he looked at you, watched you, like a starved male. Seen the anger on his face every time the Prince so much as brushed his hand against yours. His behavior was just so confusing. 

You would be returning to the Night Court tomorrow after sharing one last meal with the Prince and his courtiers. You wondered if he would ask you then, about his marriage proposal. Neither of you had brought it up in the time you had been here but you hadn’t forgotten. But you didn’t want a marriage that felt like a contract. You wanted to marry someone you loved.

And you did love someone…just not the Prince. But perhaps you could.

Your eyes focused on the mirror in front of you as you noticed darkness forming in the corner of the room behind you…no, not darkness. Those were shadows. They whirled in a frenzy, spreading into your room.

And then there was Azriel, stepping out from them. His face was cut from stone, his hazel eyes darkened, his hair in disarray. But there was something different about him now…a heavy resolve in his eyes. You gasped and stood, spinning around to face him.

“Azriel, what are you doing here?” you breathed out.

He said nothing as he stormed towards you, his wings spread out behind him. Gods, he looked like a fallen angel. A creature of the night. So beautiful, but so lethal. You braced yourself against the vanity behind you. 

“Has Prince Cedric won over your heart then?” he asked, his voice as dark as his shadows. He didn’t stop until he stood right before you, so close you had to angle your head back to look at him. 

“What?” You were so confused. What was he doing in your room? Why was he asking about Cedric?

“Has the Prince won your heart, y/n?” He asked again. “It’s a simple question.”

Your eyes narrowed at his tone. “Don’t come barging into my room and act like an asshole. I don’t see why you’re so concerned about me and Cedric. It’s none of your business.”

“It is my business,” he growled. “As your guard—”

“Oh please,” you snapped. “Me and you both know you’re not asking me about this because you’re my guard.” 

“Fine,” he said through gritted teeth. “Then as your friend—”

“Is that what we are, Azriel? Friends?” You scoffed. “I don’t think you want to be my friend.”

“Just answer the godsdamn question,” he snarled, ignoring your remark. “And for fuck’s sake, stop letting these males put their godsdamn hands all over you.” 

“No,” you bit back, poking him in the chest. “This shit needs to stop. You know how I feel about you. You know and you’re the one who says we can’t be together. So stop acting like you have some claim to me, Azriel.”

“Do you think I’m happy about that?” Azriel growled. “Do you think I’m thrilled to fucking want you all the time and not be able to have you, to claim you as mine?”

A few frustrated tears escaped down your cheeks. “I offered myself to you. I was ready to give you everything, Azriel. My heart, my body, my mind. And you are the one who rejected me.”

Azriel grabbed the sides of your face and rested his forehead against yours. He was breathing heavily. “You make this so hard when you say shit like that. Please, tell me you hate me again. Tell me you don’t want me.”

“I-I can’t,” you cried out. “Gods, I wish I didn’t. I wish I didn’t feel anything for you. Why are you doing this to me, Azriel? Why?”

His eyes shut, his forehead still resting against yours. “Because…Because you’re Rhys’s sister. I can’t…We can’t cross that line, Princess. He’ll kill me.” 

“I am not just Rhys’s sister,” you argued. “I am my own person, with my own wants, with my own dreams. That is a bullshit excuse, Azriel. Rhys will understand. I will make him.”

“You don’t understand,” he sighed. But he stepped even closer, pressing his body against yours, pinning you to the vanity behind you. His leathers were rough against your silk nightgown, and your body sang at his touch. 

“No, I don’t,” you breathed out, closing your own eyes. His scent was so intoxicating; his presence so overwhelming. You couldn’t think this close to him. Couldn’t focus on anything but your desperate need for him. “I don’t understand why you’re doing this to me, Azriel. To us. You said you never wanted to hurt me but can’t you see how much you are by doing this? By telling me you want me as much as I want you but denying us the chance to be together? Can’t you see how much it hurts me.”

“I don’t care anymore, Princess. I don’t care if it hurts you as much as it hurts me,” Azriel growled. “I’m done trying to be a better male. I can’t watch you be with other males, can’t watch them put their filthy hands all over you. Not when I want you as my own.” 

Your eyes blinked open, staring into the hazel ones already watching you. You could see the pain behind his own eyes, the longing, the want. They were a mirror to your own.

“So have me,” you whispered. 

You saw the break in his resolve just a second before Azriel crashed his lips into yours. Your eyes fluttered shut and you were stunned but as soon as you realized what was happening, you threw your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. He moaned against your mouth, one of his hands sliding up the back of your neck into your hair as he deepened the kiss, so full of passion, so full of love. 

Butterflies erupted in your stomach, fire lit its course through your veins. Kissing Azriel was everything you had dreamed of and more. It felt perfect…it felt right. Like everything in the world had disappeared and it was just you and him. 

His hard arousal pressed into your stomach and you gasped at the feeling. He used it as an opportunity to flick his tongue into your mouth, tasting you, with a groan. His other hand slid down to your waist and to the backside of your thigh. He lifted you with one arm as if you weighed nothing and placed you on the edge of your vanity. The bottles of lip oils, the pots of kohl, all clattered to the floor as it shook under you at his ferocity. 

His hand slid back to your waist, yanking you closer to him as he pressed himself between your legs. You moaned into his kiss, electricity licking your skin. Azriel let out a growl at the noise you made, his lips pulling away to begin tracing kisses along your jaw, down your neck. You tossed your head to the side, granting him more access as one of your hands slipped into his hair.

His nose grazed the column of your neck as he took a deep inhale, soaking in the sweet smell of you. “Say it again. Tell me you want this.”

“I want this, Azriel,” you breathed out, panting. “I want you. Have me. I’m yours.” 

He let out a low growl at your words and sank his teeth into your neck, at the spot of your pulse pounding. You gasped and his lips were on yours again. He let out an almost pained grunt, slipping his hand up your nightgown to grip the soft skin of your thigh. His hard length pressed against your clothed core and sent another wave of electricity up your body. 

He groaned again, his grip on you tightening. His fingers were digging into your skin, his other fisting your hair so tightly it caused a small whimper to leave your lips. The pain and pleasure mixed together to create a feeling you wished would never end. But then Azriel grunted again, his hold on you so forceful, you couldn’t help but wince. 

He pulled away from you with a pained groan. Your eyes shot open to see the male before you grimacing in pain. Your brows furrowed in confusion. “Azriel…Azriel, what’s wrong?”

His teeth clenched, the veins in his arms protruding like he was trying to fight against something. You slid off the vanity to stand, running a soothing hand down his arm. That only seemed to make things worse and he crumbled to the floor with another grunt of pain. His hands wrapped around the backs of your thighs as he pressed his forehead against them, cursing. 

“Fuck,” he groaned in pain.

You knelt on the floor in front of him, grabbing his face with your hands. “Azriel, what’s going on? What’s wrong?” 

His hands covered your own and gently pried them off his face. 

“This…is…why,” he managed to ground out through gritted teeth, “why we can’t do this.” 

Your arms hung limp at your sides. “Azriel, I don’t understand. What’s happening?” 

He let out a painful sigh and sat back on his haunches, lifting his shirt up. You stared at him in confusion before your eyes fell to his bare chest, tracing over the Illyrian tattoos that curled around until you noticed another, smaller tattoo. Not an Illyrian one. But a…bargain tattoo?

“Azriel? Is that a bargain tattoo?” you breathed out, bewildered. He nodded in answer. “I don’t get it. Why are you showing me that?”

“Your brother,” he grunted out.

“My brother what?” Your eyes flickered back and forth between his own, trying to understand. 

“He forced us…”

He trailed off and your eyes darkened. “Forced you to what?” 

“Me and Cassian,” he finally said, hanging his head down. “Years after, when you…when you finally matured, I think your brother saw the change in how I looked at you. I think he grew suspicious of my feelings towards you…and he didn’t like that, y/n. You were still just a kid to him…you’ll always be, Princess. And he made me and Cassian promise him that we would never touch you in that way, that anytime we touched you with less than innocent intentions, we would feel the pain of a thousand blades striking down on us.”

Your mouth dropped open, your eyes falling back to the tattoo on the side of his hip. At the Illyrian wings with a blade running down the center of them. Your brother had…What the fuck had your brother done?

“Cassian agreed without any hesitation, Princess,” Azriel continued, his voice full of sadness and regret. “And I knew if I didn’t, your brother’s suspicions would prove true. I knew he’d kick me to the curb, toss me out, if I didn’t. And I thought it was just a crush, something I could get over. So I agreed. But Gods, y/n, I’ve regretted that day ever since. Because it wasn’t just a crush. My feelings for you never went away. Which is why I tried to hide them in others.”

“I-I…” you choked out, unable to form words. This was the last thing you had expected. You knew your brother was protective over you…but to make his friends form an official bargain with him. “So you can’t touch me without…without…”

“Without feeling one of the worst pains I’ve ever known. He made you untouchable, y/n. To us. To me and Cass. It's why I tried to push you away, tried to make you think I wanted others. I couldn’t give you what you wanted, what I wanted.”

“There has to be a way to undo this, Az,” you whispered. “Maybe I can convince my brother to release you from it—”

“It doesn’t work like that, Princess, you know it doesn’t,” Azriel sighed. “Besides, he would never agree. If he knew I tried to touch you like I have tonight, he would sooner stick a dagger through my heart than ever allow you to be with me.”

“I will make him see how wrong he was for doing this, Azriel,” you said with conviction. “He was probably still traumatized by what happened to me…by what those males did to me. We just need to tell him how much we want to be together, how much—”

“It wouldn’t matter, y/n, don’t you see? Your brother might be the most powerful High Lord in Prythian, but even he cannot break bargain bonds. Even The King of Hybern needed to use the cauldron to do that.”

“I won’t accept this! I can’t, Azriel. Why should we have to! We want to be together and it's not fair that we can’t!” 

“I know, Princess, I know,” Azriel grimaced. “And I’m so sorry for making that promise. I’m so sorry for dragging you into this. I should’ve left you alone. I shouldn’t have ever—”

“No, don’t say it. I refuse to believe this is it. I refuse to believe we just have to live always wanting each other and never having it. There has to be another way.” 

“He did put one condition on it, one way to break the bargain. But…”

“But what? What is it?”

Azriel looked up at you, his hazel eyes filled with such longing it made your heart ache. “If we were mates…if the mating bond ever snapped between us, or between you and Cassian, the bargain would be completed.” 

But nearly three hundred years had gone by since then and…and a mating bond had never snapped between you and Azriel. 

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

a/n: omgggg I hope this chapter didn't disappoint! But now we all know the bargain Az made with Rhys soooo it's gonna be fun to see how this all pans out ;) are they mates? or will we have to find some sneakyyyy way to be together? who knowssss ;)

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*if you asked to be tagged but don't see your username, tumblr probably won't let me add it for some dumb reason :((

[elysianightsss]

Regency Price thot🌹🤍

I am working on Limerence and Part two of both mountain man and the pen pal au by popular demand. But while you wait for me to write those please enjoy this lovely Viscount John Price and his Viscountess.

Price sat waiting patiently, newspaper in hands reading the latest gossip of the ton. “Aristocrats.” He scoffed low under his breath. Being one of the wealthiest, best-connected members of the middle class came with privileges but too much gossip as far a Price was concerned. Unless it directly affected him he couldn’t care less.

The doors to the dining room opened and in walked a butler, white curly wig on top of his head, his hands wringing together in nervousness as he looked at his master. “Well?” Price asked without looking away from his newspaper, an interesting snippet about a whistle or a lady down or something or other caught his eye.

“My Lord she..” the lack of answer was beginning to agitate him, he rolled up the paper and slammed it on the table, finally making eye contact with the butler.

“What?” Price snapped.

“She doesn’t seem to be here My Lord.” He said, gulping with unease clear in his voice.

“One of the horses is gone too.” A maid had said a little too loudly as she rushed into the room with the important information. Everyone in the room cringed, each and every servent, perhaps at this point even the entire ton, knows if the Viscountess and one of the horses are missing, someone will either be fired or end up in the hospital.

A wave a darkness crashed through the room as John growled out “Find me who by the time I’m back from retrieving my wife.” His orders were clear as crystal as he rushed from the room, Simon, his number two following swiftly after him.

“My horse Simon.” John grunted pulling out his pocket watch from his jacket. After years of being married to you, he always knew exactly where to find you based on the time of day it was or day of the week.

You thrived in order and schedules, one of the many things that he loved about you. Loved knowing he didn’t have to worry where you’d be at eleven in the morning. Always the drawing room catching up the on stitching you’ve been putting off, frustrated when the cross stitch didn’t form the absolute way you wanted it to.

Simon, ever the loyal to a fault number two replied quickly and lowly, “Yes Viscount.” He began to rush ahead of John making it to the stables before him and barking orders at the stable boys to fetch the masters horse and saddle. Price didn’t bother with riding clothes or shoes, simply latching his everyday boot into the stirrup and hoisting himself up into his horse.

“Shall I follow My Lord?” Simon asked head bowed as usual.

“If you wish.” John didn’t stick around after that, whipping his reigns and taking off on the beautiful brown stallion. “Come on boy, we’ve not got long before it rains!” John shouted to his horse as if the creature actually understood him, though in his fear he did not care.

The looks of the sky had him worried, the last time you went riding in the rain you caught pneumonia. He remembers how you shivered, how you were covered in sweat yet cold and how you burned to the touch. He never wishes to see you that way again. These thoughts had him pushing his horse harder to get to you faster. By the cherry tree you should be, and oh does he hope you are.

You however had just become done with your rage fit and were about to leave. Stupid Miss Carmichael, one of the bitchiest women in the ton. Not even married and yet she had the gall to mock you about not getting around to giving John a child yet. Joking about possible infertility, the words made you sick as did her audacity.

You had been married to your husband two years now and yes you were yet to bore him a child. Though the first year of your marriage, due to it being a simple arrangement, you spent it away from him. Always avoiding him, even on your wedding night you locked yourself in your room.

Though finally he managed to get you to open up to him, taught you many things, you began to love him. He had loved you however since the first moment he saw you. More so when you had advertently put him in his place after he was rude to a servant.

You had spent the second year, still getting to know each other and becoming one as husband and wife didn’t happen until three months ago. It had been essentially two years of little innocent hand touches here and there, longing looks and John standing too close to you at balls and events just so he could feel your warmth and smell your scent for longer. You were both still making up for lost time, having children was not at the forefront of your minds. Well not yours anyway.

You sighed glancing at the horse you’d rode here on, you’d best get back to join John for breakfast was your first thought. Even though it would take barely a minute for him to see you were upset and demand who had made you that way. You didn’t need to put your burden on him as much as he always insisted that’s exactly what you’re supposed to do as his wife.

Blinking up at the sky, you saw rain clouds rolling in and started to feel the drizzle of water falling down from above. Then a clap of thunder and you instantly regretted your decision to ride out here after your awful interaction with Miss Carmichael earlier. “Wonderful.” You sighed annoyed as you pulled your cloak hood over your head and made your way back to the black horse waiting patiently for you. One last look at the cherry tree and you set off into the eye of the storm.

“That’s it girl yah!” You whipped your reigns, both feet tight in the stirrups. You never rode side saddle like most women do, preferring to ride properly. Just as the cherry tree was almost out of a view, the most spectacular sight came bounding toward you. Your husband Viscount John Price gallantly riding his brown steed toward you.

“Darling!” His yell was so quiet in the midst of the rain and thunder, though it was enough to have you stopping your horse and remaining stationary as he began to slow down the closer to you he got.

Pulling on the reigns John came to a halt, horses next to one another legs touching. “Before you say anything,” you began blinking up at your handsome husband who was staring down at you heatedly, he nods encouraging you to go on. “It wasn’t raining when I started riding.”

You give him a smile, and despite the fact that you’re wet through, chilled to the bone, and as far as John is concerned in desperate need of a hot bath, he thinks you’re the most beautiful sight to behold. He smiles back leaning in close to you until his nose brushes against yours, his strong hand coming up to cup your jaw as he whispers into your mouth, looking you dead in the eyes.

“I’m not mad my love, but make no mistake, once you’re warm and dry I plan to bend you over my desk and fuck you from behind. Keep you stuffed with my cum all day, then you can tell me the reason for your riding today and who I need to talk to.”

[storiesofsvu]

Decadent Desires Ch 5

Emily Prentiss x reader warnings: language, alcohol, sexually charged conversation, smut, oral, sex toys/strap ons, nothing too crazy this time, some minor kink talk

Over the course of the next week you noticed that Emily was slipping into her sugar mommy role quite well. An extra ten dollars in your Venmo for coffee and a pastry one day, a few good morning texts, wishing for you to have a good day, take out delivered to your office on the day you mentioned forgetting to grab your lunch. The meals or snacks seemed to be the biggest ones, she knew you worked insane hours and were likely working into the evenings most of the time as well, checking that you were still at the office before she would have something sent over.

You were in your office late Wednesday afternoon, finally finishing up the extra workload when there was a brief knock on your door.

“Yeah?” You called out, glancing up from your laptop to find Heather entering the office with a potted bouquet in her hands.

“Jaydyn dropped this off to my office this morning, I just got around to reading the card.” Placing it down on a side table she swiped the card, “and considering I’m the instigator, these are not for me.” She extended it out to you and you flipped it around.

‘St Regis. 8pm, Friday.                                E.’

“You better not be planning to keep me late Friday.” You commented, tucking the card into your agenda.

“What’re we going to do with her?” Heather asked with a huff, dropping into one of the chairs across from your desk and your brow furrowed.

“Emily?”

“No, Jaydyn.” She glanced toward you, “she’s messed up four times this week alone. Can you take care of her?”

“I’m not HR Heather…” you warned, “do it yourself.”

“If I sort it before Monday, you’re going to have to take on the press conference with Sharp.” She countered and you rolled your eyes, tossing an eraser in her direction.

“I’ll draw up the termination paperwork but that’s as far as I go.”

“Thank you.” She smiled, “I would certainly hate all the deliveries you’ve gotten to go to waste.”

You let out a soft sigh, glancing up to the flowers, “about that… I’m sorry. I’ll tell her not at work from now on.”

“Oh by all means don’t let me stop you. Just make sure to lock your door if you’re fucking in your office.”

“Heather!” You groaned, feeling your cheeks burning.

“Oh please.” She smirked, “so… how was it?”

“What?” You looked up from your laptop, turning your attention to the other woman.

“Sweetheart, you know I have a standing reservation at The Conrad.”

“Ohhh… that explains the bondage straps under the bed.” You teased, “and here I was thinking that was a progressive new amenity.”

“How was the date?”

“It was fine, good.”

“Fine? Come on, I’m trying to help you out here. What’s the issue? She’s got money, she’s gorgeous, I enjoy her company, and I don’t know why but there’s an air about her that says she’s fantastic in the bedroom and lord knows you’re pent up enough you need to get laid.”

“Gee… I wonder why that might be.” You replied dryly and she laughed.

“All I’m saying is I saw two of my friends struggling with the same issue and figured I should put them in contact.”

“You really should think about financing a sugar matchmaker.” You noted, “and the date was good. She got called into work, I think she’s out in Nevada right now chasing down some psychopath.”

“Shame.” She replied with a breath, standing from her chair, “I was hoping for the dirty details.” She shot you a wink before turning to head to the door.

“Couldn’t if I wanted to, signed an NDA.” You lied, though you were quickly caught in it as she called over her shoulder.

“I know for a fact you didn’t, who do you think drew up her paperwork?”

“Fuck.” You muttered, letting out a huff of a laugh and shaking your head as the other woman left the room and you were finally able to return back to your work.

When Friday finally rolled around Heather was quick to kick you out of the office well before your usual finishing time, once again suggesting a few specific clothing options for you to wear that night. After showering you were flicking through your closet and realized she was right, pulling out a tighter plum cocktail dress to slip into. You poured a glass of wine while you redid your make up to help calm any last minute nerves and called an Uber shortly before eight o’clock.

The St Regis had a stunningly gorgeous lobby and even though the room was rather busy considering it was Friday, you spotted Emily fairly quickly. She was settled into one of the couches, very fitted dress pants and a stylish navy top, her hair loose around her shoulders. As you made your way over to her she glanced up, catching your eye as a smile crept onto her lips.

“You weren’t kidding about your punctuality.” She greeted, standing from the couch and you chuckled.

“Last I heard, it was incredibly rude to keep a gorgeous woman waiting.” You replied, stepping forward to kiss her cheek as she did the same to you. Her hand lingered on your side, sweeping across to your lower back as she fell in step beside you, nudging you in the direction of the restaurant.

“I’m glad I was on time then.” Emily half teased and you let out a small laugh.

“Even if I tried I couldn’t have been late, I’ve been thinking about this dinner all day.”

“You’re telling me.” She nearly groaned, “I’ve been surviving off shitty hotel room service and small town take out all week.”

“I’m going to assume that’s all very limited.”

“Egg bagels for breakfast, bologna sandwiches at the precinct and burgers every night. I am more than ready for a change.”

“It sounds like you definitely deserve the treat then.”

Emily’s hand slipped off your back as you approached the check in stand at Alhambra, giving the host a friendly greeting before they led you to your table. A cozy little corner of the restaurant, settled up against the window was the perfect place, just far enough away from the bulk of the crowd you wouldn’t have to worry about eavesdroppers. It didn’t take long to decide on a bottle of red to share and you settled in, exploring the menu while you caught up with each other after the long week.

There was a slight sense of eagerness mixed with a hint of nerves floating around the table, the desire to skip the meal entirely and head directly upstairs sitting in the back of your minds. That desire was nearly too strong and partially won when Emily suggested skipping straight to the entrée course and you were quick to agree that nothing on the appetizer menu was really jumping out to you. When your server came back to check on the table and pour out wine for the two of you, dinner was ordered, menus taken away and after a few sips of wine you could finally start to focus on each other.

“Thank you, for the flowers by the way.” You smiled softly over the rim of your glass, “they’re gorgeous.”

“I should have asked about sending them to your work.” She replied, an apology written across her face, “I didn’t realize until it was too late that I didn’t have your home address.”

“It’s fine.” You replied with a shrug and a grin, “besides, gives the office something to gossip about, right?”

“I guess that’s right.” She laughed softly, “I’m a little surprised I managed to not get called out for being on my phone so much this week.”

“You’re the boss,” you offered, “you’re probably on your phone all the time already. Nothing new for a team of profilers.”

“I guess. And I’m not complaining, there is something exciting about having a secret.”

“There most certainly is.” You replied, a near hungry look in your eye that made Emily’s pulse pick up, heat beginning to build through her body, “even more so when it’s a dirty secret.”

She cocked a brow in your direction, her voice lowering, “that so? Are you a dirty girl?”

“You’ll just have to wait and see, won’t you?” You replied with a smirk, taking another sip of wine, “I can assure you; I’ll be good no matter what.”

“I would hate to have to punish you.” She fired back and you felt a tingle shoot through your body.

“Hmm.. part of me thinks you’d rather enjoy that.”

She took the chance to turn your own words back on you, “you’ll just have to wait and see about that.”

“Good thing I’m patient then.”

While the sentiment was normally true, it certainly wasn’t tonight. Luckily, Emily’s patience was also wearing thinner by the moment, neither of you finishing your meals and very quickly turning down the chance to even see a dessert menu.

By the time you got into the elevator your heart was racing, sparks flying through your body at the feeling of Emily’s fingertips drawing patterns on your back as she stepped impossibly close to you. You could feel the heat from her body wafting onto yours and your breath caught in your throat. The doors slid open, letting the other couple out before they slid shut again, leaving you alone and you could feel her breath on the back of your neck before she spoke.

“You are going to be a good girl for me, right?”

“Mmhmm.” You nodded, gulping at the feeling of her fingers tracing higher on your back, now tickling at your bare skin.

“Good.” She murmured, her fingers squeezing softly at the back of your neck before they slid into your hair, her free hand grasping your hip as she turned you in her arms, swiftly backing you into the wall of the elevator and her lips captured yours in a kiss.

While she had been showing some signs of uncertainty when it came to navigating this particular type of situation, it was suddenly very clear that she knew exactly what she was doing when it came to the more intimate side of things. Only a second after her hands were on you, her lips gliding against yours and you were complete putty in her hands.

Your hands easily looped around her shoulders, pulling her tighter to you as your lips moved with grace against each other. Emily slotted a leg between yours, knee against the wall right as her tongue slid across your lips, urging them to part and you quickly obliged. Her tongue swept into your mouth and you couldn’t help but moan into the kiss, hips rocking toward her and she ground you down onto her thigh. You couldn’t help but let out a small whimper into the kiss, one that morphed into a needy whine as the elevator dinged and Emily suddenly stepped away from you, her hand grabbing yours to quickly lead you down the hallway.

“Thought you were patient.” She teased with a gleam in her eye and you only had enough time to let out a huff of a laugh before you were inside the suite. “Cause now you’re sounding like a needy girl.”

“Maybe if someone wasn’t such a tease.” You shot back and she chuckled darkly, stepping toward you, gently pinching your chin as she titled your face up towards her.

“For someone who wants to cut to the chase so badly, you certainly are overdressed.” Her fingers slipped into the straps of your dress, nudging them over your shoulders, “how about we get this off?”

Your hands reached behind your back, tugging the zipper down before pushing the dress down to your feet, stepping out of it along with your heels. You watched with hungry eyes as Emily’s fingers swiftly undid her blouse, dropping it behind her before she stepped back to you, her hands cascading across your skin.

“Such a pretty girl in pretty lace.” She husked, her fingers trailing over the waistband of your panties before surging upward and tracing the pattern of the lace covering the cups. Your breath caught in your throat when her fingers brushed over your nipples and her lips curved up into a grin, groping your chest and successfully pulling a moan from you. “Let me see these gorgeous tits.”

You reached behind you, unclasping your bra and letting it fall to the floor, heat prickling beneath your skin at the feeling of Emily’s gaze on you. Her hands returned to your body, caressing your exposed chest, fingers pinching gently at your nipples, eagerly watching your reactions. She stepped forward, lips meeting yours in a lazy kiss while your hands wrapped around her, un doing her bra so you could mimic her movements. She let out a soft moan into the kiss and your hands sunk south, groping at her ass, rolling her hips toward you as you slotted a leg between hers.

Emily barely pulled away from the kiss to scold you, “uh-uh princess. Or did you forget that tonight was about me fucking you into next week?”

“Fuck…” you muttered and she laughed softly, nudging you backwards toward the bed.

“Now get rid of those panties and lie back.”

While you dropped onto the bed, fingertips slipping into the waistband of your underwear to tug them down your legs, Emily took the time to rid herself of her pants and slid the hair tie off her wrist, loosely pulling her hair back before she crawled over you on the bed. She kissed you again, her tongue surging into your mouth as you let out a soft groan at the feel of her hands back playing with your tits. Your back arched off the bed when she pinched your nipples, harder than the first time.

“Oh god..” Your head dropped back into the pillows, eyes fluttering shut and she took advantage of your exposed neck.

Her lips trailed down it, pausing briefly to nip at your sensitive skin, wondering if she should mark you or not. Instead she licked across your collarbone before sucking a nipple into her mouth and you moaned, your fingers weaving into her hair the best they could. This time her teeth did scrape across your skin and you whimpered, heat tingling from where her mouth was on your body down all the way between your legs. It didn’t take long before Emily’s lips had traced their way down your body and her hands were on your thighs, spreading them wide to make room for herself. Her thumb swept through your folds, briefly pressing on your clit and you moaned, pussy fluttering around nothing.

“Such a pretty girl.” She cooed before shifting forward, repeating the motion but this time using her tongue and you couldn’t help but let out a gasp.

“Fuck!”

Her lips wrapped around your lower ones, tongue drawing patterns across your cunt as she began to eat you out. She eagerly accepted your hand tangled in her hair, urging her closer to your pussy, her tongue slipping in as far as she could, lapping at the juices that were starting to leak out. She groaned over your taste, grinding down against the mattress as her fingers dug into the skin of your thighs. The taste of you on her tongue and the way your thighs were already trembling under her touch was enough to drive her wild and she was certain she would never get over it. Knowing that you were this turned on already and that she had this effect on you had her pussy throbbing, dampening her panties as she continued to lick at your cunt. Her nose bumped against your clit and you whined, your hips rocking up towards her,

“More…” you begged and she smirked, her tongue lapping through your folds before it flicked at your clit and you whimpered.

“You like that?” She asked, her tongue flicking your clit again and you shuddered, nodding. “you want your pretty clit sucked?” She flattened her tongue, slowly dragging it across your swollen nub and you groaned, your fingers tightening in her hair.

“Yes! Please!”

“Such a good girl.” She praised, “I guess good girls do get rewarded.”

Her lips wrapped around your clit, sucking it into her mouth and you let out a very satisfied moan, eyes scrunching shut as her tongue traced patterns around it. Emily brought her hand up, two finger tips sliding up and down your folds, teasing you, coating them in your wetness before she slid them into your pussy.

“Fuck… Emily…” Your pussy fluttered around her fingers, pleasure surging through you as the fire prickled just under your skin.

She had an expertise at what she was doing, you could tell, and it never took long for her to follow her instincts, read your body language and reactions. It felt like she had barely started touching you and you were already panting, a shimmer of sweat glistening over your body as her fingers began to pump inside your cunt. She popped off your clit, blowing cool air on it and you shivered, your hand clawing at the bedspread as your pussy pulsed around her fingers. With her mouth back on you her fingers began to curl to find that extra sensitive spot within you and she found it faster than she expected. You could feel the smirk of her lips as you cried out.

“Oh god… yes!” You whined when her finger tips hit it again, “right there.”

Emily sucked harder on your clit as her fingers brushed your g-spot again, pressing harder and longer with each thrust of her hand. Feeling the way your thighs were squeezing around her, the way your hips jolted up off the bed with each pump of her fingers she knew you had to be close, your pussy clenching down around her as she picked up the speed. It didn’t take long at all before you were moaning loudly, pleasure shooting through your veins, bursting from your body and your juices were dribbling down her hand. Your body shook, a whine escaping your lips and she pulled away from you slightly, her fingers slowing as they fucked you through your orgasm.

Once you had mostly come back down to earth her fingers slipped from you and she sucked them clean before crawling up your body, kissing you breathless. Your hand wrapped around the back of her neck, pulling her closer to you as your tongue danced with hers, groaning over the taste of you in her mouth.

“Roll over.” She murmured, lips brushing against yours as she swatted at your hip.

You eagerly rolled to your stomach, the bed dipping as she slid off it and you watched her wander to a chair, digging through a small duffle until she pulled out the strap and a bottle of lube. Your eyes darkened as she stepped into it, adjusting the toy and you popped up to your hands and knees, presenting yourself to her.

She sauntered back over to the bed, climbing on behind you and her hands ghosted up your thighs, spreading your cheeks so she could get a look at your cunt, glistening in the low light of the room, smeared with your juices.

“Such a pretty pussy.” She praised, her hand gently slapping against it and you let out a breathy whine, your eyes fluttering shut as your rocked back towards the touch. “Oh?” She raised a brow, “you like that, hm? Like being spanked?” This time her hand swatted at your ass and you let out a low moan.

“Yes..”

“I’ll have to remember that.” She cracked open the bottle of lube, smearing it across the dildo, “but for now… do you want my cock?” She nudged the head of it against your pussy and you whined, “want me to stretch out this pretty pussy?”

“Please!” You cried out, hands grasping at the bedspread as you felt yourself pulse over nothing.

Emily chuckled softly, her hands coming to rest on your hips as her cock sunk inch by inch into your pussy and you let out a satisfied groan when her hips collided with yours, cock deep in your cunt. She pulled out until just the tip was left inside you and thrusted her hips sharply, pulling a throaty gasp from you. Pausing for a moment while she was buried deep she circled her hips and you let out a satisfied sigh, your body rocking back toward her and she knew she was in the clear, you had no issue being fucked that hard.

“Take me so well princess.” She murmured, a hand rubbing up your back before she thrust deeply back into you and you groaned again.

Emily then set a steady pace, her cock plunging into you with each thrust, your body rocking forward and following her movement back, eager for more. Each pump of her hips you could feel the ridges of the toy dragging through your walls, hitting every spot you needed them to, your pussy fluttering harder and harder around it. Emily’s lips curved up into a grin at the sight of her cock coated in more of your juices each time she pulled it out, that you had gone from moaning to only being able to whimper and whine as she fucked you harder. Her hand slid up your back, leaving goosebumps in its path before she tangled into your hair, tugging at the roots and you let out a gasp, your pussy clenching down around her cock.

“Fuck…” You managed out between moans, fire burning through your entire body as she fucked deeper into you.

The hand Emily had in your hair pulled harder, yanking you up flush to her and your breath struggled through your throat before coming out as a gasping moan, feeling her mouth in the crook of your neck again.  Her free hand wrapped around your body, easily finding your clit, beginning to rub at it in time with her thrusts.

“Such a good girl.” She husked into your ear, “such pretty sounds.” Her teeth nipped at your earlobe, “come for me princess, I know you’re close.”

Her fingers pressed harder on your clit, rubbing faster as she continued to fuck you, your bodies slick with sweat, the room filled with a cacophony of your moans, wetness and skin meeting skin. Emily’s cock hit a spot inside you and you cried out, your hand wrapping around her wrist in an attempt to ground yourself as she fucked you even harder, pulling you over the ledge for you to come tumbling down as your orgasm flooded over you. Your juices coated her cock, dripping down your thighs as your body trembled in her arms before she let you collapse down onto the mattress and she slowed her thrusts.

“Jesus Christ.” You whimpered, voice muffled by the sheets as your body shook, pleasure shooting all the way from the tips of your fingers down to your toes as a second wind waved over your body.

Behind you Emily chuckled darkly, slowing her thrusts until she was completely stilled, still inside you and she leant over your body, leaving a trail of soft kisses down your spine before she slipped out of you. You let out a small whine at the loss of feeling so full, the ache already setting in between your legs as she shifted off the bed to slip out of the strap, leaving it to be dealt with later.

“You okay?” She asked softly, her hand ghosting up your back as she crawled back onto the bed and you let out a happy hum.

“Absolutely perfect.” You shifted slightly, shoving the mussed up blankets so you could at least slip half beneath them as Emily settled on the bed, her arm winding around you, urging you to curl into her side.

Her hand continued to rub soothing patterns into your back as you finally managed to catch your breath, a dopey smile on your cheeks as you rested on her chest. She wordlessly reached out to the remote, turning on the television and flicking through the channels until something caught her interest and you let out a hum to convey your interest. It wasn’t much longer past that point that your stomach let out a low grumble and she laughed quietly.

“You sure you’re okay?”

“Maybe we shouldn’t have rushed through dinner so fast.” You laughed, shifting to prop yourself up on your elbow, “they have a room service menu?”

She leaned over, shuffling through the nightstand before returning with one, flipping it open and passing it to you, “pick whatever you want. I’ve got a bottle of wine in the fridge.”

It didn’t take long for you to call down to place an order in while Emily disappeared into the bathroom before grabbing the wine and some plastic cups, returning to the bed before you did the same. Fifteen minutes later you had an order of spinach dip, potstickers, and a very self indulgent plate of chicken strips for yourself spread out across the bed along with glasses of wine. You were mainly paying attention to the television, but the conversation was still peppered through as time went by, laughing over jokes and getting to know each other on a different level. Once the food was finished, Emily encouraged you to get cozy, that you were obviously welcome to stay the night and you took full advantage of that, stretching out in the luxury bed. She did mention it was likely she would have to take off before she wanted to the next morning, but she wouldn’t wake you, that she wanted you to stay as long as you wanted.

Both of you wanted to stay up later, but the six a.m. wake up that morning was catching up with you by the time midnight rolled around, yawns being passed back and fourth before you were snuggling into the pillows and Emily finally flicked off the tv.

The sound of your phone pinging woke you up in the morning, sun streaming across the warm bed and you let out a yawn, stretching out your deliciously sore body as you did so. Glancing around the suite you assumed Emily had left earlier and that thought was confirmed when you glanced to the bedside table, an envelope propped up against the lamp. You picked it up, finding her writing scrawled across the back of it.

‘Clear your schedule for next Saturday. I’ll text you more info later, but for now, take this and buy yourself something nice.’

Holding the envelope up to the window you could tell she had left you a credit card to do some shopping with and a happy smile broke out on your lips. When you picked up your phone you discovered that it was a Venmo notification that had woken you up, two hundred dollars sent from Emily.

Letting out a happy sigh you dropped back into the plush pillows, you certainly weren’t going to complain about spending your weekends like this from now on.

________________

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[gh0st-author]

dress.

pairing: William James Moriarty x reader summary: Oh, tempting William was so deliciously amusing for you to do. To kindle the flame you knew was dancing behind his eyes, to fuel it in its confines and observe him attempting to conceal it and thaw it out.

tags: fluff, very suggestive (nothing explicit but it is heated)

warnings: as i said it is very suggestive, they also unalive a nobleman

A/N: so this wasn't originally meant to be posted, it was just something in my drafts, but since it happened to be William's birthday today i thought i might as well finish it. so happy birthday Liam here's your cake

Another glance in his direction, across the crowded hall. Another hidden smile from him. You knew you shouldn't; this game you were playing was too perilous, too dangerous. You weren't supposed to goad William like this. But you simply couldn't resist. Usually, you or Albert were the ones who found themselves at these events, because as the oldest brother he had too keep up the appearances most often, but this night was different. Tonight, William was present as well. He was right beside his brother, a picture-perfect gentleman, charming and captivating. It was an incredibly rare occurrence as he preferred to work behind the scenes, not really drawing attention to himself more than necessary. And unlucky for you, all your attention happened to be on him tonight, despite the risk of it endangering the mission. But it was too addicting. The music too sensual. The candlelight too dim. The perfumes too intoxicating. And the game you presented him with too enjoyable. Another taste of your wine. Another brush of his gaze. You needed to make sure that no one was the wiser to the desperation building beneath your skin. You were dancing around an open flame, stretching out your body above it, hoping to not get incarcerated by the proximity. Still, you couldn't be blamed, it was so rare for you to see your lover adorned so dashingly.

It was all subtle. Your glass against your lips. Your tongue lightly catching the droplets soaking them. His intense glance catching the act. And it was fun, so incredibly amusing to for once toy with him like this given the chance, to slowly gnaw away at his immaculate control that he prided himself on so and wore like a mask. You still remembered the words you whispered to him in the darkness of your bedroom earlier today, the memory of them flashing through your mind making your lips stretch into a devious grin. This is a secret, but my gown for tonight... it was bought specifically with you in mind. Much more than wearing it, I am anticipating what you will do with it later tonight after we return. You could still feel the tremble that raced down William's spine, could still hear his low, tortured groan and uneven whisper of: Do not tempt me, darling. Being aware of the effect you had on your lover and feeling the desire simmering between you too was heady, to say the least.

Alas, no matter how much you wanted to give into your desires, you were a performer, both for him and for the Lord you were tasked with distracting tonight. And a performer had to play her role outstandingly. Your secret moments and glances would have to stay just that— secret. For no one could know you were affiliated with him. You were just another face in the crowd, an unassuming bejeweled rose without thorns. These glimmering banquets were your battlefield, your wit and your charm your weapons, which you brandished flawlessly with every new job you were assigned by the brothers. Meeting William and working with him only served to hone them more— a simple touch here, a sweet whisper there, and your targets were putty under your fingers, ready to follow you wherever you wished. Which usually happened to be their untimely but deserved demise at the hands of you or one of the others from the group. And for as long as they and William had any use of you, you would continue to play your part in their plans without a fault.

Deciding against continuing this game between you two for now, you downed your glass and set out to find your target— Lord Brownlow. He was a local aristocrat rumored to kidnap young ladies from such events and traffic them on the black market. In other words, a perfect target to be bewitched and disposed of by you. After a quick search, you found him, surrounded by numerous important individuals. Even from where you were standing you could see his false smiles and his calculating glances to the women around him. Your act already in place, you sauntered over to him, gown swaying with your movements, your practiced smile of awe and admiration plastered on your face. "Lord Brownlow, a pleasure to meet you."

You were a novelty, a new interesting toy for him to play with. The conversation flowed from your lips effortlessly, each word a careful trap meant to ensnare the Lord's attention, to keep him guessing and wanting more. Each move a thought-out maneuver to entice him and cloud his judgment. You listened to his stories attentively, smiled and nodded when expected, and stroked his ego when he so wished. And what an ego he had. He was so filled to the brim with his own self-importance that he steered you around forcing you into a conversation with any noble he could, no doubt to brag about his own status and to show off how well off he was. Still, you participated beautifully, never letting your true nature show.

After who knows what number of nobles, he turned to you, still keen on continuing. "Do you mind if I introduce you to another one of my acquaintances?

You smiled at him mindlessly, feigned admiration painted across your features. As if you were truly interested in anything he had to say, hanging onto his every word. "None at all, Lord Brownlow. Please, lead the way."

Pleased with your apparent high regard for him and your respect, he hurriedly led you through the throngs of people, seeking out the aforementioned noble. Your gaze darted around, attempting to pinpoint the person in question. Only when his gait hastened with renewed purpose, having found who he was searching for, did you manage to catch a glimpse of the man that had caught his eye.

And...

Oh, well, who would've thought? It seemed that tonight was indeed your lucky night, for he was leading you straight to the object of your obsession tonight. You briefly considered the possibility of William having arranged this beforehand, but the look of delighted surprise on his face as you and the Lord neared him convinced you otherwise. So, a lucky coincidence it seemed. Or a fate-given opportunity? No, of course not. Even though it might not have been planned for him and the Lord to converse like this, it was far from a coincidence. You knew William and him were acquainted, but by the genuine eagerness with which Lord Brownlow was leading you to him, it seemed as if William took the phrase 'keep your friends close; keep your enemies closer' quite literally. Always aligning and governing his pawns, that cunning mind of his.

The Lord halted right in front of him, proudly puffing out his chest. No doubt, hoping to impress you with his arsenal of connections— with his importance. "This is Lord William Moriarty. Second son of the deceased Earl Moriarty. We met a short while ago and happened to become quite familiar with each other."

William turned to regard you fully, his scarlet gaze bright but betraying nothing. As you stood before him like this, you felt weirdly exposed, despite the opulent gown— or maybe exactly because of it. You arrived separately so as to not raise any suspicion so he didn't have the chance to admire you from up close. His face was a perfect polite mask, but you knew he was drinking up your visage like a man starved. Everywhere his gaze touched burned so pleasurably you never wished for it to stop. In fact, all of this silence and patience, waiting and pining in anticipation, made you more eager— made you crave more. You wanted him to trace wherever he looked with his hands, his lips. Your own hands were shaking from holding back from touching him.

Acting like the perfect pawn you were, you buried your need deep beneath your vast experience in lying and deceit, using it as a cover to dampen the inferno in you, and held out your hand courteously for him to kiss. Not a trace of a woman currently longing, yearning, craving. "I don't believe we have been acquainted, Lord Moriarty."

Never taking his eyes off yours, he raised your hand to his lips, leaving it there much longer than necessary. The kiss was almost a promise— or a threat. You weren't sure which. "Indeed we are not, I would have remembered a woman as stunning as you are."

You fought your instinctive pull to draw closer to him, to see just how close you could slot your body against his. To get lost in his knowing gaze. Instead, you chose to slowly pull your hand away and giggle behind it. "Oh, you flatter me, my Lord. I am sure someone of your caliber has ample choice of ladies aiming for your attention."

The smile he gave you was pure serpentine curling of the lips, the look in his eyes pure hunter regarding his prey. "I assure you, my attentions lay elsewhere."

My attention is only on you, his look seemed to say. Your heart stuttered in your chest, beating so loud you were afraid he and Lord Brownlow could hear it. So careful. They had to be so incredibly careful. They were threading a fine line, one misstep and it could all come crashing down around them.

"His attention is only always focused on his work, he never entertains the women around him." Lord Brownlow sighed, seemingly unaware of the building tension between you and William. A perfect figure of an older gentleman concerned for the youth, as if he was giving sound advice out of genuine benevolence. "Honestly, Lord Moriarty, you should follow your older brother's example. Now, Lord Albert knows how to entertain a lady. It's not a good idea for a noble gentleman such as yourself to always keep his head in the books."

William diverted his attention from you to the Lord, chuckling gently as if this entire meeting was just a pleasant interaction. A born noble navigating the labyrinth of high society magnificently. The irony was not lost on you. "I will keep your words in mind, Lord Brownlow."

It was getting harder and harder to keep focused with him so close, yet thoroughly out of reach. It was due time for you to leave and initiate the next phase of the plan. Deciding that one last stunt was in order, you grabbed your target's hand, feigning interest in him, but you were only looking at the man in front of you. "Lord Brownlow, I am sure Lord Moriarty knows how to entertain himself. What do you say we make our way to the dance floor." You ran your hand down the front of your dress as if showing it off, but in truth, you drew attention to the way the corset hugged your curves. "After all, I just bought this dress today, it would be a shame for me to wear it and not be seen dancing in it."

It was a momentary weakness, a flash of that fire in his eyes gone instantaneously, almost as fast as it appeared. Oh, he looked so composed yet his self-control was frying at the edges, unraveling thread by thread with each passing moment. He, too, played his role of a respectable noble magnificently, only the slight sharpening of his gaze and an almost imperceptible sly curling of his lips betraying his rapidly waning restraint.

You offered him your most innocent smile. "Please excuse us, Lord Moriarty." Your words were the sweetest nectar, a saccharine phrase dipped in venom. Another one of your baits successfully eaten, another one of your hooks digging into flesh. You suppressed your giggle as you gave a parting bow and pivoted to twine through the dense crowd with Lord Brownlow, embracing him and slotting yourself into a waltzing position. Oh, tempting William was so deliciously amusing for you to do. To kindle the flame you knew was dancing behind his eyes, to fuel it in its confines and observe him attempting to conceal it and thaw it out. Once again, this game you were playing was dangerous, but you were addicted to the thrill, and you suspected he was as well if the looks he was throwing your way as you glided around the room were any indication.

You felt his eyes on you even as you danced, gossamer and silk flowing around you in mesmerizing patterns. Even as you coyly slipped the slow-acting poison in the Lord's drink while no one was looking. Even as you silently snuck out of the room, vanishing as a phantom, before it took effect. You wouldn't be present when it all happened. A ghost, a shadow, leaving no trace behind. Exactly as William wanted.

Only when you finally arrived at their manor, obscured by the inky darkness of the night, did you let yourself breathe. The still air of your and William's bedroom greeted you pleasantly and you slowly made your way in, haphazardly discarding your numerous jewellery on the desk nearby along the way. Your body was still thrumming with adrenaline from a successful mission, but even more than that it was brimming with something deeper— more desperate. William and Albert would soon return to the estate now that the ball had been interrupted, and the fire that you had been suppressing the entire night threatened to burst out. You had no doubts he felt the same. The fun dance you two have been trapped in the entire night has finally reached its conclusion. The most delightful reward or the most delicious punishment— you wonder which one awaited you upon his arrival.

After what felt like an eternity, slow footsteps sounded in the hallway, unmistakably making their destination known, and the door creaked open almost soundlessly. Your spine tingled as he entered the room, yet you didn't spare him a glance, pretending to busy yourself with removing the accessories from your hair. "I assume everything went according to plan?"

His answering chuckle was accompanied by the rustle of clothes as he discarded his suit jacket. "Everything unfolded beautifully. No one seems to understand how the poison ended up in poor Lord Brownlow's drink." He threw you a conspiratorial grin. "After all, they were all too preoccupied later by the documents a servant managed to uncover in his room, detailing all his atrocities."

You nodded. The tension in the room was palpable, but neither of you wanted to interrupt this tentative stalemate you found yourself in. You were both content to wait the other out— another quick round of your game, this one much shorter and much less torturous. Only when the last accessory left your hair, the mass of it unraveling down your back, did you glance in his direction. "I seem to require some assistance with my dress"

With one hand you threw your hair over your shoulder, body trembling with anticipation as he leisurely made his way to you. It was almost agonizing really, the unhurried way in which his hands traced your arms and shoulder blades down to the corset, leaving in their wake a sea of goosebumps. His lips ghosted over the skin of your neck. "You looked ravishing tonight. I didn't have the opportunity to tell you sooner." His fingers made quick work of the lace and countless hidden clasps and buttons of your corset. "That was quite an ordeal you pulled."

You laughed, a little breathless. "Don't speak as if you didn't enjoy it."

William's lips pulled into a grin, lightly nipping your skin. "You wicked thing, I'm inclined to believe you enjoy tormenting me."

You gasped, leaning back closer to him. "Is it truly torment if I give you exactly what I promised?"

"After the torture you put me through I think I deserve at least some recompense for your actions." As you felt the dress slip from your shoulders, silky fabric sliding down and pooling around your feet, his lips caressed the skin of your shoulder. "And I must say the reward for my patience will be worthwhile indeed."

Delightful reward it was for tonight it seemed.

[anemoxlys]

Runaway

“They say a Stark keeps their vows, do they speak true?” “And if I asked you to make a vow to me, would you?” “Without hesitation.”

Cregan Stark x reader fic (mostly finished)

Word Count: 4480+

“Sister.” You heard the most unwanted voice of your eldest brother slur from behind you as he stumbled down the corridor, clearly drunk. “Aegon, I believe you should retire to your chambers.” You muttered, turning to walk away and continue on your way towards the library. “I do not think you should marry.” Aegon continued, clearly not taking note of your keenness to leave. “I couldn’t bear the thought of another man touching you, dear sister.” He finished before he tripped over his own feet and hurtled towards the ground. You left shortly afterwards. 

“I do not know why I must be present.” Aegon muttered, clearly unhappy at having to sit through the many men trying to win your titles, money and future children. “I do not know either brother, why don’t you just leave if this angers you so.” You retorted with a snarl before turning to face the next man. 

“Oh seven hells.” You cursed, staring down at the boy who stood before you, him being no older than two and ten. “You dare mock the princess with an infant?” Aegon laughed, eyes narrowing as the boy’s father stepped forwards. “I am aware that my son is young-” He began before he was cut off once more by Aegon, “What could he possibly offer to the princess except for wooden horses and games?” He jeered, causing the other suitors to snicker as well. “I have a good name, my grace, I could also offer my protection.” The child replied. “Your protection!” A man you could not remember the name of snorted, “Let us see how well you protect yourself before you claim to protect her highness.” The boisterous man continued, drawing his sword at the boy. “Aegon.” You said, standing as the man drew closer to the now trembling child. “Fear not sister, I doubt the child will harm Ser Horton.” He replied, a sick grin spreading across his lips. Your eyes scanned the sea of suitors, desperately trying to find someone who would stop this cruel mockery. 

You watched, mortified, as Horton brought his sword past his head and began to bring it back down on the child who’s own sword was stuck in the scabbard he clearly received a few days prior. “Pick on someone your own age.” A gruff voice spat as the sound of steel against steel sounded. A man with the most gorgeous brown hair stood with his back turned to you, blocking Horton’s sword from reaching the now snivelling child. With no hesitation, you ran down the steps in the throne room and fell to your knees before the child. “Are you alright?” You asked, taking the small boy’s hands on your own. “I apologise my lady.” He sobbed, head turned to the floor, “I am a fool to think myself worthy of you.” “Nonsense, you will grow to be a fine knight, you are simply not of the right age yet.” You replied, pressing a kiss to the boy’s forehead before turning to his father with a glare. “He is far too young to be courting someone of my age, you have placed his life in danger by doing so. You disgust me.” You hissed, eyes blazing with fury as you turned to face the rest of the suitors, “Cowards, each and every one of you. You stood and watched as this poor child was about to be murdered before your very eyes, and yet none of you did anything. You are less worthy than the boy you failed to consider.” You finished your rant by turning to face the only man in the room you could stand to look at, “Thank you Ser…” You began before trailing off at the realisation that you neither knew his name nor noticed the striking grey eyes that stared at you as if you were the only woman alive. “Ser Cregan Stark, princess.” He replied, taking your hand in his as he pressed a kiss to the back of it. “Well then, thank you my lord. You have proved yourself an honourable and just man. Would you care to accompany me to the gardens for a walk? I wish to clear my mind.” You offered, extending your hand for Cregan to take, which he did momentarily. 

“Is the north pleasant, my lord?” You asked, breaking the peaceful silence the two of you had fallen into. “Very my lady, the views I believe would be much to your liking.” He replied with a fond smile. “Tell me my lord, are all men of the North as handsome as you, or did you just get lucky?” You grinned, leaning slightly closer to the man as he looked down at you. “I consider myself to be better looking than average, but I’ll leave that judgement up to you, your highness.” He replied with a smile. The two of you fell back into an easy going rhythm of silence before you once again broke it, “Do you have many direwolves Lord Stark?” “I do indeed princess, our lady just had a litter of pups a few moons ago.” He elaborated further. “I do so love Direwolves, I find them very beautiful.” You smiled, thinking back to your previous trip up north. “You have been North princess?” He asked, mildly surprised. “Yes, never as far as Winterfell though, and not for many years now.” You replied sadly. “I shall extend an invitation the moment I return home, if you are not with me that is.” He returned, a smile spreading across his lips as he finished speaking. “How very forward Lord Stark, whatever would my brother’s think?” You teased, a slight blush forming over your cheeks at the pleasant thought. “They would think that-” He began before he was interrupted, “Sister, Aegon has been searching all over for you.” Aemond muttered, pushing himself away from the tree he’d been leaning against. “Of course brother.” You replied, turning to face Cregan Stark and wishing him a brief farewell before pressing a kiss to his cheek and whispering something into his ear, “I would very much like to take you up on your offer Lord Stark.” You finished, pulling away with a soft smile before following an awaiting Aemond out of the gardens. 

“You smell like wet dog.” Aemond muttered as you caught up to him. “Don’t be mean Aemond.” You replied, giving your brother a quick glare before continuing, “I rather like him.” You both fell into a silence shortly after and soon enough you were once more in the throne room. “Sister!” Aegon grinned as the room fell silent again. “Brother.” You replied, standing in the doorway, “What is it you needed me for?” You asked, refusing to step further into the room. “We must continue, my dear, there are many more suitors.” He grinned, inviting you to sit beside him as you reluctantly walked forwards. 

Suitor after suitor came and went before Cregan Stark was officially presented as a suitor himself. “Lord Stark, Warden of the North, your highnesses.” The herald announced as you immediately sat up straighter and a smile appeared on your lips. “Lord Stark, how good it is to see you again.” You smiled as the Lord bowed his head at your brother. “The sentiment is shared princess.” He replied with a smaller smile dusting his cheeks. “Have you seen a dragon before, my lord?” You asked. “I’m afraid to say I haven’t princess.” He answered. “Well then, you must allow me to show you mine, it is only fair that should I meet your direwolves you should meet my dragon, is it not?” You smiled before leaning back against your chair. “I believe so, your highness.” He grinned before turning to your brother to say the usual proposal. 

“So Lord Stark, are you ready?” You smiled, taking his hand as you pulled him down the corridor towards the dragon pit. He only laughed in response, a smile spreading across his features as you enthusiastically danced down the hallways. “Rhaegon Iksan kesīr! (I am here!)” You called out as you entered the pit. “Qilōni's iā sȳz valītsos? (Who’s a good boy)” You whispered as you approached your dragon, followed by Cregan Stark. “Bisa iksis cregan Stārke, issa iā raqiros, sagon sȳz (This is Cregan Stark, he is a friend, be good.)” You murmured, reaching your hand out to pet the dragon before turning to Cregan and speaking, “This is Rhaegon, he is nice, do not worry.” You smiled, reaching your hand out for Cregan to take. When he did, you slowly brought it up to Rhaegon’s nose before releasing your hold. “sȳz valītsos (good boy)” You whispered, walking along the side of your dragon before speaking again, “ilagon (down)” You spoke before Rhaegon lowered himself to the ground. “Come, lord Stark.” You grinned, once again offered your hand for Cregan to take. “You are very unexpected princess.” He chuckled, taking your hand. “What did you expect my lord?” You laughed, climbing on top of Rhaegon as Cregan followed after, more slowly. “Call me Cregan and maybe I will enlighten you princess.” He returned, hands wrapping around your waist as Rhaegon began to move. “Only if you stop calling me princess Cregan.” You replied, gripping onto the reigns as you felt Rhaegon about to take flight. “It would be my pleasure, Y/N.” He muttered, now fully pressed against you as Rhaegon took off. 

“Is it not freeing?” You laughed, turning to face Cregan who looked pale as a ghost. He silently nodded but the grip he held on your waist spoke otherwise. “You have to trust me for a moment.” You chuckled as he froze and stared up at you in horror as you handed him the reins, “You just have to hold them for a few minutes, Rhaegar knows what to do.” You finished, standing up as you spoke much to the horror of the Stark Lord. “gīda rhaegon, ao gīmigon skoros naejot gaomagon (calm Rhaegon, you know what to do).” You called before jumping off of your dragon. “Princess!” You heard Cregan call in horror after you. With a large smile you opened your arms and grabbed a hold of the pieces of fabric. “I told you to trust me my lord.” You said as you flew alongside your dragon. “Where are we going Princess?” He asked, his eyes now filled with amazed horror. “Where would you like to go Cregan?” You countered, a softer smile now spreading across your face at the sight of Cregan Stark atop your dragon, his cheeks pink and his eyes so beautifully alive. “You are very pretty my lord Stark.” You murmured, landing back on your dragon. “Many people have called me many things, no one has dared to call me pretty before my princess.” He chuckled as you sat down facing him. “No one has seen you like this before.” You returned, lying down on your dragon's back. “Well thank you princess, you too are pretty.” He chuckled, tentatively lying down beside you. “You never said where you would like to go, I hear Dorne has very pretty views.” You suggested, turning to face Cregan. “My lady, you are by far the prettiest view a man could ask for.” He replied, making your cheeks flush red as a flattered grin spread across your face. “If the fierce and scary wolf of the north thinks I’m pretty I must be doing something right, but do not flatter me too much else I will become insatiable.” You countered, attempting to cool your cheeks down. “Maybe that was my goal princess.” He replied, moving slightly closer to you. “Maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad thing.” You returned, also moving slightly closer and then before you could continue your speech you felt lips press against your own. 

“I do believe that is the most forward you have been my lord.” You chuckled before pressing your lips to his after the first kiss ended. “Is that such a bad thing?” He chuckled as you began to kiss along his jawline, “I do believe it was rather attractive.” You replied, pressing another kiss to his lips. “Glad to hear it princess.” He smirked before chasing your lips. 

“Brother, where is our sister?” Aegon asked, storming through the doorway. “Riding.” Aemond replied nonchalantly, eyes not leaving the book he was reading. “And where is the Stark boy?” Aegon continued, Aemond immediately lifting his eye to stare in horror at his brother. “She would not…” Aemond muttered before realising that you very much would. 

“Sȳz Rhaegon (Nice Rhaegon).” You whispered, climbing down from your dragon before assisting Cregan to do the same. “He is most impressive, my lady.” He smiled before taking your hand in his and walking you out of the dragon pit. 

“Thank you Lord Stark, I shall discuss matters with my mother. I do hope to see your direwolves soon.” You smiled as Cregan pressed a kiss to your hand, the appearance of a gentleman returned to his face. “I shall make my proposal in the morning princess.” He smiled before bidding you goodnight. 

That night sleep entirely evaded you and, after much deliberation, you crept down the corridor, notebook in hand. When you reached the gardens, a sigh of relief at not being caught left your lips before you sat yourself down on the grass and began to draw the flowers surrounding you. 

“Princess.” You heard Cregan speak from behind you. “Lord Stark.” You replied with a smile, glancing at him before returning to your drawing. “Sleep evades you too I see.” He muttered, sitting beside you. “That it does my lord.” You agreed, closing your book as you grew content with the sketch. “I am very much looking   forward to seeing Winterfell my lord.” You murmured, briefly closing your eyes to imagine the future you were looking forward to. “There are a few things I may be looking forward to more.” He hummed, his hand coming to rest atop of yours. 

-

“No.” Your mother said after you enquired about your betrothal to Cregan Stark. “Why, mother, he is a fine candidate.” You pleaded with her only for a slap to arrive on your cheek. “You will not argue with me about this. You are to marry Ser Horton.” Alicent hissed before nodding to Ser Criston Cole who dragged you to your rooms. “Let me out!” You screamed, banging on the now locked door. “You are to remain here until your wedding day princess.” Ser Cole spoke through the now locked door before you heard the sounds of fading footsteps. 

That was all three days ago. You had refused to eat, drink and most importantly refused to comply with any wedding arrangements. When the seamstress arrived you refused to rise from your bed until you were dragged form it by Ser Cole, then you refused to stand still or upright, and when that failed once again thanks to your mother’s lapdog, you resorted to hitting the seamstress, not before slipping her some money as she worked alongside a whispered apology before you did so. Until your mother cancelled your wedding, you were determined to stop her from being able to wed you.

“My lady, I have a letter.” Your servant, and probable only friend, Elayne spoke as she walked into the room holding your breakfast. “If it is from my mother I would rather you burn it.” You groaned, refusing to rise from your bed. “It is from Lord Stark, my lady.” She spoke, causing you to sit up straight and quickly move to take the letter from her. “What does it say, my lady?” Elayne asked after a few moments in which you read the contents. “He wishes to meet me tonight.” You said happily, glancing up at your friend who nodded, “I shall do as you wish, my lady. Just be safe.” She agreed, curtseying slightly as she left your food on the table in your chambers. 

That night, you waited until Elayne arrived to prepare you for bed before quickly handing her your clothes and slipping yourself into one of your more light dresses. “Thank you.” You whispered before sneaking out through one of the many passages within the red keep. You quickly made your way out of the castle before moving in the direction of the town, only to realise probably too late, that you had very little clue as to where you were headed. It was mid way through your wondering when you felt an arm wrap around your waist causing you to attempt to let out a scream only for your mouth to be covered. “Easy, princess.” You heard the voice of Cregan Stark speak, turning his back to the street as golden cloaks patrolled past. “I thought you were a drunk.” You hissed, pressing your forehead to his chest. “I have missed you.” You murmured, a smile creeping onto your lips as you spoke. “And I you, princess. Now shall we?” He returned before offering you his arm which you happily accepted and together you entered the tavern.

He led you over to a table full of several other men, who you assumed to be Northerners as well, and three women who worked at the tavern. “Who’s this, Cregan?” One of the men spoke up as the two of you neared the table. “That’s the princess, Laroy. You fool!” Another one of the men answered for you. “By the gods, are you lost or something?” Laroy chuckled as you and Cregan sat down at the table. “Hardly, she looks utterly at home beside Lord Stark here.” A third man spoke up, causing the three of them to chuckle. “What can we do for you?” The second man asked, turning to you. “Wine, please. I’ll pay. Just put it on the royal tab.” You replied. “That alright?” Cregan asked, his arm moving around your waist. “The least I could do was make my mother pay extortionate amounts of money for alcohol she’s not drinking.” You replied with a smile. “Alright then, a wine for the lady and…” The man continued, now turning to Cregan. “Ale, as usual.” He answered before turning to you. “I heard of your sudden betrothal. I am sorry.” He spoke, his voice solemn. “My mother sprung it on me as well. I truly wish it were you.” You replied before an idea sprung to your head, “They say Stark’s keep their vows. Do they speak true?” You questioned, a grin coming across your mouth. “That they do.” Came your reply. “What if we were to say vows to each other, would you keep them then?” You continued, moving closer to Cregan. “Without a second thought, princess.” He replied, reciprocating your movements. “What would you vow?” You asked, lips nearly touching. “I would vow to ensure that you were never for hunger or thirst.” He replied, his voice deep. “And if I told you I was starved?” You replied, causing him to smirk in response. “Are you?” He murmured as a reply. “Of a sort.” You let your hand crawl up his leather clad thigh, the muscles rippling under your touch as the lord shuddered slightly as your fingers carried on up his chest. “Then, I would have to fix that.” He growled before pressing his lips to your own as his hand moved around the back of your neck. 

There was a sudden bang that interrupted the two of you as the doors to the tavern flew open to reveal your furious brother, Elayne in tow. “Fuck.” You hissed, fear spreading across your body as Cregan moved to cover you. “It’ll be fine, princess.” You heard him whisper in response, his hand resting on your thigh as he began to move it in an attempt to soothe you. You watched in terror as your brother scanned the room, searching for you. As his eyes fell on Cregan’s table, you watched as his jaw clenched in rage before he stormed over towards you. “Sister.” He snarled, looming over your shaking form, Cregan’s hand still on your leg. “Brother.” You replied nervously. “Mother has been looking for you. She went in only to find this whore asleep in your bed.” He continued, eye narrowing as he saw Cregan’s hand, “Or maybe you, sister, are the whore.” He spat before he grabbed your wrist and yanked you away from the table. “Ser Cole!” He called as Criston walked in. “Yes, my prince?” He replied, “Ser Criston, have these men escorted to the edge of the city, I want them gone by morning. I fear there has been treason this evening.” He commanded. Ser Cole nodded and he and his men stepped forward. You quickly looked at Cregan, wide eyed before he mouthed something to you that calmed your terror slightly. 

As Aemond dragged you out of the tavern, you dug your feet into the ground, trying to pull away from him, ignoring the slight twinge in your ankles as you did so. However he was too strong, his bruising grip growing tighter the further he dragged you away from the man you loved. “Aemond let me go!” You screamed, trying to yank your hand from his grasp as he pulled you into the keep. 

“What were you thinking!” Your mother screeched at you, sounding all too like a banshee for your own comfort. “Whoring yourself out to every man you saw?” She continued, eyes blazing with a fury you’ve never seen before. “If you would just let me wed Lord Sta-” You began before another slap landed on your cheek. Tears welled in your eyes at the sting before your mother sighed and knelt down, cradling your face, “I just want what’s best for you, my love.” She whispered, pressing a kiss to your forehead as she nodded to Aemond who dragged you towards your room. 

You waited there, furious, until the first signs of daybreak when you, yet again, ran from the keep. You ran until you reached the edge of the city where Cregan and his men were waiting. “Cregan.” You breathed, running up to him. “Princess.” He replied, his arms pulling you against him. “Let us leave before they realise I’m gone.” You muttered hastily. You watched as he nodded and climbed onto his horse before offering you his hand, pulling you up in front of him. “Your dragon?” He questioned. “It’ll be too cold for him up north.” You replied sadly before smiling at him, “You are all I need. Do not worry.” You murmured, pressing a kiss to his jaw as the horses began to depart. The trip was harsh, the bad weather initially slowing the horses, but the further you got from King’s Landing the easier the roads were to travel, meaning the journey only took just over two months opposed to the expected three and potential four depending on the weather. As you rode up to Winterfell you felt relief like you’d never experienced. A wave of sudden, unexpected, happiness came over you. As you left the saddle of your horse, you turned to Cregan and pressed your lips to his. “Thank you.” You murmured against his lips before kissing him again in the middle of the courtyard. “Brother, must you surprise me every time you return?” An unfamiliar voice asked. “Sara.” You watched Cregan grin, wrapping his arms around the woman. “Princess, this is my sister Sara.” He introduced. “It is a pleasure to meet you Sara.” You smiled as she brought you in for a hug. “What’s a princess doing all the way up north?” She asked after releasing you. “It’s a long story, but she is to be Lady Stark soon enough.” Cregan replied, noticing your hesitancy to speak of your running away. “Then, I am pleased to meet you, sister.” Sara spoke, her smile growing wider as she took your arm and spoke of a tour of the keep whilst the men unpacked. 

You and Cregan were wed the following moon under the Weirwood tree and before the old gods, and since you left King’s Landing you had not been happier. 

-

“We do not have to attend my love, it is a long trip, and I worry that something may go wrong.” Cregan murmured, pressing his lips to your cheek before moving them down your jaw. “I know, but my aunt is fighting for her family, I feel it is only right we show our support for her as well.” You replied, bringing one hand into his hair and the other to rest on your stomach. “It won’t be long now, my love.” He smiled, kneeling down and pressing a kiss to the bump. “I know. I still believe it’s a boy.” You sigh, leaning against the bed frame. “I know, however, I have always wanted a girl.” He muttered, leaning against your stomach as he spoke, one hand rubbing gently along your skin. 

The journey down south was not as horrible as it could have been, but due to your current physical state it was significantly harder than the journey to Winterfell. Upon your arrival, you were greeted by Rhaeyra and her three children, alongside your uncle. “Princess.” You greeted, dismounting from your horse. “Niece.” She replied before the two of you broke into a grin. “I am happy for you.” She spoke, pulling you carefully into a hug. “And I for you, Rhaenyra.” You replied, happily embracing your eldest sister. “Lord Stark.” You heard Daemon greet your husband as he emerged from tying up your horses. “Prince Daemon.” He replied, smiling as you walked over to him. “Hello my love.” He whispered, pressing a kiss to your cheek as he spoke. “Be nice.” You grinned up at him, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth before the two of you moved to greet Rhaenyra’s children. “They are beautiful Rhae.” You smiled up at your sister. “Thank you, how far along are you?” She asked, wrapping her arm around her eldest child. “Six months now.” You answered, leaning your head against your husband. “I hope you will be as blessed with your children as I have been with mine.” She smiled before you all fell silent upon the arrival of your family. 

“Sister.” Aemond was the first to speak, his voice cold and his eyes full of anger. “Aemond.” You replied, moving closer to your husband as your hand came to rest on his chest. “Daughter.” Alicent greeted, seemingly happy but as you watched you saw the same hatred in her eyes the night you left. “Your majesty.” You replied coldly. “It appears we have been too late to greet either of you immediately, our apologies.” She spoke, turning to face Rhaenyra and Daemon who both looked highly unimpressed. “I imagine plotting does take some time.” Daemon replied, the faintest smirk gracing his lips as you smiled softly at his words. 

I have a Harwin Strong version (similar not exact) if anyone is intrested in that either?

[fairydvsts-blog]

𝐢 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐲 𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

JJ Maybank x fem!reader

"i love you" in Taylor Swift's lyrics masterlist

summary; your husband gives JJ a maintenence job at your vacation house and you spend all summer crushing over your hot new employee

warnings; characters are aged up (both characters are in their mid/late 20's), cheating, SMUT, dirty talk, some neck grabbing, female masturbation, overstimulation, squirting, praising, p in v, unprotected sex. I feel like this shit is LONG af!

a/n; english isn't my first language, so you might find mistakes; I'm open to constructive criticism. Enjoy!

It was a very warm afternoon in Outer Banks. The sky was completely clear —there wasn't a single cloud in sight— and the sun was shining brighter than ever, but that was not what had gotten you all hot and bothered.

JJ Maybank, the new maintenance guy, was.

As you were lounging on the deck chair beside the pool, holding some random book you weren't paying attention to in your hands, you couldn't take your eyes off him. Being a hundred per cent honest, it had been that way since your husband hired him a few weeks ago. Luckily for you, neither of them seemed to have noticed yet.

You felt guilty for being attracted to him, though. You had been married for two years, and you were supposed to be in love with your husband, not craving other man's touch. But you couldn't help it. There was something about JJ that was drawing you like a moth to the flame; maybe it was his gorgeous blue eyes, his silky blonde hair, or his ripped muscles, or maybe it was all of them together, either way, you had managed to suppress your feelings for what felt like ages in order to not ruin your wonderful —but really boring— marriage.

Little did you know that your self-control was about to go to shit.

You had tried to focus on your reading for several minutes, and to date, you had failed miserably. Your mind kept going back to earlier that day, when JJ had brushed past you in the hallway, remembering how you had looked right into his alluring eyes, wishing for him to push you against the wall and to fuck you right there and then. You had to cross your legs at the thought, feeling your bikini bottom getting wetter by the second.

It was wrong and forbidden, you knew it, but in some way, that made it more exciting.

You stared at him through your sunglasses, mesmerised by the way his sweaty golden muscles glistened under the sun rays as he mowed the lawn. You were so busy imagining how his wet skin would feel against your own that you hadn't noticed the furtive looks he was giving you.

Your mouth almost watered when you saw him grabbing the hem of his sleeveless t-shirt to take it off. He threw it on the floor next to him and then he reached for the garden hose soaking himself with it to cool off. He ran his big hands through his blonde locks to accommodate his hair after that; the veins of his arms on display for you to see.

You swore you saw it all happening in slowmo. The little smirk that appeared in his face just seconds later while he shortly glanced at you gave you butterflies.

You realised something: he was doing it on purpose.

And, oh lord, that just made you want him even more. You were so horny that, for a moment, you thought you were about to literally combust in the spot.

Without giving it a second thought, you gave into the desires you had been repressing for weeks now.

You dropped your book instantly, grabbing the strings that held your blue bikini top in place to untie them. Your top dropped, leaving you exposed in front of a man that was not your husband, but you couldn't care less about that fact. His eyes widened because of the scene occurring before him, but he didn't look away at any moment, mesmerised by the sight of the woman of his dreams pouring tanning oil over her almost naked body.

He had to be delirious, right? The heat was making him delusional, that must be it.

Whether it was true or not, the boner forming in his trousers was pretty real so he picked up his t-shirt, using it to cover himself before he started walking towards the back door of the house. He had to leave before he did something stupid, like accidentally fucking his boss' wife while he was away on some business trip.

"I have finished for the day, Mrs. Ross. Do yo need something else before I go?" he asked in his way out.

He tried to keep the interaction between the two of you entirely profesional and he even resisted looking at your naked breasts. It was the hardest thing he had done in his entire life, though, because since he had started working for your husband, you were the first thing that crossed his mind when he woke up and the last thing he thought of before going to sleep.

But you knew professionalism had flew out of the window after the show you just put.

"Actually, could you rub some oil on my back?" you asked with a playful smile.

You gave him no time to answer and you handed him the tanning oil bottle, turning around after he took it, leaving him completely speechless. He gulped, his eyes looking directly at your ass, only covered by a really tiny thong, and he knew he was done for.

Leaning over you, he purred the oil on your back. When his hands touched you to spread it over your skin, you closed your eyes and almost moaned like a hormonal teenager. He gently massaged your shoulders, then your waist area and finally he reached your lower back, giving you goosebumps.

When you thought that he was over and that he was going to pull away, he surprised you by grabbing the oil bottle one more time, purring it over your legs. He started massaging your calves, moving up slowly, until he reached your upper thighs and a small moan escaped your lips; it had been too long since the last time you had sex with your husband and you felt like you could come untouched.

He leaned in, you felt his hot breath in your ear and he murmured, "You wouldn't believe how many times I have fantasised about touching you like this, Mrs. Ross."

One of his hands grabbed your ass cheek under your bikini bottom while he started placing wet kisses on your neck, making you whimper again. He had to stop, though, when you turned around to face him; he froze at the thought of you changing your mind about what was about to happen, but when you caressed his cheek and placed a gentle kiss on his neck, next to his ear, all of his fears vanished.

"And you wouldn't believe how many times I've touched myself, wishing it was your fingers instead of mine, Mr. Maybank," you whispered looking right into his blue eyes.

"Fuck."

He grabbed your neck and brought you closer to him, your mouths were so close that they lightly brushed over each other. You felt his breath becoming faster and your heart started pounding like crazy when you saw him licking his lips while looking closely at yours, but you forced yourself to pull away from his touch.

"Someone could be watching us, we should get inside," you suggested.

The last thing you wanted was your husband finding out about you and JJ. This was a one time thing, just to get him out of your system. After that, you would go back to being the perfect loving wife your husband deserved.

He nodded, agreeing with you, and helped you getting up. He reached for his t-shirt to cover your naked form with it before grabbing your hand and taking you inside.

"Be quiet," you asked, while the both of you sneaked around the massive house, trying to avoid your nosy housemaid.

You made it to your bedroom successfully and as soon as both of you were inside, JJ pushed you against the door, locking it.

"Can I kiss you?" he questioned, pressing his body against yours.

"Yes, please."

He didn't waste any more time, finally crushing your lips together. The kiss was heated, messy, hungry. His hands sneaked under your clothes to grab your waist with need, pulling you even closer to him. You felt frantic as you wrapped your hands around his neck, kissing him back like you were drowning and he was air.

His tongue slipped between your lips. completely devouring your mouth while one of his hands gripped your neck to keep your head pinned against the door; you broke the kiss, whimpering in his mouth because of the action and he kept his forehead against yours, looking into your eyes as both of you tried to steady your breathing.

"Why don't you show me how you touch yourself when you think about me, baby?" he whispered.

Your heart skip a beat after hearing the words he spoke; you had never done something like that before, yet you nodded, making him smile. He kissed you gently before taking off your —his— shirt and then, only wearing your bikini thong, you moved towards the bed, where you sat.

You placed your feet over the edge of the mattress, spreading your legs, and leaned on your elbow to make yourself comfortable. His eyes never left your body, analysing every inch of your exposed skin.

"You're beautiful," he complimented you, which encouraged you to move your hand down your belly until it disappeared under your last piece of clothing.

You panted when you felt your fingertips brushing your needy pussy for the first time, biting your lip right after. Your cheeks flushed when JJ squeezed his cock over his pants while hearing and looking at you; seeing him so into it motivated you to keep going.

Your fingers started rubbing circles over your swollen clit, slowly at first, but you were so turned on that soon you sped up your movements. You were soaked and even the lightest touch sent sparks of pleasure across your entire body. A small moan escaped your lips when you traced your entrance with two fingers, slipping them inside for a second before taking them out again.

"Take this off, baby, I wanna see you," he pleaded, kneeling between your legs on the bed and grabbing the straps of the bikini.

Yo nodded, pulling your hand out of if and lifting your hips so he could take the thong off. He moaned at the sight of your glistening cunt and placed his hands over your knees to further separate your thighs.

Under his attentive gaze, you pushed your middle and ring finger inside of your pussy, curving them so you could reach that spot in the front that made you see stars with each thrust. You made sure to rub your clit with the palm of your hand, too.

"That's it, princess, you're doing so good for me," he praised you, moving one of his hands up your leg until it reached your chest, where he started touching your breasts, "Wish those where my fingers, baby."

You moaned because of his words as he unfastened his belt with his free hand, unbuttoning his trousers right after. He reached for the waistband of the pants, pulling it down so his underwear was in sight. You gasped when you were able to see the outline of his dick under his boxers; your mouth watered at how big he was.

You added a third finger, desperate for cumming; your arousal was dripping all over the bedding, making a mess.

"I'm so fucking horny for you, JJ," you told him, calling him by his name for the first time, "I'm going to cum."

You couldn't even remember the last time that you had fingered yourself so hard. Or the last time that you had been so fucking wet. He smiled, lowering his hand to touch your clit with his rough thumb, making you moan repeatedly.

You felt the familiar tingling in your lower belly, your breathing hitched and before you could stop it, you were coming harder than ever. Your muscles tightened and your legs started shaking uncontrollably. Overwhelmed by such a strong orgasm, you took out your fingers, trying to close your legs to soothe the sensation, but JJ wouldn't let you do so. Instead, he replaced your fingers with his own and he kept fucking you with them through your orgasm.

"JJ, please, stop, it's to much! Baby... Oh fuck!" you moaned, grinding your hips against his hand despite the overstimulation.

"I know you have another one in you, princess," he said, working his fingers harder and faster inside of you, "C'mon, be a good girl and cum for me."

He placed his free hand over your pelvis, putting pressure there, while he curved his fingers in his direction. In less than thirty seconds he had you coming undone again. Your vision went blank as your entire body trembled and you squirted all over him, crying out his name like a prayer.

It took you a few minutes to recover from the most explosive orgasm of your life, realising you had completely soaked everything. JJ laid down next to you the whole time and didn't stop caressing you for a second while he whispered sweet things to your ear.

You turned to look at him with the biggest smile and you said, "I didn't know I could do that."

The blonde laughed softly, burying his face on the crook of your neck, where he started placing wet kisses while his hand went to rub your pussy again, collecting your squirt to lick it off his fingers with a lustful look in his eyes.

"If I were your husband, I'd make sure you squirted every fucking day of my life, baby." Your cheeks flushed.

You bit your lip, pushing him so he was laying on his back and straddled him, grinding your wet cunt over his clothed dick; he was so hard that he thought he was gonna cum in his pants at the sight of your naked body dry humping his cock.

"Fuck me, JJ, please," you almost begged, still turned on in spite of having come twice already.

"Wait, I have to grabb a condom." He tried to stand up, but you grabbed his neck and pushed him back on the bed, stopping him.

"You don't have to wear one. I'm on the pill and I'm clean," you explained, tracing his abs with the tip of your fingers.

"I'm clean too," he promised, you lifted your hips with a smirk covering your face.

"I trust you," you said.

You helped him getting out of his clothes and your eyes widened when you finally saw his naked cock bounce back against his stomach. He was really, really big. Much bigger than your husband for sure.

You grabbed his dick on your hand, making him moan, and you stroked him a few times before brushing his swollen red tip between your folds.

"Oh my God," he groaned, his head falling back against the mattress.

You repeated the action one last time before you began to lower your hips slowly, shoving his dick inside of your pussy. You moaned at the stretch, placing your hand over his broad chest to steady yourself, and you started bouncing on his cock, trying to find a rhythm that both of you liked. When you saw him frowning and breathing fast, you knew you had found it.

Whimpering, you asked him, "Does this feel good, J?"

"Yes, so fucking good, baby." He gasped, grabbing your hips to help you ride him.

His own hips started thrusting upwards, trying to match your pace, and you couldn't help but moan when he hit the right spot again. You tightened your muscles around his dick on purpose to make him feel as good as he had made you feel before; you smiled when he cried out, pounding into you harder.

"I'm not gonna last if you keep doing that, baby," he admitted.

His hair was stuck into his forehead due to the sweat, covering his eyes a little bit, so you caressed his face and took it out of the way so that he could see you better

"Want you to come inside me, J," you asked for, "Want to feel you filling my pussy."

"Oh fuck, baby, you're so hot...I'm close," his statement encouraged you to start bouncing faster on his cock.

You whimpered when one of his hands made its way to your pussy and began to stroke your clit. You wanted, no, needed to cum again, so you took his other hand and placed it over one of your tits, which he squeezed and started playing with. At the same time, you leaned over him and placed wet kisses all over his chest, feeling his abs tightening under your palm just seconds later, announcing his orgasm.

He became a hot moaning mess under you while you kept riding him through his climax, but his thumb never left your clit as he rode it out, taking you down the cliff with him after a few seconds; your pussy clenched and your eyes rolled back due to the sensation. He sat up, kissing you one last time before he pulled out. You could feel his sticky cum come out of your pussy as you laid down next to him. JJ cuddled you, putting his head over your chest.

"I think..I think you have become my new addiction, Mrs. Ross," he confessed.

You smiled briefly before placing a soft kiss on his forehead.

"I can see you being my addiction, too, Mr. Maybank."

[ravenousrampage]

My lovely lovely friend (who wishes to remain anonymous) wrote me an amazing little snippet for Knight, and has given me permission to share! Please enjoy, I certainly did! Enjoy Knight eating some Goblins and being very unsettling to people!

Could it even be called a knight?

Nothing about the being that stood before Lord Kelvin struck him as particularly human. However, the details were trivial, and the innkeeper claimed that the "Knight's" bravery was unparalleled. He wasn't sure what that meant in this case, but he knew he was desperate and the mission was simple enough.

"Your pay will be ten gold pieces."

The helmeted head of the creature creaked in his direction, but otherwise made no sound. It was unnerving. Statue still but emanating an aura that made a cold sweat prickle at the back of his neck.

It stared at him - into him.

"And five silver, as well."

He tacked on, barely able to stop the tremble in his voice as the Knight grunted.

"My duties begin now?"

The lord nodded and Knight turned heel, walking from the room with no sense of urgency. This was a simple mission. Miss Innkeeper would be happy to get paid and he would be happy with a free meal.

-----‐---------‐

The woman he accompanied was vibrant and oddly chatty with Knight, it was similar to how Miss Innkeeper treated him, and he liked that much better than the screaming that often followed his appearance.

"Such a willowy, waifish fellow. What court do you hail from?"

She mused, hiding a chuckle behind her hand while astride her steed. Just at eye level, Knight failed to notice the cheeky curvy to her lips. Even if he had, he held no interest in that sort of thing.

What an interesting question though.

Knight wasn't particularly sure himself.

One day, his eyes opened and his empty stomach grumbled - he had been on the move ever since.

This plating that covered his appendages seemed to earn him a lot of undeserved perks, but it also usually roped him into situations that did not interest him.

Had it not been for the pay, and, more importantly, the promise of a meal, he didn't think he would have taken this mission.

"What?"

"Your court, dear fellow!"

That answered none of his questions, but he was saved from having to answer as a small creature tore into the path.

"Oh, my! A goblin! Slay it, knight!"

The goblin looked unsurprised to see them there, drawing a dagger to brandish at the two with a bored air.

"Surrend the woman to us. Tell your lord to pay our ransom and she will be returned promptly."

A few more goblins appeared from the brush, each had daggers and bore the same expression as the presumed leader.

Knight's charge shrieked and squawked, calling the goblins 'vermin' and 'monsters' from the back of her Palomino. It all felt very staged… because it was.

Lord Kelvin had made a deal with the local goblins. Once in awhile, when his wife started to drive him batty with her nagging, he would send her on a little outing with a knight. They encountered goblins at some point in the trip, the knight would defeat them, and the lady would be back in her husband's arms grateful that she was alive and that he had spent a pretty penny to keep his wife safe.

The longer the charade went on, the harder it was to find knights who would take such a task and to appease the goblins who demanded more and more each time.

Knight was here to eliminate the problem.

He strode forward, feeling his stomach rumbled in approval when he unceremoniously grabbed one goblin, not the ringleader, and, without warning, scarfed it down.

His helm tipped back, revealing to only the goblin about to enter his maw while lie beneath, and shoved the monster in. There was some scrabbling and clawing - nothing he wasn't expecting from alarmed prey.

Gulp

Completely ensconced within Knight's elastic throat.

GULP

The squirming goblin settled in his stomach, fighting for an exit that would never appear. Another groan from his belly. Knight leaned down and repeated the process, savoring the heaviness of gut when the second goblin was down.

Only then did everyone start screaming.

Knight sighed.

Before the group had time to disperse, Knight grabbed a goblin in each hand, tucking one under his arm and lifting the other over his head.

"What kind of knight are you?"

One screeched, Knight's tongue wrapping around the creature's waist and began to drag the stuggling goblin closer.

"A hungry one."

This one, although it writhed and wriggled, he tried to take a moment to appreciate the flavor. Miss Innkeeper was always getting on his case for eating too quickly.

Rot and earth. Smoky and musty. Putrid in a way that deterred all other predators with olfactory senses, but not Knight.

He took his time, taking a few shallow gulps and feeling his throat bulge as his muscles worked hard to drawn his prey deeper into his belly.

The sharp plate that usually protected his abdomen was digging into him uncomfortably. Although elastic inside and out, Knight could still feel the discomfort and he took a second to stop swallowing his prey and pry his chest plate off.

Stomach bulging and writhing, Knight lifted a hand and covered his helm with a fist, so much movement was making him burpy.

For a moment, he debated if he could even fit another goblin. He felt quite full and he didn't have the luxury to sit down and digest. No Miss Innkeeper to soothe his swollen stomach with calloused, but kind hands (she would probably wait anyway, she didn't like when he came back with a stomach full of a fresh meal).

However, he had a job, and the last goblin he caught was the ringleader. There was no pointing waiting for the goblin to begin bargaining, Knight wasn't interested in whatever sob story the creature constructed. The goblin's head was in his mouth and the creature disappeared into the tight confines of his already full stomach.

He stood there, swaying on the spot with his hands soothing over taut flesh. Ah, he could really go for a nap. Unfortunately, he had to slosh to their next destination - there he could sit back and digest.

Somewhere in the back of his head, Knight's hopes were dashed. His dream of capturing and consuming a whole dragon seemed so out of reach if a few goblins had him second guessing his capacity (physically and mentally).

Stomach lurching and small noises of discomfort puncturing each step, Knight returned to Lady Kelvin's side.

Horrified did not begin to describe her expression.

[sweetieviktor]

"take me back to the night we met", feat. viktor.

summary: you knew he was dieing, but seeing him using shimmer was too much to bare . based on the song "the night we met", by lord huron.

word count: 720.

content warning: season 1, act 3 spoilers! idk if shimmer use count as a cw, but anyways this is angst and it doesn't have a happy ending!

author notes: there's so much time since i've written fanfiction!! but i loved doind this one and i swear that i cried while writing this. and this may be very ooc and doesn't match the scenes in season 1, act 3, but i dont have time to watch it again now and i was so hyped up bcs of season 2 that i just had to write something, yk? also, there may be some typos or grammar errors even though i re-read this like 3 times i think lol. but yeah, here it is!

you came back to his lab expecting to see him doing good, maybe working on his research, too focused on any stuff he was doing at the moment and not noticing you by the door, but he wasn't in there, or so it looked like.

he was hunched over his desk, in his hands was a glass tube, the remaining of the purple liquid shimmering in the dark room, illuminating just enough to draw his weak silhouette amongst the shadows.

“viktor…?” was everything you said while getting closer to him, walking with slow steps, trying to make no sounds to alarm him.

“stop.” raising a hand, that was all he said.

just as you were told, you stopped on your tracks, observing that, his once perfect hand, was now painted in a shade of purple, the same that was inside the glass recipient.

it can't be. right?

“what you did to yourself?”

“i did what needed to be done.” he was so baretoned, you didn't understand why he seemed so rude, so crude, so… unlike him.

when his words settled in, it felt like your stomach was turning, wrapping itself around your guts, making you sick. you felt sick, for him.

“please, please, viktor, don't tell me that you're using sh-” “yes.”

of course you knew about his condition, of course you knew he wasn't doing good at all, and mostly, you knew that things were meant to end, one way or another. but you didn't think he would kill himself like this.

and this was all you needed to break.

“why you didn't told me? i could have helped you, we could find a way to work through it,” the tears started to prick on your eyes, your voice breaking, the anger at yourself pooling into your core. “you wouldn't need to use shimmer, vik...”

the feeling that the universe stole and took all that once mattered to you was what drove you insane. the feeling that you could make things different, make things better, the oh so simple solution that you could find, if only he had told you.

“it’s not that easy! you wouldn't understand if i told you sooner. no one would understand it, even if they tried really hard to.” he turned his head towards your direction, looking at your face for a brief second, before turning his gaze back to the ground, his purple irises trying to focus on something that wasn't your saddened face, now, feeling his own eyes burning, burning even more than the blood running in his veins. “we are in piltover, the city of progress, and yet, i am stuck behind, and i'm dieing. so, i needed to do something, and i did.”

“what you don’t understand is that you're destroying yourself, viktor. destroying yourself so slowly that it almost feels like torture. i fear that i wouldn't be able to see you for another day.” you sobbed, the tears rolling down and he didn't dare to look at your eyes again, he knew that you were crying. he knew it and he couldn't bear the thought that he was the one that made you cry. “if there is a god somewhere, i wish they could turn back time and take me back to the night we met. maybe things could be different, right?”

looking at him, a weak, nervous smile was all you could get out while crying, thinking to yourself when things started to get this wrong and how you let it happen, without even realizing what was wrong. how could you let him do this to himself?

your body was shaking, it felt like the whole world was trembling. the nonstoping thoughts hammering your head, your heart a mile per minute, the air in your lungs wasn't enough. everything, everything seemed like it was crushing down on you, right in this moment.

“i'm sorry. i'm so sorry... i need to go. now.”

you needed to get out of here, you needed to breathe.

you headed back to the door, wishing that some cold breeze would cool you down, would just stop your mind and racing heart. wishing for him to be fine again. praying for any and all gods that lived in the skies and beyond, praying for him to be alive. just for a bit more.

[captain-mj]

Vampire Part 6

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Content Warning: Implied delusions?? It used to be true but not anymore and that upset Ghost

Soap got to work immediately on Ghost’s new mask. He needed something that would cover the majority of his face while also not bothering his new ears. 

Ghost was lounging on the couch, giant body on display. 

Soap had to bite his lip and look back at the mask that he was working on. Images of those teeth and that mouth around his… 

Anyway. 

His throat hadn’t quite healed. The bruising had faded but there were two holes in his neck that looked like they might scar despite how gentle Ghost had been. His hips had also not healed. They still ached from how hard Ghost had gripped him when he messed up and said the lord’s name. The way Ghost’s nails had sank into him so deep. It had definitely awoken things in him. Now all he could think about was how nice it would be to have those nails holding him down. Sinking into his flesh again. Ghost’s mouth had been cold. Incredibly soft and cold. 

Ghost hummed. “Johnny. How is my mask coming along? I am tired of this.” 

Soap hated this. He didn’t want Ghost to cover his face again. If he could, he’d draw him right now. Take his immense beauty and get it on paper. He wished he could take photos but he knew Ghost, or… Simon… It was such a trip knowing that name, but he would just disappear. Like mirrors, they couldn’t appear in photos. Which was devastating. He wanted so many pictures of them. But he supposed unlike humans, Ghost would never change. He’d always remain the same. No need for something as silly and sentimental as photos. 

“Soap.” Ghost snapped at him. 

“Oh! Sorry, sir. Yeah, it’s coming along.” He held up the mask for him to look at. Like his old one, it had a skull design on it. It would fit more like a medical mask rather than a balaclava but it was the only design Soap could think of that would work. 

Ghost nodded. “I’ll need you to get more bleach. I want to keep my hair blond.”

Soap paused. “I’m sorry. You get your ears. Rip your mask. Get so distraught you don’t eat. But you had time to bleach your hair?”

“Yeah, exactly.” Ghost nodded like that was okay. 

Soap just shook his head, unbelievable. 

“Johnny, I’d like to talk about yesterday.”

“Yes! I’d also like to talk about yesterday.” Johnny turned around to face him. “I have so many questions. Was my blood really that good?” 

Ghost frowned. “I meant you killing someone.” 

Soap got a bit pale. “Thought we were just going to not talk about it.” 

“Who were they?”

“Don’t know. It was on accident. I thought they’d stop at the sunlight not… Not…” 

Ghost nodded. “Good. Senile. If you’re being forced to tell the truth, you can say they ran out into the sun. If there’s any more details, don’t say them. And don’t tell me.” 

Soap nodded. “Understood, sir. Thank you…” 

“Yeah. It’s alright.” He reached over and grabbed his hair, pulling him over. His hand was so big. It made Soap feel very, very small. “And yes. You did taste good.” 

Those intense, dark eyes stared right through him like he was made of glass. Soap should’ve kept his mouth shut. Should’ve just kept it moving. Let the blissful thing that was Ghost’s attention wash over him. 

He did no such thing. Instead, stupidly, he asked a question. 

“What are you going to do about Price?”

Ghost could hardly be described as a fragile person, but Soap watched something snap. His mouth twisted up into a snarl and he tried so hard to seem angry. 

He didn’t though. 

No, Simon just looked heartbreakingly sad. 

“The only reason I don’t tear him limb from limb is because I can’t.”

Soap swallowed. “Is he why you haven’t turned me yet?”

“I just… want to make sure this is something you really, really want. I want it to be special. For you to have a choice.”

Soap nodded and they kept eye contact. It made Ghost speak again. 

“Price was my commander. He talked to me like I was an equal. Discussed plans with me.” 

Soap squeezed his wrist and he felt him tighten the grip in his hair. It started to hurt but he didn’t want to interrupt. 

“I thought he was attractive. The fangs. The way his eyes glowed. I was swayed. An idiot. A stupid fucking human. Walking into the jaws of something I couldn’t understand. I need to make sure that doesn’t happen to you. That when I sink my teeth right here.” He tapped his gloved fingers onto his jugular. “And claim you as mine for eternity. Make myself your sire. That it’s something you’ll never regret.”

Soap wanted him to continue. To keeping talking in that accent that was both ancient and so modern. 

When it was clear that Ghost would not continue, Soap spoke up. “I do. I want this. Want… Want…” You. Want you. He could say it. Nice and easy.

Rodolfo burst through the doors. Ghost released him and he fell. “Rudy. Something wrong.”

“None at all. Just wanted to check on you. Rough few days.” He reached over and ruffled Ghost’s hair. Soap felt green with envy. The way they interacted so easily. He wanted to run his fingers through his hair. Kiss his temples. Feel his cold mouth on his body again. 

Soap looked away. He reached up and grabbed his necklace, toying with it. His old one had been snapped and unusable, so he got a new one. Protection. 

Sometimes, he didn’t want to be protected. But the little cross stayed around his throat all the same. 

Ghost stood up. “I am going outside to the backyard. Tell me if you finish the mask.” He disappeared in a wave of smoke. 

Rudy looked down at Soap, still on the floor and hummed. “Feel better now that you’ve finally been bit?”

“Surprisingly? Yeah, a little.”

“Good. Happy familiar, happy home.” Rudy seemed to have something they wanted to say. His nails, not quite as sharp as Price and Ghost’s but that was due to age and age alone, picked at his pants. He turned abruptly to leave before swiveling back around. 

Soap waited. It worked with Ghost, so why not.

Rudy took a deep breath. “I think you’re… a good… person.”

Soap almost choked. Was this a compliment? Was he being complimented right now?

“You’re nice. Good.” Rodolfo patted him on the head. “What you did, even if it was stupid, was the right thing to do.”

Soap nodded blankly. They were being nice. 

Too nice. 

“Are you guys going to kill me?”

Rodolfo laughed. “No. We’re not going to kill you. Just relax.” He smiled at him. 

Soap’s heart didn’t slow down.

Ghost came back in eventually. “Price managed to seduce our neighbor and I swear if he eats that guy.” He shoved everything off Soap’s bed to sit on it. 

Soap should’ve reprimanded him, Ghost would probably listen, but he found it endearing. He was sketching. Luckily not Ghost. Just some random portraits. But this did give him a perfect opportunity.

“Ghost, sir.”

“Yes?”

“Can I draw you?” 

Ghost paused at that and looked at him. He weighed his options. “I suppose it has been a long time since I’ve seen what I look like…”

“Exactly. May be good to remember, yeah?”

Ghost tapped his fingers against the wood. “I think my last portraits were made at my wedding.” 

Soap had long since learned that Ghost had married a few times over the years, most of his spouses nothing more than political alliances or were ways to cover up what he was. Both admissions were said with so much guilt when Ghost had drank too much drugged blood that Soap felt inclined to believe him. 

“Oh yeah?”

“Price had an artist paint us consummating in a graveyard.”

“Did you… actually consummate… in a graveyard?”

“Yes. I wore the mask though.” 

Soap laughed a little. “Really? Mask on, fucking in a graveyard?”

“Yes. It was fun. I think that was the last time I get married actually. Didn’t mean much, just a little bit of fun.” He tilted his head back, exposing more of his jaw and throat. It made Soap feel funny things in the pit of his stomach. 

Soap focused on getting him on paper. He had the excuse and the permission to stare at him until he gets his fill. He wants to gulp Ghost down until he can only taste him in his mouth. A bitter aftertaste coffee couldn’t mask. 

Instead, he draws him. He makes two portraits. One he can keep, one for Ghost. He’ll pretend the first one had something wrong with it if Ghost sees it. That way he can have it. He could color it later. Make it as close to real life as possible. 

Maybe it was a tad obsessive, but Soap had always liked his things to be his and his only. Ghost couldn’t be one of his things but the portrait could be. All his. 

He spent the rest of the night and a good bit of the morning like this. Ghost taking up his bed, perfectly still. At one point, Soap was pretty sure he had dozed off, eyes closed and no sign of life in him. 

Soap finished the portrait and as soon as his pencil stopped scratching the page, Ghost opened his eyes and held out his hand. He painstakingly ripped out the page for him and handed it to him. 

“You left out my scarring.”

Soap tilted his head. “What?”

“My scars. The…” Ghost made a motion around his mouth to mimic a blade cutting his mouth. It made him think of the Joker weirdly enough. 

“What scars?”

Ghost looked hurt. “That’s not very funny, Soap.”

Soap didn’t understand, but Ghost seemed so upset it made him want to fix it. “I drew you exactly as you are. I didn’t change any details.”

“Yes, you did. You got rid of my scars. I understand if you don’t like them, but you could just admit it.” Ghost hissed at him. Clearly this was hitting some nerve that Soap couldn’t begin to understand. 

“Ghost. You don’t have any scars.” 

Simon swallowed so hard it made an audible click in his throat. “It’s the whole reason I cover up.”

Soap wasn’t sure if vampirism cured scars, but despite their lifestyles, none of the vampires had any, so it made sense. Maybe they just didn’t notice?

Ghost got up and went looking for Alejandro, Soap trailing behind him. He held the portrait up to Alejandro.

“I look like this?”

“Your hair is a little fluffier, but yeah. That’s how you look.” 

Soap thought Ghost was going to have a meltdown. 

“I look like this? Exactly like this? I have no scars?”

“No? As long as I’ve known you, you’ve never been scarred up.” Alejandro looked confused. 

Simon started to scratch at his arm, clearly going through a lot right now. 

Soap made a decision right then and there. He was going to keep Ghost from having to deal with anything else for a bit. It wouldn’t be too hard to convince him to just relax at home for a little while. Just as long as no one brought any more news. 

Price burst into the room. 

“Guys. I’m getting married!!”

[the-raven-lady]

a gift for @men-want-me-fish-fear-me !! it told me about its mpreg AU and got me thinking about the complications that would have for someone like Konrad

this one's a bit heavy on body image issues so please be in a good state of mind for this!!

please read the warnings!!

Character: Konrad Curze

Song Inspiration: Real Men - Mitski [YouTube] [Spotify] "Real men don't need other people / And real men suck it in / Real men don't flinch or bleed in public / Oh, I think I'm a real man."

Warnings: mpreg, pregnancy symptoms, self image issues, self-inflicted gore, lamenting dark realities, implication of potential non-con, mentions of infanticide

Word Count: 643

Konrad groaned as the weight shift nearly threw him off balance and crashing into the stones below. Had the nausea not been enough? Blackened nails and coarse fingertips drag over the sensitive flesh of his aching abdomen, the skin taut against the growing life beneath. The Night Haunter loathed his natural urges. Being bound to a biological clock beyond his control was one of the many gifts of his father that he would rather have ripped out long ago.

As if he hadn’t already tried. 

It was easy enough for him to sink his clawed finger tips deep into the putrid skin of his belly. The iron tang of blood spilled had only served to spur him on, ripping and tearing and pulling as the offending organ until it was nothing but fleshy pink viscera on the floor. How miserable it had been when it had not even taken a week for the gland to revive itself. The regenerative nature of primarch biology seemed to leave him no choice in the matter.

Righting himself on his perch, Konrad elected to take a break from his prowling to calm the waves of nausea washing over him. He would never get used to it. A zing of electricity shot up from his tailbone when he sat against the stone ledge, drawing a gasp from him, then several curses. He gently rubs the base of his spine to soothe the ache.

Konrad felt delicate. Every little action that he would normally perform without effort could prove to be too much on his pregnant body. Perhaps he would be fine with it if he chose when the urges to breed took him, but his genealogy couldn’t even grant him that. Throne save the next helpless serf that wandered in his path when it kicked in, for Konrad knew their chances of survival were slim at best. This was a part of his father’s great vision? Bouncing on the cock of passers-by then birthing sons into a legion of murders and scum? It infuriated the primarch to no end. His only saving grace was that he never seemed to inflate to the size of his expecting brothers, remaining more gaunt and lithe.

Perhaps if he were Guilliman or Fulgrim, he could try to find an ounce of pride in bringing a new life into the world. Maybe then, he would see a purpose to all of the lost meals, cramping, and searing pain of the birthing process. Maybe then he wouldn’t hate the changes to his body, losing the ability to bend and contort as he wished. Maybe then he would want to hold the boys as they came out and coo at them as his brothers did.

His legion would never be grateful for the effort he put in for them. He would spare all of his blood children the mercy of ever having to integrate into the Night Lords with a quick snap to the neck if they weren’t always taken from him so quickly. Darling of his brothers to chain him down each and every time he neared emergence after they discovered the fates of the first several cycles. Fulgrim had been mortified hearing about how Konrad had disposed of the newborns like waste.

The Imperial Palace was always quiet at this time of night, nobles and Astartes alike turning in by this hour. Only Custodians remained, silent watchers they were (at least they could mind their own business), and his brothers would rarely come to check in on him. Konrad let out a weary sigh and tucked his legs the best he could against his swollen belly, protecting the fetus within. Emotions threatened to boil over in his chest, and Konrad Curze had to choke back a tired sob.

Things would be much easier if he didn’t still love each of his sons anyway.

[throwaway-yandere]

Misaligned Strings (Jing Yuan/Reader)

A/n: The reader is AMAB at the beginning (nothing angstier than gender norms–) and gn in the time skip. If there are incorrect translations, please comment!!!! I’d be very happy to change it :DD and im very happy with how my drawing turned out ngl-

For the sake of flashbacks: ████████ = prince reader's previous name, ████ = jing yuan's previous name

Synopsis: He held his feelings back once for you were his prince and he was but a knight. But for Jing Yuan, he doesn't care if you're a human prince or a foxian, you are always worth the wait. Even when it literally took a lifetime. He's not so different from Snowmoon, you know?

CW: none. slight angst and fluff so don’t worry. Prolly the cutest and lowkey proudest work I’ve done in a while. I was actively whispering "me when" while writing lmao. This one's for you, 😋 anon.

遠在天邊，近在眼前，千里姻緣一線牽.

From the Most Distant Horizon at the Ends of Where the Heavens Stretch, to Right in Front of One's Eyes, the Single Thread Crosses Unfathomable Distances to Draw in those that are Tethered to it.

In silent whispers and inaudible footsteps, a taizi and his ménkè would stroll about in the crack of dawn. The Crown Prince of the old dynasty seldom ever initiated conversations, but his servant didn't venture to strike up an exchange. Since the prince wasn’t one to like entertaining large sums and enjoyed the comfort of nature, he has a habit of dragging his favorite retainer alongside him when trekking woodlands. The white-haired servant was perfectly content with this as he listened to the sound of the streams of the nearby water bank and the morning birds’ humming. 

But most of all, the retainer couldn’t think of spending his mornings better than to be by Prince ████████’s side. Deep down, he knew his calloused hands did not deserve to touch such an expensive fabric. The decorative embellishments embroidered in such as gold-laced threads, jades, and ████████’s birthstones mustn't be soiled by a commoner like him. He thinks his hands, which frequently danced with blood, are cleaner than the stains that mud had left on his prince's long robes. 

And yet, the retainer feared he loved his prince too much to stop.

“My Lord…” the white-haired man mutters gently, daring to tug the noble’s robes. The (h/c) haired man peered in his direction. 

Atop the prince's head was a mianguan that further accentuates their difference in social status. Despite it being a rare ceremonial headdress only to be worn on sacrificial events, the prince had one custom made by a famous jeweler for his daily use. His fashionable headdress chimed for a brief moment as he turned, but he did not stare him in the eye. 

Still, the prince smiled so sweetly.

“Yes, baozi?”

The retainer’s breath hitched.

He knew he shouldn’t harbor such emotions– he knew it shouldn’t make him happy that the prince would call him his treasure. However, there was not a trace of deceit in Prince ████████’s voice.

“Be careful,” the retainer heaved, staring at the ground. “There’s a fallen trunk nearby, you would’ve tripped.”

“O-Oh?”

The prince’s smile faltered before he regained it in a concerningly quick but regal fashion. 

“My apologies, it was not my intention to make you worry,” he laughed, but there was no joy to be conveyed. “I’m afraid I will have to depend on you once more.”

The prince's laugh, once filled with warmth and adoration whenever they met, now sounded distant. It was veiled sorrow, yet not to the point where the prince would be willing to sever whatever thread bound their fates together. During their quiet moments, ████ would catch glimpses of that sorrow lingering in the prince's demeanor. 

It was as if a shadow loomed over their secret rendezvous. The retainer wondered if his suspicions were true— if the prince's noble lineage would soon bind him to political arrangements. A duty that will tear them both apart.

But he didn’t wish to entertain those thoughts.

The retainer nodded while speaking. “Anything for you, My lord.”

The prince turned back to the lying trunk.

Everyone in Asia knew of Prince ████████’s impaired eyes.

The Emperor’s heir lacked vision in a battle he somberly forbids any to reminisce about. It was the very same battle his beloved retainer first fought in since he was a new hire at the time. This led to several concubines shoving their children to the feet of the emperor, but satisfyingly, none could beat the prince in any aspect. Their attempts to weaken both the prince and the empress’s political hold were grounds for concern. Ultimately, that resulted in nothing. 

That does not make the prince any less bitter about it, but he never held ████ accountable. His presence was the royal’s only comfort, even if he never saw his face at least once. The prince never trusted his parents with any of his inner turmoil.

Although, the retainer wished he saw his prince’s eyes at least once. His Highness had always wrapped a red cloth around his eyes like half a mask. This is why, in the humble servant’s prayers, he wished for his master to be more secure with his body

“Prince ████████…” The white-haired retainer starts again, this time, his voice was laced with mischief. “Have I ever told you that you are the most gorgeous man in the land?”

“W-Where is this coming from?” The prince laughed heartily. Prince ████████ knew that his retainer wanted to cheer him up, but he’d rather hear him say it.

“Nothing,” the retainer smiled. “I just wanted you to hear it. You’re incredibly handsome.”

“Stop!” The prince chuckled, hiding his face with his silk clothes. “You are embarrassing, ████.”

The white-haired man chuckled.

“Only for you, my baobei.”

It was silent for a moment. Suddenly, the prince exhaled. The retainer quietly noted that it was not the same sound he’d hear whenever they would peacefully stroll in the woods as they usually do. This one sounded stifled as if he wanted to trap it in his throat.

He may not be able to see, but he still looked away.

“████, I have something I need to discuss with you.”

“What is it?”

Silence again.

Despite being warned that there might be a trunk in his way, the prince took small steps forward. As though he hoped to trip– as though he hoped someone would catch him. 

Yet, the words spoken next were delivered unlike a damsel in distress but a man in solitude.

“I am to be wed around the coming months.” He stuttered. “I-I’m afraid I can no longer remain both blind and deaf to my mother and the Emperor’s nagging.”

Time stood still. 

The solace of nature faded into insignificance, leaving only the sound of cracks inside ████’s head. In that silence, unspoken words passed between them. Only the sound of their restricted breathing remained. It was a poignant acknowledgment– an unspoken promise of love that fate had cruelly denied them. Swallowing his pain, the retainer fought to maintain a facade of unwavering loyalty. His grip tightened around the hilt of his sword. 

The dynasty would burn before their union would ever be accepted.

The retainer stood tall, a pillar of fortitude even as his heart fractured with each beat. As always, Prince ████████ was the image of his unattainable desires. He will always play his role as the prince's retainer, his heart bleeding in silence, forever locked away.

In the depths of his being, ████’s cherished stolen glances and clandestine touches— precious moments of tenderness concealed beneath the weight of their stations— will remain hidden but never forgotten. He will carry their shared memories as he vowed to “only” protect Prince █████████ on the surface.

The prince continued. Tears welled up in his eyes, but as his father has stated, a man cannot cry. Much less the next emperor.

“████—”

“It is alright,” the retainer spoke, voice already jaded. “We both knew that this is how it ends.”

“Would it be selfish of me to ask you a favor?”

The retainer took a deep breath.

“Do not make this harder, Your Highness.”

It pained his heart to hear the prince gulp in anguish. No use of “my”, just an unpossessed “your”. Even the retainer could not forgive himself for calling him by his title so distantly and without so much as using any honorifics that he is his prince. 

He was his prince.

But the prince was not deterred.

“Can you promise me that you’ll find me again?”

He cupped his retainer’s hand with his eyes closed peacefully. The retainer paused before also placing his other hand above his prince’s. Prince ████████ quietly sobbed. “Please…”

“Promise me– promise that you’ll find me in the next life.”

The retainer nodded weakly.

“I promise.”

“Soon, I shall take the Imperial Princess Consort as my Empress, but–”

The prince tilted his retainer’s head down and gently kissed him. The white-haired man felt his knees giving in as the prince then kissed his upper left cheek, just below his eye. That had always been his favorite spot to pepper. Even in the end, his highness will always cherish planting feather-like kisses as though it would soothe his troubles. The prince’s smile never left his face yet unbeknownst to him, a couple of his tears had already fallen.

“Why don’t we talk about a life we could’ve had, even for just a small fraction of this ephemeral life?”

The conversation that followed was regrettably sweet. Throughout their exchange, they remained seated on the fallen tree as the prince gingerly ran his fingers through his retainer’s white hair. They both ingrained every detail of this memory in their head for they knew this would be their last intimate moment.

Their conversations lasted as if the outside world never existed. They talked about the places they could’ve been, a kingdom they should’ve had until they reached the topic of their true desires:

A domestic life.

A life where they could say ‘Baobei, I’m home’.

“What about a little lion?”

“Your ideas for a housepet are very peculiar,” the retainer humored him, but his voice echoed how cautious the thought made him. “Had I been in your position, I would’ve been tempted to care for timid endangered animals instead.”

“Well, you sounded disinterested when I brought up carps. So, what about little lions?”

“Are you referring to shih tzus?” The royal has an affinity for trying new things so the white-haired man already knew he’d never refer to a simple dog. 

“Perhaps,” the prince laughed. “But not quite.”

“You don’t mean to imply you want a genuine cub now…?”

“What if I do?”

“You have a dangerous habit of giving your retainers more reasons to worry,” his lover muttered.

He pretended not to hear it, “what would you name it?”

“Hmm…how about…”

“Snowmoon.”

Caelus looked up at the General who was focusing on the bustling streets of the Exalting Sanctum. 

After the events that unfolded in the Xianzhou Luofu, he and Jing Yuan had grown closer. To him, the general was a good role model and a nice change of pace after being dragged along by Clara’s adventures in the robot settlement and Serval and Natasha’s heartbreaking familial tales. Caelus was appreciative that the general messaged him to ask if he wished to accompany him to buy meat for Mimi. The trailblazer simply wished for something he can sign as a “day off” in Pom-Pom's log book without incurring any physical damages. For now, he doesn’t want to think about how Blade is running loose.

Now that he’s hanging out with Jing Yuan though, it seems as though he miscalculated everything. He didn't expect emotional expenses instead.

“That’s your old lion’s name?”

The trailblazer pretended not to know. It was a rather heavy story and he didn’t want to seem like a person who relied on gossip. Besides, Qingzu wasn’t a reliable storyteller.

As they talked, they walked past both merchants and pedestrians. There must be an event or an ongoing flea market since the ratio between sellers and consumers was staggeringly unequal. There’s a nosier place they haven’t traversed yet; there must be a sale going on. Although Caelus had more than enough money to his name (thanks to his latest deal with Sampo Koski), he did not tempt himself with a glance at any merchandise. His eyes were on the attractive “dozing general” instead.

“Yes, he was a loyal one…” Jing Yuan smiled softly. “I had a special connection to Snowmoon.”

“I heard it waited for 300 years.”

“Ah, so you are aware of what this story is about already.”

Caelus laughed awkwardly.

“Yes. Yes, Snowmoon did wait for me,” Jing Yuan said. “And I will forever understand that undying loyalty. That’s when I knew I’d truly reconnected with the lion.”

“In its final moments, all I thought to myself was how much the little cub and I were so much alike,” he recalled with a sad smile on his face. 

“For him to wait for so long to see a loved one return– and to lay in his arms. I wonder what that would be like for me.”

Caelus blinked.

“You’re waiting for someone?” Caelus tilted his head. “I see you doing more sleeping than waiting. But who’s the lucky person?”

“I’m afraid you would not understand,” Jing Yuan said. “It’s rather difficult to explain. My mother and father did not comprehend it– then again, they didn’t understand my decision to be a soldier either.”

“Is this person the reason why you’re a general now?”

He stopped and raised an eyebrow.

“Spot on. How did you figure?”

Caelus shrugged, uncommitted. “Just a guess.”

The general chuckled.

“I’ve been waiting for him since I was reborn.”

Jing Yuan looked at their surroundings again as they resumed their walk. His hands were both behind his back as they took in the atmosphere. For him, the experience was not unlike his strolls with Yanqing– and for Caelus, he had compared him with Mr. Yang. 

“There is a Foxian custom wherein very young children would figuratively carve their future career path by choosing between the objects their parents had laid down. Unsurprisingly, I grabbed a toy sword in hopes I can find him.”

The general rambled as though Caelus would understand the context. The trailblazer can only nod along, reminded of how old people do whatever Jing Yuan was doing at present.  

“Alas, maybe he didn’t reincarnate as I had hoped,” Jing Yuan breathed in shakily. “I’ve traveled far and still, nothing. I’m afraid at this point they won’t be able to recognize me. While my voice was similar to how it was in my previous life, it had deepened with age. And I won't have any luck with my appearance either.”

Caelus frowned for him.

Jing Yuan was optimistic when Jingliu had taken him in as an apprentice– he thought it was an opportunity to find him again. There were numerous thoughts that maybe he will thread a similar path to his first life. In the realm of Xianzhou Luofu, where long and short-life species coexisted, he thought he glimpsed his baobei several times. With each encounter, his heart would skip a beat, hope blossoming like a new leaf, only to be shattered in the next breath. Jing Yuan had grown weary, not unlike Snowmoon. He's now somber and wiser. 

If only he had not died so early. If only he didn't save the Imperial Consort when the palace burned. Would he have lived enough to stand at the prince’s side if he didn't put his duty as a soldier first? 

Then again, none of that matters now. Today, he is Jing Yuan, the “Dozing” (and sometimes “Glutton”) General and not ████, the Crown Prince’s retainer. He should not burden himself with the regrets of a failed servant. But the thought of dying without ever seeing ████████'s face again... Jing Yuan hopes it will not happen again in this life. The General would continue searching for he had faith that one day, his prince would find his way. It may not be a popular tale in this realm and era, but he still believes that the red string binds their souls across the ages.

At the mention of reincarnation, Caelus’ ears perked up.

“Reincarnate…?”

“To live again in another form.”

“I know what it means. I wasn’t born yesterday.”

“Based on what Mr. Yang had told me, I’m inclined to believe that your situation is nearly synonymous with that phrase.” Jing Yuan teased.

“Come to think of it,” Jing Yuan looked at his phone. “It is ██/██ today, is it not?”

“Huh? Yeah. Do you have other plans, General?”

Caelus tried to keep up the pace with Jing Yuan. They were nearing the especially crowded and noisy area they saw before and he was worried he wouldn’t hear his response.

“No, none of the sort. On the contrary, I often take a day off on this particular date,” Jing Yuan answered nonchalantly. “Truth is, it’s ████████’s birthday–”

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOUUUUUU, HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOUUUUU!!!”

The crowd roared and the two halted. As it turns out, there was no sale in the area, but a celebration. The both of them stopped specifically at certain familiar voices in the crowd. Caelus was certain that he heard both Qingque and Tingyun, 

but Jing Yuan’s intuition spoke for something else.

“Hey, isn’t that Miss Tingyun– woah, why are you running?!”

He left Caelus and immediately dashed to the noise. A couple of restaurant staff glanced over in confusion as the man pushed the door farther open. Some servers had made way upon recognizing the general and others who weren't quick on the uptake tried to stop him from meddling with the event. But when the staff had caught on that he was a man they cannot dismiss, a questionable scene had begun unfolding before anyone could control it.

The song died as soon as everyone saw the general standing near the middle of the tables and seated chairs. There were familiar faces just as Caelus had mentioned— Qingque and Sushang's presence can be felt. He stared, shocked at who sat beside Tingyun. 

The Foxian amicassador then guardedly placed a hand on top of the person's shoulders, looking at Jing Yuan as though he was an animal ready to strike. He didn't know what her look meant, but everyone else in the room concurred that it didn't appear as though he was there to make small talk.

"Can we help you, General?" 

"... My Lord?" 

Jing Yuan whispered weakly.

"Prince ████████... Is that truly you...?" He laughed, sounding nearly defeated. “I have not reached geriatric psychosis so soon, have I?”

The man had both his knees down on the ground, looking up at the birthday celebrant.

You.

Prince ████████– rather— (Y/n) (L/n), a Foxian now aged 250, sat amidst the room wearing robes embroidered with relatively inexpensive jades and gems gifted by friends and family. You were at a loss for what to do and looked to colleagues for advice before gazing back at the strange white-haired person kneeling on the ground.

Before he had made himself known, you appeared slightly uncomfortable. He wagered it had something to do with the crowd. The others must’ve thrown this as a surprise makeover and party, but as much as you wished to understand and be more in touch with your friendships, you likely found this situation rather difficult. And Jing Yuan was not helping.

You’d have to forgive him later. He just can’t help himself.

Your vulpine ears stood up straighter, alert as he reluctantly reached for your hand. If you could postpone this birthday “party” and finish all these tiring exchanges later, you probably would. You were taken aback at how fast his movements were– you swore that in one second he stood by the door and in the next he knelt near your chair. 

You still look so wonderful…

“Y-Your Majesty…”

He grabbed your hands.

“████████…” Jing Yuan gasped for a strip of breath. “You have no idea how long I have waited. I-I have waited for you for s-so SO long– I had nearly thrown all hope I had of finding you several times but I knew we’ll find one another again…”  

He looked up, hope in his eyes.

“It’s me, My Lord. I have fulfilled my promise.”

The general’s heart raced as he finally laid eyes on his reincarnated lover, sitting before him in all your ethereal beauty. His eyes lingered on your face, speechless at the softness that remained despite the passage of time. Your features held a timeless allure, radiant– and will forever enrapture his poor old heart.

His gaze respectfully traced the lines of your figure, adorned with jades that only accentuated your presence. The vibrant gems seemed to mirror the regalness of your past self– as if the jades themselves will always choose to highlight your inherent grace.

But it was in your eyes that General Jing Yuan found himself lost. The eyes that he never got to see a lifetime before. That calming sense of expression in your (e/c) eyes held a depth that stirred his soul. They sparkled with a familiar light, revealing the person he had loved throughout the centuries. In your stare, he had grasped the solace he had been waiting for– the emotion Snowmoon had felt in his 300-year-long return– the "reconnection" that eased the most troubled of spirits. 

Amidst the confusion that surrounded you both, Jing Yuan remained on bended knees, cherishing the sight, grateful for the opportunity to witness your enchanting presence once more.

He finally saw your eyes.

And you finally saw him.

With a heart brimming with emotions, Jing Yuan whispered:

"You are as stunning as ever, My Lord. Even in this new timeline, your beauty is unmatched– the most gorgeous person in the universe." His voice carried the weight of longing.

You jolted. There was something in your expression that made his hopes bubble up more. Was it a glint of remembrance? Did you retain your memories since birth as he did? He was uncertain but his grip on you tightened.

“I missed you so much,” he said almost inaudibly. “It’s overwhelming.”

No one spoke as the general looked at you without any intention to be the first to break eye contact. Everyone invited was too stunned to move or resume the song. Most notably, Qingque was preparing to sneak out in fear of more work while Sushang took out her notebook, scribbling notes on how to "paralyze" onlookers in what she dubbed as "The General Jing Yuan style". Only Tingyun was animated in the sense that she was willing to hand the intruder a phony smile and mouth the words "What are you doing here?" behind your back.

But there's always a true oddball waiting to bounce amongst a sea of people. And in this case, it was the "not born yesterday" trailblazer, Caelus. 

Unpredictable as he is, he joined in on the “farce.” He puffed his chest and strode large steps to reach where Tingyun, you, and Jingyuan were. Caelus fixed his sleeves and coughed loudly, which brought nearly everyone's attention to him except for the lovestruck General. 

And then, he brazenly declared:

“AND I AM DAN HENG,” he mimicked his crewmate’s voice. “ALSO KNOWN AS COLD DRAGON YOUNG.”

Pause.

People started snorting, no longer stiff. Qingque quietly muttered with a hand slowly letting go of the doorknob that it must’ve been just a “bit” to liven up the party. Eventually, that became everyone's final interpretation.

That… effectively switched the mood.

“W-What?” That flicker in your eyes was gone in an instant. 

You shook your head.

“Seriously? What’s going on?! Stop! You’re all being silly!!!”

For a moment, you contemplated throwing a spoon in Caelus’ direction but decided against it. Caelus is a friend of yours and you will not put a strain on that relationship on your birthday. But this guy? Who?

You tore your hands away from Jing Yuan, which effectively broke his heart.

“And WHO are you anyways?!” 

Tingyun laughed, hard. Both you and Jing Yuan didn't notice her, so she brought attention to herself. The amicassador, whom you nearly forgot was with you from all the ruckus, tapped your shoulder with a shrewd grin.

“Love, I have a guess as to why he introduced himself like that, but for now, that’s General Jing Yuan.”

“Okay, Mister Jing Yuan–” you started, barely threatening despite your hesitant intentions to make him uneased. “Let’s talk outside– wait.” 

Your head snapped back at Tingyun. 

“Babygirl, did you just say General Jing Yuan?” You gawked. 

“Like, THE Dozing General, Jing Yuan?” You turned your back on him, discreetly whispering and pointing. “The one you sold overpriced photocards of?”

Tingyun hid her mouth behind her fan. 

Sure, you’re not a big fan of draining your social battery so much that you’ll remember everyone’s faces, but how come you only remembered who he was based on how Tingyun exploited his looks?

“Pff– Yes, that’s him. That's the one, love. Welcome to (Y/n)’s birthday party, General!”

Caelus stood beside Jing Yuan, shaking his head. “No. That is not General Jing Yuan! That is–... Err– I didn’t get his new name. What did you say your name was, General?”

“No, no way,” Sushang cut in, slightly pushing the trailblazer. “You’re not Dan Heng! And that’s definitely General Jing Yuan, one of the seven Arbiter-Generals!!!”

Sushang then bowed to the general, spouting apologies and greetings in one incoherent jumble. Since it was Sushang who said it, you were 100% convinced this man is an important figure… and you also 100% got yourself a headache. 

"Haaaaah…?!"

You brought your attention back to Jing Yuan, who diligently awaited any of your instructions like a pup. You squinted as you tried to make out what a general could possibly want with you on your birthday of all days. Then, you recalled what he called you.

That's... Not your current name.

"Weird..." You muttered.

You took a deep breath, terrified of your next course of action but deemed it necessary for the festivities to resume. The chair squeaked as you stood from your seat, staring nervously at the general. You seriously don’t want to talk to a stranger one-on-one.

"L-Let's talk outside."

Jing Yuan perked up.

"Of course, My Lord."

"Why are you calling me–" Whispers started making rounds as soon as Jing Yuan spoke those words. You shouted, panicking. "I'M NOT HIS LORD OR ANYTHING IMPORTANT, I PROMISE!!!"

That didn't seem to clear any suspicions but at least you made an attempt. You grabbed Jing Yuan's hand and led him outside, failing to see him smile like a dog as he thought about how you were both holding hands.

Outside, it was silent. 

The party went on without its birthday celebrant and "heckler." Notably, Tingyun's playing host, and her voice can be heard from your location. Jing Yuan crossed his arms while you leaned on the wall. Both of you were waiting for the other to initiate the conversation. Although you can start the conversation, it’s not something you prefer to do. Eventually, the general couldn't stand the silence any longer.

"████████–"

"Sir–"

You both awkwardly paused. Honestly, you weren't planning on saying anything, you spoke by mere instinct. 

Jing Yuan shook his head.

"You go first, My Lord."

"... W-Why are you calling me that?"

For a moment, his lips curled into a frown but he was not quick enough to hide it from you. He smiled politely and bowed with a hand on his chest.

"Because you are my prince–" Jing Yuan added with a mutter. "At least, you were mine for just a small fraction of that ephemeral life."

You swore you heard those words from somewhere.

Did you say them before?

"... Which one?"

He stood up straighter. His posture was enough to indicate that he is indeed a general. "Which what? Would you kindly elucidate me more?"

"Which one of my retainers were you?"

Jing Yuan's face brightened.

"You can recall–!"

"Not much, to be honest," you laughed, strained. "And I'm sorry if that question was rude. Tingyun– well, we both knew her as my Empress– told me that our physical attributes are very similar to the ones we have in our previous lives, but I was blind before. And your voice is unfamiliar."

Tingyun's… the Imperial Court Princess?

The same woman he sacrificed his life to save?

“... I see… So that’s why you called her ‘babygirl’...” Jing Yuan spoke bitterly.

Who is he kidding? Of course, you've moved on.

And he's here. Foolishly awaiting no one. A lion had more luck than him in both lives.

You continued.

"So… forgive me for my lack of– whatever words I used to have back then. I'm just not royal as I used to be. I-I like being casual.” you chuckled nervously. “But w-who are you? A-Are you ██?”

“... I have never heard that name before.”

“W-Welp, I guess you’re not my childhood babysitter huh?” You joked, mildly disappointed. “Poor ██, I hope you’re not dead yet in this world.”

Jing Yuan’s face crumpled in confusion.

“Why would you assume that I’m ██?”

“Same hair, and you reincarnated waaayyy before me and Tingyun s-so I was just trying to figure out who died before we did.”

“████.” Jing Yuan closed his eyes, pained. “████ died before you did.”

Why haven't you mentioned his old name?

“Yes, ████…” Your eyes softened and your next words sounded broken. “Of course, that’s… unfortunately… true…but if you knew him, I guess that just means you’re someone I knew in my late twenties.”

You smiled. “████… I still hope he’s out there. I miss him a lot.”

That smile.

That was the smile he had not seen in his last days. From the last secret meeting they shared, the prince’s smile and laughter seemed rather distant, devoid of life. This time, it was the polar opposite. He felt the same affection the prince once gave to his beloved retainer. 

With eyes looking back at the party, your tone has shifted from tender to authoritative, truly deserving of the title once bestowed upon you.

“Jing Yuan, I do not know who you were in my first life, but I will say this–

“Back then, I couldn’t reveal this, but I will tell everyone I will reunite with now. There’s no one else I loved romantically more than ████.” You glared at him. “He has always been there for me– and he will forever be someone dear to me.”

You were no longer nervous. You did not care that he was a stranger– you didn’t care about the prejudice that might follow. You were going to speak your truth. No matter what.

“I don’t give a damn if you’re an Arbiter-General. If you cannot respect that love, then do not call me your prince. That’s all.”

…

…

You were expecting another rant about honor like what another reincarnated nobleman whose name you never bothered to remember had done or a “who cares” and an “I knew since the beginning” like your royal jade specialist, ███ or Qingque, had said. 

But his response baffled you more.

“Thank you.”

Seeing Jing Yuan smile proudly with tears forming in his eyes was the last thing you expected.

“A-And I still love you too.”

…

…

…

“Baozi…?” Your eyes widened.

“Baobei…” Jing Yuan reached for your hand again. “As I announced proudly earlier, I fulfilled my promise.

I found you again. In another life.”

You wish you could say you had a brilliant time after that revelation. You wish you could say you went back to Tingyun and giddily told her everything. You wish you could say you returned home with a smile on your face. 

But no. You were too mentally and socially spent as a result of the unanticipated events. It brought back vivid memories of how, in a previous life, you would retreat to your room after banquets to avoid further conversations. Realistically, the only course of action that could have been taken after that was for you to ask him for his contact information and request some time to gather your thoughts because despite how wonderful it was to see the person you loved most after 250 years and more, the mechanical hands continue to haunt you. 

Jing Yuan has existed and will continue to exist for a very long time. The same cannot be said for you. 

But despite delaying all interactions, his invitations never ceased. On the first day, he tried to invite you to the Divine Seat of Foresight using Qingque– but she forgot about that task and only told you about it in the middle of a game. On the second day, he wrote you a letter stating that you were always welcome to visit him and that you have full access to all rooms (his trust for you concerned Yukong.) And yesterday, Tingyun implied that Mimi wanted to see you, joking about how it’s about time you adopt a lion. 

 And today, he is at your door, holding a bouquet. 

You can't delay this anymore.

“I-I’m sorry, baozi, but I don’t think we should talk.”

“How so?” Jing Yuan raised an eyebrow, not irritated but genuinely confused. “We’re finally together– you and I— unless…”

He looked down. In an instant, you knew he was thinking about Tingyun– rather– your past Empress. Who you never had feelings for and never consummated the marriage with. And she’d say the same about you.

“Oh, no, no, no, no,” you shook your head. “We’re not together. Nope. No way.”

“Are you certain?”

“Obviously, duh!” You said. Curiously enough, you sounded very annoyed at that. “If it’s because of that babygirl thing– dude, I swear, that was a joke cause everyone thinks we’re in love so we’re just playing along as a joke like we used to when we were quote-unquote ‘married’ and– man, why am I explaining this? Welp, I’ll try to shut up now.”

You put your head in your hands, which would’ve normally made Jing Yuan laugh, but he was more concerned than anything.

“Then why are you being deterred?”

“It’s just,” you sighed, giving up. “I’m a Foxian.”

“And so?”

“My life… is relatively brief compared to yours.” 

You held his hands, slowly tracing his palms.

“I’ve heard of snippets of your life on the streets. I heard you got statues of your deceased lion when it died.” 

You looked up, smiling sadly. It reminded him so much of the expression you’d wear when the ministers have shared intel regarding casualties. He never enjoyed gazing at that look.

“Other than the fact I kinda don’t want a statue of me inside the Divine Seat of Foresight,” you joked. “I don’t want to make you feel the same pain or worse.”

“I’m 250 years old. If I’m lucky and if I take care of myself better, add 150 more and that will be the end of it.” You explained. “Just that... You're a human that can live for millennia, and I can only live till 400." 

You took a sharp breath. At the time, he could only hear you and your movements, the sounds of your neighborhood were non-existent. 

"Wouldn't being with me just make you sad in the end? My life is just like Snowmoon. I don't want to know that being with me will just make your heart break." You laughed cheaply. 

"Wouldn't that make me selfish?" 

Jing Yuan did not speak. Instead, he grabbed you by the waist and encircled his strong arms around you. In an instant, you felt the urge to cry. You had never been attached to a person quite like him and to know that he feels the same feels painful somehow. Aware of your weakness, you know that emotions can be sometimes hard to understand for you, but that doesn't make you unemotional. 

"No. No, you're not. And you never will be for wanting to love again," he spoke, sounding breathy yet low. "It would be more selfish if you to deny this happiness for the both of us." 

"Did you fully comprehend how long I've waited for us to reunite? Do you understand how every action I've taken that led us to this point was so that I could see you again? Speak to you again? Touch you again?" Jing Yuan shook his head slowly. 

"No. Letting me go on living without you is not only selfish, it is cruel. There is no competition, being with you, even if our time together is but another brief moment like our last rendezvous in the forest, is much more preferable than never seeing you again." 

In those excruciating three days of reluctance, those were the words you were hoping to hear from him. And he delivered more. 

Your worries were for nothing. You were trying to be “mature”, steeling your resolve for when he’ll “inevitably face the music” and “live to be happy” without pursuing you in this life.

You can’t hold it back any longer. Tears of happiness trickled down your cheeks, and you buried your face in his chest, holding him as tightly as he held you. In that quiet moment of reconnection, your love was reciprocated, and the fear that had held you back was gone, replaced by a profound sense of contentment and belonging.

“Y-You know…” 

You had a wet-faced yet wide grin as you slithered a hand on the back of his head, untying his red ribbon. You were kind of proud of yourself for nicknaming him Baozi. With that white hair, he does look like a steamed bun. 

Slowly, you cupped his cheek and tilted his face slightly downwards.

“I’ve heard from my fellow Foxians that moles are where your lover from a past life enjoyed kissing you,” you traced his left cheek with your thumb. “What do you think?”

Jing Yuan blushed.

It was unspoken, but it made him happy nonetheless.

You’re letting him love you.

There is no greater joy to be had in his life than to be yours again.

“W-Well, I’d say we proved that myth to be true–” he cleared his throat. “Given how obsessed you were with kissing the spot below my eyelid.”

“So true,” you hummed. “You’re very pretty, Jing Yuan. I wish I could’ve seen how beautiful you are before.”

He was meant to joke about how he would always guide your face to his lips so that you wouldn’t “miss”, but Jing Yuan couldn’t help but melt at your words.

“You’re too wonderful, baobei.”

“I know.”

Jing Yuan chuckled heartily.

“I see your sense of humor is intact.”

You scoffed and quickly stuck your tongue out in a playful quip.

"My humor didn't remain– it evolved– and you got a character arc too didn't you? You went from not liking lions to owning TWO. T-W-O. Way before I got a hand on one as well. Don’t think I forgot about that bet, Mr. ████. You seriously owe me 200 wu zhus."

"I've certainly grown mundane–" Upon realizing what you fully said, he paused and laughed. "–Haha! Sharp as ever. Unfortunately, my lord, finding the old currency would be a tall task. How about 40,000 strales?"

“Hmm… Not a very convincing equivalent exchange.” You shrugged. “You know what? I may not be the brightest math person since I’ve been skipping it for music lessons, but with a bet taking this long, surely we have to consider the interest rate, right? How about adding a wedding ring? ”

His heart skipped a beat.

Jing Yuan pulled you closer. 

"... Always with a follow-up argument, but I shall go along with this. After all, I’ve always fantasized about saying…"

The general smiled as he buried his face in the crook of your neck, locking your hands together with his. Jing Yuan, ████— whatever his name is— felt safe and warm in your presence as he kissed your neck.

Finally, a domestic life. A life where they can both say:

“Baobei, I’m home.”

有情人终成眷属 

The Lovers are Finally Together; All Shall Be Well.

[unicyclehippo]

as a prompt: imogen and laudna and images of vex?

there are people sitting on the tempest’s bed when they return. keyleth’s skin is split and red and it’s awful to see except when you love her enough that pain means alive, means here enough to hurt.

these strangers love keyleth. they sit on her bed as people who are welcome to it, they hold her staff and she trusts them to take the place of her powerful artefact, to help her to her feet when she struggles to stand—scarred hands in scarred hands—and laudna considers the few of her own people who have carried her (dead) and carried her (alive) and offered a helping hand and knows keyleth loves them too.

it takes some minutes for laudna to realise they are not strangers at all.

‘lady vex’ahlia,’ imogen greets warily. and then, ‘lord de rollo.’

‘bells hells,’ lady vex’ahlia returns in much the same tone, wary as everyone is these days. her tone softens tremendously when she says laudna’s name, alone. laudna trembles. imogen takes her hand. lord de rollo looks at her too, too keen. then orym speaks, and keyleth, and there’s flowers and busy work as tinctures and healing begins and laudna mostly is thinking about the fact that they’re inside of a tree and how funny that is, really, because sometimes she turns treelike herself, and it’s a bit strange to be a dead woman inside a tree that’s inside a dead woman inside a tree.

she smiles, touches imogen’s elbow. ‘might we go outside, darling?’

orym glances over—the quickness of mental communique that laudna so admires, and misses, the crackle of imogen’s thoughts so bright and light and powerful—and he nods and there’s something in his gaze that makes laudna think she ought to say something, but fear is a starving rat eating her tongue, which is awful, isn’t it, because she can’t speak while it’s there but it’s better for everyone if she keeps her mouth shut so they don’t see the tongue and the rat and the cavern and the rat can’t get out and it can’t bite anyone but her and she doesn’t really need a tongue anyway she’s dead after all so why deal with the blood and pity when she could just eat the rat and be done with it. also, there’s a beautiful woman whose ears are uncut into points who is her reflection, brilliant life billowing out from her, sun-warm, and she’s watching her, and laudna thinks she might cry or perhaps scream if this woman gets a glimpse of laudna’s insides.

imogen loops their arms together. they walk outside like lovers do, beneath trees bejewelled with flowers and buds. the fabric of their dresses brush together as they walk. their hands do not part.

‘are you alright?’

laudna keeps her mouth closed. the rat is gone, she doesn’t think it was real, but she’s not sure about the state of her tongue.

imogen touches her own forehead, the circlet there. ‘do you ever think of her?’ she asks. ‘that lady?’ when laudna nods, imogen sighs. ‘i wish… i wish so much hadn’t happened to you. i wish it couldn’t hurt you anymore.’

‘if it’d never happened, we wouldn’t be here,’ pate says, crawling out from his house. he perches on the roof, balancing with paws against the faux-chimney—laudna knew it was ornament only because she’d taken pate’s eyes as her own and they’d clambered through the space together, small and secure, and pried into each expert corner until they were satisfied. ‘and then you wouldn’t get to explore wi’ her. an’ by explore—‘

‘don’t you finish that thought,’ laudna snaps.

‘—o’ course i mean explore her body,’ pate chortles. he has to launch into the sky when laudna tries to grab at him, palm full of dark lightning. ‘oh fuck! don’t - laudna!’

‘get back here! apologise to imogen!’

pate hides behind imogen, wings flapping, chortling. ‘won’t!’

‘you will! right now!’

‘won’t! can’t make me!’

‘i did make you, you - you - you little beast!’ she races around her - girlfriend? her imogen - who spins, laughing, keeping herself between laudna and pate.

they’re drawing eyes. who could possibly be laughing, loving out in the open? who could possibly dare draw the ire of the red, glaring moon? imogen catches laudna’s clawing hands in hers, holds her. pate crawls up purple hair, splays, exhausted, atop her head.

‘do you think she knows?’ laudna gives voice to her fear. ‘what i am? what i did?’

‘how could she?’

‘she could be watching. me. if she suspects, if he does… she did such terrible things to them, darling, and i am—i literally embody that for them.’ imogen is shaking her head but laudna doesn’t see it; sees the tree, and the de rollo’s, and the shadow of the blossom tree with its curling branches stretches out in front of the sinking sun like a grasping hand. ‘i’m afraid, imogen,’ she admits, mouth open, everything soft and bitten and hurting on full display. imogen looks right into her eyes, her mouth. she sees everything. nothing changes. imogen still holds her hands, still holds her close.

‘what are you afraid of? that they’ll try and hurt you?’ imogen shakes her head. ‘i won’t let them. we won’t. you’re not bad, laudna, and you’re not her.’

‘but she’s in here. she’s back, i did that—‘

‘did you ever think that you didn’t let her in? that she was waiting out there in the dark and when you were scared and hurt, she let herself back in?’ imogen reaches up. strokes the hair back from her face. which does nothing, because the wind is fierce and playful and endless here in zephrah. ‘you’re not to blame for the fact that she hurt you. and if they blame you for that,’ she says, tilting her head back to the tree, ‘they’re wrong.’

‘she hurt them too.’

‘i don’t care.’ she didn’t. laudna could see it. oh, she cared enough for them—hearing what had been done to whitestone and the family there was dreadful and imogen had a sweet heart—but the care was dwarfed, obliterated, by how she cared for laudna. it did not compare. how could it? what was as a single raindrop to the scorching desert, a handful of gravedirt to the mountain. what was sympathy to the way imogen loved her?

‘i don’t want to see her today,’ laudna says, and helps to tie back imogen’s hair with red string. ‘can it be as it was, once? the two of us?’

‘oí.’

‘three of us,’ she amends, and when imogen laughs, and kisses her—hidden from their friends behind the huts—laudna glances over to ruidis, smouldering on the horizon, and smiles. it would all be alright, eventually; after all, what was the red moon to the way she loves imogen?

[countrymusiclover]

7 - Smells like Fire

Part 8

The Lion Knight and Dragon Princess

Tags- just send an ask to be added @cdragons @kmc1989 @starkleila @noirrose21-blog @lover-of-books-and-tea

Days later things had seemed to get better between Sansa and I but she didn't know the truth. I knew she had enough on her plate rather than deal with my current situation. Entering Tyrion’s chamber I shut the door behind me hearing it click and lock behind me. Looking around I found him and a swordsman named Bromm standing at his table near the window. 'Why don’t you just use that on them instead of fighting the lot on the battlefield?’

“Because I'm not certain it will work. And if it does we can only use it once to be a surprise attack.” Tyrion responded leaning his palms on the table.

I finally made my presence in the room known to the pair. “What’s the one time attack?”

“Vaella! Um, it's nothing you should worry about. You'll be in the crypts with Sansa.” Tyrion spun around trying to hide the map with his body.

“Tyrion, what is it?”

He avoided my question with a compliment. “Doesn't she look nice, Bronn. I think she does.”

“Tyrion!’

He watched my movements and held his arms out blocking me. I ran forward and he threw some punches at me holding me back for a second till I twisted his wrist and threw the lord down onto his back. “Vaella - agh!”

“Woah, I'd never think a princess would land you flat on your back.” Bronn mocked with a proud smirk.

Tyrion groaned, pushing his body up from the stone tile. “How did you manage that, princess?”

“Jaime briefly taught me defense in secret.”

Bronn's smirk grew bigger on his face. “I’m beginning to like this girl more than I like you.”

Pushing over my hair out of my face I huffed going to the map seeing a bright green jar beside it. Slowly picking up the jar in my hands concerned if it broke onto the floor. “You’re going to use Wildfire on them. That’s why you didn’t want me to see this.” Glancing over my shoulder I felt tears welling in my eyes thinking back on the many times I’d seen it used.

“I wasn’t sure how you would react if I told you what the battle strategy was. Your - your father was obsessed with it. I - I - I’m sorry for not telling you in the first place.” Tyrion nervously responded standing behind me next to Bronn.

Sitting the jar down on the table I eyed the map behind me recalling the section of tunnels I would use to sneak out for Jaime and I to spend time alone without my father or other guards realizing we had gone. “It’s okay, Tyrion. I shall wish you luck that your plan works. Wildfire is unpredictable, just like me.” Walking around him my dress swaying with my hips and I closed the door behind me.

“What do you think she meant by that?” Bronn asked, rather confused.

The youngest Lannister eyed the door where she had left, he hoped that one day he would get to know more of the Targaryen princess. “I don’t know but hopefully I can find out.”

Amber had fitted me into a black tunic shirt, red trousers and black riding boots figuring that a dress of any sort wouldn’t be suitable for sword training. Tying my hair up into a ponytail Jaime and I snuck our way through the secret tunnels. “So what does your lady in waiting think of you doing this?” Jaime asked, laying his sword on the ground and drawing out another blade for me from his belt.

“She thinks that I’ll beat you.” I teased with a smirk in his direction.

Jaime smirked a cocky look my way, handing me the handle blade. “Oh, she does. Well I’m sorry to disappoint her and say that a beginning like you can’t.”

Closing my fingers around the blade handle I sucked in a breath raising the sword beside my head before we started charging at the other beginning to fight one another. “Don’t be so cocky, Lannister.”

"Relax your dominant arm, Vae." Jaime instructs as I swing with my right arm out more even though I'm holding the sword in both hands. "If you use the same move all the time your opponent can learn which arm is the weakest."

Our swords smack against each other before gently shoves me backwards in the training yard that overlooks the water outside of the Red Keep. "Jaime?" I grunt, taking another swing at him.

He swung back circling me to make our sword press against one another for a moment. "Yes, my princess." He steps back a little sword still raised as I get back in a fighting stance.

I raise my sword trying to strike him but he lightly elbows me in my side to strike me from below. I switch my sword to my left hand for a moment to knock him away. "Your form is better than the last time."

He complimented my reply. "Thanks -uh!" I grunted out, pressing my sword against his. He pressed his sword against mine, never losing gaze with mine.

"Jaime, I-uh..." He started to loosen his hold on his sword when we pushed the other back but suddenly he knocked my sword from my left hand, knowing we both are dominant in our right hands. I dodge his next attack to reveal a dagger from inside my boot and block his sword coming down on me.

"Impressive, princess." He parts his lips when I push his sword down getting up from being on my knees.

"Thank you. But don’t call me that.” I aimed the dagger up, tapping the tip against his chin.

Jaime placed his sword into his holder, closing the distance between the two of us. “You know you love it.” He smirked, connecting our lips together. He was secretly right about, yet I wouldn’t ever tell him that was the case.

I had told Sansa that I wouldn’t be joining her and the other ladies in the bottom of the castle. I needed to see Tyrion’s plan go through otherwise the entire city would be taken down. Tugging a black cloak over my head I peaked my head around the corner seeing nobody was there. Running through the streets I climbed up one of the nearest ladders of a building top that allows me to see the ship ports.

Looking over the shortest column I saw hundreds or maybe thousands of ships coming towards the land. An arrow on fire flew over my head landing onto a ship that had Wildfire liquid pouring out of it and circling the ships so that when the arrow hit the water green flames grew so quickly there was no way of stopping it.

The familiar haunting fire spread before my eyes with multiple explosions shaking the ground that was near the area of water. I gasped feeling a tightness inside my chest seeing bright green before my eyes after all these years. “Burn them all - Burn them all!” Those three horrible words through my ears where I covered them, stumbling down the ladder and running wherever I could trying to escape the loud sound of men screaming and flames filling the sky above my head.

Cutting through the empty hallway I came out into another area filled with the king guards fighting Stannis’s where I had to duck underneath some of the attackers, rolling onto the ground. “Vaella! What are you doing out here?” Whipping my head around I saw Tyrion coming towards me in battle armor.

“I saw your attack.” My gaze shifted quickly seeing a Stannis soldier running straight up to us carrying a knife in his hand attempting to stab me until Tyrion stepped in the way getting cut across the face and collapsed to the dirt. “Tyrion!”

Dropping to my knees I touched his chest seeing fresh blood coming from the cut not sure what to do for him. “Get - out of - here.” He coughed before I felt someone grab my shoulder causing me to draw the blade I had hidden inside my boot. I stabbed the soldier in the chest that had cut him and drew the knife quickly frantically looking back at the lion on the ground carrying the blade in hand.

It took me an hour to get back to the castle and up to my chamber room. Slamming the chamber door behind me and pressing my body against it I sighed sliding down onto the floor trying to catch my breath until I heard footsteps come around the corner. “Clarisse, are you alright?”

“Sansa - what are you doing in here?” Lifting my head up from my knees I saw the young girl a few steps away from me.

She lowered her intertwined hands in front of her gown. “I was worried about you.”

“You don’t have to worry. I can handle myself, my lady.”

Sansa eyed something laying at my feet. “Where did you get a dagger from?” The dagger she was talking about was at my feet covered in blood from when I had stabbed one of Stannis’s men and fled back here. I hoped that Tyrion would be alright.

“It doesn’t matter. You should head back to your chambers. It is getting late-“ I scrambled to my feet to the chamber pot feeling instantly sick to my stomach. Leaning over it I emptied my stomach raising my head back up I collapsed down beside the pot.

Sansa poured me some water and handed it to me. “Here, drink. Are you sure you’re okay?”

“That’s not really what you wanted to ask me is it? Why don’t you just ask me what you really want to know.” I slowly downed the drink.

She parted her lips, muttering. “Who are you really? Because you know this place far better than a lady in waiting would who just came here, you snuck out tonight to watch the battle and you look like someone I read about in one of the old books.”

“Seems to me that you already have an answer so just say it.” I trailed off seeing she was a lot smarter than I had first given her credit for.

Sansa shook her head no in defiance. “I’m not sure I should.”

“Then I will.” Raising myself to my feet I curtsy to her in my handmaiden gown, my gaze holding intensely with hers. “Vaella, daughter of Aerys II and Rhaella Targaryen. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Seven hells.” Sansa for the first time in her life uttered a curse word from her mouth.