#please girls be kind to each other and always fix each other crowns

[fairydrowning]

I love when girls are kind to each other and help other girls. For me it's like they are fixing each other crowns and that's so amazing.

[fragilefable]

nobody's son, nobody's daughter.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Fem!Reader Rating: Mature (18+ minors DNI) Summary: When you and Joel get separated the night of the outbreak, you spend the next decade searching for him. Just when you've given up— a miracle occurs. Warnings: heavy angst, canon typical violence, character death (sarah), discussions of grief, very brief mention of suicidal ideation, alcohol used to cope, depression, suggestive language, lovers reunited, hurt/comfort, happy ending.

Word Count: 6.6k Currently Playing: Chemtrails Over the Country Club by Lana Del Rey ♪

A/N: This piece has been months in the making, hours of rereading and rewriting. This is my love child. I'm possibly (definitely) planning a part 2 with smut... ;) I am a full-time college student who unfortunately has other responsibilities, so please be patient with me. My first lengthy piece in a while, so please be kind & enjoy my doves!

Sleep was the most convenient temporary escape available in the post-cordyceps world. Oftentimes, if you were lucky enough, with sleep came dreams—glimpses of a divine, utopian life. One without spores or fungi of any kind. There was, however, always the chance that with it came nightmares—Polaroids of the past, the uprising of the infection. Mothers clutching bloodied children, decaying men ripping open flesh with their savage teeth, and, worst of all— losing Joel Miller. 

Joel was... everything—neighbor, friend, lover. Joel hated that word— laughed every time it managed to escape your lips in a hushed whisper, but that was what you were to each other. It transcended explanation. You'd moved to Austin after college in hopes of starting over, a clean slate. Instead, you'd stumbled upon a single father and his then 11-year-old daughter. You fit into their life like the missing puzzle piece— you completed them. Sarah needed a motherly presence in her life. There was only so much Joel could do for the blossoming young woman. 

And Joel— Joel never knew what he was missing until you came along. Someone to be able to rely on, to love unconditionally, a fixed constant. To say he fell head over heels was an understatement, but it became so much more than physical attraction. It became something far more profound and terrifying— love. The kind of love only poets write about. It was fierce, at times agonizing. That's what made losing him all the more heartbreaking. 

You were with Sarah the night of the outbreak— Joel's birthday. Lounging around in plaid pajamas, waiting for Joel to get home from work. Despite being exhausted, Sarah was beaming with pride over her birthday present for her dad— his broken wristwatch now repaired and refurbished. You smiled mischievously, "And just where did you get the money to fix this, young lady?" Sarah grinned slyly, "Just lyin' around, it's not like he noticed it was missin'!" Hours passed, you and Sarah slumped against the couch: Fast asleep, soft snores escaping mouths, drool dribbling down chins. 

The sight made Joel's heart quaver in his chest. Kicking off his muddied work boots, he carefully plopped down in between the two sleeping figures, planting a gentle kiss on the crown of your head. "Hmm. You're home," you stirred awake, drowsy eyes met with a welcome sight: Weathered tan skin and dark chocolate curls. "Hey, Darlin'. You outta head up to bed. I'll be up soon." You nodded faintly, planting a chaste kiss on Sarah's forehead: "Goodnight, sweet girl." 

You fell fast asleep as soon as your body hit Joel's mattress, his scent engulfing you like a blanket of safety— a shield of sorts. The vague smell of sawdust and pine soap conquered your senses, a heavenly combination. An hour later, you felt the bed dip down, strong arms circling your waist.

Frantic hands shook you awake, calling your name weakly: "I can't find Dad. N' somethin' weird is goin' on outside." You sat up, Sarah's urgency pulling you from your hazy half-asleep state. "Don't worry, sweetheart, I'll call him. Go back to bed." Sarah ignored your suggestion and sat beside you as you reached for the landline. The call went to voicemail without hesitation: "Huh... That's weird." 

Sarah grew more anxious by the second, "I'm gonna go check the driveway for his truck." Sarah shot up from the bed, feet pattering down the stairs. "Sarah! Wait, I'll come with-" Throwing on your Converse, you hastily ran out after her. Your tired eyes scanned the pavement but found no signs of Sarah or Joel's truck. The Adler's door was wide open; you huffed: "Sarah?" 

The Adler's house was pitch black and eerily quiet, the family's dog nowhere to be seen: "Sarah? This is trespassing!" Tiptoeing through the living room, you halted at the sight of a ruby trail— blood. Grotesque, wet noises filled the previously silent house: "Sarah?" The teen bolted out of the kitchen, grabbing your hand and pulling you towards the front door: "Run!" Mrs. Adler scrambled after Sarah, mouth dribbling crimson liquid, no longer bound to her wheelchair. 

"What the fuck–" Sarah's grip on your hand tightened as you passed through the door and stumbled onto the pavement. A pair of familiar brown eyes scanned Sarah's figure and then yours: "Sarah? Darlin'? Are ya'll ok-" Joel's words were cut off when Mrs. Adler dashed through the front door, her figure lunging for you. 

Joel struck the side of her head with a wrench as you made a feeble attempt to crawl away. His strikes were lethal, and yet the elder kept thrashing against the ground. "Joel, stop!" Only then did you notice Tommy, Joel's younger brother, behind you, coaxing Sarah into the truck. 

Joel exhausted Mrs. Adler with one final swing, dropping the bloodied wrench beside him and wiping his shaky hands on his jeans. His gaze softened when he saw your timid frame— shaking and unmoving. "Darlin'... Baby, are you okay?" His hands found your shoulders, rubbing soothing circles on a patch of exposed skin. You hesitated; Joel had just killed Mrs. Adler in cold blood— but she tried to kill you and Sarah first. 

Joel hurriedly hoisted you to your feet, "We gotta go, okay baby? It's not safe here." You clambered into the backseat beside Sarah, the girl's arms thrown around you tightly. Kissing the crown of her head, you reassured her: "It's okay, sweetheart, everything's okay." 

Neighbors began to exit their homes, baffled and disturbed by the sight of Mrs. Adler's bloody, lifeless body lying in the yard. Someone called out for Joel. He immediately instructed her to go back inside and lock the doors. Tommy beckoned Joel into the car, exiting the culdesac and taking off towards the highway. After a fleeting moment, you mustered up the courage to ask, "Joel, what's going on?" Tommy replied, "They're sayin' it's a virus- some kinda parasite." Sarah spoke up, tears forming, "Are we sick?" Joel shot the idea down immediately. 

Tommy and Joel continued bickering, your eyes glued to the road ahead: "Joel! Look- It's Jimmy's place." The two-story farmhouse was completely engulfed in flames, unrecognizable. Your hands clung to Sarah, burrowing her head into your neck: "It's okay, sweet girl." Police sirens rang out through the darkness, interrupted by soft pleas for help. A family was stranded on the side of the road, begging for aid. Tommy began to slow the car. "What're you doin'?" Joel firmly questioned. Tommy shot back, "Got a kid, Joel." 

"So do we. Keep drivin'," Joel spat. Tommy sped back up, eyes searching Joel's for an explanation: "Somebody else will come along." As Tommy approached the interstate, the sounds of disgruntled drivers grew louder: "Fuck! Everybody had the same fuckin' idea. I can't get through this." Joel gripped the dashboard, "All right, all right. Let's think it through," he paused for a moment, "All right, take the field! We cut across, and we pick up on the west side." Tommy steered right, the truck jerking on the uneven terrain. As he drove over the hill, helicopters and tanks came into view, "Shit. Fuckin' army." 

Sarah peered out from behind the seat, "Isn't that good?" Your voice was filled with hesitation, "That's the highway we need to get to." Joel and Tommy argued, eventually continuing toward a town just east of the highway. Sarah stilled, "Maybe it's everywhere. Maybe there's nowhere to go." A booming roar erupted, Tommy twisting his body to get a better look at the night sky: "What the fuck?!" Commercial airplanes flew overhead, merely hundreds of feet above the ground. You instinctively covered Sarah's ears with your hands, eyes wrenching shut at the deafening rumble of their engines. Tommy swerved to avoid a police blockade ahead, turning into a nearby alleyway. 

The streets were flooded with screaming civilians, running in every direction— no one sure who exactly they were running from. A hoard of people fled from inside a movie theater, causing Tommy to shift the truck's gear into reverse. "Dad?" Sarah called out, "Dad!" Joel turned; an airplane was rapidly descending— heading straight towards town, "Shit. Move!" As the plane made contact with the ground, a mushroom cloud of fire and smoke bloomed, causing Tommy to lose control of the truck. 

A strong hand shook your leg, "Darlin'? Stay right there, don't move." Your side ached, cool liquid flowing from your head. Beside you, Sarah quickly came to, her eyes shifting to the figure hunched outside of the flipped car, clawing at the corpse of an older man. "Sarah, baby, don't look. C'mere, put your arms around me." As Joel carefully unearthed Sarah from the mangled truck, you climbed out of the shattered window: Hissing as you shifted against your arm. Sarah tried to put weight on her leg, provoking muffled whimpers and cries at the attempt. Tommy, equipped with his shotgun, called out, "We gotta get off the street!" 

As you approached Joel and Sarah, a flaming police car crashed into the capsized truck, separating the three of you from Tommy. Tommy roared from the other side of the wreck: "Meet at the river! I'll find a way." Joel turned to Sarah, "Can you run?" She shook her head wearily. He scooped her into his arms, "Keep your eyes on me." Joel shifted towards you, "No matter what, you keep runnin'. Alright, darlin'? Promise me." You hesitated, desperate eyes meeting his, "I promise." 

The three of you stumbled through the alley until you came across a cluster of bodies scattered across the pavement, crouched figures grunting over the lifeless figures. The end of the passage was clear. The only problem was getting past the rotted creatures without being noticed. There was no way Joel could outrun them in his condition. One of the creatures shot up at the sound of a remote blast, eyes landing on Joel. His voice was firm, "Go." You grabbed his arm, "Joel!" He repeated his command, louder— frantic: "You can't carry Sarah w'that arm. Go find Tommy. We'll meet you there."  

You pressed a hurried kiss to Sarah's head, the deranged man scrambling to his feet before you could embrace Joel. You took off towards the other end of the alley, Joel and Sarah barricading themselves inside the vacant diner across from the pile of carcasses. Your body throbbed with every step, head burning with the fire of a thousand suns. Your feet carried you across town, weaving in and out of injured civilians and infected until you reached the river. The stream was pitch black, sounds of gunfire and cries rang out in the distance. 

Suddenly, a bright light blinded you: "Put your hands where I can see 'em!" You obeyed, raising them as high as your injured arm would allow. Your voice raw with distress, "M'not sick! Just trying to find my family!" The man stepped closer, seemingly inspecting your physical state. He was clad in military gear, "You hurt?" You shook your head eagerly: "Just a sprained arm." He nodded his head, "Alright. We've got buses that can take you to a decontamination zone." 

Your head scanned the vast field, eyes scouring for any sign of Joel or Tommy: "I- I can't. I'm supposed to meet someone here. At the river." The soldier looked dissatisfied and slowly lifted his gun, "The river goes on for miles. S'not safe out here." Your eyebrows threaded together in confusion, "What- are you- are you gonna shoot me?" The soldier's grasp on his automatic rifle tightened, "I'm sayin' you have two choices. You can either come with me or you can-" 

A guttural scream sounded from behind him. But before he could turn around, a pair of arms seized his neck and began ripping into his military garb. The soldier flailed wildly at his attacker. While he was busy fighting off the deranged beast, you took off into the darkness, wandering aimlessly and calling out for your family. That night was the last time you saw Joel Miller.

16 Years Later

The bitter winter air overwhelmed your senses until you were gasping for air, limbs numb and cold to the touch. You wouldn't make it much longer without shelter, without warmth. You'd spent the better part of the last 16 years searching for him— for Joel. Ever since that night, you'd scoured every independent civilization, every QZ, within mobs of infected. Each night, you silently prayed never to find him like that— skin pallid and overcome with fungus, head split wide open, cordyceps blooming from within. 

You'd trekked across the country with the sole intent of finding him alive and healthy. The journey was brutal— raiders and infected desperate for blood. But by far, the hardest battle was pushing away the nagging thought that, even if Joel and Sarah were somehow alive, you'd never find them. Now, after nearly two decades of searching, you were reaching the end of your journey. You'd officially trekked across the entire nation. If your estimations were correct, you were nearing Wyoming— hence the formidable cold front. 

You'd heard rumors about a small civilization located somewhere on the skirts of Jackson County— your last stop. You knew the chances were slim; that feeling only fortified with each city, each civilian who hadn't heard of or seen anyone by the name of "Joel Miller." But you kept searching— because the day that you stopped would be the day you lost everything, lost yourself. It was as though he held onto you with a leash. If you tugged hard enough, could you finally break free? What else did you have to live for? Maybe one day you'd have some sort of epiphany, something to make sense of all the death and suffering. For now, Joel kept your hope alive— the hope that there was happiness and safety beyond all of the pain. The very thought of him kept you alive. 

You stood in front of thick and rusted iron gates, your posture crooked due to exhaustion— Just one more stop. The sounds of cocking guns drew your attention to the top of the gates. A young man and woman stand there, rifles pointed at you: "Drop your weapon! Let us see your hands!" You obey. This is standard practice amongst civilizations— you'd done it a thousand times by now. Unsheathing and kicking away your pistol, you then throw your backpack towards the gate. Hands raised next to your head. Your voice wavers as you half-shout, "I'm not infected! Just looking for someone!" 

The woman searched your face for a bit, presumably looking for any signs of deceit. She nodded towards her companion, the corroded metal walls unfolding. Two men approached you and picked up your discarded belongings. The younger of the two roughly patted you down and checked for bite marks. When they were satisfied, they led you past the gates into the town square. The village was pleasant, a handful of people milling about in the slushy streets. 

A familiar voice erupts from behind you: "Please excuse the initial hostility. We need to be careful about who we let in... I'm Maria." She extends her hand. You accept it gingerly and introduce yourself. "Welcome to Jackson. You must be freezing. Come on, we'll talk inside." — Maria leads you inside a small building, the exterior reminding you of the Lincoln Logs you used to play with as a child. The inside is... quaint. A lone desk sits near the lit fireplace. Maria leans against the desk and motions for you to take a seat: "So... You're lookin' for someone. And you have reason to believe they're here?" 

You sigh, allowing your aching body to relax against the couch's plush cushions: "No... I am looking for someone, but... Well, this is my last stop." Maria nods sympathetically, tucking a lone braid behind her ear— "I get it. You've been looking for a long time. It's about time to stop. To rest." You can't help the tears that form on your waterline. Your gaze shifts to your lap. Maria continues, "Who are you lookin' for?" 

You swallow the fist-sized lump in your throat, "Joel. Joel Miller." Your attention snaps towards her as a wistful sigh escapes her lips. A tight frown dawns on Maria's face, "I'm sorry. There's no Joel Miller here." You nod; you knew it was a long shot, but hearing it aloud was something different entirely. You rise from the couch, "Thank you. I apologize for takin' up your time." Maria speaks up before you can reach the door: "Now what? You got a place to stay?" 

You honestly hadn't thought that far, about life beyond looking. For years, finding Joel was your only purpose— your rationale for remaining on this infested hellscape. You had no home, no roots. Maria's voice interrupts your thoughts, "There's room here. We've got food and water— shelter. Hell, we're even working on electricity." You turn to face her. Her words dripping with verity, "Jackson could be your home." 

Despite having just met her, Maria's words touched something buried deep within you— hope. Hopeful of a new life, of new beginnings. You forged a small smile, "Okay." Maria smiled, but it was much different from yours: It was toothy, genuine— "Alright. I'll give you the grand tour then." For the next hour or so, Maria marched you around town. She showed you the vast dining hall laden with maple furniture. The stables filled with mare and their young. 

Then she showed you the schoolhouse. It was a small brick building. The walls were filled with colorful crayon drawings. Tiny handprints were pressed onto the wall in various colors of acrylic paint. The dulcet sounds of innocent laughter erupted from every corner of the room. Children from the ages of 5-12 were scattered around: Some doing arts and crafts, some reading, and others playing with worn toys. A tear slipped down your cheek. You brushed it away quickly before Maria could notice. 

You couldn't help but think of Sarah. About the first time she knocked on your door— she was selling chocolate bars for some fundraiser at school. Her bronze complexion dappled with freckles, and her wide smile revealed a missing tooth. She was eleven at the time, eyes bright and full of wonder. Blind to the atrocities that loomed at every turn. Sometimes, you'd think about what she looked like now— did her curls still rest atop her shoulders? Did she still laugh until she was panting for air? She's thirty now... Has she fallen in love? That was considering she is still... 

You didn't entertain the thought. Sarah was fine, alive somewhere with her father to look after her. Maria's touch pulls you from your thoughts, "How about I show you where you'll be living? Get you settled in." As Maria exited the schoolhouse, you stole one last glance at the room. A little girl met your gaze. Her dark curls were pulled into two ponytails. Her burnt mahogany eyes crinkled at the corners as she smiled, raising her tiny hand and waving it at you. You returned the sentiment, this time allowing the tear to fall down and onto the ground.  

Maria escorted you just outside of town, to a street lined with country-style two-story houses in relatively good condition. "This one here, the green one. It's already furnished. I'll have one of my guys come by later with some essentials from the pantry. Otherwise, you should be all set 'til tomorrow." Your eyes bore into the house. It was nice, but also... "It's big," you retort, "Don't know what I could possibly need all those rooms for." Maria lays the silver key in your hand, "You never know." 

You internally cringe at the connotation. Start over with some man? Have a big family and a white picket fence? You couldn't. It wouldn't be the same. You let out a shaky breath, "Thank you, Maria." She nods, "Come see me tomorrow, and we'll talk about where to go from here. Everyone in Jackson has a job, a role to play. Rest up... You deserve it." She departs, leaving just you and your great, big, empty house. 

3 Years Later

Jackson developed rapidly under Maria's supervision. The population rose from 50 to roughly 300 in just under three years. Jackson now had electricity, thanks to the Jackson County Hydroelectric Dam that Maria's team was able to get up and running. You'd become the head of patrol— in charge of organizing the schedules and determining the routes. You and Maria had become very close, practically family. She's the person who understood you, what you've been through. 

In an attempt to busy yourself and earn your keep, you'd thrown yourself into working alongside her. Not just with patrols but also with community relations and development. You'd completely reconstructed the greenhouse, built a jailhouse— that, luckily, wasn't used much— and helped fortify Jackson's defenses. Maria assigned you the title "community leader," but you much preferred what everyone else called you: "Maria's right hand." 

Your house was still too big, but now it felt homier— lived in. The walls were plastered with botanical paintings you'd found while out on patrol, vases of fresh cut flowers from the community garden placed upon every surface. Cable knit blankets were draped over the shabby leather furniture, the brick fireplace emanating warmth and bringing solace during the cold winter months. You'd even taken up baking in your spare time, frequently bringing baked goods to the schoolhouse. 

Nevertheless, when the sun set and the sounds of bustling downtown Jackson faded, your thoughts always returned to Joel. His bronze skin, tousled brown curls, and perfectly plump lips. Suddenly, it felt as though the house was mocking you, and the right side of the bed always grew colder. Perhaps it's why you worked yourself so hard; taking a day off was seldom. You couldn't escape the persistent feeling that Joel and Sarah weren't alive. That you'd failed to find them time and time again because somewhere, they were six feet under, buried in an unmarked grave. All it takes is one moment— one lapse between heartbeats— and suddenly, everything has changed.

· · ───────────── ·𖥸· ────────────── · ·

The spring air was crisp with morning dew. A gentle breeze slipped through the cracked bay window. Three heavy thuds woke you— the sharp knocks cutting through serene silence. Your voice was raspy with sleep, "Coming!" You quickly pulled on the worn terrycloth robe that hung from the bedpost and stumbled downstairs. You swung the door open to reveal Stanley, a young man who worked in construction: "I'm so sorry to wake you, but Maria sent me to get you. She said it's urgent."  

You sighed deeply, rubbing the remaining exhaustion from your face: "Urgent like, 'don't get dressed' urgent?" Stanley's eyes roamed across the dark fabric of your robe before snapping back to your face. His cheeks bright pink, "Oh, um... no! Just meet her in her office ASAP." Sending him off with a nod, you traipsed upstairs and threw on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt before making your way downtown. It was early morning, the streets empty save the early risers milling about, getting ready for work. As you passed a group of older women sipping hot beverages, you overheard whispers of "an outsider." As Maria's righthand, you were expected to greet all incoming arrivals. How on earth that could constitute a crisis, you did not know. 

As you approached Maria's office, the woman in question exited swiftly, shutting the door behind her. You grew closer, taking note of her fidgeting hands. She was... nervous? "Good morning, Mar. What's the emergency?" Maria's face was sullen. You'd never seen her like this, not in the three years you'd known her. Your hands clenched at your sides, "Maria? What is it?"

She took a deep breath, "This may be a false alarm, but... This guy's last name is Miller. Says he's originally from Texas." Her words stole the air from your lungs, a pit forming in the bottom of your stomach. She said something else, but all you could hear was buzzing. Your vision blurred, the dark-skinned woman's features coming in and out of focus. Could it be him—had Joel finally found you? 

Maria called your name, pulling you from your trance. As your vision focused, you pushed past her. Your grip on the doorknob was bone-crushing, your knuckles turning white from the tension. You inhaled— don't get your hopes up. It might not be him. You exhaled, pushing the door open with a startling amount of force. You analyzed the man's figure, you recognized him— only it wasn't Joel. It wasn't the Miller whose calloused hands once traveled the expanse of your body, making note of each hidden crevice as though it may hold treasure. Whose lips once seared white hot kisses in the places he knew were the most sensitive— "Tommy?"

He looked dumbstruck, his lips parted in shock. Before you could stop yourself, you threw your arms around his neck. It took him a moment to reciprocate your embrace, but once he did, his arms anchored you in place. He spoke your name quietly against the crown of your head: "I can't... I can't believe it." You pulled away, "I hardly can either." His hands rested atop your shoulders as his eyes searched your face in disbelief. His resemblance to his older brother felt like a gut punch. You were afraid to ask— fearful of the truth: "Joel? Is he..."

Tommy's hand squeezed your shoulder in reassurance, "He's alive. Last I checked, holed up somewhere in the Boston QZ." A warm tear slipped down your face, the salty liquid resting just below your chin. You'd checked Boston QZ, but recent "terrorist" attacks had made it impossible to stay longer than an hour without drawing the attention of every FEDRA soldier in that godforsaken city. Your hands trembled as you clutched your chest, "And Sarah? How's my sweet girl?" 

Tommy's face went cold— No. No. She can't— "She's gone." The taste of bile rose in your throat, "Wh-when?" Tommy removed his hands from your shoulders, "That night. Shot by some military fucker. She..." He hesitated, "Joel held her. It happened s'fast." Your kneels buckled, threatening to send you towards the ground. You fucked up— you let yourself get accustomed to the idea of her being alive. Repeated it over and over again until you believed it to be true. This was all your fault. 

Your shoulders shook silently, as if you were crying— but no tears emerged, "I have to… I have to find Joel." Turning toward the door, Tommy caught you by your wrist: "I can't let you do that, hon. It's a damn death sentence." You tugged at your arm, desperate to break free from the restraint: "Let go of me, Tommy. I'm doin' this." Maria stepped forward, her hand resting at the base of your neck— "No, you're not. Jackson needs you here. I need you here."

Your breathing became labored. Deep down, you knew they were right— you were in no shape to travel across the country again. You'd barely survived it the first time. Chest heaving, your free hand found purchase on your throat, tightly grasping and constricting the airway. Tommy wearily let go of your wrist, his eyes wide and filled with fear. You ran for the door; you could hear Tommy call out for you as you fled homeward. Sarah was gone. Joel was alone.

· · ───────────── ·𖥸· ────────────── · ·

Days passed, and despite everything, the sun rose in the morning and the moon at night. You weren't quite sure how long it had been. You'd stopped counting daybreak after the first five came and went. Maria checked in after the first couple of days, worried that you hadn't been seen around town— or leaving your house, for that matter. Your grief was debilitating, all-consuming. You couldn't eat, could barely sleep, only finding relief at the bottom of a liquor bottle. You were tired… The kind of tired that sleep didn't fix.

Tommy came once. Sat and talked while you stared straight ahead at the empty wall. He could sense your anger, your resentment. How could he not? You silently judged him for leaving Joel, leaving his brother after his only daughter died in his arms. Tommy told you that Joel had changed. He wasn't the Joel you fell in love with; he'd done terrible things— But so had you. You'd killed innocent people, people who were just trying to protect themselves. And you did it in the name of finding Joel and Sarah, of surviving for them. You'd convinced yourself it was kill or be killed, and you had to live with that. Come judgment day, you'd pay greatly for your sins. You accepted that, too.

You only dared to look at Tommy's face once. You saw Joel in his eyes— you saw Sarah. Maybe if you hadn't left Joel in that alleyway, she'd still be alive. You could've protected her, taken the bullet for her. You would have, without hesitation. You'd cross the fiery pits of hell for her, reside in Caina, and be tortured for eternity. You may not have given birth to her, but Sarah was your daughter.

If you closed your eyes hard enough, you could faintly picture her smile. The dimples that formed just below her bottom lip. You could smell the faint aroma of her strawberry shampoo. Hear the broken remnants of her grandiose laughter. You swore to keep those memories someplace safe. Take them out and remember when you needed to, as if they were photographs.

A part of you wanted to be happy that she didn't suffer. She was too innocent for this new, heartless world. She was everything good in life. She was sunshine, sugary syrup, and pure, unadulterated love. But you could not accept this bright side. Not when it meant a life without her in it. Innocence is beautiful, but life is for living.

Tommy stood up, slipping a piece of paper on the nightstand. You cautiously turned it over to reveal a creased photo: You, Joel, and Sarah posing after winning one of her soccer games. You stole one last glance at Tommy. This time, he did not see blinding hatred in your gaze. Instead, he saw gratitude. As your glassy eyes bore into him, he nodded knowingly and left.

Maria came a couple of hours later with leftovers from the dining hall. Setting them on the counter next to the empty whiskey bottles displayed like pathetic trophies. You were in the same position as when Tommy left. You held the photo in your hands, thumbs stroking its frayed edges. Maria quietly dragged a chair closer to the bed, sitting just within arm's reach: "I went to a really dark place after I lost Kevin."

Tearing your gaze from the picture, one of her hands finds yours: "He made life worth living… It took me a long time to start to feel human again. To feel something other than pain and sorrow. The grief never goes away. But slowly, it starts to feel less like loss, and more like love." She inhaled shakily, "I know what you're feeling right now. I know why you're drowning your sorrows in that shit, trying to drink yourself to death." A tear slips down your face, her hand squeezing yours gently: "But you have to understand… What you're feeling right now, that's love. You're not a bad person for how you try to kill your sadness. But it's not gonna work."

You're unable to contain the choked sob that escapes your throat. The tears come harshly, scorching saline against your skin. Maria shifts her weight from the chair onto the bed, holding your shaking frame: "It's okay… Let it out." Her hands cradle your head, smoothing over your disheveled hair. "It's all my fault," you gasp between sobs, "I never should've left them. It's all my fault." Maria shushes you, "No, honey. You don't really believe that. You want someone to blame, but you're not that person."

Eventually, the tears cease. Your breathing evened out as Maria held you, "I miss Joel, so fucking much." You could feel Maria nod tenderly, "I know Honey." A lone tear slipped down your cheek, "Do you think— do you think he'll find me?" Maria pulled away, her chestnut eyes meeting yours, "Truthfully, I don't know." With a deep sigh, she squeezed your hand— "But I know he wouldn't want you to live like this. Isolating yourself from everyone else. You're allowed to grieve, but please don't shut me out. You're my person." You clutch her hands, squeezing firmly: "Even at my worst?" Her arms curled around your torso once again, "Even at your worst."

· · ───────────── ·𖥸· ────────────── · ·

The warmer seasons passed with haste. A wintertide blanket of white gradually covered Jackson. Day by day, Maria and Tommy were able to pull you out of your depressive stupor. You had to admit, they made quite the team. Maria was ultimately right, Joel wouldn't want you to spend the rest of your life a bedridden drunkard. But still, life without him was arduous. There wasn't a day that passed that you didn't think of Joel Miller. About where he was, what he was doing, who he was with, and whether he missed you as terribly as you did him. 

As much as you wished to focus on these melancholic thoughts, new developments began to bloom in Jackson. Tommy and Maria's blossoming love was hard to ignore and impossible to disapprove of. Watching two people whom you adored fall in love, it felt as though nothing had changed: No cordyceps, no raiders, just Jackson and all of its inhabitants. Perhaps you could find peace in that. When Maria told you that they were expecting, you were over the moon. Maria and Tommy deserved it, Jackson deserved it. Proof that the world is not over— that no matter the circumstances, mankind will prevail. 

You threw together a small wedding ceremony with the help of the florist and local bakery, the couple wanting to tie the knot before the baby's arrival. Joking about how "shotgun weddings" withstood the test of time. Something arose in you, a pang of jealousy— Envious that you and Joel never got the perfect white wedding. It disgusted you, so you buried it deep within the recesses of your heart. 

The winter was hard, the Wyoming chill threatening every crop that dared to sprout from the Earth. This resulted in you spending extra time in the greenhouse. You found gardening to be a rather soothing task, being able to nurture new life in a world marked by death and decay. It also provided plenty of time to think: Something that you did not relish. No matter how many times you pushed the thought of Joel away, it always returned. Whether it was at dawn or late at night plaguing your dreams. 

When you weren't at Tommy and Maria's house or at the Tipsy Bison, you were in the greenhouse. The small shack sat right on the outskirts of town, situated with the perfect view of downtown Jackson. The glass panes shut out the cold, trapping any warmth inside. You bathed in the basking glow of the sun, gravitating towards it as a Sunflower would. You weren't sure when thoughts of Sarah became joyous, memories no longer met with choked cries but instead with soft chuckles. Nonetheless, you welcomed the growth. It's how she would want you to remember her. 

You watched the clock that hung just above the door, a mere estimation of the time: 12:15 p.m. You carefully removed your dirt-caked gloves, setting them on the wooden bench beside you. Your stomach growled impatiently as you began the journey downtown. The air was frigid despite the sun's rays, the cold slowly numbing your fingers. As you ambled towards town, Stanley came jogging towards you: "Hey! Just got word from the gates that Maria's back. Brought some stragglers, two, I think." 

You nodded in his direction, "Alright. Thanks, Stan." The soft crunch of snow beneath your feet accompanied you as you approached downtown Jackson, an air of excitement and uncertainty radiating off of the townsfolk. It wasn't every day that Jackson came across people who weren't just blood-thirsty raiders looking for valuables. As you rounded a corner, you overheard a commotion, the sound of yelling. Strangely, it didn't sound angry or fearful. It sounded... happy. 

Midtown came into view; the construction that was being worked on was now abandoned. Immediately, your gaze fixed on two figures in the middle of the street embracing. That was... not typical. You could make one man out to be Tommy; his black curls contrasted starkly against his warm taupe skin. The other was taller and broader, his hair disheveled and graying. Behind them you could make out Maria on horseback, next to her was a young girl, who couldn't be older than thirteen. 

Maria's expression was borderline unreadable, a mixture of trepidation and relief. Until her eyes met yours, then her face softened. A look of tenderness emerged. Everything about this situation puzzled you— Until the two figures broke apart. The man stood inches from Tommy, his hands gripping Tommy's shoulders firmly. His face was sunken with exhaustion and hunger; a vast smile overtook his face. A smile you would recognize anywhere. 

He looked just as he had twenty years ago, only now his hair was significantly longer and his beard gray. His face was now littered with wrinkles, just as yours was. A telltale sign that time had, in fact, passed, that the world fell apart right in front of your eyes. Your fingers dug into your thigh. You surely would've drawn blood if not for the layer of denim protecting your skin. You knew you were grieving, but hallucinations seemed extreme. You took a hesitant step forward, still on the opposite end of the street. 

Maria beckoned for you. Your name seemingly catching Tommy's attention as he turned towards you. As the men stood side-by-side, it was impossible to deny. Their likeness evoked something in you— realization. You weren't dreaming, you weren't hallucinating. He was there, just a yard away: Joel Miller. His gaze found yours, eyes searching your face in disbelief. Your name left his mouth like a question, but it sounded like a prayer. 

He stepped forward as if he was testing the waters. You repeated his action, "Joel?" A smile broke across his face once again, causing you to break into a sprint. He jogged forward, careful not to slip on the icy gravel. Tears began streaming down your face, their warmth countering the icy chill. Before you could slow down, your body collided with his. His arms were tense, his hold fastening around you. You'd only dreamt of this moment for two decades. 

You weren't sure how long you stood like that. Head nestled firmly against his chest, tears staining his leather coat. His gloved fingers gently grasped your chin, pulling your face from its sanctuary: "Baby... Fuck, I can't believe it." His eyes searched your face for any sign of unease. He could find nothing but pure joy: "You found me. I searched for you, Joel Miller, for 16 years. And you found me." 

Joel let out a breathy chuckle, cut off as you captured his lips in a velvety kiss. At first, it was chaste.— A silent admission of consolation, twenty years in the making. You ran your tongue across his bottom lip, prompting him to groan as he opened his mouth to deepen the kiss. After a moment, a loud cough erupted from behind you. You reluctantly pull away, your forehead resting against his. Your hands cupped his cheeks, eyes glassy with relief and adoration: "After all this time?" Joel leans forward to place a gentle kiss on the corner of your mouth, "Would wait forever f'you, Darlin'." 

© 2023 fragilefable do not plagiarize, translate, or repost my writing to any other site.

divider by @saradika

[duskandcobalt]

Everywhere, Everything: Chapter One

Chapter Summary: When he wakes up alone in bed, Azriel is left to consider the events of the night he'd spent with Elain as well as how they'd ended up in bed together in the first place.

Word Count: 2.8K

A/N: If you've been following along on my WIP Wednesdays, you'd know this fic is a long time coming. I am very nervous but very excited to start getting this out. Thank you to everyone that's been hyping up all the puzzle pieces I've shared over the past couple of months. The next chapter should be up next week if everything goes to plan.

ENJOY XX

Read on AO3

.............................

She’ll break your heart, Az. 

It had started as a joke - a firm hand clasped on his shoulder as Rhys grimaced and told him to please, for the love of God, stay away from Elain when Azriel had quietly enquired about the middle Archeron sister after seeing her for the first time all those years ago.

Azriel wasn’t quite sure how it had come to be that he and Cassian had found themselves doing manual labor early on that Sunday morning when it was Rhys that had been trying to impress the father of his new girlfriend. Nevertheless, he’d ended up on the roof of an unfamiliar house, shirtless and sweating under the blistering morning sun as he helped Cassian fix a few broken tiles on the roof of the Archeron family home while Rhysand watched from the ground, shouting up instructions that Cassian and Azriel both chose to ignore.

He’d been mid eye-roll, watching his friend preen in the reflection of a window, twisting this way and that to flex the muscles in his abdomen just right when the gauzy curtains of the window they were stood in front of parted and Azriel caught his very first glimpse of Elain Archeron. 

She’d stared at them in shock, bleary eyes widening slightly as her gaze flickered between the two men standing directly outside her bedroom window. Cassian, having met her already a few weeks ago, had given her a bright smile and a wave and then quickly disappeared, leaving Azriel standing still as night as he continued to stare at the girl staring back at him.

Those big brown eyes of hers had flickered down to his bare chest for a fleeting moment before they were back on his face. His own eyes had quickly traveled over her in turn. He catalogued the bare legs, the little white pajama bottoms that were dotted with what looked to be tiny roses just barely skimmed the very tops of her thighs. The thin white straps of the matching tank top were stark against her lightly tanned shoulders and her hair was a tousled crown of chestnut waves that framed her pretty face. 

Azriel had only just remembered where he was, had only just realised that he was a stranger standing on a roof and staring into the bedroom of a girl who clearly had no idea that she’d be waking up to two idiots on her roof that morning. He’d only just come back to his senses enough to sheepishly raise his hand and wave to her when the curtains were yanked shut and all he could see was the shadow of her frantically ducking out of view.

She’d avoided him that entire day. Wouldn’t even look him in the eyes as they sat across the table from each other at lunch. Hadn’t said a single word to him other than a whispered thank you when he insisted on helping her clear the dining table. They were such limited interactions and yet Azriel hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her and couldn’t help himself when he nonchalantly brought her up as he drove Rhys and Cassian back to the apartment they had all shared at the time. 

That had been the first time Rhys had delivered his warning but it certainly hadn’t been the last.

Rhys had said that she would break his heart but Azriel had always seen that comment for exactly what it was which was nothing less than a thinly veiled warning, a polite way of Rhys telling Azriel to stay away from his girlfriend’s sister as if she’d be the one to ruin him when they both knew what kind of track record Azriel had with women. It was Rhys’ roundabout way of letting him know that Elain was the type of girl with her head on her shoulders, the type of girl that preferred a steady relationship while Azriel had never had much interest in maintaining anything more than a rotation of regular, no strings attached acquaintances. 

Azriel had laughed off the warning each time but it had stuck with him and he knew deep down that even though he’d never felt that sort of instant draw to someone else before, he’d never be good enough for Elain. Still, even armed with that knowledge that she was so far out of his league, he couldn’t bring himself to stay away and Azriel had inevitably found himself finding any excuse to be around Elain in those first few months.

It had all started innocently enough - timid looks and shy conversations in those early days when they found themselves spending more and more time together after it had become clear that Rhys and Feyre were in it for the long haul. That time had only increased after Nesta had finally broken down and admitted that she liked having Cassian around for more than just sex. Numbers were exchanged, casual hangouts were planned, and Elain had opened up to him slowly but surely - various facets of her personality unfurling as the months and years went by and she grew increasingly comfortable in his presence. 

Rhys had continued to deliver that warning all the while -  each and every time he caught Azriel looking at Elain for a little too long, laughing a little too loud at her jokes. Each time the two of them snuck away for a drive or a walk around the garden for a moment of quiet amidst all the noise. All those times they’d stayed up together after everyone else had gone god knows where to do god knows what and Rhys would come downstairs early in the morning to see his friend fast asleep on the couch, the plush blanket Elain favored carefully draped and tucked around Azriel’s body. 

Rhys had reminded him again, one last time, before he’d left the two of them alone together just last night but Azriel had waved him off just like he had every other time the warning had been delivered to him because he’d never expected to actually have to heed it. Not after all these years. Not when nothing had ever happened between them apart from a lingering hug or a kiss on the cheek. Not when Elain had always been with some boy or another the entire time he’d known her. Even though she spent at least a couple evenings of the week on a couch with Azriel, her feet in his lap as they caught up on their days. 

She was his friend. One of his best friends. Elain had called him that a few times over the years and it had made his heart swell with boy joy and disappointment because while he’d never admit it, her choosing him in any way - deeming him her best friend - meant the world to him. 

He was good friends with Feyre and he had a strong bond with Nesta built on a mutual understanding of their similar personalities, but Elain had been different from the beginning. That initial attraction of his towards Elain had morphed into something else entirely as he got to know her and then before he knew it, she’d become one of the most important people in his life. 

It’s why he’d decided to sit down and make her that necklace just a few years into knowing her even though he’d never once before made a piece for a friend in all the years he’d been making and selling jewelry in his spare time. 

Azriel had taken his time with that necklace, meticulously hammering out the gold until it was exactly the right shape. He’d carefully engraved a delicate rose into the front of the small pendant, fashioned after a picture she’d sent him of a rose that she’d grown. And then, because he was never able to help himself, he had added the tiniest ‘A’ to the back of the gold oval.

It had satisfied some small part of him to offer that necklace to her on her birthday. To know that something he’d made with his own two hands specifically for her would rest against her skin. He’d never forget the unfiltered joy that had spread across her entire face when she opened the box.  H’ed never forget how eagerly she’d turned and lifted her hair so that he could fasten the chain around her neck. 

He’d certainly never forget the way she’d turned back towards him after he’d secured the clasp, one of her hands clutching the pendant while the other pressed gently against the side of his neck as she raised up on the tips of her toes to press a kiss to his cheek that was so different from any friendly kiss they’d exchanged as a greeting or a goodbye in the years before. 

It was the first of those moments. The beginning of instances that were few and far between in which Azriel allowed himself to believe that maybe the affection he felt for her may actually be mutual.

There’d been a handful of those almosts over the years since that night of her birthday. Moments in which Azriel thought that Elain had wanted him to lean in, to kiss her. To take the hand that seemed to live in the space above her knee whenever they were sat next to each other and slide it higher up her thigh. There were times he wanted to stay back a little longer, follow her upstairs at the end of the night instead of heading back to his own home.

He’s caught her looking at him a time or ten. Saw the jealousy that lit in her eyes when one of his idiot friends thought it appropriate to bring up the girls he’d taken home over the years in casual conversation. Girls he never saw for more than a night or two every few weeks. Girls that never really even made it further than the couch in his living room if they even made it into his house to begin with. 

It had never made sense to him, that quiet jealousy that radiated from her. Not when she had always been with someone in the time he’d known her. Although he certainly hadn’t missed that despite those boys that she kept around for a year or two before moving on to the next, it was always his necklace strung around her neck. Even when one of those boys had gifted her a pretty necklace dotted with tiny pearls as a Christmas gift, Azriel had been shamefully delighted that it had never even made it out of the jewelry box on her dressing table.

But because things never went quite right for him, all those stolen moments had come to an abrupt halt after Elain’s father had unexpectedly passed away a few months ago. 

His calls and texts had all gone ignored for a few excruciating weeks after the funeral and he’d panicked one night after he couldn’t take the silence anymore, driving to her house only to find her kneeling in the garden and hastily pulling up weeds in the dark. Her hands had been covered in countless cuts and scrapes - some new, some already scarred over - an indication that it hadn’t been the first night she’d spent taking out her emotions in the garden. 

Azriel had silently guided her inside, set her on the powder room counter and carefully cleaned and bandaged her wounds. When she’d finally broken the silence and whispered that she couldn’t bear to be in the house alone, Azriel had found himself sharing her bed and holding her close as she cried herself to sleep. It had continued like that for an entire fortnight, tears  gradually easing with each day that passed until one night she’d looked at him with something other than sadness in her eyes. He hadn’t known what to do when her fingers slid under his shirt, her lips hot against his neck. But she’d paused and pulled back at the exact second he opened his mouth and said her name in a questioning tone, turning her back to him and shuffling to the corner of the bed. It was a moment that ended just as quickly as it had started and while they hadn’t spoken of it since, Azriel had never forgotten. 

He had each and every one of those touches and glances carefully stored away in the back of his mind. It was a never ending rolodex of examples of the way the line between them had slowly started to erode with time until only the faintest streak remained. 

That line had been completely obliterated last night -  initially smudged when she’d walked into his house in a dress that clung to each and every curve in a way that made him want to bite his fist like a goddamn cartoon character and then it had been erased from existence a few hours later with the slightest press of her lips to the very corner of his mouth. 

He certainly hadn’t expected the turn of events but it had all happened so seamlessly. It had all felt so right.

He’d been happy to see that line go, thrilled to fall asleep without a single thing between them - his arm slung heavily around her bare waist, her fingertips delicately tracing patterns over the sharp line of his jaw.

Azriel had awoken this morning with a small, satisfied smile on his face and the heady taste of her still lingering on his tongue. He reached across the bed, eyes still closed, fingertips seeking out the smooth skin that he’d memorized every inch of last night. His smile faltered when he came up empty - one eye peeking open only to find cold, crumpled sheets and an empty space where Elain should’ve been. 

He shut his eyes, turning onto his back and pressing the heel of his palms tight against his eyes as he counted to sixty. 

It was something he’d done as a child - squeezing his eyes shut as hard as he could stand as he counted a full minute in his head, desperately hoping and praying that the scars that covered his hands would disappear after the minute was up and he opened his eyes. But just like his scars had remained in place each and every time he deluded himself into believing that his trick would work, he hadn’t been able to use sheer will to make Elain appear safe and sound in his bed again. 

Azriel knew immediately, without a shadow of doubt, that Elain had left. He knew how things had ended the last time things had gotten a little too intimate between them. That had only been a heated look at a vulnerable time in her life and it had sent her running off across the country so he dreaded to think what the events of last night would result in. 

Still, he begrudgingly sat up and looked around for signs that maybe she hadn’t actually left. That maybe she’d just gone to the bathroom or that she was just downstairs making coffee and keeping his dog company. But his house was quiet. The only audible sounds were the subtle ticking of a clock and the soft howl of the winter wind as it rattled his bedroom windows. 

He thought back, searching for signs that would explain her sudden disappearance. If it wasn’t for the light smears of dark red lipstick across his chest - his hips - he might’ve thought he’d dreamt the whole damn thing. But it hadn’t been a dream. She’d been here. In his bed. The intoxicating scent of her perfume still lingered on his sheets. 

A sense of dread filled him as he considered that maybe he’d crossed a line, taken something that she hadn’t offered. But he knew that wasn’t right. All he could remember was the affirmative words, the sureness of her hands. The way she’d asked, begged him for more. The way she’d grasped at his skin, tugging him closer and closer until there wasn’t even a slip of empty space left in between them. 

She’d wanted it. She’d wanted him. Just as much as he’d wanted her. 

It’d been dangerous to get close to her to begin with, even just as friends. Letting her know him was a level of intimacy he usually avoided because it left him open to a world of hurt if things went south but he’d been too far gone last night to even chastise himself for the thoughts that were better suited to a teenage boy. Too distracted by the feel of her throat under his lips to wonder if it was a mistake to be touching her at all. 

And now that they’d done everything they’d avoided all these years and he’d found himself alone with the sun shining bright in his room, highlighting the empty space beside him, he was afraid that maybe Rhysand had been right all along.

[hemmingsbirdy]

My favorite moments in The Queen of Nothing

WARNING: CONTAINS SPOILERS

When Jude sees Taryn and she gets mad, saying she’s gonna kick her out and Taryn is like, “This is Vivi’s apartment.” And Heather is like, “Um, this is MY apartment” (P36)

When Taryn tells Jude that Locke is dead because she killed him like hell yeah girl (P38)

“Greetings, Your Majesty, you betraying toad” (P56)

The fact that Cardan knew immediately that it was Jude pretending to be Taryn when she says that she loved Locke he says, “Sometimes I believed that you did, yes” (P63)

“Jude never loved Locke. She loved someone else. He’s the one she’s want dead” (P64)

Cardan telling Jude he knew it was her from the start. I honestly feel like he was determined to never make that mistake again after Taryn deceived him in the last book. (P69)

When Cardan and The Roach went to save Jude(P119)

Cardan going to talk to Vivi after Jude left the palace and he saw Taryn there, “We all had a lot to say to each other” 😂 (P120)

“I still promise to run, tail between my legs. And since I have a tail, that should be amusing for everyone.” (P123)

Jude manifesting powers to heal her wound when Madoc nearly kills her (P136)

When Jude falls off the rafter and everyone wants to send her away and Cardan is all like, “DONT TOUCH MY WIFE” (P147)

Cardan saying he was terrified for Jude when she fell (P159)

JUDE SLAPPING CARDAN (P161)

The Bomb coming in to take Jude’s stitches out and she tells Cardan to leave. “This is my room. And that’s my wife” “so you keep telling everyone” (P166)

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe he’d like to hear me scream” and then Cardan nonchalantly saying, “I would, and perhaps one day I will” EXCUSE ME?! YOU SAID WHAT SIR?? (P166)

“Because, my lady, I will always be a challenge” You TELL HER (P172)

Cardan threatening Randalin and then turns to Jude like, “Oh yeah, Grima Mog brought you soup 🥰” (P192)

“Mock me all you like. Whatever I imagined then, now it is I who would beg and grovel for a kind word from your lips.” 🥺 “BY YOU, I AM FOREVER UNDONE” I honestly can’t with this dude. (P203)

“My sweet nemesis, how glad I am that you returned” (P204)

Cardan just declaring his love in the most beautiful way EVER and walking away like, “You probably guessed as much, but just in case you didn’t” (P209)

Cardan as a serpent going crazy on everyone else but as soon as Jude is near him, he just lets her be there (P234)

Okay but Nicasia telling Jude that Cardan was the one who sent her the amazing gown for the coronation (in the first book) and the reason that Balekin’s human servants went missing was because Cardan would take them back to the mortal world 🥺 (P268)

Jude literally crying, saying she will do whatever it takes to bring Cardan back (P269)

Cardan coming back from being a serpent and they both just hug each other so tight (P282)

Cardan using his powers to not only fix the throne, but also give Jude one as well and turning to her like a happy puppy (P284)

Jude finally telling Cardan she loves him and he just goes, “I have asked you to lie to me in the past, in this very room, but I would beg you not to lie now” (P291)

“I knew little else, but I always knew you” Cardan can you PLEASE (P292)

The “congratulations, newlyweds!” Banner Vivi got and then even giving them crowns and Cardan makes it a point to slant his to the side and a big ass grin (P305)

To family, and faerieland, and pizza, and stories, and new beginning, and scheming great schemes” 🥰 (P305)

[starfinss]

hello!! i’m new to your blog but if your requests are open how about childe with a harbinger s/o? someone who help fuels his need for battle and keeps him warm at night?

Ah, hello, Anon! Welcome to my blog! My requests are very much open indeed!

I‘m unsure of if you wanted headcanons or a short fic, but I’ll write both for good measure. Also, if you’re on my blog’s actual page and there’s no read more button on this post, click the date just above the post and it should show you the whole thing. I have no idea why it won’t show the read more and can’t seem to fix it.

Anyway, please enjoy!

———

- Tartaglia would be smitten with someone who has that fighting spirit.

- Of course, if you’re not much of a fighter, there are certainly other aspects of you he likes.

- But having someone who will give him cuddles and sparring matches?

- This boy is in heaven.

- If you’re a fellow Harbinger, he’ll find any chance he can get to work alongside you.

- The two of you together have more than a little sway in the Snezhnayan military as literally two of its aces, so you’re more often than not the dynamic duo of the Fatui.

- Harbingers Eleven and Twelve are a package deal and everyone knows it.

- Power couple? Power couple indeed. The definition of a power couple.

- Literally. With the combined power of your visions, combat ability, and your looove, you kick ass.

- Tartaglia is literally like “look at my girl, off to destroy people.”

- He’s proud of your power and will brag about how strong you are any chance he can get.

- Your sparring matches are fierce.

- The two of you are pretty evenly matched in terms of power, so you need a wide open space to spar or things will get… messy.

- Like I’m talking vases smashed, tables broken in half kind of messy.

- It’s best you spar outside so you don’t wreck the house.

- You’re his enabler, like he’ll say something really fucking ominous about how the snow is a perfect backdrop for bloodshed and you’re like ‘shit, you right.’

- I’m getting Rakan and Xaya from League of Legends vibes but with way less freedom fighter and way more murder and battle hunger.

- I don’t know why I like the thought of him calling you his ‘little dove,’ but I do and I will be using that.

- You treat each other’s wounds after battles, all that fun stuff.

- Partners in Crime 100%.

- But at the end of the day, the two of you end up snuggled close at night no matter where you are, be it out camping in the wild or stationed in Liyue Harbor.

———

“Ouch.”

A huffed chuckle, and you felt the bandages around your waist go slack.

“Sorry,” Tartaglia said, “That pyro arrow really came out of nowhere, hm?”

You snorted. “Nothing I’m not used to.”

Another chuckle, and you felt him press a kiss to the crown of your head, making you smile.

“That’s my little dove,” he said, and you smiled wider at the affectionate nickname, “tough as nails.”

“You’re the same way,” you said, “Always— shit!”

You felt the bandages tighten again, and Tartaglia muttered a soft apology as he finished tying them around your wound.

“There,” he said, “all wrapped up.”

You pressed a palm to your bandaged waist, wincing at the tenderness beneath it, and Tartaglia pulled your hand away, making you raise an eyebrow at him.

“Don’t mess with it too much,” he said, “it’ll form a lovely scar, but it’s best to let it heal for now.”

He loved your scars, something you’d been insecure about before you met him. But he told you they showed you were strong, that you were a fighter befitting the title of Twelfth Harbinger. And in turn, you loved his scars. The uneven skin beneath your fingertips reminded you that the man you loved was real, and that what you had with him wasn’t just a dream.

“Thank you for patching me up, love,” you said, and Tartaglia smiled, lips pressing tenderly to your forehead.

“Always.”

The door to the office swung open, revealing a young Fatui foot soldier. When he saw your state of undress, he covered his masked face, turning around.

“L-Lord Harbingers, headquarters have sent further orders. Please pick them up at your convenience.”

You reached for your shirt, buttoning it on over your chest, followed by your jacket. You hadn’t been fully naked, you were wearing a bra, but you still felt a little bad for giving the young man such a surprising eyeful.

“Thank you,” Tartaglia said, and you noticed a sliver of venom in his voice when he spoke again, “but maybe consider knocking next time.”

The foot soldier turned around, his cheeks beet red. “Y-yes, Lord Harbinger, sir! Will do, sir!”

Nearly tripping over himself, the soldier scurried from the room, closing the door after him.

“You scared the wits out of the poor kid,” you said, and Tartaglia scowled.

“Nobody but I am able to see you like that.”

His jealousy was a little adorable, you had to admit. You stood up from your perch on the edge of the desk and crossed to stand close to him, wrapping your arms around his waist.

“It was an accident, love. Give it a rest.”

He sighed, resting his chin on your head. “Okay, if you say so, dove.”

The two of you stayed like that for a while, happy and warm before heading off to take care of official business. As you walked, you stood close, fingers brushing together every so often, just on the verge of interlacing.

The Eleventh and Twelfth were a package deal, everyone knew that. Even your new orders knew that. And as you looked up at your love, meeting his smile with yours, everything was perfect.

[jedijesi]

Luminary Love

Prince!Din Djarin x F!Princess!Reader

🤍Masterlist🤍

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, Smut (F receiving, PiV, Breeding kink)

Summary: Tonight is your (unwanted) wedding to the soon-to-be King of Mandalore, but is there more to him than meets the eye?

Word Count: 3,100+

A/N: I’ve had this idea for several days now and I just needed to write it. Don’t worry tho bc the next ch. of biblichor will b out soon. Enjoy some Din content!🤍

All night long, you received congratulations and cheers. Thousands, billions of people would kill to be in your position, but you dreaded this more than anything. You never wanted to marry the soon-to-be king of Mandalore, but the Royal administration never gave you an option. Throughout the fantastical wedding, you repeatedly reminded yourself it was for your people - they are the ones who will prosper from this. Thankfully, his creed forbade him from removing his helmet in front of others, therefore you weren’t allowed to kiss him. The only time you had to touch him during the ceremony was when you held hands. Even then, his mastiff-leather gloves create a barrier from any real contact.

After the ceremony, you avoided your new husband as best you could. When it was time to put on a show, you had forced yourself to put on the royal smile you had been practicing. When eating, you sat as far away as possible from him but not far enough to worry the royal administrations that watched you two tentatively. The times you were called to waltz, you performed what you had been learning for months but never made eye contact with him. After a few dances, the royals watching had joined in and forgotten about you, giving you the perfect chance to escape.

You spent your time talking with other royalty, expressing your worries and concerns to Princess Mary of Ryloth. Unlike you, she was happily married, but it was her 3rd time. The first two suitors weren’t ‘good enough’ for her, so she became the royal’s biggest scandal and ignored her administration to marry for love. Luckily her experience with terrible lovers led to wonderful tips and tricks that she gladly gave you for your wedding night. You knew she was telling you these things to help, but in reality, it only made you feel worse about your new life.

“Djarin, my oldest friend, how are you enjoying your wedding?” General Paz said with a heavy pat to Din’s pauldron.

“It’s… grand.” Din sounded unconvinced by his own words.

“Grand? Is that all you have to say?”

“Well, everything appears wonderful, but my wife won’t speak nor look at me.”

“Have you attempted to talk to her?”

“Of course!” Din and Paz turn to watch you talk to Princess Mary. “She never responds, though.”

The uncomfortable feeling of Din’s stare props you to turn around. The blue and silver beskar statues jump when you catch them and quickly turn back to avoid any further embarrassment.

“I haven’t seen her in years, but she has grown to be quite beautiful, you must admit.” Paz shrugs.

“I know, it’s one of the many reasons I married her. I just… wish she’d give me a chance.”

“Well, she better. I overheard that the administration is already seething that you two haven’t gone back to your honeymoon suite.”

Din rolls his eyes under his helmet. “I don’t care about them. They shouldn’t have a say in my marriage.”

“Good luck arguing that. You know they expect an heir to be conceived tonight.”

“I already have Grogu. Is he not enough?”

“Nothing is enough for them, my friend.” Paz pats Din’s back reassuringly. “Just be kind to the poor girl. I’m sure she isn’t pleased with all of this.” He gestures to the grand chandeliers and dramatic towers of cake and food.

Din sighs as he fiddles with the edge of his cape. “Alright. I should probably go fetch her before the Administration creates any more drama.”

“Good luck, your majesty.” Paz bows as Din walks your way.

Din let’s go of his cape before wiping his armor of any lingering bits of dust and dirt, wanting to be as presentable as possible for you. When Din arrives behind you, he clears his throat and bows.

“My Princess, it is time for us to leave for the Honeymoon Suite.”

Without a word, you give him a nod and take his arm. The guests cheer and whisper as you and your husband make your way out of the ballroom. You could hear Royal Administers whisper their concerns regarding your fertility or your performance in bed. It was dehumanizing, to say the least. You fought for justice and equality on Naboo, but this was not the way on Mandalore. Your new role would be diminished to a supporting queen who would raise the future heirs. Meanwhile, the other women of Mandalore were busy serving valiantly in wars. This was the way. Mandalore was born out of extremists, and you had to embrace the consequences.

Din hated the whispers. If he were king, he would have lashed out long ago, but the coronation isn’t for another few days. You didn’t deserve to be treated as an object. Din saw you to be the goddess that would help lead his people into prosperity and the gorgeous woman who may one day graciously birth his children. Such slander against someone so perfect made Din rage under his helmet. A few more days. Din would remind himself.

.

The Suite reflected Mandalore: grand and majestic. Silver swirls of beskar outlined the stained glass windows that watched over Mandalore. The bed was larger than any other you had seen before. It looked cozy; a complete contrast to the large and uncomfortable dress you’ve been wearing all day. You walked over to touch the silk-like blankets and sighed at its softness.

Din watched you with interest - mesmerized by the way the roaring fireplace creates a golden glow on your features. “Wife?”

“Hmm?”

“Why don’t you look at me?” The flicker of sadness in his voice took you by surprise. You weren’t sure if Mandalorians could feel emotions underneath the layers of cold beskar. “Do I… scare you?”

You turn to look at him, your nerves shining through by the twiddling of your thumbs. “I… I don't know.”

“What is wrong, my dear princess? I want to fix this. I don't want to start our marriage off on the wrong foot.” You sit down on the luxurious bed, your eyes now watching as you fiddle with your dress. Din walks towards you, taking a knee to be at eye level with you. “I understand this isn't what you wanted. I heard whispers that it took the maids an hour to get you off your ship. That you fought off any guard that laid a hand on you.” Din chuckled at the image he had created in his head. “But then the fighting stopped… why?” You couldn't find it within yourself to respond. “Won’t you please entertain my curiosity?”

You sighed and looked up into the dark visor. “I realized I was being selfish. I had forgotten that marriage among the royals was for the people… not for love.”

“You do not love me?”

“We barely know each other, your majesty.”

“What are you speaking of? We used to be best friends.”

You scoffed at Din. “We were children, your majesty. You were just a servant boy in the palace back then, but times have changed, haven't they, your majesty.”

“Please refrain from calling me ‘your majesty.’ I thought we were beyond that.” Din groaned, annoyed by the ridiculous title.

“Din, you're to become the Mandalore - the king - in a few days' time. I understand the rules - I understand why you had to marry me.”

“What? So that I could officially hold the title as king? I don't care about a stupid title - the administration does.”

“Then why marry me? There are millions of royals lined up to marry the Mandalore, but why choose me, Din? Why?” You started getting hysterical at it all. Your life's work had come to a halt just so that Din could be crowned king. It was disgusting and unfair.

“As an orphan-servant boy, the days your family visited were the best days of my life. Your parents always treated me like their own - the complete opposite of how the Kryze family did. I meant it when I said you were my best friend. You were the only person who could beat Paz and me in a fight. The only person who would sneak out of the palace to play in the garden at night with me. When your parents… passed and you stopped visiting me… It crushed me. I never stopped thinking about you, my princess.”

You could hear the build-up of tears in Din’s throat, but he wasn't the only one. You too had tears in your eyes, remembering the once pure and innocent life you had. You bring your hand up to din's helmet, holding where his cheek would be.

“Do you remember that last night?”

“Of course I do. It was a cold night in the rose garden. I gave you my coat since you had insisted you didn't need your shall.” Din smiled and chuckled at the memory.

“I... I never saw your lips, but I had never felt such pure joy than the moment they molded against mine.”

Din leans his head forward to rest your foreheads together. Underneath, he continued to beam. It had been so long since he had felt such love - such love that could only be created by you.

“My princess, I never stopped loving you. Even as we grew up and apart, I would watch the holovids that spoke about you, and all the wonderful things you were doing for your people. It was the only thing that kept me going through those torturous years apart from you. I love you.”

Din’s arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you into a tight hug. You reciprocated by wrapping your arms around his shoulders and burying your head in the crook of his neck. “I love you too, Din.”

“My wife?”

“Yes, my husband?”

“Will you take this ridiculous helmet off of me so that I may kiss you and make love to you?”

Your glowing smile melts Din’s heart. Your hand reaches up to slowly slide off the silver beskar helmet that covered those features you dreamt of. An audible gasp escapes past your lips when Din’s lips appear. It took everything in you to not pounce on him and cover him in kisses, but you maintain your composure. His nose was strong and beautiful, and his cheeks… oh, how you wanted to leave lipstick stains on them. Then were his perfect eyes. Those chocolate eyes that expressed an amount of love you'd never completely fathom in your life.

“You're stunning, Din.” Din’s heart flutters at your words. The only compliment he's ever received was about his combat skills and valor. He's never been complimented on his looks before.

“I’d never compare to my gorgeous wife.”

Din takes your face into his palms and slowly pulls you in for a kiss. The moment your lips touch, you feel fireworks exploding all around you. The glowing lights flash behind your eyelids as you mold your lips together. The tickle of his mustache causes you to giggle into the kiss, which Din finds to be enchanting. One of Din's hands leaves your face to grip your torso, massaging and kneading your skin.

“I love you.” He murmurs into the kiss. “I love you more than the moons and stars.”

As the kisses become more intense, so does your lust for one another. Din’s hands undo the strings of your wedding dress as you shed his armor off - lips never leaving each other. Once you two were completely naked, Din had you crawl to the center of the bed.

“Now, lay back, my love. I want to show you how much I love and miss you.” You follow his instructions and rest your head on the large cloud-like pillows.

Din crawls between your legs, taking one into his hand. Starting from your ankle, he works his way down, leaving a trail of sloppy yet delicate kisses. He takes his time at your inner thigh, sucking and licking at your skin to make you emit whimpers.

“D-Din, please don't tease me.”

“Hush, now. Let me take my time loving you.” And he does. He spends his time worshiping your body - kissing and sucking the skin around your lips while his hand massages your breasts. Suddenly, Din dives into your sopping wet cunt, immediately sucking and licking your swollen clit. You let out a loud gasp followed by a moan, making Din’s cock bounce up in excitement.

Your noises sound like music - the most angelic music he's ever heard in his life. Each moan and whimper you let out only addicted him more. Din wraps his hands around your waist and sits back, lifting your hips from the bed and to his mouth. You grip the blankets with a scream as Din explores further into your pussy. The animalistic grunts and growls he lets out only make you wetter.

“Come on, Princess. Cum. Cum all over my face. I need it.” And just like that, you let out a scream as you convulse around his tongue. Din slowly lowers you back onto the bed as he licks up your dripping cum. “You're sweeter than a meiloorun, darling. I've never tasted anything so divine. I’d love to stay between your legs forever and drink your cum until the day I die, but I wanna put a baby in you too badly to do so.” You let out a whimper at his filthy words. “Can I, darling? Will you let me fuck a baby into you?”

“Wait, we're not done?” You ask through pants.

“Not done? We’ll be done when the sun wakes up. Even then, I'm not sure if we'll ever be done. Why?”

“The other princesses said it would only be a minute of discomfort, and it’ll be over.

Din tsks and shakes his head, pressing a few kisses to your clit. “Oh, my darling. I'm not like those other royals. I care about my wife’s pleasure, and you…” Din presses more kisses to your overstimulated heat. “Are nowhere near done with your, please. So, I'll ask you again. Are you ready for me to fuck a baby into you with my thick, hard cock?”

“Stars, yes! Please, Din!” You hated how completely and utterly desperate you sounded, but you were completely and utterly desperate for Din to fuck you.

Din crawls up to meet your half-lidded eyes, drooping with lust. He places soft kisses on your cheeks before pressing one to your lips. “Are you ready for me, Princess?”

“Yes, my husband.”

Din grabs his cock, lining it up with your entrance. With a loud moan, he enters your sopping wet pussy.

“Oh, you're so wet! Ungh… Stars, you're so tight too!” Din’s thrusts speed up to a steady pace, your moans echoing through the room along with the lewd, wet sounds of your bodies pounding together. “From this day forward, y-your. Pussy. Belongs. To. Me.” Din emphasizes his words with his cock hitting against your g-spot.

“O-Only i-if your cock b-belongs - Oh yes, Din - To me.”

Din chuckles through his labored breaths. “Of course, my love. My cock is forever yours to do what you please with. I don't care what time- ugnh- or what p-place. It's yours.” You lean up to capture din’s parted lips, swallowing his beautiful moans. The knot in your stomach starts to tighten. Desperate for your release, you buck your hips back into Din. “Yes, take my cock. It's yours. All yours.” Din takes your legs, pushing them to your chest. Both of you let out a series of loud moans at the deeper feeling.

“Oh, Din! I'm going to cum if you keep doing that!”

“Ugh, I can see the galaxy when I'm inside you! Can you feel that, my love?”

“Yes, I-I can feel your throbbing cock!” You throw your head back at the euphoric feeling. Your exposed neck allows Din to swoop down and suck marks onto it.

“Th-That's me, claiming what's mine. You're all mine, my princess.” Din’s thrusts speed up, desperate and ready for you to cum. Each thrust was accompanied by a loud grunt that made you clench even tighter. “I'm gonna cum. I'm going to give you a baby - our baby. Are you ready?”

“Yes, Din! I love y-you!” You scream out a slew of ‘i love yous’ and clench tightly around Din’s swollen cock. Your orgasm and words of love cause Din to cum, sending spurts of his cum into your womb, where your future child would soon grow.

Din collapses on you which you gladly accept. You wrap your arms around his neck and place kisses on the crown of his head. Both of you stay like that for a while, basking in pure love. Once your breaths are back to normal, Din slowly pulls out of you to lay on the bed beside you. He pulls you closer to him so that no space lingered and adjusted the blankets to create a cocoon of comfort around you two.

You smile as you listen to his heartbeat against his chest. Din’s index finger presses to the underside of your chin, adjusting your eyes to look into his.

“Are you okay, my love?”

You nod lazily, completely worn out. “You know, having a husband isn't so bad after all.” Din lets out a hearty laugh before leaning down to kiss you.

“Yeah, having a wife isn't so bad either.” Din smirks at you, causing you to shy away in embarrassment and return your attention to his chest. Your fingers trace shapes and words onto his chest until you stop. A mark on Din’s torso prompts you to inspect it. “What are your curious fingers doing, my love?”

“What is this?” You ask as your finger traces the mark.

“It’s just a scar, dearest.”

“A scar?” You look back at Din with worry in your eyes.

“Oh, don't worry, my love. I've collected so many over the years, I've become immune to them. That one was either from when I fought Bo-Katan or when I fought a mudhorn to save my son.”

“Goodness.... I've missed so much of your life.” Your face droops with sadness, but Din is quick to relieve your worries.

“Now, it's nothing to be upset over. Yes, we've missed a lot, but that means we can spend the rest of our lives catching up and making new memories. Plus, you can meet my son tomorrow.”

You smile and press a chaste kiss to Din’s lips. “I’d love that.” You pressed another kiss to his lips, but this one wasn't so innocent.

“Did I not satisfy you, my love?” Din chuckles into the kiss. You climb on top of him and shake your head. “Oh, does my princess want more?”

You give Din a mischievous grin and shrug.

Din smirks before leaning in to kiss you. “Well, who am I to deny my wife of her wishes?”

A/N: Idk who from my Javier Peña taglist wants to be on this one, but those who are interested in being added to a Din Djarin taglist or a perminante taglist, please let me know.🤍 Can’t wait to hear what you all think!

[disasterlesbiansunite]

Just Two Things: A Young Royals Fix-It Fic

His mama had stood over him as she began talking. Wilhelm could hardly focus; the vision of the video (his video, his and Simon’s video, the video of Simon) burned into his brain on a constant loop. She hadn't asked him if he was alright, not yet, but he had stopped expecting her to early on in life. Duty first, he guessed, as usual. She pulled away and off the bed, rattled off the words about the interview he’ll do to protect the royal family et cetera, et cetera.

“I don’t want you to see Simon for the time being,” she said, and he glanced up, suddenly feeling like his world is fell away underneath him. He wished Erik were here, that Erik was still alive. If he were, then maybe this would all go away. He doubted any of it could now.

--

August brought him dinner that night when he’s too exhausted to even leave his bed. He said that Erik would want Wille to be himself - but how is August so sure of what Erik would want him to do to fix this, to just get this whole shitshow over with, when the only person who knows that is six feet under.

“Follow your heart, really.” August said. “Follow your heart.”

If anything his heart only thought of two things at the moment. One is the crumpled up rage he feels that’s been broiling under his skin since he saw the video; the screaming, panicked wild thing that wants to shout at the world and watch it shouts back until no part of him remains, no crown prince, nothing.

The other part of his brain thought of Simon. Holding him, soft and warm until his skin, kissing his neck and inhaling as much of him as possible. Kissing him, kissing Simon, an exhilarating feeling he can’t describe, he won’t ever be able to describe. Almost all of the girls he had kissed had kissed gently and slowly, like they were afraid he would disappear right next to them. It always felt like he was being kissed by air, a ghostly possession that was over in a second and just as uncomfortable.

He would have thought that Simon would kiss like that, he had thought Simon would kiss like that, Simon had kissed like that, before they really truly got to know one another. Now, Simon kissed hard and rough, like he knew Wilhelm wouldn’t disappear but just as quick, aware he couldn’t have him by himself ever. Simon’s kiss had the edge of sandpaper, tough grit and fine smoothness rolled into one. Simon kissed for the sake of it, like there was so much he wanted to do to Wille, do with Wille, that he simply couldn’t function enough to do anything but kiss him. Wille fell asleep soon after that, dinner discarded. He wondered if the last time they would ever kiss would be the time that caused both of him to want to recoil from society and away from the world. A part of him hoped so.

The nail on his thumb was raw and bleeding.

--

As he walked through Hillerska, everyone stared at him in pity. He was used to the stares, used to the way his simple presence shut up people around until all they could do was give him a dumb look. It was pity that was new to him, but he tried not to focus on that as Malin rushed with him to his first class of the day. He knew the things they were saying, drove himself insane as he googled himself over and over again, watching Sweden’s trending page unravel until it felt like it was all over. He watched as Simon walked into their classroom, turning heads for once in his life. Once except for the amount of times he had his, of course. He mindlessly made small talk with his classmate, but all he could think of were two things.

After class he rushed into the locker room to talk to Simon. He looked sullen, his features that were generally framed in a light source of their own were moody and dark, an awkward, ill fitting portrait. He wanted to kiss it all away. Instead, kicked at Simon’s foot, hooking the two into a game of footsie.

“What the hell are we going to do?” Simon asked, wrapping his hands around Wilhelm’s, as if he had any of the answers. Breaking news, he didn’t. All he could do was sit in silence and hold Simon, it felt like the only thing he could do. Unless…

“They’ve asked me to deny it was me in that video.” He could barely get the words out.

“Serious?”

Wille hummed, unable to interpret that reaction. “They want me to make a statement at the castle on Saturday.”

Simon turned, his head moving off of Wille's shoulder in a way that feels entirely unwelcome. Put that back please. Wille had realized that he could only really function anymore in Simon’s arms. As if he wasn’t touch starved enough, but Simon was hot and didn’t mind so it didn’t really matter. “But you’re not going to do it, right?”

“I don’t want to say anything.” Simon doesn’t get it, but Wilhelm doesn’t expect him too; too impossible to explain.

“But, Wille, everyone can see that it’s me in that video,” Wille groaned. He had forgotten that slightly important detail. Simon continued, “What am I supposed to do? But no matter what, they can’t dictate what you say,” Yes, they absolutely can, they’ve done it before.

We haven’t done anything wrong.” He had forgotten that too, spending so much time yesterday going over consequences and contingencies ranging from plan A to Z it made his head bled. But no one had actually told him that they hadn’t done anything wrong. Not even August, with his love is love attitude that came out of nowhere. Not even fucking him.

--

Mama had been waiting for him. Mama had met Simon. She never looked twice at Wilhelm, veiled disdain souring her mouth as she stared out the window.

“What? Why can’t I just have a relationship with him? And not say anything. Just live a normal life.” He knows why. He just wants to hear her say it.

“You’re the crown prince.” And there’s the world crashing back down onto him. “And that’s a privilege, not a punishment.” It’s both actually, but whatever, mama.

“Yes, but I didn’t ask for this!” Erik should be here. Erik would know what to do.

“Well, nobody has ever, ever asked for this,” his mama shot back. He feels like a little kid again, feels like biting his thumb raw. “You’re the only one who can take over the throne after Erik. Don’t you understand that?” He wished she would just look at him.

“You’re so young. When you’re young love feels like the most important thing in the world. When I was your age, I too had an unfortunate romance.” He wants to laugh or cry or release that panicked, clawed, anxious feeling that’s always been trapped underneath his chest, beating his heart faster and faster and faster. Unfortunate romance, she said, like Simon isn’t the best thing to happen to him, like Simon wasn’t the only one holding him together, like Simon wasn’t the only real thing in his world.

He snapped back into the conversation.“Is it worth it,” she continued. “If you feel that the attention you’ve been getting so far is unacceptable, it’s nothing compared to what you will endure for the rest of your life. We have a chance to cover this up. I urge you to take this chance. You may not get another.”

With Simon on one shoulder, and his mama and the world on the other, it turns out he was going to make the statement after all. Fucking great.

--

He felt like throwing up, but, to be fair, when hasn’t he.

“Are you ready?” His mama asked, like he could ever be ready to announce to the world, no that definitely was not me in that tape and that boy is definitely not the love of my life, thank you very much.

He dragged his feet, as he went into the room where Rosenqvists sits. Like Mama said, they only have one chance to not fuck this up.

Rosenqvist smiles at Wilhelm, her eyes hawkish. He musters as much of a smile as he can, playing with the buttons on his suit as the photographer directs the two around.

“It’s good to see you again, your highness.”

His eyes darted around the room. He could hear his mama and papa argue in the room they were in

“You too.”

The interview began then, menial questions about his existence that made him want to bite at his thumb. He resisted, knew that if Rosenqvist saw how his anxiety was surging through him like a freight train and mentioned it in her interview, his mama would be more angry then she already was. The questions are simple really, he barely thought about the answers and more about how Erik would have phrased them. Not like Erik would have been in this situation.

“So, Wilhelm, we both know why we’re here.” She smiled apologetically at him. Here we go. “As you are, no doubt, aware of by now there was a video from Hillerska that is going viral of what is rumored to be yourself and another male student,” she paused for a moment, uncomfortable with the what she’s about to say to a boy she’d been interviewing for most of his life, “being intimate. What do you have to say about these rumors, Crown Prince Wilhelm?” She’s less probing, then. He can tell his mom already prepped her on how exactly this interview needed to go. Fuck.

“That’s not-” his words got stuck in his throat.

“That’s not you in the video?” She filled, looking more and more saddened with each word, more maternal that he thinks he’s seen anyone in his entire life. He wanted to nod, wanted to do what his mama wanted for him, wanted to listen to what she feels is best for their country, because it is theirs now, isn’t it? Erik is dead and gone and never coming back no matter how much Wilhelm wishes he had been able to keep him alive. Wilhelm doesn’t exactly know much about what it takes to be king, not like Erik did, but he’s pretty sure a leaked tape is one thing a king is not supposed to have on his record. Wilhelm should want to deny the rumors, so why does it feel like every time he tries to open his mouth that it’s filled with cotton, that panicked wild thing grabbing hold of his brain and shaking it like his snowglobe. It’s begging him to choose the path of least resistance. And then there was Simon. Simon with his pretty soft voice and his even softer lips. Simon with his kind eyes and hands and just Simon, Simon, Simon. Simon, who has already been broken by the video and if Wilhelm denies their relationship then he’ll only break more. The only things he can think about. Just two things. Two things he can’t seem to choose between.

He took a deep breath. Erik would have wanted him to follow his heart, would have said that that would be how he becomes a great king. By being kind and good, and wholly himself.

He chose.

--

Simon’s mama shouts for a rematch as he laughed into his snack.

Ayub tensed next to him, “Oh, shit.”

“What’s up?” Simon asked, confused. Did his dad ask him to go home or something?

Instead, Ayub read from his phone: an online copy of this week’s Göteborgs-Posten screenshotted and reposted to Twitter. “The Crown Prince addresses rumors of Viral Video.”

“What?” He could have sworn Willie had said he wouldn’t do the interview. His mom and Sara exchange glances.

Ayub read on, “While the Royal Court denies rumors that the Crown Prince appears in the video that has gone viral this past week, his royal highness Prince Wilhelm goes more in depth on his time at Hillerska and the events surrounding the video. He says, ‘I started at Hillerska to focus on my studies and have kept to that.’ At this moment, the prince pauses and grows quiet.

‘That’s not the entire truth. The truth is that that is me in the video. I do not know who took it or why but the facts remain the same. There are many people who would want me to not address the rumors surrounding me at this time, and some even would want me to outright deny them, but I disagree. If I am to be king, and no matter what happens from this I will be king, I want to be the kind of king the people can be proud of, the kind of king my brother would have been, and the kind of king that if he saw me he’d be proud of. And that starts by being genuine and being myself to the citizens of Sweden and to the world.’ ‘Everyone should be allowed to live as gay or straight or whatever they want,’ says the Crown Prince. ‘And I suppose the former includes me, but I would still like this time to decide further who I am and what kind of king I will be.’”

Simon is stunned. Of all things, he didn’t think of this as even an option. He fishes his phone out of his pocket.

To Wille: just read the interview, what. the. fuck.

From Wille: Is that a good “what. the. fuck!!!” or a “bad what. the. fuck?!?”

To Wille: you’re so brave, wille, thank you

To Wille: also according to ayub youre trending as “gay king wilhelm” on twitter rn

From Wille: Fuck yeah, bow down to your king. Meet me before school starts tomorrow, courtyard?

To Wille: see you then, gay king willie

As Simon approached the school - having already been stopped by four journalists, three photographers, two nosy neighbors and one blogger - he could see as Wille nervously paced at the edge of the courtyard, his hand rubbed deep into his chest, shirt creasing around it. Simon couldn't even begin to imagine what had happened in the palace after Wille’s interview. From what he saw the queen didn’t really strike him as the accepting type, but that was one of those things he’d let Wille discuss on his own time. He snuck up behind Wille instead, held his arms and kissed his neck.

“Hello, my prince,” he said and twirled Wille around and into his arms. Wille let out a little sigh of relief and if he could have held Willie there for forever he would. Wille smiles at him and kisses him on the cheek.

“Can we just go one day Simon without having your weird relationship issues making a scene,” Sara huffed past and quickened her pace to the school. Simon hadn’t noticed the stares, it felt like everyone in the courtyard had been watching them from Felice to August to other boarders Simon couldn’t name, but that had definitely called him names. Simon can’t bring himself to care anymore.

“I’m so proud of you, Wille.” Wilhelm let out a little noise, the only amount of negative emotion that being schooled on refinement since before he could talk would allow. He grabbed at Simon’s coat and drew him in for a hug.

“I love you,” Wille said and suddenly Simon’s whole world had shrunk down to three words.

Wille quickly ended the hug and walked towards the school, his bodyguards following quick after. Simon speed walked up to him and grabbed his hand, “I love you too.” Wille broke out into that tiny golden smile Simon loved to tease out and grabbed Simon’s hand.

The stares followed but Simon didn’t care. “Just two things left,” he said, “Get through this last day before break and then find whoever took that video.”

“And then?”

“I haven’t gotten that far yet,”

Wille hummed and played with Simon’s as they settled at the doorway of their first class of the day, “You might want to work on your plans.”

“No, my plan only needs those two things.” Simon messied with Wilhelm’s hair and strolled into the classroom.

Wille followed after one hand fixing his hair, the other clutching at Simon’s hand, muttering, “Just two things?”

Just two things.

[alreadyblondenow]

You and your words | Hendery

❤︎ Prince!Hendery x female!reader ❤︎ Fluff, Smut, Smut, Angst, Royalty AU, best friends to lovers, fuck buddies for some time hehe ❤︎ 3/4 for LOVE MONTH SERIES: Boys Don’t Cry One is a big number

One is a big number | You and your words | Sweet | He loves me, he loves me not |

Summary: You and prince Hendery are good friends... who lust for each other and trying so hard not to fall in love. But your mother, an ambitious woman, wants to use prince Hendery to improve the status of your family.  

Word count: 9,614k

Warnings: Unprotected sex, virginity loss, making out, best friends but they lust for each other, masturbation (male), mentions of masturbations (female), they think of each other when they masturbate ano ba, fingering, a lot of kissing, dirty talk, corruption, slight exhibitionism, mentions of oral sex, fuck buddies for some time, dirty talking... but through love letters.... haha, mentions of other idols, strict parents, mother issues, Hendery being a spoiled prince, slight cheating, a lot of bad decisions, you might get mad to Hendery or reader?

A/N: PURE FICTION. PURE FICTION. PURE FICTION. inspired by the Netflix series Bridgerton and First Burn from Hamilton. 

For my baby’s Love Letter event, @neosmutcollective​ HAPPY CUPID DAY!

February 14

My dearest best friend,

I am inviting you to my family’s soirée and ask you to accompany me the whole night. In return, I will sing praises about you to my cousin Xiaojun.

Prince Hendery

Everyone knows that an invitation to the queen’s soirée is the holy grail and it is very hard to be invited especially if the queen or king does not know you personally. But you, the ever so beautiful Y/n, is friends with their son Prince Hendery. So it’s up to you to claw your way to the top and to honor your family. At least that's what your mother wants you to do.

You don’t request anything from the prince, no. Everything that he does or gives to you is voluntarily and because he loves you dearly. As a friend.

It all began when he accidentally bumped you a little too hard because he was in a hurry to avoid a certain dance with someone he does not know. You were both in your teenage years at that time and it was a season where young people were rather picky. The young gents always look for the prettiest most flawless lady, and the young ladies always.... well, avoid anyone or everyone unless he's the prince.

You were quite young by that time and you didn’t care about courting, suitors, love letters, or expensive flowers. That’s why you didn’t know what the prince looked like nor his name, because you didn’t care at all.

“My apologies my lady, I didn’t see you” he offered his hand and pulled you from the ground. It was so kind of him to help you get up and straighten your dress. Not to mention he kissed the back of your gloved hand and apologized again.

“It’s fine. Is someone running after you?” you pursed your lips and hugged yourself to protect yourself from the cold. The palace gardens have it’s unique February breeze, you thought.

“Here,” he smoothly removed his coat and put it around you. “I’m Hendery” he smiled when he finally realized that you don’t know who you are with right now.

“Y/n. The ball is kind of boring and quiet. N-no offense to the queen and her family but everyone seems so uptight and pushing us, the young people to entertain the adults- I’m sure you understand what I’m saying here” your tone was a little loud and the annoyance caused by your mother is slowly showing.

“Very much. In fact, I was running away from a dance that I don’t want to be a part of” he giggles so handsomely to show his support for what you’re feeling right now. "Love is the last thing that I desire right now but my mother wants me to entertain a bunch of women and converse for some time with their mother or father"

“How many girls did you entertain tonight?” you asked back, and also giving back his coat because you’re about to leave him.

“Two. My mother and my sister” he answered proudly which made you smile and let out a small laugh. At least between the two of you, he has the freedom to say no.

When you finally got back to the boring party, your mother was quick to fix your hair and fluff your dress before she pushes you again on the dance floor and dance with the prince. She told you she went to great lengths so you could have some time to dance with the crowned prince even if it’s just for a few seconds.

“Work your magic young lady, enchant the prince, and try to make him interested in you. Be useful like your sisters, be engaged to the prince soon and all is well” your mother’s exact words.

Ah right. Of course, your mother’s priority is to use you as bait to the bigger fishes so you could earn their love and respect. So with a heavy heart and feet, you walked in the middle of the dance floor, feeling so ashamed and humiliated for you were so sure that the prince will not show up because he does not have any interest.

Tears are starting to ball at the corner of your eye but you felt a shiver on your spine when someone tapped you from behind.

Lo and behold, prince Hendery came and graced you with his attention.

“Are those tears?” He was quick to grab your hand and waist to save you from the humiliation but the place started gossiping in no time. You can hear people asking one another if you’re royalty, where did you come from and why is the prince only interested in having a dance with you.

“I’m sorry my prince,” you cleared your throat and hope that your face is pleasing, “we meet again, I have no idea that you’ve been gracing me with your time already. My apologies”

He let out a small laugh before he twirled you. “That’s Hendery, not prince Hendery. The quick moment that I shared with you outside made me feel that I’m free” he whispered beside your ear. So sincere, so true, but it sounded like he’s calling for help.

“Thank you prince Hendery, my mother is pleased”

“I too. I mean, the queen is pleased”

“How about you, your grace, are you pleased?”

“Very much pleased. Tell me, what’s your name?” You stepped back and bowed down to him, as low as you can.

“Lady Y/n L/n, your grace” you smiled and slowly recovered from your bow.

And in that very moment, while a unique friendship is slowly blooming in the middle of the dance floor, everyone started hating you even before knowing your name or family name.

But for prince Hendery, it’s a name that he will never forget and love starting that night.

From there on you and prince Hendery became the best of friends, making the whole town jealous and making everyone crave your attention, begging for you to answer the golden question which is, “Are you two in love with each other?” Something neither you nor Hendery can’t answer because you do love each other, but not deep enough.

Months and years have passed and still, you and prince Hendery please your mothers by being sweet whenever you have eyes watching. Balls, birthday parties, luncheons, soirées, all to which you and prince Hendery had a great time making everyone jealous. Like tonight, where prince Hendery should be right beside you because you are his guest but he is nowhere to be found. Until one of his guards came to you and told you, “Prince Hendery is asking for you in his bedroom, my lady” thankfully it was a whisper, or else it could have been a big scandal.

You have never stepped foot into prince Hendery’s room even though the two of you are incredibly close. No one can enter a royal bedroom except family, guards, maids, or his future fiancé. That’s why you were nervous while you continue to question yourself, ‘what are you doing here?’ until you found yourself in front of the prince’s bedroom and his guard opened the door for you.  

“Are you going to marry me?” You asked after the guard shut the door, teasing your best friend and not coming any closer to him.

“Will you please come join me to bed? I’m sad” he pouted so cutely and lie on his side. “You look lovely tonight. The flowers I sent you this morning match your dress perfectly, I picked it from the garden where we first met” he added.

You giggle and told him to look at your head, there he saw a flower from the ones he sent you. “Creative,” he says and pats his bed one more, still asking for you to lie beside him. Of course, you gave up eventually, but you lie so far from him that he had to pull the sheets a little too harshly to get a hold of you which completely startled you and made you nervous. “Much better,” he says, face closer to you than ever that his breath touches your skin.

“No more games my prince, why did you summon me here?” you’ve never been close to Hendery like this. If the queen hears about this, you and your family will be in trouble.

“Nothing special, I just want to be free before I become the night's hot topic” he admitted.

“That's why I'm here. I promise to drag you away whenever someone is coming” He smiles at your effort to cheer him up, “or would you prefer dancing the whole night so we don't get disturbed?” you offered him a hug while you two lie in bed comfortably. “Everything will be fine as long as Im here” you added.  

“Exactly, that's why I called you here” he smiles and closed his eyes, listening to the distant violin playing from downstairs. And to make him feel better, you threw away your shyness and rest your head on his chest. He automatically wraps his arms around you and giggled while his eyes were still closed. Secretly happy that you’re slightly on top of him while his embrace becomes tighter and tighter by the second until your face is much closer to his face again when he rolled on the side dragging your body with him.

Shyness creeps in your bones again as he looks at you deeply. Making your body incredibly warm by just looking at you and keeping your body close. You tell yourself, ‘look away, it’s improper to look at your prince like this’ but you can’t and you don’t want to.

“If I ask you to kiss me, will you say no to me?” he bravely asked, eyes hoping for you to say yes. But when you’re taking too long to answer, you saw the disappointment in his eyes, and his embrace was becoming loose. “I’m sorry for being a fool-“

To his surprise, you didn’t answer him through your words but through your actions. You kissed your prince friend on the lips which he returned without hesitation. He was happy and he’s proving it by the way he kisses you, smiling in between taking breaths, letting out a soft moan whenever he’s being too carried away. You didn’t expect to love the way how his lips touch yours, you didn’t expect him to be a good kisser but it was so good that when you closed your eyes you thought you were in a cloud and an angel is kissing you.

It was slow and not rushed. It is as if time stopped while your heads were turning and your tongues were fighting for dominance while no one noticed that your fingers are intertwined. When he pulled away and kissed your forehead to end the moment, he thanked you for not refusing and even asked you where did you learn to kiss like that. “I’m glad the first lips I ever kissed is owned by a woman who truly, cares for me” he smiles and kissed the back of your hand one too many times before he got up from his bed, and offered his hand to help you.

That night, while you and prince Hendery were kissing privately, something sparked inside him that he had never felt before. You may not know but during the party, prince Hendery noticed that you can be someone he can be in love with.

February 19

My dearest Y/n,

Have you been well? When can I see you again? Did you receive the flowers that I sent you and your mother? Perhaps I could pay you a visit and we can have a picnic somewhere private.

I can’t stop thinking about you. I can’t stop thinking about the kiss we shared.

Prince Hendery

Days after that beautiful kiss, prince Hendery sent you beautiful flowers, one for each corner of your home that even your mother was impressed and had the wrong idea. Of course, she thought the prince is courting you and that sending you many expensive flowers is a sign that he is now ready to show his seriousness to you.

“May I see that letter, dear?” she reached out her hand, waiting for you to hand prince Hendery’s recent letter.

“Mother, I’m sure the prince will not be pleased with your idea," you said in the nicest way but the tone of your voice had a hint of begging. Why must she put you in this position? Your own mother. She walked slowly towards you and snatched the letter from your hand and watch your mother betray you in front of your eyes.

After reading, she was very much amused and happy by what she just read. “the kiss we shared, eh?” she said with a smirk. “Write back-“

“I will not” you talked back.

“Write back or I will” she said with a stern voice, “you are to write back and flatter the prince. Tell him you want to happen again, tell him to invite you again to one of his family’s events”

“Mother, I don’t talk like that”

“Whatever, just do as I say For our family’s name, for our family’s sake. Be useful like your sisters” she straightens up her posture and told you to go to your room and write the letter.

You thought that your mother understood the friendship that you have with Hendery but turns out she still wants to use you as bait and to get the attention of the royal family. It sickens you, to be honest. Because Hendery is a decent person, always nice to you and your family and also you love him dearly as a friend.

As you look at the blank paper and arrange your thoughts, trying so hard to talk like how your mother wants but you just can’t. So instead, you told him the truth and what your heart says.

February 19

Dear Prince Hendery,

You care for me always, I am well thank you for asking.

Apologies for not being around these days, I was catching up with some readings. I did receive the lovely flowers, they were very beautiful my mother was pleased.

I miss you awfully. And the private picnic you offered sounds wonderful and can be arranged for tomorrow.

Lady Y/n

“No mention of the kiss?” prince Hendery whined to his best friend Ten while he watches him clean his hands from their afternoon hunt.

“Maybe the story that you told me is just part of your imagination,” Ten laughed.

“It’s not. It’s much real- how can I bring this up to her again? I want it to happen again”

“Oh, you’re a spoiled prince. When will you change? Tell me my, friend, do you love her, or you’re willing to use her for your desperateness?” it was a bold question to open the eyes of the prince.

“I do love her but, it’s very little and I’m sure I’m driven by my lust” the prince admitted.

“Then court her. Feelings can grow and the next thing you know, you now have a queen. And your mother will be pleased”

Hendery shook his head to show his disappointment to his friend. He may be the prince but he believes that he’s not born in this world to merely please his mother but to follow what his heart really wants. Like to marry the one he loves.

On the next day, as promised, the prince planned a private picnic for just the two of you and it was perfect. Being with prince Hendery is like an escape from the reality of your home and for prince Hendery, being with you makes him feel normal. “The sun feels good, doesn’t it?” he put a strawberry in your mouth and watch you chew it while you lie comfortably on his lap.

Since when did you two start to exchange flirty glances? you asked yourself. But you shrugged it off and continue to mind your thoughts. You may not know but it’s obvious that your mind is not in this picnic and prince Hendery can see right through you, he knows something is bothering you so he asked you. “Nothing my prince, I’m just thinking and admiring the perfect weather,” you said with the slightest of interest.

“Why are you so proper when you’re writing to me or when you’re with me? What's the matter? Speak your mind your prince demands it,” he ate another strawberry and you got up from your comfortable position.

“That’s not fair,” you said because you can’t tell him what’s really on your mind.

“It was meant to be a joke, what’s wrong?”  

He will never give up until you tell him something that will stop his curiosity, so you didn’t have a choice but to lie. “Having no suitors and my desire to escape from reality. That bothers me” you said and tried diverting your attention by indulging at the feast in front of you.

“Maybe there’s a reason for that. Look for a suitor that's very much like me” he says boldly, looking at you deeply like he’s telling you the answer is right in front of you already. And to be honest, a suitor that’s very much like the prince doesn’t sound so bad. He’s a gentleman, has good intentions, and also a good kisser.

“I will keep that in mind. Now read me poetry and tell me stories,” you went back to your comfort on his lap and listen to him talk while you two bask under the beautiful weather. He reads you tons of poetry that sounded real and full of emotions, tells you stories about his childhood and the things that he wants to do in life, even fed you with the palace gossips, and made you laugh. Again, the picnic is perfect and prince Hendery once again provided an escape from your ugly thoughts.  

You watch the sun go down while you both finish the wine in your cups and eat the leftover cheese because there's nothing left anymore. Both a little tipsy from the wine already, laughing and giggling before midnight strikes then out of nowhere, the rain poured so hard that it got you both soaked in a matter of minutes.

Running hand in hand to look for a shade as the field becomes darker each second, good thing prince Hendery saw a thick tree that can provide shade in the meantime. With soaking clothes and wet skins you stand closely together behind the thick tree, waiting for the rain to stop. But the prince is thanking it silently for giving him this moment with you. A moment with you where he can admire you closely again, a moment with you privately where he can keep you close to him, and a moment with you where he can try and ask for a kiss again.

You’re not stupid. You can feel the warmth of his body like he’s sharing some of it to you, you can feel his fingertips dancing on your exposed back all the way to your nape, letting you feel the wetness of your skin which you very much love but you can’t admit it to yourself.

“You said you wanted an escape well I too,” he leaned forward to give your jaw a soft kiss that’s very much addicting, leaving you for wanting more. He pulled away to look at you for a few seconds, waiting for you to return the kiss and accept his offer. And without any hesitation, you kissed him on the lips and showed him what you want.

“An escape and nothing more-“ you said because giving the prince false hope is the last thing you want to happen.

“I understand, he says with a smile. Very much pleased to see you give in to him and his charms. He kissed you to show you how happy he is, reaching for your right leg and lift the skirt of your dress so he could feel the wetness of your skin further. You moaned and gasp sharply near his ear as you feel your leg locks automatically around his waist as he pushed you on the tree with a grunt and kiss you even more harshly.

Soon you feel his fingers creep in your inner thighs, closer than ever to your sex. “Hendery-“ you moaned when he finally swipes his finger on your sex, wetting his fingers in front of your eyes using his spit and putting it back to your sex and continue to make you feel good. He is holding you tightly as your grip on his shoulder tightens even more. Oh he knows what he’s doing. You smile at that thought while parting your lips, furrowing your brows, and moaning even more deliciously near the prince’s ear.

And while he continues what he’s doing to you, you felt something hard poking your other thigh while his lips were leaving marks on your chest, just right above your breast. Is that what you think it is? Well, if yes then his cock is big, and thinking about it makes you horny even more. “Are you happy?” he whispered, disturbing your lustful thoughts, nod your head yes, and returned your lips to his. Biting it and sucking his tongue, showing him that you are very much driven by lust too.

When he finally found the spot that instantly made your legs shake and your knees weak, he watched you let go right before his eyes and watch you bite your lips and make sinful sounds that he’s very much proud of. Satisfied with the pleasure that he provided, he removed his fingers from your hole and helped you fix your dress. You feel very tired and exhausted, that your legs are about to give up but Hendery will never let you fall. He kissed you more, asked for more and you gave him more until you’re both happy and satisfied with the long kisses that you shared. “Let me bring you home safely” he sweetly requested when he noticed that the rain was long gone and you’re in a middle of a dark field.

Walking hand in hand back to his carriage where his guards are waiting, you two remain unbothered with your wet clothes and stayed happy with the remaining time you have with each other on your way home. And when it’s finally time to part again, he thanked you for a wonderful day which made you incredibly shy as what happened earlier flashes in your mind.

As you settle in your bathroom, sitting on the tub filled with warm water, you can still hear Hendery’s sweet whispers and miss his touch terribly. Smiling through the idea of a gentleman such as Hendery touched you for the first time, and it was quite an experience. But still, you love him as a friend and that will never change because you will not let your mother win and use Hendery’s name to up the status of your family.

He offered you an escape, and that’s what you’re accepting. No more, no less.

February 23

Dearest Y/n,

I am lying to myself if I don’t admit that I miss your lips on mine. How I miss seeing your parted lips, touch the softness of your breast, and the wetness of your sex. I’ve been thinking about you every night since we parted ways after that eventful evening we shared.

But the purpose of this letter is to invite you to my uncle’s ball this evening and accompany me, be my guest and let’s enjoy the night.

Prince Hendery

Knowing that the prince misses you and your lips, is something that can surely make you smile while writing back to him and accept his invitation. Sealing the letter with the slightest of love but flowery words that will surely make him smile too.

This action can be accepted as playing with fire but no one reads your letters aside from the prince himself so you know that whatever you say to him will always be safe.

But right after you sent the letter, you regret writing those filthy words on paper and realized that you are sending it to your best friend.

February 23

Dear Hendery,

The invitation is accepted and I will be delighted to accompany you. But before I close this letter, I want you to know the truth about my impure thoughts.

I think of you at night whenever I touch myself. Imagine that your fingers are the ones inside me and not mine, I spread my legs so wide under the sheets, eyes closed while I try to remember how you please me.

When can we meet privately again? I hope it happens again soon.

Lady Y/n

As expected, while reading the letter that you wrote back privately, the prince’s cock got hard that he had to take care of it at once. So in his quiet room where the doors are locked, he sat on the edge of his bed and pull out his cock from his trousers. Stroking it slowly as he imagines you again, teasing himself so he wouldn’t release so soon.

Holding the letter in his left hand and reading the second phrase over and over again, trying so hard to picture you in his thoughts with your nightgown lifted all the way up until your sex is exposed and you touching yourself. Closing his eyes so tight while he strokes his cock faster than before as he pictures you gripping the sheets so hard and very much near to your orgasm.

Until finally he shoots his cum and lets it drip on his sheets, moaning and grunting deliciously as he enjoys the warm feeling while catching his breath. Wondering how can he control his lustful feelings towards you and turn it to love.  

When the most awaited time has arrived and Hendery’s carriage is waiting outside your house, you didn’t quite expect to feel nervous as this never happened to you before. He was quiet and smiling handsomely when you sat in front of him, waiting for his carriage to move before he does as well.

“You look beautiful as always,” he sat beside you and completely startled you with his actions. A kiss on your gloved hand, and a kiss on your lips.

During the ball, Hendery was busy gracing the place with his presence on behalf of his mother so the two of you did not have much time to talk and dance, although he promised to dance with you once for tonight and that is perfectly fine for you understand his duties.

So while you’re drinking a glass of white wine on the corner, you can’t help but think and foresee the future that you can have with Hendery if you let your mother succeed.

A comfortable life, the wife of the future king, a loving husband, of course, he will give you children, but he will always be away to take care of the country’s current affairs because he is the crowned prince. And you well know that you don’t want a life like that. You want a life where a husband goes home to you every night and makes love to you until you're exhausted and tired.

“I’m sorry” Hendery whispered from behind which startled you. “Are you ready to dance?” you gave him your hand and guide you towards the middle. Careful to put his hand on your waist, trying so hard not to pull you towards him and plant many kisses on your neck.

“I read your letter” he started and completely clueless about your regret about it. You gave him a shy smile and looked away.

“So?” he started again, hoping to hear a response from you this time.

“So what my prince?”  

“Do you still want my fingers inside you?” He teases, whispering beside your ear and smiling as if he’s not making you shy in the middle of the dance floor.

“I beg you-“

“Oh, she begs” He interrupted you and teased you further. But that’s not all, you feel his hand roam on your lower back, bravely did it still despite being guarded with many judging and watchful eyes. Slowly your patience with your friend is wearing thin and so you stared at him long and hard and thankfully he understood what your eyes were saying and stopped teasing you.

“Thank you for shutting up and remembering that you’re a prince,” you clear your throat and continue what you were saying earlier, “your fingers do felt rather nice inside me and... I wish what happened the other night would happen again. But Hendery I beg you, do not tease me like this because someone might hear you. At least talk softly,”

The prince let out a small laugh, so small that only you can hear it while he continues to dance with you and fool everyone for pretending that you’re having an innocent conversation.

“After what happened I can’t seem to forget how you purred beside my ear that night” he stared at you, holding your lower back to assist you more on the dance. “Your tight grips on my shoulders still ghosts my skin, how you say my name as if I am not a prince. But it came out from your mouth in a very sinful way because I am pleasuring you”

“I made those sounds, those sounds that you oh so loved because you knew what you’re doing in between my legs... Hendery” you said it as quietly as possible and smiled so innocently at your prince, feeling every turn and every step became closer than required. Bodies becoming warm in less than a minute that you even felt his skin became instantly hot.

“If you loved how I sound that night, well, I love how you pushed me behind that tree your grace... because I felt your manhood poke my thigh. And my my,” you shook your head from left to right and giggle beside his ear, then decided to stop teasing him and making him hornier than ever when you heard him clear his throat and see the blush on his face.

“The next time we are to be alone again, I want your lips to never leave mine, your body never be covered by layers and layers of silk, and always keep your body close to mine because next time, my fingers won’t be the only one going inside you”

The promise of a very sinful and lustful next time instantly made you feel hot and you feel like your dress is about to pop and your corset will give up in no time. But even though it sounded like it was all about lust, the promise of seeing each other alone again because he loves your presence made your heart swell with happiness and smile from ear to ear as he sways you slowly under a fading string quartet music from the background.

“I never want the song to end, I beg you, not as your prince but as Hendery, keep close to me. Please”

You didn’t want to ruin the moment and feel every note of that beautiful song come to an end. This time you’re no longer fooling anyone, you are simply showing that you adore each other in the middle of the dance floor with a sea of young people.

“Tell me, what else do you love your grace?” You asked him just before you part from the dance and bow.

“You. I love you”

Usually, when someone confesses their love to someone, positive reactions are expected from both persons. And when Hendery said it out of nowhere he wanted to take it back in an instant because it is not sincere and it is not true. Yet.

“Take it back, you don’t know what you’re saying. You don’t love me” it was so hard to breathe at the moment. But you say it over and over again, very close to being mad but you can't make a scene “Please Hendery, take it back it’s not true and what you’re feeling is lust not love” you said sternly completely offending the prince with the truth.

“Alright, alright I take it back. I’m sorry, I’ll get you a glass of water. Come”

And so, the lovely night has ended earlier than expected. Hendery brought you home safely without a promise of seeing each other soon again.

Everything changed and it’s all because of lust.

March 2

To my dearest prince Hendery,

It’s been many days since the last time that we saw each other. Are you mad at me?  

Word is spreading that you’re leaving the country for several weeks to attend an important meeting representing your mother. Is it true? Were you planning to tell me?

Please write back and meet me soon. I miss you.

Lady Y/n

After reading your letter and keeping it safe in his drawer, prince Hendery admitted to himself first that he misses you too, and that no he’s not mad at you. He’s just humiliated and he’s not yet ready to show his face.

It’s his mistake in the first place. He promised to offer you an escape, no more no less. “Unbelievable Hendery,” he murmurs to himself.

After a few days of self-pity and gathering his courage to face you again, he finally gave in to your request and meet you. He apologized while you two walk around town with his guards on the side, ate lunch at his favorite restaurant, and chat until your hearts are happy. Everything felt normal again, you can hear people starting to gossip about you and Hendery so you figured all is well between you and him.

“Tomorrow is my last night here, please accompany me. My mother insisted to host a ball, I told her no need but she still made preparations” he scoffed and finished the tea he’s drinking.

You didn’t want to ruin the mood and ruin the peace between you two but you have to tell him the truth, “Xiaojun- uh, asked me to accompany him and I accepted his offer,”

“Well, you could have said no. Didn’t you thought of me?” his voice was suddenly higher and stern. He wanted to shout at you but you don’t deserve that, you’re very much important to him so he won’t do that.

“I’m sorry my prince” you murmured and lowered your head.

“Don’t lower yourself for me. I think so highly of you, please” he reached for your hand kissed your knuckles, “It’s alright. My cousin is good company” he says, comforting you further.

When you and Hendery parted ways and while the prince is on his way home, he finally admitted to himself that he is jealous. Jealous because he knew you and his cousin Xiaojun used to like each other, and now he’s clueless if you still like each other.

He can’t eat properly and kept thinking if he should steal you from his cousin. He can’t sleep despite being so tired physically and kept thinking about how he’s not spending his last night here with you.

And when his last night in town comes, during the ball, Hendery is forcing himself to smile and greet his guests. Trying so hard not to look at you and his cousin Xiaojun for he doesn’t know if he can control himself from being jealous.

“Unaccompanied, huh?” Ten teases Hendery and looked around the place for you. Only to find out that you came with his cousin, “Ah... I see” Ten smirks and continues drinking his wine.

“I’m jealous so go ruin someone else's night-“

“No my friend, I’m here to rescue you,” he whispers and called someone from afar. “Prince Hendery I want you to meet my cousin Lady Lisa,” the beautiful lady bowed to the prince to give respect, complimented the prince, and soon earned his attention and invited her to dance.

Of course, a royal attraction such as Hendery with a different woman in the dance floor can awaken the gossipers in an instant. But it's not the gossipers that irritate you the most. It’s her giggles, Hendery’s hold on her waist, his beautiful smile when he talks to her-

“Are you alright dearest?” Xiaojun whispers, completely bringing you back to reality. You breathed in deeply and exhaled sharply before drinking your wine in one go.

“Excuse me for a moment, I need air and privacy” you request from the gentleman in front of you. Nodding with a lot of questions in his mind, Xiaojun did not even dare to stop you.

And away you go to the palace gardens to breathe and let out your jealousy. Breathing deeply over and over again, wishing to be separated from the corset that’s suffocating you. Until you finally calmed down and had the need to admire the stars in the sky and listen to the distant chatters from the ball.

“Did my cousin offended you? Violated you perhaps? Are you hurt?”

Hendery came out looking for you immediately when he did not see you by his cousin’s side. He knew that this is the only place you will go to breathe because this is where he first met you.

“No no, I’m fine. Your cousin is a gentleman like you, I just needed some fresh air. Go back to your guests” you shoo him away and suddenly you feel suffocated again.

“I care only about one guest. And she’s standing in front of me right now” Hendery says boldly, walking towards you and pulled you close by the waist and kissed you. Motioning you deeper into the gardens to hide while you share a heated kiss that’s saying, ‘we belong to each other’.

Soon the heated kiss becomes rougher while the prince’s hands roam freely around your body, undoing your dress, trying to free you from this tight corset, and said, “Make love to me tonight”

There was no sign of authority in what he said, you’re sure that it’s not a command from your prince, his voice was serious but full of love and passion. And that’s why you agreed, nod your head and kiss him again, and felt his charming smile in between the kiss.

Not even a single soul from the guests knew that he sneaked you to his bedroom again, dismissed the guards before shutting the door close and locking it.

The room was dark and cold and only the moonlight and the lights from the outside illuminates his room. But when his lips touched your skin again, suddenly it became hot and you feel weak while Hendery is the opposite because you noticed he’s full of energy and burning passion.

“Lie in bed,” he says sweetly but his actions say otherwise for he pushed you, hovers you, and continue removing your clothes. X by X he loosens your corset until you’re finally free and you’re all exposed in front of him. “Better?” He asks and you nod shyly.

When he proceeds to remove his clothes next, it is as if your shyness faded when you saw Hendery’s body in the dark but everything seems clear to you even with minimal light. “Can I spread your legs?” he asks, caressing your knee while he lies beside you and waiting for your consent.

Slowly and gently, he parted your legs and hovers you again, hands exploring around your body without barriers of cloth, kneading your breast while kissing your neck as you listen to him breathe and moan. And when his hands continue to explore your inner thighs, a sharp gasp escaped from your mouth and you spread your legs wider. This time, it’s your turn to feel his naked body and explore it with your hands. Feeling every muscle tighten whenever he makes you moan accidentally.

Then he stopped. Came closer to you until you’re bodies to bodies and his forehead rests on your temple.

You know exactly what’s going to happen next. You knew that it will hurt, and it did but you asked for more, begged rather. You see his handsome face contort when he finally pushed inside you, loving your tight walls, moaning like a mad man. He lifts both of your hand at the top of your head and witness him look at you with eyes full of lust that watches your breasts bounce up and down for every thrust he gives you.

For someone who’s inexperienced like your prince, he surely knew what he was doing. Folding your legs and pushing them closer to your chest so he could thrust deeper. Even he surprises himself.

With quick thrusts, filthy words here and there, and deeper kisses you finally reached your euphoria and moaned his name again. Something he oh so loved hearing and that made him lose his mind and let go. Pulled out immediately and shoots his cum on the sheet, while grunting and moaning so loud that you didn’t even know he’s capable of making such sounds.

When he’s finally calm and has enough energy to move, he gathered the ruined sheets, threw them on the floor, and covered you with the thicker ones. “What happened was special, don’t you think?” He asks and joined you under the thick sheets and kept you close to his still exposed body.

“Special indeed,” you said and reached for his lips to plant a soft kiss.

Now you know that you do have feelings for him.

“I want you to take this, as a promise that I will soon be home” you watch him remove his silver necklace and transfer it around your neck, leaving sweet kisses on your shoulders before pulls away. He promised to come home soon so he can replace the necklace with something even more expensive when he gets back. “Oh I wish to see you more like this wearing nothing but my necklace”

“Then don’t go. Stay here, the world will not go into war if you chose to stay” He smiles so sweetly at you, happy that you’re on the same page.

“Just for a couple of weeks, my love” he says and kissed your hand many times.

“So we're in love, huh?” You tease him.

He scoffed and looked deeply into your eyes, “I think we started being in love on the night first met. We were too young to think about love but I know we loved each other for years now”

And just like that, after years and years of going against your mother, you’re finally defeated because what Hendery said is true.

On the next morning, you and your prince spend the whole morning making love quietly and making sure that your time left with each other is not wasted. Exploring each other’s bodies further and diving headfirst to lust.

“Please “ you giggle quietly, covering your mouth as you moan with every flick of his tongue on your clit. You both came several times now and you feel so weak already in the middle of the morning. “You need to prepare,” you reminded him before he starts again and asks for one last. Finally, you feel him spread kisses on your body all the way up until his head appears from the thick sheets.

When the time of parting has finally come, he put you on a carriage first before he leaves. “You’re going to be a great king” and he wishes for you to be beside him always and forever. “Safe travels, my love. Write to me every day” you whisper to him and kiss him before you go inside the carriage.

“Expect love letters from now on. I’ll be home soon, think of me always” he says and kissed you goodbye.

The promise of receiving love letters from Hendery every day was kept. You read them in the morning when you wake up and at night before you sleep. Smiling like a fool and giggling alone as you remember his sweet words and miss him even more.

This has been yet your happiest time with Hendery. Although you’re not together physically, but through the continuous exchanges of love letters, your hearts felt closer than before. And you find it amazing because being oceans apart from each other should be hard and heartbreaking but no, your words and his words give comfort to your hearts.

March 10

To my love who’s oceans apart from me,

My heart longs for you and I miss your presence.

The country is treating me well with their good hospitality and pays high respect to my mother the queen. It feels like I’m on vacation rather than an important royal matter.

It’s morning here and I’m sitting by the beautiful garden with beautiful flowers as I write this letter and think of you. Now that it’s clear that we are deeply in love, I realized that I am in love with my best friend and the mere thought of it makes me blush and makes me smile naturally.

I think of you every second my love, imagining you reading a book in front of me or sleeping right beside me in my huge bed. I want to wake up and see your smile first thing in the morning or feel your warmth for as long as I want. But let us not worry for time will pass by so fast and we will be together again.

When I get back, we should have more picnics, share longer kisses, make love every night. Let us never let go of each other.

I love you.

Hendery

March 15

To my loving prince,

My heart aches for you too but your words give great comfort to my heart. This distance between us is nothing compared to our patience.

I am more than glad that the country is treating you well. Tell me everything you do there, I miss your stories. You’re going to be a great king and I wish you won’t forget to take care of yourself there. Eat plenty and rest when needed. My heart won’t take it if you get sick or become tired.

As promised, I always think of you too. My head is so full of you that you visit me in my dreams more often than usual. And I too my prince, want to see your charming smile in the morning and even at night.

Stretch your patience more my love. When you get back, I will never leave your side. But for now, I am happily and patiently waiting for your return.  

I love you.

From the woman you love who’s oceans apart from you.

And for days and days of being apart, you and Hendery exchanged love letters and make each other smile through the paper. You tell him stories and gossips from home and he tells you stories and gossips from the country he’s staying.

“My prince, I brought bad news” The voice of his royal guard disturbed his peace while reading one of your letters. “How dare you ruin my peace, what now?” he says, still smiling from the letter he’s reading.

“Your stay here is extended, my prince” the royal guard informed him and did not dare to look his prince in the eye for he knew it will make him angry. “Your presence is requested at a royal gathering that your mother can’t attend to” he added.

And right then and there, Hendery thought about you and wanted to tell you the news immediately. He wrote as fast as he could and told his guard to send the letter immediately for Hendery was scared and disappointed with himself to give you false hope.

April 30

My dearest prince whom I love,

I waited for your arrival but you did not come. For days I was worried and could not eat or sleep well and all I did was think of you. Pray that you’re safe and wait patiently for you.

But now that I have received your letter I can finally stop worrying and stop imagining unpleasant scenarios. How are you?

I miss you terribly.

Y/n

May 20

My love,

Thank you for understanding further.

My purpose and responsibility here are becoming more tiring each day that passes but the promise of seeing you once I’m done here is the only thought that gives me energy.

Unpleasant scenarios? Imagine only me showering you with love, imagine us strolling across town and shock the gossipers and silence them once and for all when we finally announce our relationship.

Think only happy thoughts, my love, I will be with you soon.

I love you.

Hendery.

And that is the last letter you received from him for the month of May.

Hendery was told that someone is plotting to assassinate him and for his own safety, he has to leave the country secretly and go to a country where no one knew he is there. Even you.

For your own safety, Prince Hendery stopped writing you letters for the assassins can and might track you because of him. He will not forgive himself if you are to be tracked and hurt by an assassin because of a love letter.

Little did you know that he did not send his last letter on the 20th of May, and a very heartfelt love letter is on its way to you.

“A normal mail? For me? Not from the royal mail?” the mailman nods and hands you the letter.

“Put it on the basket together with the normal mails dear,” your mother said. Oh this house completely has no care about any other letter unless it’s sealed by the royals.

As weeks and months pass by quickly, you continue to wait for a letter from Hendery, and continue to wait for his arrival. But sadness had you by the neck that whenever you think about Hendery your heart will suddenly hurt and tears will automatically fall from your eyes.

Waiting is a long suffering and you understand that well before you decided to love Hendery. You knew what you signed up for… but you did not expect that it will hurt like hell while waiting for someone. It’s like waiting for a ghost to come back, you feel hopeless.

But even though you’re hurting so much, you grew more desperate to hear anything from him that you asked for his cousin Xiaojun’s help. Still, your efforts are wasted. And you’re reminded why you didn’t want to pursue your love with Hendery in the first place. “The pain that I’m feeling right now will double once he is crowned king, I’m sure of it. Is it wrong for me to ask for the man that I love? Why am I being punished?” you cry your heart out in Xiaojun’s arms, keeping you safe while he listens to what pains you and try so hard to provide comfort.

But just as you thought that you couldn't be any sadder, you are wrong. Now that everyone is expecting you to marry soon to save your family and fix the financial problem, sadder days continue to happen in your life.

“Stop your nonsense now young lady, you will marry prince Xiaojun and live with him in a new country. Stop humiliating your family and stop waiting for the crowned prince to come back. He may be all wedded and bedded by this time while you, you’re becoming even more miserable”

And that is the reason why you agreed to marry prince Xiaojun.

YEARS LATER

One night at the queen’s ball, you found yourself alone and looking at the stars again on the exact place you and Hendery first met. Breathing in, breathing out, and closing your eyes as you clear your mind and think about Hendery.

“What are you thinking about?”

You hear someone ask you from behind, you’re not sure who he is because your eyes are still closed but it can only be Xiaojun because he’s the one who knew where to find you.

But perhaps no. There’s another man who always knew where to find you even without telling him.

“Open your eyes my love, I’m home”

You turned around in an instant, looked at his face, and suddenly tears started to fall from your eyes, you can’t move and all you can do is cry. You have so many questions to him, so many sincere words left unsaid, but all you said right now is, “are you real? Or my mind is betraying me once again?”

“I am very much real,” Hendery says and gave you a tight hug, lifting you off the ground and kissing you as many as he pleases to make up for last time.

“I don’t understand, why did you leave me like that?”

“Didn’t you receive my letter?” he asks, wondering why are you so clueless when he is completely sure he told you everything. “Maybe it never reached you, I’m sorry. But now I’m back, come now let’s announce our love to my mother and ask for her blessing so we could marry soon” he was very excited but you are not.

How can you be excited? You’re already married.

Is it possible for a person to leave you and come back many years later then suddenly asked he wants to marry you as if you did not suffer greatly from waiting and being sad for months?

You remove your hand from his tight grasp and saw the ring. Now, everything is clear to him but he is very angry.

“Please don’t be mad-“ you begged.

“How could you- If only that letter reached to you, then you will know why I’m very mad right now!” He shouted at you, face turning red, eyes with tears on the side. “We were separated for years, give me a chance. Please come back to me. You told me you love me”

“And you told me you will come home! But they were only words, Hendery. And I do love you, still love you but I have a duty for my family and you have a duty for your country” He refuses to listen but you knew he needed to know the truth from you, “Please understand that you were gone for years, and I was arranged to be married to Xiaojun. I said no to Xiaojun for as long as I could, hurting him over and over again because I was waiting for you like a fool. Love someone with a strong heart, whose love is unconditional. Not like me. I can't turn my back on Xiaojun just because you're back”

"But you turned your back on me, just because I was away"

"I waited!" you shouted frustratingly back at him.

“Are you happy with him? Do you love him?”

Slowly you walked towards him to dry his tears with your hand and he’s quick to catch it kiss it before he finally lets you go.

“I am happy and no, I don’t love him but he loves me”

He nods his head slowly. Heartbroken and afraid to let go but what can he do now?

“Before I let you go, I want to let you know that... I asked you to marry me too. The man you love still asked you to marry him” he hugged you once again so you won’t see him cry because he doesn’t want you to remember him like this. “Why must our love should end tragically? I am not close to being happy but it’s good to know that you are”

He dries his tears and tried to stop crying for a moment so he can say his goodbye properly. “Go back to my cousin he must be waiting for you now. I will stay here, I will be fine. Go, it’s getting cold”

When you gave him what he asked you to do, he turned around and did not watch you leave for he doesn’t want to see you walking away from him.

Love is sacrifice and he understands that all too well now.

May 27

Dear Y/n,

This letter will reach to weeks or maybe months after I send it through a normal mail. I am being hunted down in this country that I’m staying and I have to hide and leave secretly with my guards for my own protection.

The assassins can track me through the royal mail and can use you as bait to find me. I will never forgive myself if that is to happen. I know you understand my situation right now because that’s how much you love me, let’s extend our patience together and meet when it’s safe. I am sorry my love but this is the only way.

But enough about the bad news. Last night I had the most beautiful dream because you’re in it and we are living peacefully in a country away from my responsibilities. The dream was short but it made me imagine a life with you and gave me the courage to ask your hand in marriage.

Will you marry me, when I get home?

I promise to be a good and loving husband while being a king and fulfilling my duties. I promise to never be away when you need me for I know that family is very important to you.

In the morning when you wake up and until you close your eyes to rest at night, I am going to be your husband and not your king.

I love you. Wait for me to get home safe and you will be loved by the man you love.

Hendery

[lantsovsupremacist]

tiberias (cal) calore vii: illicit affairs

i’m only on the 3rd book so a) pls don’t spoil you’ll break my heart and b) my perception of the characters has only been developed to this point so if you come for me do it with the correct context lmao!!!

you knew what it was.

leaning your forehead against the cool metal post of your bed frame, a shaky exhale escaped from your lips. you wished just like that lost breath, you too could leave behind your body and with it, mind. a few minutes was all you needed, really; some semblance of relief.

even with your door shut tight with a deadbolt, the danger contaminating the palace lingered outside of it. you were not foolish enough to deny the cracks it could slip through. you would give any adversary a worthy fight, though. you could not afford not to, especially now.

for the first time in your life, you had truly encountered a problem that you could not use your abilities to maneuver out of. as much as your lungs screamed and your legs ached to run, you could not. being a swift, your first instinct was always to run. your speed always gave you the advantage in pursuit.

a familiar knock at the door broke you from your trance of pity. you stood up, sniffling as you ran the back of your hand across your nose and mouth. the action of clearing your throat sounded more like a whimper, but you managed as you gathered your skirts and headed for the door. you pushed down the nausea and wrung your hands to settle yourself.

your fingers shook on the deadlock before you pried the door open. the amount of weight on the wood, the length of the echo, and the momentary pause before the second, lighter knock gave away the identity of the person on the other side. you were in his arms before you could take another breath.

despite offering you the comfort you had craved all morning, his touch triggered the sobs caged in your chest. perhaps, it was because your heart was only safe in his hands. but, without the key to let them out, they messily tore through and paved their own path.

a year ago, your greatest worry would be the shame brought to your family on account of conceiving a child out of wedlock, let alone to the crowned prince. now, it seemed the impending war took precedence. you could have laughed; a red threatened your livelihood. a girl, really.

you were always careful, and it did not even happen very often. both you and the prince were very busy people, after all. send offs and reunions.

“we can fix this,” cal murmured into your hair.

“no, you don’t get it,” you broke out with a defiant shake of your head, “there’s nothing to fix.”

he pulled back, stroking your hair and pushing it behind your ears. your golden strategist was at a loss. your heart fell further into the pit of your stomach. you chewed on the inside of your lip, desperate to look anywhere but his eyes. yet, in the space of the same moment, you never wanted your gaze to leave his.

“i won’t leave you,” his warm hands ran up your arms, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake, “and i won’t let my father have a say in any of it.”

“it’s not the king i am frightened of,” you admitted with a sour taste in your mouth.

cal nodded with a grimace, “then i’ll be sure she is controlled until the end of the month.”

but who could control the queen who could twist minds? you chewed on the thought to avoid choking on it, forcing it down in distaste. both cal and yourself needed time neither of you had the privilege to claim.

cal communicated the importance of waiting until the traditional queenstrial to propose publicly. while the larger part of you agreed with this position, a small piece of your heart reserved for crippling doubt and senseless paranoia wondered if he was stalling for a different reason. if you could at any time expect desertion, it would be now but true to his word, cal had done no such thing—a loyal soldier until the end.

“and if they don’t chose me?” the secret fear you had harbored far before you had even become aware of your current condition felt a traitor to expose to the boy who had given you everything, kept every promise he could.

he studied your face carefully to ensure he held your full attention (though he was foolish to ever think otherwise), “make them, my dear.”

despite the event’s purpose of selecting a bride for the princes themselves, all of the noble houses knew the eldest had little choice in the matter. while your relationship with cal was not overt due to the inherently illicit nature of the affair, servants were known to talk. even in your deepest frustrations, you could not necessarily blame them.

his confidence in you was endearing but what other choice did you truly have?

you pulled away from his arms and lingering stare, wrapping your arms around your middle. pacing the length of the room, you suppressed a bitter laugh, “and then what? when a baby is born after less than eight months? and that’s to say we can persuade your father to rush a royal marriage.”

“let them talk,” his fingers twitched at his sides and you caught the scent of smoke, “nobody will be able to do anything.”

he thought he could protect from anything. sure, there would be little opportunity for any political action after a marriage was solidified but rumors would swirl. born into the pressures of eyes always watching you, they did not cut deep, but a queen needed a reputation demanding of respect. you did not want to be cruel but you decided that if need be, you could.

you wanted so terribly not to cry but willing it away only drew your focus to it more. you did not think the act made you weak but you would rather avoid the complete exhaustion it often caused. you were already so tired. but, some things were inevitable.

cal caught on before you did, “baby,” his voice was croaky, maybe laced his emotion of his own, “please don’t cry.”

you giggled at the irony. it was watery and your voice was nearly gone but it was there. confusion spread across cal’s features. you studied his face as he began to understand. a slow, crooked smile spread across his freckles and indicated the transition.

“suppose i could have chosen better words.”

“mhm.”

you had not noticed he was slowly rocking you in his arms. calm rushed into your senses. cal radiated your favorite kind of warmth. he monitored his body temperature around you, never too hot but always comfortable. it reminded you of home. he was your home. he smelled of pine and dying embers.

now nearing nineteen, you met the prince at fourteen. your elder sister married sooner than your parents expected, hastening your introduction into political meetings as a representative of the swift house of nornus.

who could blame a young and inexperienced teenage girl for falling in with a powerful, older boy who dared throw her an extra glance. what began as a benefit to palace life at fifteen soon turned into a vice. it was easy to tell yourself that you could stop any time you desired but you were addicted to the way he touched you, the way he tasted, the way he spoke your name.

for a while, you were foolish enough to believe he maybe even loved you. when you turned sixteen, you understood you were a pastime for the prince. so when at seventeen he told you he loved you, you did not believe him. he was gone for service quite a bit and your training schedule stole away any time for secret meetings when he was home. you began to purposefully avoid him but the withdrawal from the high that was cal left you dizzy.

when he did not make a move to find you, you tried even harder to move on. you had both made a mess of your hearts, left bleeding and shattered on the floors of the palace. you watched him escape the palace more often, always finding another place to be. one night, however, you followed him. you told yourself it was curiosity that caused you to slip out of your covers and into a warm coat, a coat you would not have needed if you left with him.

you caught up easily with your inhuman perception and speed and yet, he still saw you coming. he always did. that night, you wandered through a village and blended in. that night, you could be normal. he helped you clean up the mess between the two of you and things were different but the same again. they were better. you still took the long way to his room and pulled him into hidden corridors but the longing stares across meetings reignited.

you cleared your throat, “when you returned from delphie.” you tone held the pace of a simple comment, not the answer to the unspoken question pressing down on both of your minds.

cal turned his lips into his mouth and nodded, taking a deep breath, “i remember.”

it was a good memory, a good time. slow and gentle and loving. rane had worn you ragged sparring evangeline from sun up to sun down. you enjoyed the younger classes attending for the exposition but your muscles felt like weights lodged into your body and your breath had not yet fully returned after running circles around evangeline.

usually when one of you returned from an excursion outside of the palace, you wasted little time in attaching to every piece of each other. but, you were both exhausted—exhausted but greedy for the attention of the other. it had been a month ago, nearly to the day.

you and cal never discussed the prospect of children. even if one of you did not favor the idea, there was no choice in the matter. cal, as a future king, needed heirs, and if you wanted to be queen, you would have to bear them. but, you did want them and secretly, you knew cal did, too. it was more than a superficial requirement.

cal always looked at you, found you in a crowd, so it was hard to study him in secret. when he was with children, however, all attention transferred to those at his feet. it was then you saw him fully relax, the weight of his crown falling off his back. he loved them. you loved him more for it.

“and i don’t regret it,” he continued, dipping his head to place it gently on your shoulder. he kissed you neck once, twice, and then dropped his head back down.

[boizandgurlzinthehouse]

Hi there! I hope you’re having a great day 🤍🤍🤍 Could you please do a fluff/comfort imagine where Doc Roe falls in love with a female soldier from another nation/agency? Like maybe he’s fixing her up after she’s been injured in battle? Thank you so much 💞

a/n: i changed the plot a little bit, it's after the patching up, there are the echoes about it so i hope you don't mind <3

𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐩𝐮𝐬𝐡 𝐢𝐭

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐞𝐮𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐞 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐚𝐝𝐝 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐮 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐲

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐬

—♡

"are you sleeping?"

silence.

"psst, 'gene, are you sleeping?"

still the same, cold quietude.

"i know youre awake."

a little snore broke through the peace. she smiled.

"see, you snored, and your nose is jerking, you do it a lot when you're smoking."

"how could you notice that?"

"i knew you're awake!"

y/n clapped as eugene wiped his eyes to shake the tiredness out of them, leaning his head back to the cold, frozen dirt that surrounded them –hpw dare she come to bastogne, the worst frontline, in entire europe? sure, the secret society's people were even ahrder than the easy company, but everybody else in her squad decided to go to either to france, denmark or hell, back to america. eugene wanted to ask her, between two frore breeze, he would offer her a cigarette so readily –if he had a piece, and if he knew that y/n used to cig. he wanted to ask her favourite color and food, just the causal things, eugene tought about it when he bandaged the girl's hand, the back of her hand and some fingers burned when she tried to pick up and overheated gun.

"you never stay still?"

"i'm beyond my deadlock, now i'm gonna be annoyingly officous and overwhelming. how does that sound, 'gene?"

"do you want a kind or honest answer?"

y/n giggled a little, the circles under her eyes seemed to be rather holes, but the gleaming in the y/e/c ones was ethereal and unique. or it was just deadly exhaustion, who knows –eugene just tried to enjoy the sight.

"is your hand alright?"

"yeah, a little bit burns but it's alright. it's quite interesting that how many things have i done with my hands, my fingers... and now they're just like gross burnt potatoes like in the cantine."

eugene smiled, with his whole heart –his lips were too tired, his hand wanted to touch her face. he wanted to do so many to her with his hands, eugene felt almost uncomfortably unexploited.

"should i fasciate it again?"

"jesus please no, it's so... ugly."

for a second, eugene felt the hesitance and pain in her voice –she flinched back her shoulders, just like an injured bunny. she reminded him of the small and resourceless pets, he wanted to brush her face and hair, brush away the sprink of snowflakes that fell on the crown of her head. she was so beautiful, even when the flaming, homicidal rage in her soul mirrored into her eyes, or when this afternoon she clenched her teeths to soothe the pain in her fingers. her teeths were so white, perconte murmured something about it when y/n threw away her toothbrush, sayin that this was just 'extra weight'. she was ironic, tired from the war, but she felt what they felt –what he felt. and it was a sweet burden to wake up to her voice, even is the night hovered above them.

"it's alright, i've seen much more uglier things than some petite roasted fingers."

eugene didn't even looked up on her face, he didn't realized what he said –only when y/n nudged him with her shoulder, smiling sweetly, a little bit teased.

"did you really said that i have pretty fingers or did i just hallucinate because of the fucking lack of sleep?"

"is that the agency's thing that they always notice even the little things?"

"it's my profession, medic-boy. but at least i'm not going insane, and..."

y/n slowly reached out for his right hand, leaned closer to his face. the locks beside her temple stroked his lips –warm, pleasant chill ran down on his back as the soft skin of her healthy hand, and the scraggy fabric of the bandage touched each other. "thank you, 'gene. you're the best here, the coolest guy. and you can do everything to them legally, so savage."

eugene smiled as she laughed teasingly,

"you're reclaimless, y/n."

"yeah?"

"yeah. that's why i like you."

y/n stroked his hand with both of her hands, the injured one shook slightly. eugene took care of it, giving a few strokes with his free left hand.

"don't push it, it'll hurt more."

"it's worth it."

his blue eyes met her y/e/c ones –it was warm, with endearment, delicacy. eugene hoped he looks at least the same, and that she count his rosy cheeks as the sharp cold.

the moment broke off as y/n got tired. her fingers slipped away from his, but eugene still felt something small between his palms –looking at it, he realized that she sneaked a piece of chocolate into his hands without his hands.

"what is this, y/n?"

"a piece if nurture, you don't mind, i hope?"

"i didn't even notice you smuggled this to me."

"i don't mention, but your concentration is a bit shitty..."

"y/n!"

"it's just the deadlock, don't blame me!"

i hope you liked it, it's almost 1am here, i gotta go tomorrow –well, today– to the library jdksmd

sleep well babes!! >3<

[sfb123]

Sapere Aude - Part 15

Book: The Royal Heir

Pairing: King Liam Rys x Queen Riley Brooks

All characters belong to Pixelberry.

Catch Up Here

If you’re new to Sapere Aude, please click the link above to start from the beginning. There’s so much going on right now that you’ll be way too confused to start from this point. Plus, there are some major bombshells that won’t be as fun if you read this and get a bunch of spoilers.

Series Description: I developed a theory of what I think will happen in TRH Book 4, and I was encouraged by some very lovely people to turn my theory into a fic, so here it is. Basically, Riley is recruited to join the Via Imperii, this series will follow her as she joins them to try and bring them down from the inside, and all of the drama and bombshells she learns along the way. Sapere Aude is Latin for “dare to know” it seemed like an appropriate title.

Rating: PG-13 Adult language, discussions of death, conspiracy, blackmail, and other adult themes.

Trigger Warning: A brief moment of physical abuse.

Warning: The Royal Heir Book 3 Spoilers all over the place.

Disclaimer: I have no current affiliation with any other Via Imperii themed stories. Any claims that I have pre-read anything are false.

Word Count: 3,435

A/N: Guys, we’re really in the home stretch now, we’re slowly but surely getting some resolutions. I finished this up the other day, and am already halfway through the next chapter. I’m hoping to have the series completely written by the end of the weekend or early next week. I have some really exciting and unexpected things coming, and I can’t wait to share them with you!

Thank you, as always, to the amazing, @phoenixrising308​ (<--- my fandom soulmate, you may know her as @jessiembruno​, follow her new account so you don’t miss a second of her incredible work) & @txemrn. And to @twinkleallnight for my lovely moodboard!

Tags: Listed below, hit me up to be added or removed.

Liam’s eyes fluttered open, his wife slowly coming into focus in front of him. She was already awake, and smiled at him as he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. “Morning.” She greeted him softly.

“Hi.” He placed a hand on her cheek and leaned in, leaving a lingering kiss on her lips. 

“Do you want to talk? Drake texted me, he got Eleanor out of bed, so we have some time.” Liam silently nodded his head. Riley removed his hand from her cheek and kissed his palm before sitting up and leaning back against the headboard. 

Liam rolled onto his back, stretching his arms over his head with a groan before sitting up next to Riley, taking her hand in his. “And I thought our wedding was an eventful day.” He chuckled lightly. 

“Liam, real talk.” Riley replied, combing the fingers of her free hand through his hair.

“I...I feel like I got some closure. I needed that moment. When it was just you telling me that she was alive, it was easy to ignore, or pretend it wasn’t real. But with her standing in front of me, I had to face the truth, face what she did to me. And now she truly knows how much she hurt me. I can move on now, and truly put her in the past.”

Riley smiled at him. “That’s great, I’m so proud of you. I also noticed that you told Thomas you still wanted a relationship with him?”

“He holds no responsibility for what happened, he was born into a life that he had no control over.” Liam’s expression became more pensive as he spoke about Thomas. 

“And you understand the feeling, so you’re cutting him some slack.”

Liam nodded. “Sort of, we were both born with certain responsibilities and expectations, I can understand his feelings of obligation. As much as I missed out by losing my mother, and him, he lost out on even more. He was supposed to be a prince, he is a prince, and he’s lived as a commoner his whole life. We both missed out on so much by not having each other, like we should have. I can’t get that time back, but I can try to make up for it moving forward.”

“You’re amazing Liam, you know that right?” Riley looked at him adoringly. 

He brought his hand to her face, caressing her cheek with his thumb. “You may have mentioned it once or twice before.” He leaned in and kissed her. “You know, I didn’t get a chance to properly show you how happy I am to have you home and safe.” He kissed her again, this time pulling her into his lap. 

She giggled as his lips began working their way down her neck. “Liam, we don’t have time right now. I’m sure everyone is waiting for us. Rain check?” 

Liam lifted his head and placed his forehead against hers. “You promise?” He kissed her softly on the nose.

“Have I ever let you down in that department?”

“Never.” He kissed her deeply, running his hands down her back until they rested on the curves of her ass.

“Good, then let’s go.” She kissed him one last time before getting out of bed and heading to the bathroom to get ready for the day.

Once they were ready, they headed downstairs and headed to the smaller dining room. Eleanor noticed them immediately and charged at her mother. “Mommy!”

Riley lifted her daughter into her arms and held her close for a moment before pulling away and giving her a kiss on the cheek. “Hey baby girl, were you a good hostess to our guests while mommy and daddy were away?”

“Yes mommy, the best hostess!” As Riley brushed some hair out of Eleanor’s face, Eleanor noticed the marks on Riley’s wrist where she had been bound the day before. “You have a boo-boo mommy.” 

“I know baby, I do.” She held her wrist out so Eleanor could look at it. 

“I can fix it.” Eleanor grabbed Riley’s hand and brought her wrist to her lips, kissing the marks with a loud smacking sound. “There you go mommy, all better now.” She smiled at her mother proudly. 

Liam looked on, quickly swallowing the lump that formed in his throat at the sight. In that moment, it hit him again that not only would he have lost his wife, the best thing that had ever happened to him, but Eleanor would have lost her mother. He quickly shook off the thought, everyone was safe, and they were about to take steps to eliminate their greatest threat.

“Thank you Eleanor, it feels so much better.” Riley gave her one last hug before putting her back down. “Why don’t you go see Miss Gladys, she’ll take you into the kitchen to get something to eat. We need to have a grown up breakfast.”

Eleanor nodded and ran out of the room in search of Gladys. Riley and Liam approached the table as their friends stood to greet them. “Sit down weirdos, this isn’t a royal function, this is breakfast with friends.” Riley waived them off as everyone sat at the table. It was silent for a moment, nobody quite sure how to break the silence. “So I guess we should start by addressing the elephant in the room. Neville and Mara kidnapped me yesterday. Before you start with me; I’m fine, Neville has been arrested, Mara is dead.”

“Good riddance.” Olivia interrupted. The group laughed at her comment, breaking some of the tension in the room. 

Their friends listened with bated breath as Riley and Liam recalled the events from the day before. Riley told them about the kidnapping, and everything that transpired between her and Neville. She told them how Eleanor had come to her rescue, Liam tensing slightly, as this was the first time he had heard that part of the story. She went on to explain that Liam had come face to face with Eleanor, and how proud she was of him for confronting her and lifting that huge weight of his chest. 

Liam picked up the story from there, explaining that he said what he needed to say to get the closure he needed with his mother, and that he wanted to try to build some kind of a relationship with Thomas. He still wasn’t sure what that relationship would look like, but he was excited to find out. 

“So where do we go from here?” Maxwell asked, once the group had been fully caught up. 

“Well, we need to squash the Auvernal thing once and for all, and I think there’s only one way to do that.” Riley said. It was something she had been thinking about since the meeting where revisiting the alliance came up. “We’re going to have to release the information we got when we destroyed the alliance the first time. The only way we are going to put an end to this is to tell the world that the twins are not blood heirs to the throne.”

“But what if this group tries to spin it, or screw with the records?” Drake asked. Nobody was quite sure how to answer that, but it was a legitimate concern. 

“We out the Via Imperii. If they’re a secret society, announcing that they were behind the kidnapping of our Queen, and were trying to push forward a marriage alliance with heirs that do not have true birthright to the throne will knock them off their high horse.” Olivia stated. 

“But how do we know they know?”

Riley tapped her fingers against the table, thinking for a moment before chiming in. “We don’t Max, that’s fair. But they probably do, they seem to know just about everything else. Even if they don’t, they’re not going to hold their own press conference to contradict us. It kind of goes against their whole being a secret thing.”

“Very well, I will make sure to get a press conference scheduled in the coming days to make the announcements.” Liam chimed in. “I will also set up an emergency council meeting to inform them of our decision, and also move things forward with Neville.” 

“What are you going to do to him? Can I be the executioner?” The excitement in Drake’s voice made Riley and Maxwell giggle, while Olivia rolled her eyes.

Liam chuckled lightly before responding. “I have thoroughly thought out his punishment, we will review it in the council meeting tomorrow.” He cleared his throat before moving on to the next open item. “Finally, I have promised Thomas and his mother that the crown would protect them for their assistance in saving Riley. Nobody knows about Thomas’s connection to the crown, or my family, so he will not need to remain in hiding. However, he is going to be a target of the Via Imperii, so he will no longer be able to guard my family. I do have a position in mind for him, I would like him to work with Bastien and I to completely overhaul the guard program.”

“It’s about damn time.” Olivia scoffed. 

“I agree, Olivia. Regrettably, I have let the current program go far too long, and it almost cost my wife her life.” He reached over, taking Riley’s hand in his, offering an apologetic smile. “We absolutely cannot let another Mara slip through the cracks. With his intimate knowledge of the Via Imperii, I feel that he would be a great asset.” He paused as the room nodded in agreement. “As for his mother, she was a notable figure in Cordonia for many years, so she will need to remain in hiding. We will need to set her up in a safe house with a team of guards.”

Olivia cleared her throat to get everyone’s attention. “I can house her in Lythikos.” All heads snapped in her direction, and she sat a little taller in her seat to overcompensate for the discomfort she felt in that moment. “When I was a child, she showed me a kindness I had never known at a time when I needed it most. Liam, I respect your decision not to reconnect with her because of what she did to you, I hope you can respect my decision to want to help her because of what she did for me.” 

Liam nodded. “Absolutely Olivia, as long as she and I do not cross paths, I will put her in your care.” 

“Ok, so we have all the work stuff out of the way. There’s a plan, nobody is in any immediate danger. Can we please relax and have a nice breakfast and enjoy what’s left of our getaway weekend?” Maxwell asked dramatically. 

“Amen to that.” Riley replied, pulling her napkin from the table and placing it in her lap. The group dug into their food, the mood much lighter than it had been when Liam and Riley arrived.

The next day Liam walked out of the state room. He had just adjourned the emergency meeting of the Royal Council to discuss everything that had been uncovered during their trip to Valtoria. He rushed to catch Drake, who had slipped out while Liam was still shaking hands and saying his goodbyes to the other council members. “Drake, hold on a moment.” 

Drake stopped walking and turned to face his friend. “Hey Li, what’s up? I was just going to head home.”

“I was actually hoping you could help me out with something. I’m heading down to the cells to personally deliver the news to Neville.”

Drake’s lips curled up into a devious smile. “And you want me to be there to see it all go down? Liam, I’m speechless. It’s not even my birthday.”

Liam chuckled and patted his friend on the shoulder. “Well, it’s not just for you to bask in his misery, I need your assistance.” His expression turned serious before he continued. “Drake, after what he did to Riley, I don’t trust myself alone with him. I need you to be there to pull me off in case I go too far.”

“Li, you know I’m always there for you for anything you need, but do you really think I’m the best person to stop someone from hurting Neville? Honestly, I can’t even guarantee that I won’t jump in and throw a couple of punches myself.”

“Then we will bring Bastien along as well, but I would really appreciate it if I had you by my side for this.”

Drake nodded, and the two of them headed for the cells with Bastien in tow. When they arrived, Bastien took Neville from his cell and put him in one of the interrogation rooms. They waited before entering, giving him time to sit alone with his thoughts. Once Liam felt he had waited long enough he looked to Drake and the two entered the room together. Drake stepped back into the corner as Liam approached Neville, who was sitting at a table, but stood immediately upon the King’s entry. 

“Ah, so you are capable of showing respect to your betters. I had heard otherwise.” Liam took a seat, signaling for Neville to do the same. 

Neville scoffed. “Your majesty, I always have. Your queen just doesn’t happen to be one of them.”

“Oops, wrong answer.” Drake chimed in from the back corner. 

Liam shot up from his seat. He charged at Neville on the other side of the table, lifting him by the front of his shirt and holding his gaze. “How dare you speak of your queen, my wife, that way.”

“Liam, why don’t you give him the good news, before you beat the shit out of him? That way he’ll be able to fully appreciate it. I know I will.” At Drake’s words, Liam released Neville who shot an angry glance in Drake’s direction. Drake winked at him. 

“Of course Drake, thank you for keeping me on task.” Liam straightened his jacket and returned to his place at the table, sliding a folder across it to Neville. “Neville, you have officially been stripped of all of your titles and lands. This paperwork will provide you with the specifics, but as of about an hour ago, you are no longer a noble.”

His eyes widened and his jaw dropped, shocked at the new development. “You mean I am a…” He trailed off, unable to utter the word. 

“You’re a commoner, just like me!” Drake cheerily finished Neville’s sentence for him. 

Liam raised a hand to silence his friend. He was enjoying this just as much as Drake was, but as King he did need to keep an heir of levelheadedness about him. “You will also be tried with treason for kidnapping Queen Riley. Your trial will begin next week, and I don’t think you need me to tell you, but I will. It is not looking promising for you Mr. Vancoeur.” 

Neville crossed his arms over his chest and rolled his eyes. “Wonderful, just let me know when the execution is to take place.”

“Oh Neville.” Liam laughed as he stood, once again walking to the other side of the table. “Do you really think you are going to be let off that easily?” Neville cocked an eyebrow as Liam got in his face, his demeanor calmer than before. “I have final say in all sentencing, and for you I have something in mind that will make you pray for death. You will be spending the remainder of your days in your cell, eating food that doesn't even register on the Michelin guide, knowing that you have no status, no pull. The life you once knew, a distant memory as you sit here for decades to come. That is the worst possible punishment I am able to bestow as your King.” Neville leaned back and audibly gulped. “As far as the punishment I am able to bestow as a husband…” Liam squared his shoulders and brought his fist back before thrusting it forward, making hard and fast contact with Neville’s jaw, knocking him out of his chair and onto the floor. As he laid there holding his face, Liam approached once more, this time kicking Neville swiftly in the ribs. “How dare you lay a hand on my wife.” He crouched down on the ground, lifting Neville by his shirt. “Please know that there is more I would like to do to you, but you are not worth any more of my time. Just remember that my American commoner wife will be up there enjoying every luxury in the world, as she deserves, while you rot away down here dreaming of the life you once had.” 

Liam landed one last punch to Neville’s face before letting go of his shirt and watching his head hit the ground. He then slumped over, breathing heavily as the adrenaline began to wear off. Drake approached him and patted him on the shoulder lightly. “C’mon buddy, let’s get out of here. You got what you came for.” 

Liam nodded silently as his friend helped him to his feet. Drake draped an arm around Liam’s shoulder and walked with him out of the room. He looked at Bastien, who had been waiting at the door and signaled for him to return Neville to his cell. Bastien gave Drake a curt nod and retreated to the interrogation room as Drake and Liam made their way back to the main area of the palace.

When they reached the foyer, Drake stopped Liam before he reached the steps. “Hey, are you okay? Do you want to go to your office for a drink or something?”

Liam brushed him off. “I’m fine Drake, I’m just going to head up to my quarters and relax with my family.” He extended his hand to Drake. “Thank you for coming with me today.”

“Of course man. Any time, any place. You know that.” Drake shook his hand and pulled him into a hug, clapping him on the back before pulling away. “I’m going to call you later to check in.”

Liam gave him a small smile before turning and heading up the stairs towards his chambers. Upon entering, he was greeted by an empty living room. “Riley?” He called out.

“Bedroom.” He heard her faint reply from the hallway and followed the sound of her voice. 

He entered the room as she was exiting her walk-in closet holding multiple hangers. “I mean honestly, I love my life and how much you spoil me, but do I really need this many black dresses?” She let out an exasperated sigh before looking up and noticing Liam. “What happened? What’s wrong?” She dropped the dresses she was holding and rushed up to him.

“I just got back from the cells.”

“Liam Rys, what did you do?” Riley placed her hands on her hips and raised an eyebrow. 

“He’s fine, the medics will bandage him up. I’m sure losing his title hurt him much more than I did.” He grabbed her hands off of her hips and brought them to his lips. “He hurt you, Riley. He tried to take you away from me. I know he’s going to be punished for what he did, but it won’t ever be enough.”

Riley lifted his hand, examining it. It was red, bruises already beginning to form at the knuckles. She kissed each knuckle softly. “Come on, let’s ice it before it gets too bad.” She held onto his hand, leading him into the kitchen. “Sit.” she pointed to the kitchen table. 

Hey obeyed, sitting at the table as she went to the freezer, pulling out an ice pack and wrapping it in a dish towel. She joined him at the table, sitting on his lap, and taking his injured hand in hers once more. She pressed the ice pack to his knuckles, he hissed slightly at the feeling. She pressed her lips to his in a lingering kiss as she continued to hold the ice to his hand. “To distract you from the pain.” She said with a wink as she pulled away.

“You have always been my favorite distraction.” He brought his free hand to her face, pulling her into a deeper kiss. “When is Eleanor due back?”

“Mmm..a little over an hour.” She cooed.

“Perfect, that will be more than enough time.” 

“For what?” 

“For me to cash in my rain check from yesterday.” Liam removed his hand from under the ice pack and lifted Riley bridal style to the bedroom, kicking the door closed behind them.

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[buckyjamess-archive]

𝓻𝓸𝓼𝓲𝓮 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓲 ❁ 𝓫𝓾𝓬𝓴𝔂 𝓫𝓪𝓻𝓷𝓮𝓼

a/n: keep writing reader as the villain of the story, about time this man screws up • wordcount: 1.3k • warnings: kids, babies, parenthood, cheating, alcohol, bucky being an idiot, mentions of sex, blink and you'll miss it.

summary

going through rough years after losing your husband, you try to raise your daughter the best you can. With the help from the wilson's you make the best of it but the road is bumpy when sam introduces you to his friend.

masterlist

He shouldn't be here. He promised himself to never wake up in this bed again, ever and yet he finds himself sitting on the edge of the memory foam mattress, soft lilac blankets underneath his naked thighs. The smell of the room is familiar but it's not you, not Rosie, not JJ, not home.

He should've stayed home, told you he didn't need a boys night out because he deserved just that– for taking care of the kids while you were a mess, not available and not there when he needed you the most. Yes, he deserved that but maybe the pub his friends had dragged him too was not the right place to be. 

She worked there. She who he had ended things with weeks before meeting you. She with a head of brown curls bouncing around her face, bright green eyes through thick lashes and the cute little dimples in her cheeks whenever she smiled so bright, nose covered in freckles on a sun-kissed canvas and god, if only her personality matched her looks, he would have fought for this one the way he's fighting for you and his family.

God, he was in love back then, one of the firsts he saw a future with. Like a bunch of teenagers, making the eyes of his friends roll with the lovey-dovey behavior– looking back at it made Bucky cringe. The first six months were amazing before her attitude took a 180 and changed for the worse. Possessive, jealous, lowkey crazy.

He wished to never bump into his ex Melissa ever again.

But he did and with the beers coming, alcohol running through his veins and the lack of real intimacy made his mind foggy. The hugs, the cuddles and stolen kisses were not cutting it anymore, he missed you in all other ways and Melissa was there to fix it, like an angel with a halo above her head and rays of light casting from behind her – guiding him straight to what he desired most. 

He shouldn't have been here. Your relationship was taking the right turn, amazing, a do over, like the beginning. The acceptance letter to that nursing school you applied for and your weekly visits with your therapist did wonders for you. Giving bucky back the girl he so deeply fell in love with and he put it all on the line for some sex. Sex he would've gotten if he just had asked you and even then he didn't have a reason to complain. His 7 months old son asking all your attention and a jealous rosie hanging around your leg nearly every hour of the day– you had the right to fall asleep as soon as your head hit a pillow.

"You know what they say; once a cheater, always a cheater."

Bucky clenches his jaw and bites the inside of his cheek, nails digging half moons in the skin of his palms as his hands turn into fists– god, all the reason why he dumper her coming back up.

"I never cheated on you." He hisses through gritted teeth, back still turned to her. 

Melissa snorts "pretty sure you left me for that baby mama of yours." 

"We were long done before that," bucky spats back "for reasons. You being a pain in the ass being one of them." 

"That's not what you said last night." 

God, he didn't even call you or send a text. A shit excuse of staying with a friend for the night, too drunk to get home while he knew damn well he wasn't going home with them.

"I can ask her you know- ask her why she doesn't want to have sex with you anymore." 

Bucky nearly gives himself a whiplash with the force he turns his head around to meet with the green eyes of the half naked woman on the other side of the bed with a smug smile on her face. Playing with her phone in her hand. 

"Don't you fucking dare." 

"She has a right to know bucky." Melissa smiles wickedly "she has the right to know you slept with your ex." 

"I'll tell her myself." Bucky hisses again "I don't need you for that." 

"y/n, right?" Melissa quips, phone stills in her hand as she unlocks it with a swipe of her finger "I think I've seen her Instagram before– gotta say Barnes, the boy looks like you." 

"Melissa, I'm begging you." Bucky sighs "please, I'll tell her myself." 

I'll tell her myself– only if he believed that lie himself. 

A date night, some one on one, some time alone is all what was needed to fill the missing gaps in your relationship. Both kids off to spend the night with bucky his family; just you and him. 

Dinner at your favorite sushi bar before strolling through the city hand in hand, catching a movie the both of you were dying to see followed by a round of beer at the first bar you stumbled upon and right back home– a trail of clothes leading from the kitchen, too desperate. Hands on each other and whispered sweet little nothings. Skin to skin. Raw. Real. Perfect.

But his mind couldn't help and wander to last week; tangled up in his ex her arms under thin sheets in a familiar bed. Mind wandering back to that night, not because he couldn't get Melissa out if his head but the regret– he'd done the same thing tonight but with the real love of his life, the mother of his kid, his future wife but it eats him alive; you can do better than the lying man he is. He needs to tell the truth, it's the least you deserve but he can't. He can't lose what he has now, a future.

He wants that white picket fence outside of the city with a big garden for your babies to grow up in. He wants another mini him or mini you running around, maybe even two if life is that kind. He wants to be by your side through thick and thin, in sickness and health, the bad and the good. He wants to see you stroll down the aisle in that perfect dress. He wants to be a good father figure for rosie, the perfect father and perfect husband– he's put it all on the line for some bad sex with a woman he despised so much.

He can't but he needs to tell the truth. No lies.

The smell of sex is still stuck in the air and the rays of moonlight cast through the crack between the curtains, the sound of the city a background noise– his arm is asleep from where your head rests but bucky runs his hand through your hair and presses a kiss to the crown of your hair, taking in the warm fruity smell of your shampoo. Your naked body cuddles up to his, soft legs entangled with his and a soft and warm hand laying on his chest right near his heart.

you're asleep, have been for a while but he can't; his eyes on the ceiling, following the small cracks in the paint and the cobweb he missed earlier this week. 

Bucky once again finds himself preparing himself a.nd his stupid apology 'a drunken mistake' and 'it won't happen again' followed by a pathetic 'forgive me?' 

He hopes you're getting angry at him, call him names, cursing him, wishing you never met him, a big mistake– bucky simply cannot bear the thought of you crying over him, he doesn't deserve your tears, doesn't deserve you. But above all, he wishes things will turn out okay in the end; see you happy even if it means without him. You deserve that.

God, he needs to tell the truth. You'll find out one way or the other, if not from him it'll be Melissa herself. 

'Hey doll, we need to talk.'

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[jimlingss]

Moirai [2]

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3

➜ Words: 6.2k

➜ Genres: 60% Fluff, 40% Angst, Isekai!AU

➜ Summary: Death is supposed to be the end. Or at least that's what you assumed when you're hit by a TRUCK. But the moment you open your eyes again, instead of being sent to the afterlife, you've become a baby. And not just any baby. You're the female villain of a video game.

You turn the corner and dart down the hall.   “My lady!”   There’s a parade of maids chasing after you, Joan included in the bunch, and a frightened guard whose metal armour clanks with each movement. You grin, swinging your wooden sword around at them with a ‘huzzah!’. Pretending you’re a champion, you twirl around the pillar with one arm. But even with your theatrics, they’re still meters away and out of reach.   “Please! Come back! You have your dance lessons!”   You stick out your tongue. “Then catch me!”   It’s been one full year since you’ve started learning swordsmanship and admittedly, it’s become one of your most favourite times of the day. It beats sitting at a desk with the old fart droning on and on about dumb things you already know or having your posture criticized over and over again during dance lessons.    You’re frankly getting tired of having information and insults shoved down your throat.    Sword lessons are the only time you can be out in the sun and do whatever you want. You can tell that you’re improving too. It’s a pain in the ass to get the guards to take you seriously, but sometimes the tips and tricks they give are pretty helpful.   It’s fun.   Especially when there are people desperately chasing you.   “P-Please!” one of the girls cries out, running out of breath.   One of the best perks about being a five-year old is having endless energy in your body. And you’ll happily take advantage of that while you still can. “Pirates never give up! Argh, matey!”   But your play time is unfortunately interrupted by a deadpanning voice—   “What are you doing?”    The familiar sharp voice sends shivers up your spine and you freeze.   Your parade halts on their heels as well, immediately dropping their heads to the ground and placing one hand over the other reverently. “Your grace.”   “What is going on here?” Your mother’s footsteps echo through the marble hall, ball gown dragged behind her as her scrutinizing eyes lay on the help, the knight and then to you.   “I’m so sorry,” Joan is quick to confess, “The lady refuses to attend her dance practices.”   And she’s quick to throw you under the bus.   If you could, you’d stick up your middle finger at her.   Your mother turns, her glare laid upon you. You brace yourself.   “This is not how the future Devereux head should act.” Her voice is above a slight murmur, yet chilling and heavy. Her narrowed eyes have dimmed as they look upon you. She doesn’t need to yell to be frightening. “The Chevalier household has their youngest daughter playing piano and they recently went to the castle to show her talent. How will you compete, Anastasia?”   “I—”   “Or will you continue to tarnish our family’s name by being a child?”   You are a child. Technically.    The woman looms over you, her demeanour imposing and the burden of the household’s name lays upon your shoulders. You can’t help but feel small. It’s no wonder Anastasia took the Prince’s kindness as love and fell for him so quickly. Moments with him were her moments of freedom.   You stay quiet, solemn, knowing it’s not worth arguing. Your eyes instead focus on a younger maid who’s silently snickering to herself and before you can make note for later, your vision blurs.   “From now on, your swordsmanship lessons will be retracted until you’ve caught up with the rest of your lessons,” she says while looking straight ahead, not sparing you a glance. “The only places you are to be permitted in for the next month is your room and the study—”   It’s unfair. A punishment that doesn’t fit the crime.   But your voice doesn’t come out of your mouth.   The world tilts on an axis. It swirls. Your head is lightweight.    And before you could figure out what’s happening, there’s a shrill cry for you — “my lady!” — and you feel yourself falling back before the universe becomes pitch black. An abyss of nothing.   //   “Why did she faint?!”   When you come to, your first thought is that you’ve died. Again.   Illness. Heart attack. Maybe from the plague.    Fuck.   It’s frightening and you feel an urge to cry, knowing that you yet again didn’t complete your goal of living a long and fruitful life. That the years spent fighting for your survival were ultimately useless. But then you hear far away voices and realize your fingers can twitch. The soft mattress underneath you registers soon after and it sinks in that you’re in your room, bedridden.   “Well….your grace…”   “On with it! I didn’t bring you here to waste my time!”   “Herrick…”   Oh right. It’s the Eve of the Solar Festival, isn’t it? A day where commoners celebrate the empire and wish for its everlasting prosperity. You remember since you’ve never gone before. Around this same time last year and the year before that, you fell ill in the exact same way — cold, chest aching, dizzy spells.    It’s odd. Usually you aren’t so weak and yet somehow, you always get better in the morning once the festival is over. You don’t remember this ever being mentioned in the original game either. Or at least Anastasia never said anything about it and she would’ve totally milked it for the Prince’s attention if she could’ve. But maybe it’s an outside detail. Something the game developers were going to include in a future DLC.   “We don’t know what’s happening to the lady, your grace,” the healer says.   Your father bellows from his stomach, “Excuse me?!”   “H-Her pulse reads well and she has no fever either. I-It’s a very unusual case.”   In your half-consciousness, you perceive the bitter silence.    “Heal her at all costs.” Your father’s footsteps fade and your mother sighs.   You wish you couldn’t hear. Otherwise, it would be easy to demonize the pair as unsympathetic, psychopathic parents who only consider their daughter a chess piece. You’re sure the only reason they’re expressing so much concern is because you are the only heir after all. They really have no future if Anastasia dies.    But it’s still hard to quell the hope that they actually care for your wellbeing.    Still, you wish you couldn’t hear their desperation. It wouldn’t have to be so conflicting. Or bittersweet. The only time they show an ounce of their affection is when you’re on your deathbed.   You muster the strength to open your eyes once everyone’s left the room.    Most likely, you’ll live through this. You still have yet to have any of the game’s encounters or even start. Anastasia was alive for most of it, enough to terrorize the main character, so you’ll live too.   Shit. When does the game start again?   The opening scene was right before the debutante ball was held for all the girls in the empire.   You count on your fingers — give or take, there’s twelve or thirteen years left….   But you remember from the wiki fan page that Anastasia became engaged to the Crown Prince when they were kids.    Oh god. If you weren’t so weak, you’d roll over and scream into your pillow.   There’s an unsettling feeling boiling in the pit of your stomach.   No matter how much effort you put forth, you don’t know how you’re going to avoid that arrangement.

Turns out, it’s unavoidable.   It begins two years later at seven years old, the D-day that you were dreading, the first domino that begins all the others.   “No! Please!” The entire household is stunned at how you’ve grabbed onto the Duke’s leg and wrapped your limbs around his appendage, practically dead weight and not allowing him to move a single step.    All your life, you’ve kept a good amount of distance between your parents — never daring to overstep your boundaries or sass them back no matter how much you wanted to. It’s more trouble than it’s worth anyway and it’s better to play on their good side.   But you’ve thrown in the towel. This is your last desperate attempt.   “I’ll be good, I promise I’ll go to all my dance lessons and all my history lessons and all my math lessons. Please, papa! Please!” You’re practically crying aloud. You wish someone would help you. “I don’t want to go to the Royal Palace!”   Edith is shaking her head while Joan is mortified at the sidelines.   Your mother’s expression is twisted in disgust while your dad is wholly aghast. Hey — it’s not like you wanted to do this either, alright?!   But your pleas fall on deaf ears. To them, it’s merely the whining of a child. A temper tantrum.   “My lady, please stop this,” Joan harshly whispers and rushes to pry your grip off of the Duke’s leg. Several others come too, maids and kitchen staff alike. Your strength is no match for theirs.   “My stomach hurts!”   Your father has no sympathy. “We’ve delayed enough times, Anastasia. If we postpone the meeting with the King again, it would be shameful to our house. Now get up.”   He’s done hearing the excuses — and while you’d usually internally call him out for being an ass, the moment you heard he wanted to take you to the palace, you did claim you have a fever.    Then you claimed diarrhea. A cough. Hid for several hours.   You’re actually surprised you managed to delay it for this long.   “There’s no choice, my lady,” Joan mutters quickly as she fixes the ribbons in your pretty hairdo. “You must go with the Duke today.”   Deep down, you know it’s true. You’ll be pulled along anyhow.    But you wish they would understand that this is a matter of life and death for you.   Your silence is a sign of raising the white flag and Joan retracts back to her place as your dad turns to leave the manor. He adjusts his hat as he’s escorted to the carriage and you’re about to trail after him, but your mother stops you.   You expect her to reprimand you, give an earful of what you should and shouldn’t do. But you’re surprised when she lowers herself down to your eye level.    She catches you off guard when she reaches out to button up your pea coat, attentive and careful in each swift movement. “This is a really important meeting, Anastasia. Do you understand?”    Her voice is soft, quiet enough that no one else aside from you can hear. You nod.   “You must be on your best behaviour. Your father, me, all the workers here, and the whole House of Devereux will be relying on you.” Wow. Way to not pressure a seven year old. “Today is the day that might change our lives for the better.”   As she finishes buttoning, her hands stroke your shoulders down your arms. The Duchess smiles gingerly, tiredly. For a moment, you feel guilty for being so selfish — for prioritizing your own survival and desires when everyone else was quite literally relying on you for their livelihood.   You find yourself swallowing hard before nodding again.    You get into the carriage without another word.    Well fuck. What now?   A part of you wishes you ran away when you had the opportunity — even though there was a good chance you would’ve been kidnapped and sold at an underground market or gone hungry or be shipped back right to your parents. Ashea, like any other place, doesn’t take kindly to wandering children.   But at least then you would’ve had more control and choice.    You know this isn’t just a fun field trip to the palace. The only reason the Duke and the King would meet like this is to seek an engagement. Your engagement with the Prince’s.    Half an hour later, you peek out the carriage windows to see the castle at the horizon.   Stone walls, seven towers, lookouts, the empire’s flag fluttering in the breeze — it’s a beautiful place with rolling green hills and beds of flowers that wind up the path. It’s a hundred times more grand than the Devereux estate and ten times the size too, stretching across for miles. But it’s also the location where all of it happens.    The beginning. The climax. The end.   “Anastasia.”   Your attention is taken when your father steps off the carriage. You take the servant's hand and hop down onto the cobblestone, following your father closely. He greets an important person or two and you lower your head to them in greeting as they complement how mannerly you are.   The two of you are led through open, lavish halls full of life-sized portraits and marble statues, and then through the garden. Even in both your lifetimes, you’ve never seen so many different kinds of flowers and vivid hues in one place.    Pansies. Orchids. Marigold.    Magenta. Lavender. Marmalade.   But you don't get to admire it for long. Not when the gazebo comes into sight.    A man with straight posture, dark hair streaked with gray to show his age and deep set eyes sits at the rounded table. Even with the absence of his crown, his status is shown through his navy cape ornate with golden swirls held together by an emerald jewel embellished with the royal crest. Wrinkles around his mouth, he has a fiercely stern expression until he cordially smiles as your father approaches.    Beside him is a spitting image, a smaller boy slumped in the white chair, visibly bored.   “Herrick! Good to see you, my old friend.”   “Your Majesty.” Your father bows and you follow suit, giving a curtsy and lowering your head. But at the same time, you can’t help peeking at the boy. His eyes meet yours and you look away.   Oh fuck.   It’s the first meeting between the Prince and Anastasia.    You’re sure for her it was impactful, nerve wracking, life changing. And it’s like that for you as well, but not so much on the positive side.   “Please, the formalities. Is this the daughter you've been speaking so highly about?”   “Yes, this is my only child, Anastasia.”   You plaster on a perfect, little smile. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Your Majesty.”   The King hums. “A very lovely child indeed. The Devereux House is blessed.”   The Duke smiles. “Thank you.”   “Please sit and make yourselves welcome.” The King gestures and the servants nearby scurry over, pulling out your chairs, pouring tea and placing plates of biscuits on their table. In a blink, they’ve finished and you can’t help but muse how much better they are than the servants back at home. The King smiles and looks at his son. “Jungkook, don’t you have anything to say?”   “Nice to meet you,” he deadpans before his doe eyes wander out to the gardens.    Jungkook is wholly disinterested in you and this entire affair — you don’t blame him. You bet any seven year old would be itching to get out of their seat. But looking at him, you can’t believe you liked him so much in the game. You even had him as your phone wallpaper for a few months.   But from the perspective of Anastasia and knowing your outcome and your impending demise, he’s not even cute as a kid.   If anything, sitting across from him stresses you the fuck out.   You weren’t supposed to even meet him. This was the exact opposite of your battle plans. And yet the engagement is going to happen whether you like it or not. The greatest irony of all is that you know he’ll end up falling in love with the main character anyway instead of you. Aka. the orphaned girl who ends up adopted by a baron.   This whole ordeal only serves to make you suffer.   The only way you could sabotage this meeting now is by slamming the teapot over Prince Jungkook’s head. And that would either get you thrown in jail for treason and executed or sent back to the Devereux estate on house arrest where your mother would kill you.   Oh god. It’s death either way.   “Are the sweets not to your liking?”   It takes a second for you to register that the King is looking at you. That he’s speaking to you.   You go wide-eyed, realizing you haven’t had a bite of the cakes, the biscuits or sipped on any tea. You’ve completely tuned out their conversation. But he’s been watching you and Jungkook from the corner of his eye, assessing your interactions closely.    Your palms go clammy as you open your mouth before closing it.    “She’s just shy,” your dad swiftly informs with a polite smile. It’s a complete lie, but one the royal monarch believes.   “Ah. We shouldn’t bore them with adult talk then.” The man turns to his son. “Jungkook, why don’t you go off and play with Anastasia here?”   “Okay,” he mumbles and slides off his chair.   You follow suit, a bit relieved that you were dismissed from the overly formal atmosphere.   The two of you go deeper into the gardens until the gazes of your father and the King’s fade from view. Jungkook is wearing a white ensemble with a cape which he dirties with the way he’s kicking rocks in his path. He seems burdened that you’re beside him.   “What do you like playing?” he asks.   You’re perplexed on how to answer. You’re not sure how you should play with an actual seven year old. Then again, you like to run away from the maids and swing your sword around on your down time. But that’s just because you like their reactions.   “Sword fighting.”   Jungkook blanches as if he just bit into a lemon. “What kind of girl plays with swords?”   Suddenly, you’re overwhelmed with an urge to kick the royal prince right in his shin.    But as the annoyance floods you, an epiphany comes along with it — if you can’t avoid Jungkook, maybe it’s time to switch strategies. Maybe you can start sowing the seeds of your future survival right here, right now. If one day, he’ll be condemning you of countless crimes and looking down at you as an evil villain, maybe you can turn his perception in the opposite direction.   Harmless. Overbearingly nice. Arrows that practically point ‘I’M NOT A THREAT WHATSOEVER!’.    You’re a genius.   You force the highest pitched giggle you can. “Really?”   Jungkook kicks another rock. “Girls have flimsy arms and trip every time you touch them.”   Ah. The ancient version of: girls have cooties and so you should stay away from them. Alright, alright. You can work with this.   “What do you like playing, Your Highness?”   “Anything that’s not with girls.”   You pause and laugh, hoping it doesn’t sound too stiff.   Jungkook suddenly lifts his head and turns to you with the swivel of his heel. You stop as well and his index finger juts right in your face. “Since I’m the prince, I’ll have mercy on you. We can play servant and king.”   “What’s servant and king?”   “I’m the king.” His thumb pokes himself and then he’s back to pointing right between your eyes again. “You’re the servant. You have to follow me and all my orders or off with your head!”   What a little shit.   How is this going to be any fun for you?!   But you draw an enormous grin on your face, left eye twitching in the process. “Sounds like fun, Your Highness!”   He strolls off. “Let’s go, dumb dumb.”   Your teeth grit and you inhale a deep breath. It hurts your pride to be insulted by a literal seven year old, but you can handle it. When it comes to life or death, you’ll easily befriend the hero.   “Fetch that stick, peasant!”   The prince points at the distance and looks at you expectedly.   Your teeth grit. But you muster a smile and dash forward.   When it comes to life or death, you’ll befriend the hero……….probably.   “Here you go, Your Highness.”   You present the stick to him with both hands and the brat smirks. A rush of air leaves his nose and then he takes the stick. You’re not sure what to expect, but your entire body freezes when he hurls it as far as his arms can go. He points between your brows a second later. “Go get it!”   Motherfucker. “Yes!”    Once Jungkook’s tired of having you fetch like a dog, you trail after him closely. The green hedges are triple your size, acting like corridors of the garden before they open up to certain areas filled with beds of flowers or a fountain. Some paths are unpaved, so you listen to the crunch of rocks underneath his shoes amidst the quiet.    When you’re not out of breath and running at his command, it finally sinks in that it’s the first time you’re with a main character of the game. For the seven years of this lifetime thus far, there was only really you. Your parents were supporting characters at best who just took the opportunity to slyly diss the main heroine a few times at royal gatherings. But other than that, you’re currently facing the backside of someone you know a lot about.   Who he will become. What his future holds. What his desires are.   You pipe up, “Prince Jungkook—”   “That’s Your Highness, peasant!”   You clench your jaw. “Your Highness…”   “What?”   You quicken your steps until you’re beside him and he turns his head. “I’ll support you forever if you want to fall in love with anyone! I don’t care about being the crown princess or the queen!”    For good measure, you flash a wink and a thumbs up.   “What?” His boyish face is twisted up in disgust. “Why would a peasant be a queen?”   You hold in your sigh. “I’m just saying. If we ever get engaged or something, it can always be annulled when we’re older. So feel free to love on, Your Highness. Make love, not war!”   Your words completely fly over Jungkook’s head.   His face reads that he has no clue what you’re talking about.   And he turns away from you. “You’re weird.”   You scoff.    You’re not sure how you can become friendly with a seven year old when you’re internally twenty years older than he is. If you had chocolate on you, you’d use that as a bargaining chip. But clearly, you only have your body, brain and the surroundings at the moment….   What do seven year old boys like?   What do they like?   As you scan your surroundings, your eye catches something in the bushes. You stop and get closer.   At the same time, Jungkook realizes you’re not following him anymore and turns around. “What are you doing, peasa—” His words are cut short by a shrill shriek of absolute terror.   Your brows furrow and you thrust your hand closer to him. “It’s a ladybug.”   The tiny red and black polka dotted bug is crawling in your hand. Jungkook screams again.   He’s stumbling back, nearly tripping onto his butt, doe eyes reflected with complete horror as if you just chopped off his mom’s head. “Get that thing away from me!” his voice cracks up and down two different octaves and realizing his weakness, you grin.   You know your plan was to seem as harmless as possible, but it’s just too much fun teasing him.   “What thing, Your Highness? Your servant is merely showing you a small forest creature.”   “No! Stop!”   He scrambles and starts running away.   You chase after him while giggling manically. “Prince Jungkook! Where are you going!”   “Get the bug away from me!”   He turns over his shoulder with eyeballs nearly falling out of their sockets, face bright red, and you take the opportunity to toss the ladybug at him. Jungkook’s shrieks echo, pitched and earsplitting.   You’re forced to stop with how hard you’re laughing and by then, he’s ran for the hills, completely gone from sight.   Oh god. You can’t believe he’s so scared.    You can’t believe you were so scared — he’s just a kid.   Your giggles taper off as you wander the gardens by yourself. It’s freeing to stroll at your own pace without a brat demanding you to fetch sticks or barking at you to do this and that. It’s a chance to finally admire the surroundings.   You’re sure the first time Anastasia saw the castle, it became her dream home. The place is similar to the aesthetic background graphics of the game and it was always described as beautiful by all the characters. And it really is that way.   But this is also the place of her demise and possibly yours.    You’re sure the only time you’ll be able to enjoy the palace and be this carefree is right now.   You’re admiring the blooming carnations, peony and roses as you turn the corner. The figure standing by the sprouting fountain doesn’t register until after a delayed moment and your eyes lift to see a woman — mysterious in her gray dress. It’s simple attire, but the fabrics are layered on top of one another, light enough that they drape down and flow to the breeze. Her brunette hair is tied into a bun and as if she feels the pressure of your eyes, her bright irises turn towards you.   You realize you’re staring and you blink several times, approaching her politely.    She pulls her charcoal shawl closer to her and smiles. The light wrinkles around her kind eyes crease. “Are you lost, child?”   You shake your head. “No. I’m just looking.”   She crouches down to match your height, gazing at you tenderly. “Where are your parents?”   “My dad’s talking to the King.” You point off in the distance as curiosity eats at you. She doesn’t look like an ordinary worker but not a visitor of the castle either. “I’m Anastasia.”   She searches your expression as if she’s endeared by you. “That’s a beautiful name.”   “Thanks! Who’re you?”   She’s soft-spoken, voice above a quiet murmur, “My name is Erena Robane.”   You frown. The name rings a bell. “Lady Robane?”   “No.” Her laugh tinkles. “I’m no lady.”    Before you can press your mind any further and pick apart your brain at why her name sounds so familiar, she reaches into the small pouch she was carrying and hands you a wrapped piece of candy. “Would you like one?”   Your eyes light up at the pink square. “Yes, please!”    You know better, as an internal twenty seven year old, than to take candy from strangers, but the Duke and Duchess never give you any sweets. So you’ll happily take what you can.   Erena smiles and drops the treat into your outstretched palm.   Not wanting to risk getting it confiscated by Edith, Joan or your mother if you brought it home, you quickly unwrap it and throw it into your mouth. It’s peppermint and it’s pretty damn good.   The woman looks at you patiently, waiting for a reaction, so you give her a thumbs up and a “Yummy!”   She laughs faintly. “Do you like candy?”   “Yep!” You hold out both hands as if you’re trick-or-treating. “Can I have another one, please?”   Might as well seize the chance while you can. It’s a dog-eat-dog world.    “You have very good manners.” She smiles, taking another out of her endless pouch and dropping it in your hand. Oh man, you’re starting to really like this lady. “My son likes chocolate, but I only managed to get candy for today.”   You chew the hard candy in your cheek, crunching down on it. You hope it rots your teeth and makes Edith’s life a living nightmare when she has to deal with it. “Your son?”   Her lips part to speak. But she’s interrupted—   “Mom?”   By sheer coincidence and coincidence itself, a boy with floppy, brown hair turns the corner of the garden. Thin lips, but chubby cheeks and bright eyes of deep mocha. You’ve known him the second your eyes have laid on him. A younger form of the person you fear most.   Taehyung.   You gasp and immediately spin around, hoping he didn’t see you, pretending you didn’t see him.   “I have to go now!”    Before Taehyung’s mom can utter another word, you run away. You don’t notice how Taehyung slows as well, brows furrowed at your receding form.   To see Jungkook is one thing. But to see Taehyung, the one who will use, coerce and lead you to your doom, is another. Jungkook handed down your judgment, but Taehyung is the one who led you there.   He’s the villain.   //   “You did decently,” your mother informs a few days after the whole affair. “We might have to go to the palace more often from now on.”   You nod, unable to dwell in her approval, mind still lost in a daze.    Taehyung — a half prince born a year before Jungkook. He has the blood of a royal with his father as the King, but his mother is merely a palace maid. You remember that he seeks revenge for her death after she’s poisoned by the jealous Queen.   But if she’s still alive, that means it’ll happen soon.   This year.    Springtime.    You’re slowly recalling the details of the event, the catalyst that begins Taehyung’s descent into madness, how he became the game’s villain. But you can’t involve yourself. You just can’t.   You shouldn’t have met any of them in the first place.   You shouldn’t get entangled in their story, in their lives. If you want to live, if you want to survive, you have to avoid Taehyung at all costs. So you can’t. You can’t. Can’t.   A day passes as you focus on your studies.   You can’t.   Another two days goes by, six meals eaten.   Can’t—   On the seventh, your silver spoon clanks noisily against the porcelain bowl, slipping from your grasps, dropping downwards in your deep trance that throbs your temples. Joan turns at the ruckus and you look at her, already standing up.   “I have to go to the castle.”   The guilt eating at you has won its battle.    “Pardon me?”   “Today. Right now.” You rush out of the room and down the hall, determination set in your strides. Maybe you can avoid this. Maybe if you do, he won’t become the game’s villain. Then he won’t be a threat to you, and you won’t be a threat to anyone. You’ll live and so will his mom who’s done nothing wrong.   The maid struggles to catch up to you. “My lady! Please! Wait! What do you mean?”   “I forgot something really important!”   “Y-You can’t just go. My lady! You must ask permission from the Duke and Duchess!”   “There’s no time to.” You’ve never been more serious and somber. There isn’t an inch of mischief, no childish selfishness. Twenty seven years has amounted to this very moment. And you use your status as the Duke’s daughter to command the girl. “Come with me. If the Duke or Duchess gets mad, I’ll take the blame.”   Joan sighs, annoyed as she looks around as if someone else could reason with you. But as you turn to her, looking her dead in the eye, she shifts on her feet and hesitantly calls for a carriage.   You’re in it before you can blink again.   There must be time. There hasn’t been any news yet. No reports of a death in the castle.   You can warn him. You can avoid this tragedy.    “We’re here, my lady,” Joan informs, peering out the window at the enormous stone walls and towers looming high above the clouds. The carriage doors open and she guides you out.    Your feet land onto the cobblestone.    But there isn’t any welcome. No guards that ask what your business here is. No servant passing by.   Instead, there’s chaos in the distance.    Your head whips to the noise and Joan shouts as you dash off towards it. Yet no one notices you in the midst of the pandemonium. No one would pay mind to a small child. You’re left to linger in the open halls, butlers that quickly walk past, maids whispering amongst themselves—   “Did you hear?”   Your head turns towards two girls.   “The King’s mistress just died!”   You came a moment too late.

No one cries.   The arrangement is short and unluxurious, the bare minimum of what would be acceptable for a royal family. A priestess in front drones on impassively about the afterlife, but as you look around, no one grieves. After all, they wouldn’t shed tears for a mere maid.    This is merely a charade to quell away scandalous rumors and to give nobles an excuse to come to the castle and be acknowledged.   You’re overwhelmed in black, a tulle skirt and puffed sleeves. Your parents stand on either side of you, your father in a jacket with the house’s emblem and your mother with a veil covering the right side of her face. Like many others, your family has come for appearance sakes.   But for you, it’s different.   The woman inside the closed casket has shown you a kindness that you so seldom receive.   And because of your hesitation, because of your self-preservation and selfishness, this happened.   Once the burial ceremony is over, your parents mingle amongst the nobles, laughing cordially behind gloved hands as you follow after them and cutesy. It feels like you’re a show pony, brought around to show what the future of the Devereux looks like.   But after a while, you manage to slip away from the scrutiny.    And by sheer coincidence and coincidence only, you find him.   At first it’s the noise of heart wrenching sobs. It’s unrestrained wails and choked hiccups in between that attracts your attention. You twist through the familiar hedge corridors and the moment you turn the corner, your eyes lift to a small figure underneath an oak tree.    He sits alone. He cries to himself.    The boy with floppy, brown hair has his knees pulled together. He incessantly rubs at his eyes as if that alone could stop the tears that well and pour. He cries enough for the tens of people at the funeral, substituting their apathy with his anguish. His entire body wracks and the moment he whimpers “m-mom” in-between, it’s shaking to your core.    This is the beginning. The start of his path of destruction.   In this entire castle that stretches across the horizon, only his mother ever loved him. The half-prince. The Forgotten Prince. The one dirtied by regular red blood, not blue enough for the golden crown.   Taehyung mourns, vision blurred by his grief.   But as he rubs his eyes with his small fists, black shoes appear between the gaps of his hands.   He looks up. Your arm is extended in front of him.    Taehyung looks down to your folded, pink handkerchief. He looks stunned for a moment, as if he’s surprised that there was someone here. That someone actually heard him. That someone came.   He takes your handkerchief and sniffles.   “I’m sorry,” you murmur.    Sorry that she passed away, that he has to endure this, that you didn’t save her when you could’ve.   This isn’t just a game you’re playing anymore. All these people aren’t just characters.   You’re living a new life. And all these people have emotions, desires, thoughts of their own.   You’re not sure how you can comfort Taehyung. What you can say to make it better. “Your mother loved you a lot. I’m sure she wouldn’t want you to be crying so much by yourself.”   He hiccups, snivelling uncontrollably. “B-But if I don’t cry for her, who will?”   You don’t know what to say.   Tears continue to slip down his cheeks and as you linger awkwardly, you decide there isn’t much that you can say. So you sit beside him. You sit underneath the canopy of the tree and branches of rustling leaves, on the soft bed of grass, looking out at the garden.    This is all you can do.   You don’t notice the way Taehyung looks up in-between his mourning, glossy eyes pinpointed on the profile of your face.    The pair of you sit next to one another in the silence of his sniffles until it levels. Until he can breathe again—   “Anastasia!”   There’s a sharp call of your name, one that can only belong to your mother. You immediately come to your feet again as if a dog whistle has been blown. But as you hurry away, you turn over your shoulder. Your eyes connect with Taehyung’s brown ones, and for a moment you slow.   You leave a second later.   You twist down the hedges and turn the corner, nearly bumping straight into her. She looks down at you with her brows furrowed. “Where did you go?”   You smile. “I got lost.”   It’s futile. You know it now.   Trying to avoid the three that will lead you to your demise is like trying to wish you’d suddenly vanish off these lands. You know it won’t be the last time that you see Taehyung. It won’t be the last of Jungkook either. Or whoever the heroine will be. It seems like the more you try to run, the more you inadvertently become involved. But you’ll hold your head up high and face whatever is to come head on.

[wonderwomanfantasy]

kinktober day 26

Corruption w/ Shinsou

masterlist

I’ve saved the best for last so I hope you all have fun with the last week of Kinktober

warnings: Dubcon, rough sex, virginity kink, oral, drinking, work place harrasment, Crying, power play, breeding kink. Mean Hitsohi.

word count: 1,400(about)

Summary: Shinsou has taken a shine to his new secretary, and after a few shots of liquid courage he claims his cute little kitten.

Working as Shinsou’s secretary wasn’t all that bad of a job. He was easy to please and he didn’t ask too much of you, and he was always polite when he interacted with you. With one notable exception.

Shinsou was the perfect boss, except when he drank a little too much. Office parties or dinner meetings whenever he was offered a glass of wine really, he turned into a completely different person. Louder, always smiling and a lot touchier. If you had been just a little more savvy you would have recognised his behavior for what it was. But never the less you brushed off the multiple times he had grabbed your ass while tippsy as just a slip of the hand.

“Come here,” Shinsou drunkenly slurred pulling you by the hips towards his lap. you let him, not sure what else you could do. you perched lightly on his knee while his large hands circled your hips.

“You’re so soft I should touch you more often,” Shinsou purred low enough that only you could hear. His hands traveled forward rubbing down the side of your tighs.

“you do know that other people are looking at us right?” you asked squirming uncomfortably on his lap.

“Are you asking to go somewhere private? Naughty kitty,” he laughed

“N-No that’s not what I’m saying,” you stammered, pushing against his chest. He didn’t seem to hear, or feel, you He smirked at your blushing face.

“Why don’t you go to my office that way no one watches while you get dirty,” he snarked letting go of your legs and sending you off his lap. you flushed looking around the room at everyone who had witnessed the ordeal.  You were not going to go to his office you were not going to let him grab you like that.

Yet, you were waiting patiently at his desk waiting for him to burst in, which he did, his hungry purple eyes locking on you the second he was in the room.

“do you need something sir?” you asked timidly.

“I need you to bend over that desk and spread your legs,” he slurred instantly your face went ten different shades of red.

“Hitoshi!” you yelped.

“Come on don’t play coy- you know I can feel your emotions right? I can feel how turned on you get when you see me, when I grab you,” He taunted creeping closer to you. it was true that you were somewhat attracted to your boss but there was no way he could really know that. even if he did have better access to your mind than the average person. He pounced, your back hit the desk as he pinned you to the front.

“W-We can’t.” you whimpered, his hands were back on your hips.

“why not? I want you and I can feel how much you want me,” he purred. There was a thousand reasons why you couldn’t, but only one jumped to your mind

“I’ve n-never had sex before ,” you squeaked which seemed to freeze him.

Shinsou’s mind was reeling, How had no one managed to fuck you in the twenty-seven years you had been alive? it didn’t really matter, because he was going to do so now. He laughed and his gaze softened.

“I’ll show you what you’ve been missing baby girl,” he promised pushing you down on the desk. If his prick wasn’t rock solid before he sure was now. He would be the first to eat you out, to taint your soft doughy pussy. Shinsou needed you, now.

“do you like it when I touch you like this?” he breathed his hands ghosting up from your stoumach to your breasts

“yes,” you whimpered and suddenly you were under his spell.

“What do you want? Be honest,” he commanded. your voice floated out in the distance it didn’t sound like you but it was your words floating into the air.

“I want you to fuck me until I cry,” your mind cleared and you suddenly flushed realizing what you had asked him to do. Shinsou grinned wickedly hiking your pencil skirt up to your hips and pushed your legs wide open.

“Until you cry huh? Here I thought you’d want me to be gentle,” he growled yanking your underwear down your legs before attaching his mouth to your cunt.

It was all moving too fast. your head was spinning but you couldn’t seem to ask him to slow down or stop. His tongue dipped into your hole and he sucked on the tender flesh making your hips buck.  

“so sensitive kitty, so fucking wet,” he purred lapping at your folds. “do you like it kitty? do you like Sir sucking on your cunny?”

“y-yes,” you gulped. he continued to nurse on your sex until you came, which took an embarrassingly short amount of time. Shinsou licked his lips standing between your still spread legs.

“Is that the first time someone else had made you cum?” He asked undoing his belt. you dodded sheepishly your eyes fixed on his crotch. you could see his prominent bulge even through the dark slacks. you watched as he slowly pulled out his full cock, heavy and long in his hand. you gulped as you admired it as he slowly palmed himself.

“get on your knees kitty,” he commanded,

“Why?” you asked nervously. obviously, you knew what he wanted but you weren’t sure you could take it in your mouth.

“It’s only fair, come on kitty,” he snapped his fingers making you jump. awkwardly you knelt and took his cock in your hand. He grabbed you by the back of your head pushing your face against his prick. you were surprised how soft the skin was.

“give it a kiss,” he commanded. you looked up at him and pressed your mouth along the shaft until you reached the pink head, this was the most sensitive part of the cock right? you let your tongue peek out and run along the salty skin.

“Fuck,” he cursed, his hips bucked against your face.  He fisted his hand in your hair jerking you roughly to your feet before bending you back over his desk

“I’ll teach you how to suck cock some other time kitten, I need to stretch your pussy out, now,” he growled. thumbing over your folds before spreading them with his hand. His fingers were big, much bigger than yours, you yelped again feeling two of them push and scisor inside of you.

“Such a warm little cunt,” he hummed approvingly. “tight too, tell me princess do you think my cock is going to make this little pussy bleed once it’s inside of you?” he purred. it was hard to form words when your brain was so clouded over with lust.

“I-I don’t want to bleed,” you whimpered, fearing he would laugh at the innocent request. popping the chairy was a normal part of sex right? it had happened to all of your friends, still you couldn’t help but fear it.

Hitoshi did laugh, “ah sweet girl, Don’t worry I’ll streach you out nice and good so this big cock will fit in nice and easy,” he assured, his fingers still working on your insides.

“Is my cock the first one you've ever seen?” he asked.

“n-no I’ve seen e-em in movies,” you admitted.

“Oh? you watch porn do you dirty kitty?” he teased he he leaned down and pressed his chest to your back so he could whisper in your ear.

“what do you watch while you touch this innocent little pussy?” he asked feeling your walls flutter at the words. your mind was reeling and it felt like you were coming close to your second orgasum. but you could tease him right? He had done nothing but bully you.

“I like the ones where the s-slutty secratery f-fucks her boss,” you whispered. his fingers pulled out of you in a flash and he flipped you over so you were looking up at him. his eyes were glowing with anger, and something else, lust? clearly you had hit a nerve.

“you really are a slut huh?” He nudged your legs open aligning his hips with yours. He rutted his cock against your dripping cunt a few times before pushing into you.

You yelped and clamped down halting his progress into you. “Come on Kitten Relax and I’ll make you feel good,” he purred reaching between your legs and stroking your clit.

“Good kitty,” he purred bottoming out inside of you. “Feel that baby, feel how your pussy is taking the shape of my cock, molding around me like that,” he grunted.

“S-Shinsou,” His cock stretched you painfully, your whole body was tense, and tears pooled in your eyes. He placed his hand on your stomach and pressed down lightly.

“feel me here kitty?” he asked. and you nodded, you could feel him press right up against your cervix. it was then you realized he had slid into you bare.

“fuck- Shinsou condom!” you yelped. he seemed to understand you half formed words and shushed you. pressing a surprisingly gentle kiss to the crown of your head.

“let me worry about that kitty, you just sit back and feel good okay?”

Shinsou was losing his mind your virgin cunt was so impossibly tight around him, your velvet walls fluttering around his cock made him light-headed. He had wanted to take you the moment you started working for him but only now was he realized he should have bent his cute little secretary over way sooner.

He started moving slowly, he made sure to push back into you fully, the head of his cock kissing your womb with each thrust.

“oh- Fuck fuck, Shinsou,” you moaned, gripping the lappels of his rumpled suit jacket.

“You like this? You like being a dirty little kitten, a fucking cum dump for your boss?” he growled, his dirty words making your cunt clamp tighter around him.

“Fuck I’m going to cum,” he warned, a similar knot of pleasure was building in your own stomach, you had gotten so close on his fingers, you were going to cum any second. you felt kind of dirty losing your virginity on an office desk with your boss but his cock felt so good pulsing inside of you the shame didn’t run deep.

“Beg for my cum kitten I want you to hear how bad you want me,” he grunted.

“please S-Shinsou cum in me,” you whimpered

“Naughty girl, did you forget that I wasn’t wearing a condom? you want me to fuck a baby into you?” he growled and your eyes went wide.

“I- uhm-,” words failed you. your mind was blank, and you seemed to have lost all control of your hips as the raised to meet his pelvis.

“Dirty bitch,” his finger was fast against your clit as he brought you both to orgasm. You displved around him as you came a second time, and before you could even worry about his cum and where it would land, you felt the hot semem land acros your cheek. you were quick to close your eyes as he finished on your face.

Your body was shaking, the tears clouding your eyes finally spilled over onto your cheeks smudging your makeup.

“Damn kitty I thought I'd have to fuck you a few more times for you to cry,” Shinsou snickered whipping away the tears, and a bit of his cum with his thumb. Hitoshi slid his soft cock back inside of you and started humping your pussy he was hard again.

“don’t think that means I’m going to stop, no no I’m going to fuck you until you’re a perfect little whore, Kitty,” he purred nipping at the flesh of your neck and you knew those weren’t the last tears you would be crying tonight.

[reinvent-and-believe]

for the touch prompts: with a promise! 😊

The fireplace roars before them, warming Yennefer’s face as much as the bottle of Everluce they split. The flickering firelight dances across Triss’s skin and brings out all its gorgeous golden tones. Her chestnut hair falls in soft, tousled curls that seem to bounce on her shoulders every time she dissolves into giggles.

Triss dissolves into giggles frequently with Yennefer. Always has. But Triss is vibrant and warm and full of life, Yennefer’s opposite in every way; no, making Triss giggle has never been a challenge.

That Triss somehow pulls unexpected, faltering chuckles from Yennefer is far more disconcerting. Somehow Triss can melt the ice queen’s heart, reduce her to a school girl, nervous and desperate to please.

The little house in Vengerberg has never felt so warm.

The air between them is pregnant, heavy with potential. It always is, somehow, but tonight’s amplified, tonight Triss’s fingers are lost in Yennefer’s silky black tresses as she bites her lower lip, a silent question in those honey-brown eyes.

And Yennefer wants her, has always wanted her, in truth, but her relationship with Triss is the only pure, uncomplicated friendship she has, the only person in her life who seems to stick around even after they’ve gotten to know her, even after they’re done using her for her power.

Yennefer traces Triss’s jaw, the perfect little indentation of her chin with her thumb. “Promise this won’t ruin us?” Her voice is barely more than a whisper. She hates the uncharacteristic vulnerability in her voice but can’t seem to tamp it down.

Triss fixes her with a soft, brilliant smile. “I promise,” she swears sweetly, and then she kisses her.

*

They lie side by side in the grass, staring at the stars and knowing that neither will sleep.

Not far away, the gathered forces of Sodden Hill, such as they are, drink and pray and carouse and prepare for battle.

The Temerians have not come, and Nilfgaard draws ever closer.

Triss shivers beside her, and instinctively Yennefer covers her, covers them both in her cloak. But it’s not the cold.

She curls into Yennefer, throwing an arm about her waist and pulling her close. “Promise me.” She lets out a choked little noise as she clings, her tears warm when they hit the skin of Yennefer’s neck but quickly cooled by the night’s wind. “Promise me you won’t do anything stupid and sacrificial.”

Yennefer kisses the top of her head. Triss’s prodigious magical control of plant life makes such sense; beneath her tender, attentive care, watered by her tears, Yennefer thinks she could flourish, too. “Only if you promise the same.”

It’s a promise neither can keep, so they hold each other in silence.

*

It’s been an afternoon of fighting.

About everything, about nothing.

About the way the dishes are arranged in the cabinets. About whether they’ll need a shawl on this cool autumn day. About the candle left burning on the nightstand every night and how it’s going to burn the house down one day. About the properties of a particular spell. About whether they should walk or teleport to the market. About...

“I wish you would damn well tell me what it is you’re so pissed about or go bother someone else!” Yennefer barks.

Triss looks as though she’s been struck.

Yennefer turns away for a moment, pinching the bridge of her nose. She hears Triss moving slowly, the quiet drag of a chair against the wooden floor. “I shouldn’t have—”

“I don’t want to lose you.”

Triss is sitting at the kitchen table, staring at her hands folded primly in front of her. “You have a family now. When it was just Geralt and the wish and all that, that was one thing, but now you have Ciri, too.” Triss sighs, burying her head in her hands with a moan of frustration. “I don’t begrudge you that, truly I don’t. I adore them both, and...she’s Geralt’s fate, his Child of Surprise, but she’s something more than that to you, Yennefer. She’s the child you chose.”

“Triss—”

“Let me finish,” she says softly, taking Yennefer’s hand. “I’m overjoyed that you get to experience this! Gods know family isn’t an option for most of us. I just don’t know that there’s a place for me in it.”

There’s loneliness written in the furrows of Triss’s brow, the downcast eyes.

Yennefer climbs into her lap, straddling her and taking her face in both hands. “Nothing ties me here but my choice,” she says. “You’re right. Geralt and I are linked by fate, now I have Ciri to consider. But I want everything, Triss. And I choose you.” She kisses her fiercely before burying her face in Triss’s lavender-scented hair, pulling her into a long, tight hug. “You won’t be rid of me that easily,” she murmurs into her neck. “Where there’s a place for me, there’s a place for you.”

She feels the long breath Triss releases, the way her arms tighten around Yennefer’s waist. “Promise?” she asks softly.

Yennefer pulls back and tilts Triss’s face up gently, locking eyes. “Promise.”

*

“It’s bad luck to see the bride on her wedding day,” Triss scolds, but there’s no heat to it. She faces away from the door, pointedly refusing to make eye contact in the mirror as she brushes a warm sunset red on her lips.

“Peasant superstition. I’ve seen you plenty of times.”

Triss rolls her eyes at that, but she’s smiling. “You’re incorrigible,” she says, but her dimple belies the chastisement. “Getting cold feet?”

Yennefer hesitates. “Not about you.”

Triss turns to look at her. Those kind eyes miss nothing. “But about the wedding?” she prompts gently.

Yennefer shrugs. “It all seems a bit superficial, doesn’t it? The pomp? The flowers? Gods, Triss, the flowers are out of control, have you seen what Jaskier’s done?”

“I like the flowers.” Triss stands, taking both Yennefer’s hands in hers. “What’s wrong, love?”

She’s beautiful. The flowing yellow gown, the glow of her tawny skin, the sparkle in her eyes, the crown of white and yellow and orange flowers in her hair: Triss Merigold is the most beautiful bride, and Yennefer forgets how to speak.

Triss just laughs, kissing her softly. “You’re afraid that once we’re married, things will be somehow different. That we’ll immediately know we’ve made a huge mistake, that we’ll stop making love and realize we hate each other as soon as we’re bound.”

“Not immediately,” Yennefer admits quietly. “Slowly.”

Triss brushes a loose strand of dark hair from her lover’s face. “I’ve no intention of tying you down, love,” she murmurs. “If things change, we’ll adapt, just as we always have. We’ll tell everyone to go home if you want, but the purpose of the wedding isn’t to lock you into something you can’t escape. All I want is to stand before our friends and our family and let them know how completely I adore you.” Triss rests her forehead against Yennefer’s. “I can’t promise that nothing will change, love. We’ve both seen far too much to believe such a thing. But we’re together and we love each other, and I think that’s something worth celebrating.”

Yennefer takes a breath. “This won’t ruin us,” she says softly.

Triss smiles. “I’ve yet to find anything that can.”

[readiajin]

To Love Herself

Helloooo acotar fandom. Or just Nessian fandom. 

I have gone back and forth loving and hating acosf, but finally pinpointed the breaking point for me. I hated how the story played out after Nesta told Feyre about the baby. There was so much potential with how that whole situation could be handled. Instead Nesta was blamed for everything, with no one else ever taking responsibility. 

Because of that I have decided to try my hand at writing a fanfic starting from that point in acosf. Below is what I would call the prologue and the beginning of the first chapter. 

I have never posted anything I have written before, so please be kind. I would love feedback on it and if people are curious I will continue it. 

Prologue

Nesta didn’t care. Couldn’t think around the roaring. “Have any of them told you, their respected high lady, that the baby in your womb will kill you?”

It broke something in Nesta—broke that rage, that roaring—- seeing those tears begin to fall, the fear crumpling Feyre’s painted-smeared face.

She had gone too far. She… Oh gods.

Amren said, “I think it is best, girl, if you speak to Rhysand about this.”

Nesta couldn’t bear it—the pain and fear and love on Feyre’s face as she caressed her stomach.

Amren growled at Nesta, “I hope you’re content now.”

Nesta didn’t respond. Didn’t know what to say or do with herself. She simply turned on her heel and ran from the apartment.

Nesta ran into the streets, escaping down side alleys, not caring where she went, as long as it was away. Away from Feyre and her pain, the pain Nesta had just so cruelly added to. Away from Amran, the first friend Nesta had once thought she was. Away from the rest of her sister’s new family.

Nesta had thought she was getting better. She had been trying, with Gwyn and Emerie. With Cassian. She had searched for the Dread Trove, to protect Elain. She had initially followed Rhysand’s order not to tell Feyre about the risk of the baby...

But standing in that apartment, Nesta had realized none of it mattered. Not while Feyre cried and Amran looked at her with such hatred and disgust. For all her efforts, Feyre and her Inner Circle would never like Nesta.

As she ran Nesta couldn’t entirely blame them. She didn’t like who she was either. Didn’t like the things she said, or what she did, or how she felt. She didn’t like her powers either, not when they were a manifestation of all the worst things about her. They were all better off without her.

The realization slammed into Nesta. It was not the first time she had thought it. She had lived in her rundown apartment for exactly that reason, to put space between her and her sister’s family. But they had always dragged her back in with parties and dinners, insisting Nesta be there. They only ever resulted in her once again feeling out of place and giving them all more reasons to loathe her. Until finally they had forced her to the House Of Wind

Nesta came to a halt in an ally that opened up to the Sidra and the setting sun. Her red hot anger from earlier was gone, replaced with that numb feeling that she had lived with for so long, the feeling she had been beginning to forget. How quickly it returned.

Feyre’s crumpled face flashed in her mind. Nesta knew they would be coming for her. Feyre deserved to know the truth about her baby, her body. Everyone had the right to the truth. But Rhysand, Amren, and the rest of them didn’t care about that. They only cared how Nesta made Feyre feel, so they would blame her. Including Cassian.

Cassian who she trusted, who she had let in despite knowing better. No one had ever tried as much as he had with her, but in the end he would always choose Feyre and the Inner Circle. He had continued to talk to them about her and keep things from her because of them.

No matter what he was to her, he was also better off without her. She was a burden he had been handling, but today proved it was all pointless. Nothing and nobody could fix her.

Her powers curled in her gut as she stared at the sparking water. She wanted to disappear.

So do it A voice whispered.

Silver flames sparked at the tips of Nesta’s fingers.

Disappear

Nesta hugged her hands to her chest, letting the cold flames sparkle across her body. Amren has been right. Nesta hadn’t had any interest in her powers. But now they were all she had left. They were the only thing that had made her worth anything to the others. But maybe now they were her answer. Nesta closed her eyes and let her leash slip, let the magic decide. Disappear.

“NESTA!” a distant voice shouted.

A voice Nesta knew in her soul.

As the world twisted in flicking silver, Nesta turned and glanced at the sky. Hazel eyes locked onto hers, and Nesta felt his anger and alarm. His horror. All about her. But not anymore. Nesta felt a single tear escape down her cheek as she allowed her magic to consume her, and let go.

•••••

Chapter 1 (1st part)

Do you plan on coming home soon Feyre darling?

Feyre sent a huff of a laugh back at Rhys. Why? Does somebody miss me?

Two somebodies actually. Rhys replied, Nyx wants to show you how he has improved his flying with Uncle Azriel today.

Feyre smiled at the image of her son jumping off couches to fly around the room played in her mind. She currently sat in her studio, working on a painting of Nyx flying with his father. She planned on saving it for his eighth birthday present in a couple months.

Feyre glanced out the window, where the streets were only illuminated by streetlight on the moonless night. She hasn’t realized how late it had become.

I’ll be home soon, I just have to clean up.

Don’t keep me waiting too long, Rhys rumbled back. A shiver went down Feyre’s spin as she cut off the connection with her mate to concentrate on cleaning.

She walked around the room, turning off most of the lights before going to the back to wash her brushes and pallet. As she stood at the sink, she suddenly felt a cold breeze at the back of her neck.

Feyre froze. She raised her head to look at the paint splattered mirror above the sinks. Through the smudged glass she could see a dark cloaked figure standing behind her.

Slowly, Feyre turned. “Who are you?” She demanded. “It’s not wise to sneak up on a High Lady.”

The figure stood perfectly still. As they stared at each other the temperature in the room seemed to drop. Finally the figure tilted their head to the side slightly. “Well? What do you want?”

An indignant huff came from beneath the cloak before reaching up to pull back their hood.

Feyre’s mind went blank as she took in her sister, whom she hadn’t seen or heard from in over 8 years.

“Hello Feyre.” Was all Nesta said.

Feyre stared at her older sister. Not a day had gone by since that terrible day in Amren’s apartment that Feyre hadn’t thought of Nesta. Not a day she hadn’t wondered, worried. They had searched for her. Had even reached out to the other courts when they became desperate for answers. But there had been no trace of her since Cassian had seen her consumed by silver flames.

Now standing before her, the first thing Feyre noticed was how healthy she looked. Nesta had slowly begun to look better after living in the House and training with Cassian for a few weeks. She had been gaining a little weight and some color back then.

But stepping in to the light cast from lanterns on the back counter, Nesta seemed to glow with health. Her hair was braided in its classic crown, but her face was full and tanned from being in the sun. Her eyes still held the same stormy intensity they always had, but the haunted look she had had was now replaced with a silver gleam.

Although most of her body was covered in a dark cloak, Feyre could see she was wearing fighting leathers— not Illyarian leathers. And peaking out over her right shoulder, was the pommel of a great sword. The Great Sword, the one she had accidentally Made. The sword that, along with the two other Made weapons, had been stolen from where they had been locked in the river house. The same night several priestess disappeared from the Library.

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