#rape of the three sisters | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ichorai · 2 months

Text

i'm not made by design ; part two ; jaime lannister.

part one.

pairing ; jaime lannister x stark!reader (she/her pronouns)

synopsis ; wolves and lions tend not to be friends, much less lovers.

words ; 9.0k

themes ; heavy angst, action, fluff, (actual) enemies to lovers, slowburn

warnings / includes ; war/murder/injury, this part covers a few events from a feast for crows, politicking, mentions of incest/rape, foul language, animal cruelty, a lot of generally terrible things going on but what else can you expect from asoiaf, lots of dreams, jaime is a morally grey delight in this part yes, they are being HAUNTED by each other!

a/n ; wow, it's been a long time coming! ok i know this part is quite short and doesn't yet get to where you guys probably want to be, but tumblr has a max limit of 1k text blocks per post now (boo everyone throw tomatoes) so i'll be posting the rest of the story in smaller chunks! expect the third part to be coming soon, and i promise part three will start off exactly where you guys want it to be :) also if any of you can spot any sort of parallels in this part i will kiss you on the Mouth .

main masterlist. read on ao3!

The wintry breeze tousled the two young Stark girls’ hair, whispering frost into their ears. The horse the two were riding whickered as it galloped through the snow. Lyanna was exclaiming something, something lost to the wind, and you only held all the tighter to her from behind.

“Lyanna, I want to get off!” you yelled, tugging at the furs draped over her. “Lyanna, let me off!”

Your older sister laughed some more. Not wickedly, but more out of fond amusement. She slowed the horse down to a languid canter, then to a trot, and led the stallion towards the shade of a tree. There was snow blanketing the branches and the grass which crunched beneath her weight as she swung down. She looked up at you with her large grey eyes, crinkled at the corners as she grinned boyishly. “Were you frightened?”

You held your arms out for your sister to help you down. Only at eight years of age, you were still of short stature, and Lyanna had picked a rather tall horse. She had always been a voracious rider, even more so than all your brothers.

“I wasn’t frightened,” you indignantly replied as she wrapped her arms about your waist and pulled you down onto the ground.

“Right.” She began to stroke the stallion’s mane, his hooves pawing at the snow. “Do you not trust me, then? Did you think I would ride us right off the edge of a cliff?”

“No,” you replied, scuffing your boots against the snow. “I don’t like riding from behind. I can’t see anything from back there.”

There was a moment of silence before Lyanna reached over to ruffle your hair—an action that both she and Benjen often did. Eddard and Brandon often spared you from such irritations, but being the youngest of the family, you were always doted on and hovered over and babied.

“I don’t trust you riding a horse as big as this, so I suppose we can walk back. It’s not too far.”

“Why can’t I just sit in front of you?”

Your sister stuck her tongue out at you. “We’ve got something in common, you know. What makes you think I like sitting behind?” When you glowered at her, she went on, “Let’s get a move on. Ned will complain that I’m stealing you away—especially since he’s just returned. He misses you. Your letters grow briefer and briefer, he tells me.”

You were none too happy about trudging through the snow, but you voiced no complaint and walked alongside your sister, who tugged at the horse’s reins to follow along.

“He’s always going back and forth,” you said, a small frown marring your features. “I wish he would just stay home. The Eyrie couldn’t possibly compare to Winterfell.”

“You know him.” Lyanna’s dark hair was speckled with snowflakes as she turned to you. “Studious and dutiful as ever.” Her voice went an octave deeper and she pulled a mockingly somber expression in a startling resemblance to Ned. You let out a small laugh at that.

“Last time he visited, you were betrothed,” you said, your voice shrinking to a whisper.

The amusement died away from her eyes, turning stony. “Yes. Though I doubt it will be a fruitful union.”

There were a few more seconds of silence as you considered her words, not entirely sure why she would think so. Robert was loud and robust the few times you’ve met him, but you knew little else of Ned’s friend.

“Do you think he’ll bring a wedding proposal for me this time?”

Lyanna’s features contorted with surprise. “Why? Do you want to be married?”

Your cheeks flushed with heat, despite the frost settling over your skin. “Well—if Father says I have to, then I will.”

“I didn’t ask about Father,” replied Lyanna. It was hard for her to believe that you were only eight sometimes. You always tried to act older than you actually were. “I asked about you.”

Winterfell grew larger and larger as the two of you drew nearer to the castle gates. Home.

“I don’t think I’d mind getting married,” you told your sister, eyes downcast and brows pulled together in thought. “As long as I get to stay in Winterfell. I never want to leave.”

Lyanna smiled, all teeth and cheek. “Wouldn’t that be a dream?” she sighed.

The rest of the short journey was made in relative silence, and you left your sister and the tall stallion by the stables (not without her ruffling your hair one last time), and you dashed up to the castle chambers where you knew Ned would be.

He carried no proposals, only a few books he thought you would enjoy and a warm hug.

You awoke with a startled gasp, kicking at the thin blanket that laid over your form. It took you several moments to realize where you were. A boat. Rocking steadily, back and forth and back and forth. You rubbed at your sleepy eyes whilst drawing your knees up to your chest, still blinking away remnants of your dream.

Lyanna. Ned. Still young, still practically children.

One of the tongueless little birds stood in the doorway. It was an ominous sight. Her eyes were large and unblinking, glinting like glass balls within her small head. In her hands was a wooden bowl, full of what looked to be a poultice of sorts. She drew nearer, and the heavy scent of honey and flowers reached your nose.

“What is it?” you asked the child, a coil of pity winding in the pit of your stomach. You knew they couldn’t respond—Varys had stolen not only their youth, but their voices, too. “Is this food?”

A foreign delicacy of sorts, maybe? An Essosi dessert you weren’t familiar with, perhaps. It looked quite unappetizing, though you knew you had no room to complain.

The girl shook her head, then pointed to your hair, which was pulled back into a braid. You understood from just that, and nodded your thanks while accepting the bowl from her. This was hair dye, made from a blend of flowers and other substances you couldn’t name. You supposed it was a necessary precaution—you had an unmistakable Northern look to you, and would surely stick out like a sore thumb here down South. Dyeing your hair and cutting it short would help to somewhat conceal your identity. Short enough, and perhaps you could even be mistaken for a man, at least at a first quick glance.

The little girl left a dagger and a small, rusty, hand-held mirror by your legs and disappeared from your cabin in complete silence, as if she was never there in the first place. They were like ghosts, this crew of children. Everything was so quiet all the time, with only your thoughts and the ocean waves to accompany you.

You unbraided your hair and shook it loose. Hair carried memories. Memories of Catelyn showing you how hair was done in the Riverlands, memories of Benjen tugging at your hair to tease you, memories of Jaime commenting on how your hair was a lovely shade of animal waste. That had been grumpily remarked earlier on, when you and Brienne were escorting him to King’s Landing. Before Locke and Roose Bolton and… Robb.

You propped up the rust-spotted mirror against the wall and scooped up the dagger. The reflection that met you was only barely recognizable. You looked so tired. With a resigned sigh, you began to slice off your hair with the sharp blade. Handfuls fell to the ground. You sliced and sliced until your head felt light and your neck was bare. It’s never been this short before. If Benjen were here, you knew he would surely laugh at you. Brandon would comment that he never knew he had another brother.

Yes, you thought. I can surely pass as a man if I wanted to. Though you certainly shared many features with your sister, you hadn’t the wild beauty Lyanna had. No, you were far plainer than her, colder and sharper than she was. Nothing worthy to note—though your father, quiet as a man he was, once told you that you looked the most like your mother out of all your siblings. That had made you feel more beautiful than anything.

Plain was good, though. Plain meant no eyes would be drawn to you.

You weren’t too sure what color your hair would turn with this dye. You lathered the thick paste over your newly-cut strands, massaging it into your scalp. Your nose twitched from the strong odor—not entirely unpleasant, but also wasn’t a delight breathing in.

As you rinsed your hands of the dye, your skin was left with a slight copperish stain. You stared at the color with sad eyes—would your hair turn out red like Cat’s? Like all your nephews and Sansa?

And, like a fool, you wondered if Jaime would like short, red hair. He wouldn’t care much, you found yourself thinking, perhaps wishfully so. Did you want him to care?

Two children brought you food—rations of dried meat and crusty bread. You wolfed half of it down and handed them the other half. Though they couldn’t speak, the children made for pleasant company. Or perhaps you were just lonely. It was hard to tell.

After eating, you rinsed out the hair dye and wrung the water out with a cloth over the edge of the ship. The cloth came away stained bright red. You retreated back into the cabin to look at the mirror.

It was a shock to see your hair resemble Catelyn’s. It was darker than hers had been, but the auburn, orange-red sheen to your head was unmistakable. You looked like a Tully! You nearly laughed with amazement, but any sort of joy was short-lived, and you lapsed into more silence.

You laid on the rickety bed, thinking of Winterfell and your now-scattered family. Robb and Ned and Cat and the younglings Bran and Rickon might have been taken from you, but… you still had family left. Sansa and Arya could very well be scattered somewhere in the Seven Kingdoms, alive and breathing. Jon, at the Wall, as well. At least, you hoped. It’d been so long since your time sending letters to the young boy. Was he hurt that you stopped sending them so suddenly?

Tears pricked the corner of your eyes, and you drew your knees to your chest, willing yourself into a restless slumber.

Days came and went. The little children were growing more agitated, fluttering about the boat with wide eyes and quick feet. They tossed nets overboard into the water—masquerading the boat as a fishing vessel, you assumed. There were many ships out and about Blackwater Bay. Some carried banners of houses loyal to the crown, and others were bannerless. Pirates or fishermen, you couldn’t tell.

So far, all other ships have passed by quietly. But the risk grew with each day. You knew Tywin and Cersei would likely order more fleets to be sent after you, Sansa, and Tyrion. The chances of you being found on water would grow each day—and you couldn’t risk becoming a prisoner again. Jaime wouldn’t be able to help you escape a second time, not with Cersei around.

At least on foot… you had somewhere to run. Being on sea left you nothing but water for miles on end.

And so you told the silent children to let you off at the nearest fishing port. Some part of you wondered if they would object, but they stared at you with round, moon eyes and nodded. You didn’t know whether to thank or damn Varys.

The ship docked in the dead of night, half a mile from Duskendale. One of the little children handed you a map and tapped at where they’d leave you. A pouch full of food rations, more dye, and other necessities was left on your cot. You thanked the child endlessly, who seemed not to hear your gratitude and scuttled away. You grabbed the pouch, the dagger, the bow and quiver full of arrows Varys had presumably left you, and slipped into a large cloak.

Land felt like it was lurching beneath your feet once you stepped onto the pier. Your body was used to the swaying motions of the waters, and would take some time to adjust. You gingerly shook one of your booted feet. The children watched you disembark on wobbly legs, but you dared not wave back at them.

Despite it being nighttime, the docks were busier than ever. Fishermen and merchants littered all over the shore, some selling products and entertainment and others working hard to gather more to sell before day broke. You steeled yourself with a deep breath, and made your way through the busy crowd.

You began trekking your way North towards the Eyrie, the hood of your cloak pulled over your short, red hair.

It took nearly three weeks for you to reach the Crossroads. Nightfall was nearing when you strode in front of the inn, the sky a mirage of bleeding reds from the setting sun and moody greys from the rainclouds. The air smelled of mud and rusted metal. It was certainly no grand castle, but a modest bed was better than sleeping on the cold dirt you’ve been curled up on the past several days. There was a young girl and a dark-haired boy by the front that looked somewhat like your memory of Robert Baratheon twenty-some years ago. At first, the boy denied your request for shelter, but reluctantly clammed up once you offered him some gold, worth more than it ever could in times of war. The two let you pass with not a word more.

Greeting you inside was a ruckus of loud children. Parentless, you realized, as there were none to be seen within the inn’s walls. An inn full of orphans, you thought with a touch of sadness. In that regard you supposed you shared a similarity with all of them.

Just as you slipped onto one of the creaking wooden stools to momentarily rest your weary feet, you overheard a voice. A familiar voice. Low and raspy and unmistakably—

Brienne, you thought, wide-eyed. But she wasn’t alone. A young boy was by her side, yes, that was Podrick, and an older man—a knight, by the looks of his armor, and an even older septon with grey hair and a hunched back. What a queer party Brienne was leading. She was supping on porridge and salted cod.

The impulsive part of you wanted to call out for her and rush to her side, ask if she had found any sign of Sansa, or if she had made any progress on her quest. Instead, you drew in a deep breath, and stood from your stool to take a seat across from Podrick whilst Brienne was busy speaking to the knight. The young squire made a half-gasping, half-choking noise once his eyes raised from the cup he was draining to your cold eyes, recognizing you immediately. You discreetly lifted a finger to your lips to silence him. His eyes went moon-round and he nodded once.

Brienne ignored the knight’s constant jabbering about lips and marriage and castles full of children, and turned to look at her squire in mild concern of him choking on a fish bone. But her eyes landed on you, and her mouth dropped open.

She was very near to bowing her head and saying, “My lady.” But she didn’t, knowing it would draw far too much attention, and stared at you with utter confusion plain over her features.

“Hello,” you said to her. “It has been a while, Brienne.”

“Do you know each other?” the knight bumped in. He spooned some porridge into his mouth.

“Brienne and I were childhood friends on Tarth,” you lied. “I was the son of a cook. A nobody in truth, but Brienne was kind enough to befriend me.”

Brienne was no good at lying, you knew this, but she nodded along to your story.

The knight looked you over. “A little runt boy and a grand beast of a girl. The two of you must have been a sight.”

You could only offer him half a shrug at that.

“What brings you here?” Brienne carefully asked you.

“Someone helped me leave,” you responded with equal caution. Avoiding the knight’s curious eyes, you leaned closer to Brienne. “Is there a place for us to speak with fewer naked children milling about?”

Being around Varys’ little birds for long enough taught you that children were oft smarter than they looked. Somewhere to your right, you saw one of the little orphan boys stick a nut inside his nostril.

Brienne nodded and led you just outside, away from prying ears and eyes. There, you told her everything. From Tyrion’s trial, to Oberyn’s death, to Cersei demanding you to be locked up or killed (whichever suited her taste that day), to Jaime helping you escape, to the birds on the boat, to your journey here. In turn, Brienne told you of her lengthy journey and what she had found on the way. Mostly nothing, lots of war and skirmishes. Sandor Clegane was dead, but Arya had been with him soon before that… not Sansa. The thought of Arya somewhere out there alive, sparked dangerous hope within your chest.

“Varys says Sansa is in the Eyrie, masquerading as Baelish’s bastard daughter.” The thought revolted you. “But I do wonder if the Eyrie is a trap of sorts. I cannot trust Varys. He certainly is no friend of the Lannisters, but neither is he their enemy. For all I know, he may be conspiring with dragons and grumpkins.”

“Sansa would be safe with her Aunt Lysa there, right?” Brienne asked, though even she sounded doubtful of her own question.

“I can’t quite say,” you said, brows furrowed. “Lysa is an unpredictable woman. Frightened and secluded is never a good combination of characteristics. Even so, I doubt Sansa would make her way home up North without being intercepted. It wouldn’t hurt to check the Vale first.”

Brienne nodded solemnly. “We can make our way first thing in the morning. For now, you must rest, my lady. You must be exhausted.”

The sudden reminder of the limitations of your body made your knees wobble. The past few days had you running on little else than adrenaline, fear, and meager portions of salted foods.

“I missed you, Brienne,” you whispered, looking up at her. “I fear trusted friends are few and far in between in these times.” Not that you ever had many friends to begin with. Everyone had always been so afraid of you—something Brienne could relate to.

The term friend dusted pink over Brienne’s large, crooked nose and broad, freckled cheekbones. She was certainly not pretty, not by a long shot, but that was of no matter to you. She was the most beautiful blessing you could have possibly encountered—your chances of survival and finding Sansa were far better with Brienne by your side.

“I missed you, as well,” Brienne managed to choke out after many moments of stunned silence. She had never been good with niceties. “Podrick has been company enough, but the boy is young and easily frightened.”

“I’m frightened, too,” you admitted. “One would be a fool not to be, with enemies at every turn. Young, however, is a trait I have long outgrown.”

Brienne looked up at the night sky. “Youth was a curse on me. I always looked older than I was.”

“Me, as well,” you mused with a thoughtful hum. Memories of the lords and ladies living at Winterfell’s court whispering behind your back… sending you strange looks of distant pity… veering far out of your way in fear of you… it weighed heavy on you, especially in your younger years. “My anger has aged me a decade, I think.”

Before Brienne could respond, there came a commotion of noise. Men on horses, their hooves schlocking through mud and puddles. Instinctively, you drew the cowl of your hood up over your head. They are armed, these men, you thought with grim unease. And there were many of them, just above half a dozen. Far too many for you and Brienne to take alone.

Brienne drew in a sharp breath at the sight of them and unsheathed Oathkeeper. She stepped in front of you before you could even begin to react. The biggest man of the party was so hefty that his beaten horse buckled and shook beneath the sheer force of his weight. His pale face was torn and wept with pus and blood. But Brienne’s eyes were drawn to his snarling helm—with its dull metal nose and sharp teeth of steel. It was the Hound’s property but the man wearing it was certainly no Hound.

The sky grew darker and the storm clouds thundered up above. The young girl that had greeted you into the inn had slammed the door open, now holding a crossbow. Whatever she was screaming was lost to the rain and thunder.

“Loose a quarrel at me and I’ll shove that crossbow up your cunt and fuck you with it. Then I’ll pop your fucking eyes out and make you eat them,” raged the man, his voice nearly as loud as the booming in the sky. Your chest rose and fell in silence as you slowly reached behind you to unsling your bow.

“Leave her be,” called out Brienne, drawing their attention. “If you want to rape someone, try me.”

The outlaws laughed and chortled at that. One japed about fucking horses before fucking her. The rest of their words were unintelligible to you as you focused on drawing an arrow without pulling too much attention to yourself. It proved to be a difficult task when there were seven pairs of eyes trained on Brienne, and, consequently, you, as well.

Brienne said something you couldn’t catch, leaving the man with the helm fuming. He charged forward through the mud. Brienne shuffled away from you—she needed the man to come to her, but not to get too close to you. You were her priority now.

A song of steel screeched through the rain-torn wind as their swords clashed. Brienne managed to cut through the rags of his tunic and slash a gaping hole in his cheap chainmail just before she just barely evaded his swinging axe. The man was screaming expletives at her—whore, bitch, freak.

You nocked the arrow with not a second thought.

Then the drawstring was split in two and you were left with a useless bow. One of the outlaws had made his way to you whilst you were concentrating on the man with the helm—and broke your favored weapon.

“Shhh,” he crooned as he laid the cold, wet blade of the knife he used to cut your bow against your throat. “Enjoy and watch the show, boy.” He must have thought you were one of the orphans that lived here—and not much of a threat, considering he pulled the knife away from you and made a show of pointing it towards Brienne and her attacker. “It’s not every day you see a woman like her battle a man like him.”

You nodded, playing along. You still had the dagger you used to cut your hair tucked against your hip. It was a touch too dull for your liking, but it would have to do for now. You had no other choice. With the man’s eyes drawn back to their messy duel, you drew its blade and drove it forth, straight into throat. His arms flailed for a second before clawing at your face and chest. Pain bloomed over your skin. If you were bleeding, you couldn’t feel it—not with all the rain pouring over you. You savagely tore the dagger out from his throat and drove it through his chest again and again and again. From your peripheral vision, you could see Brienne parry over and over, stab this way and that—and finally skewer her longsword straight through him until its pointy end protruded out his back.

You continued stabbing the man until he fell to the ground in a limp, bloodied heap. Even then you didn’t stop—straddling his waist and bringing the dagger down in furious strokes. It occurred to you that the other men would be upon Brienne a second too late—when you swung around, she was swarmed by the rest of them.

“Eddard!” she called, immediately halting you in your assault on the long-dead outlaw. It took you a moment to realize that she was addressing you, not wanting to call out your actual name. “Run! Run, now!”

Two of the outlaws were coming towards you.

“Brienne!” you yelled just as one of them sliced a cut through her shoulder she couldn’t properly roll away from. The rest of your protests caught in your throat when you watched one of them—one with wild eyes that had irises too small and teeth filed sharp—dive forward onto Brienne, sending her crashing to the ground. He bit a chunk of her face right off.

More men surrounded her. Punching, kicking, and slicing at your friend. No, you couldn’t see her anymore, where is she? Get up, Brienne, get up…

“GO!” you could hear her muffled voice scream. “NED, GO!”

No, no, no…

But if you stayed, you would be dead, as well. One of the outlaws made a grab for you, but you danced back. If not for the two slipping on the watery mud the very next second, you would have been dead.

With your heart beating in your throat, you turned on your heel and fled.

What was a kingsguard without his king? Jaime hadn’t been happy to be sent off to the Riverlands again—his place was beside Tommen. The boy-king with a golden crown sitting atop his golden curls. Cersei had insisted on him leaving, however. She’d grown more restless, more paranoid, more snappy since their father’s death. Lancel, his fool of a cousin, was now a religious fanatic who seemed to be intent on fasting until he passed from starvation, and had confessed his sins of lying with Cersei. Apparently he was not the only one. The Kettleblack brothers, the court fools, and hells, even serving girls, if word of mouth was to be trusted.

He felt a fool for ever loving her. And now she had kicked him out of the castle and away from his duty like one would a dirty mongrel.

Let her run the kingdom to ruin. See if I care.

Jaime wearily pulled at his face. That was the problem—he did care, and he knew he did. Cersei on the throne would mean little good for anybody. Not for his little brother, not for Brienne, not for you. He hoped you were safe, wherever you were.

The knight with one hand had had a long day, even though it was not yet nightfall. He had spoken to the Blackfish, Brynden Tully, in hopes of making some sort of negotiation. Perhaps goad him into a duel of single-combat and spare everyone of the grueling boredom that came with a slow siege. Expectedly, the wind-beaten lord took none of the bait and retreated back into his castle. Then, he had a short, but explosive council meeting with a few of the riverlords. They squabbled over each other like mindless birds over a piece of half-baked bread. Jaime couldn’t help but wonder what his father would do in his shoes, but was quick to relinquish such a thought. Tywin Lannister would never be in this position in the first place. And he was dead, which was perhaps the more important bit. After the council, he paid a visit to Ryman Frey, who was preoccupied fucking some whore who called herself a Queen. He had the big oaf dismissed for wasting so much time and resources, then named his son, Edwyn, command of the siege. He ordered young Edwyn to tell his great-grandsire, Walder Frey, to release all the prisoners for the crown. There was no undoing the Red Wedding, but he could, at the very least, attempt to rectify the troubles it left in its wake.

And now—now Jaime had one more person to visit.

It was his aunt, Genna Lannister, who had urged Jaime to do something about the sullen man with the noose loosely wrapped around his throat. In his state, he posed no danger physically. As a symbol, however, Edmure Tully, was a great danger to the cause. His cause? Jaime wasn’t entirely sure what he was fighting for anymore. It certainly didn’t feel like he was protecting Tommen from all these leagues away from him. His golden hand felt so very heavy strapped onto his stump—why did he still bother carrying it around?

Ilyn Payne made quick work of cutting Edmure Tully down from the wooden gallows he was perched upon. His hair, scraggly and red, hung in limp clumps over his dirtied, bloody face. Eyes deep blue, heavy with exhaustion. Jaime couldn’t help but think of Robb Stark at the sight of him. Gods, they looked alike.

Jaime had Edmure pulled through the tents and mass of Freys and other rivermen alike. One japed about a fish on a leash. A young man holding an instrument was amongst the throng of stares, and he ordered the singer to follow, and the lad obediently did. Onto a ferry they went, where the vessel would carry them to Tumblestone.

“Why?” Edmure has croaked, gripping weakly onto Jaime’s arm.

“Consider it a wedding gift,” Jaime replied.

The Tully eyed him warily. “A wedding gift?”

“I’ve heard your wife is pretty. She’d have to be, for the two of you to be abed whilst your sister and king were being murdered.” Jaime gave him a wry look.

“I never knew. There were musicians outside the bedchamber, I couldn’t…”

“I’m sure Lady Roslin made for a grand distraction, as well.”

At the crass insinuation, however truthful, Edmure frowned and pulled away from the knight. “They made her do it. She had little say in the matter. Roslin never wanted any of it to happen. She wept the entire night, but I thought…”

“You thought it was your rampant manhood that swayed her to tears? It’s a sight any woman would weep to, I’m sure.”

Edmure hung his head. “She is carrying my child.”

Your child or your death? Jaime thought, but tastefully decided not to say it out loud. Not yet. Instead, he asked, “Your king-nephew, Robb. Did he ever speak of his aunt before his end?”

Edmure lifted his gaze to the kingslayer at that. “The Bitter Wolf?” He thought for a moment, eyes distant. “No. She was hardly ever brought up. Robb didn’t like to speak of her. Not after her betrayal with your freedom. If he did speak of her, it would’ve been with Catelyn.”

“Who is now dead,” Jaime dryly said.

“Yes,” Edmured replied, letting his gaze drift down to the waters.

“Much help you are.”

“Where is she now? The Bitter Wolf.”

Jaime saw no point in lying to him. “I don’t know.”

The rest of the ferry trip was spent in silence.

Once at his pavilion, Jaime dismissed Ilyn, but kept the singer around. He ordered the servants there to boil bathwater for the honored guest, and had clean garments brought to him, along with warm food and sweet wine. Edmure still couldn’t quite comprehend why exactly Jaime Lannister was being so courteous, but couldn’t deny himself the pleasure of cleanliness. He clambered into the tub and started scrubbing the grime off his skin.

Jaime pulled up a chair to sit beside him. “After you’re clean and your belly is full, you will be escorted to Riverrun. What happens after that is up to you.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Of course you don’t,” said Jaime. “Your uncle is old. Valiant, admittedly, but his best years are behind him. He has no wife to grieve for him, nor children to succeed him. A good death is the most the Blackfish can wish for. You, however, have many years remaining to you. You are the rightful heir to House Tully, not him. Your uncle serves you, by law. Riverrun’s fate is in your hands.”

Edmure blinked at him. “I don’t…”

“Understand, I presume? All that time with a rope around your neck must have strangled you of all your wits.” Jaime was growing impatient. “You must yield the castle. Yield, and nobody dies. The smallfolk will be allowed to leave in peace, or they may serve Lord Emmon and his lady-wife, my aunt. Ser Brynden will be allowed to take the black and join the Night’s Watch, with as many of the garrison that choose to join. You, as well. The Wall is in dire need of more hands, I’ve heard. If that is not to your tastes, you may go to Casterly Rock as my captive and enjoy all the comforts and courtesy that befits a hostage of your rank. Your wife may join you. If your sire is a boy, he will serve House Lannister as a squire. Once he comes of age, he is welcome to earn his knighthood, along with some lands I will bestow upon him. If Roslin bears you a daughter, she will be well dowered until she is old enough to wed a fitting lord. You may be granted parole, even, once the war is done. All this only if you yield the castle.”

The water steamed and sloshed in the tub as Edmure gingerly shifted about. “And if I will not yield?”

The servants and squires were all listening. The singer watched the two speak with wide eyes. No matter. Let them all hear it.

“You’ve seen our numbers, Edmure. The ladders, the towers, the trebuchets, the rams. If I speak the command, my cousin will bridge your moat and break your gate. Blood will spill. Hundreds will die, most being your own people. Your former bannermen will be the first wave of attackers, so you will start your day by killing fathers, brothers, and sons of men who died for you at the Twins. The second wave will be Freys, and there are plenty of them to spare. My westermen will be the third once your archers are exhausted of arrows and your knights so weary their blades will no longer lift from the ground. The castle will fall, and all inside will be put to the sword. Your livestock will be butchered. Your river will rot with corpses. Your godswood will fall. Your keeps and inventories will burn.” Jaime swallowed as he said the next words. It was true that he did not actually mean to do it, but a threat was a threat, and words are wind. “Your wife may have the child before any of this. You’ll want the babe, I presume. I can send him to you once he’s born. With a trebuchet.”

There came a lengthy silence. Edmure was still in the bath. All the servants and squires stared in horror.

Genna had told him earlier that he was not his father’s son. Tyrion was more Tywin’s than he could ever dream to be. Would her mind change if she had heard his speech? Was this what Tywin would have done?

“I could climb out of this tub and kill you right as you are, Kingslayer,” said Edmure, once he finally regained his wits about him.

“You could try,” Jaime calmly replied. The man made no move, so Jaime pushed himself back to his feet. “Enjoy your food. Singer, play for our guest while he eats. You know the song, I trust.”

“The one about rain? Yes, my lord, I know it.”

Edmure’s head swiveled between the singer and Jaime. “No. I don’t want him. Get him away from me.” The tub water sloshed some more.

“Why, it’s just a song, Lord Tully,” said Jaime, feigning innocence. “His voice couldn’t be that bad.”

The knight left his pavilion with the beginnings of Rains of Castamere playing faintly behind him.

The inns you came across the road were growing sparse. Many had been torched, ransacked, abandoned, or torn down. War left much of the Riverlands in ruins. Though you were none too happy about the state of the lands, pillaged, empty villages meant there would be fewer people loitering about, which was all the better for you.

You had managed to outrun the outlaws through the cover of the storm and ruins. It was only when the rain cleared away did you let yourself sit down and silently cry for Brienne. None deserved a fate like that. She was so undeniably good, more honorable than any other man you’ve ever met—and yet her face was torn apart and now she was dead.

Eventually, you made it out of the Riverlands and began to travel along the high road up to the Eyrie. It was the safest option to get there—the mountains were hardly on the table to walk through on your own, considering it was likely running amok with clansmen and thieves of all sorts. Even on the high road, the terrain was far more mountainous than the relatively-level grounds of the riverlands, and the incline noticeably steeper. You were traveling at a much slower pace than before, growing ragged and tired with shorter distances.

On the third day on the narrow pathway towards the Bloody Gate, you came across two men on a cart. Merchants, perhaps. You spied the stacked wine casks in the back of the cart, wondering if they were empty. Surely they must be, you thought. The Vale is not likely to make any wine of their own, not with mountains as sheer as theirs.

As their cart slowly rolled by, being pulled by braying donkeys, you overheard one of the men say, “A singer, it’s said!”

“A singer?” the other merchant echoed.

“Yes, a singer! They say he shoved Lady Arryn right off a mountain.”

Lady Arryn? Your ears perked up at that. Did they mean Lysa?

He glanced at his companion dubiously. “I heard she threw herself out the door once she confessed her love to him.”

“That’s nonsense, have you seen the way she grips that sickly whelp of hers? She would never throw herself to her death whilst little Robin lives.”

That confirmed it. Lysa is dead?

“If I had a son like that, I’d do the very same,” he grumbled.

“Wait! Good sers!” you exclaimed, turning back to hurry after the cart. The donkeys whined protest as they were pulled to a slow stop. They both glanced back at you with wide, curious eyes.

“Sers?” The one with mousy brown hair piped up with a laugh lodged in his throat. “We are no knights.”

“Apologies, it’s a habit now, I fear. I simply wanted to know—” You stopped in your tracks. “What were you saying about Lady Arryn?”

“She’s dead, she is,” the older of the two merchants told you. His nose was crooked in three different places. “Out the Moon Door—or off the mountain—she flew.”

You stared at them for a moment, trying to gauge whether they were being serious or not. Tall tales such as this were not uncommon amongst the lowborn. “And who now rules in her stead?”

“Little Lord Robin is young still—”

“And far too sickly!”

“—Until he comes of age, Lord Petyr Baelish is Lord of the Vale.”

Littlefinger. The realization dawned on you with great unease as you recalled his infatuation with your good-sister and his alliances with the crown. Lannister crowns. This was no good… no good at all…

“Thank you,” you told the merchants. “That’s good to know.”

“Where are you off to?” said the younger one.

“Runestone,” you lied. “I have family there.”

That seemed to appease them well enough. The one with brown hair waved farewell as he set the donkeys back into motion. You silently thanked the Gods for coming across decent men. You watched the cart of wine caskets descend down the path.

Now what? You could hardly stroll straight into the Vale now—not with the threat of Littlefinger handing you right back into Cersei’s mad hands. Should you even trust these rumors, though? Perhaps the septon at the Bloody Gate could clarify the situation for you. Surely he would tell you the truth. But getting there would take weeks, and you certainly didn’t have that sort of time. If word of Littlefinger’s rule in the Eyrie was true, you would be wasting even more time doubling back to escape. And if he heard of your presence in the Vale there was no telling what he would do… have you locked up and sent to Cersei in a cage?

But what about Sansa? Your heart shattered at the thought of leaving her alone at the Eyrie with Baelish. You had to be smart about this. Even if Sansa was in the Vale, and if you managed to get to her, and if you could whisk her out of the castle undetected, there was nowhere for the two of you to go that would be safe. Sansa wouldn’t last a fortnight out in the wilderness. Gods forbid, but perhaps it was best for her to stay in the Eyrie until you managed to find a stronghold that would keep her safe and protected.

Then again, she could just as likely be elsewhere in Westeros. Arya, too. Gods, you wished Brienne was with you. You could still see the blood spurting from her face, her screams cracking through the thunderous air.

Damn you, Jaime. You should have come with me, you said to yourself, knowing it was a foolish chain of thought. He wouldn’t be much help, anyway. All he did when we traveled together was complain and find new ways to irritate me.

You lingered on the path for a few more moments. Then, you frustratedly gestured to nobody, made a noise of displeasure, and turned to follow after the wine merchants.

Back to the Riverlands you went.

Riverrun was now taken, but at a great cost. Brynden the Blackfish had escaped. All thanks to Jaime’s carelessness and Edmure’s wit. This would never have happened if Tywin was around, Jaime couldn’t help but lament. It was no wonder his aunt Genna told him he was nothing like his father.

He was a fool, and his father knew it.

After a series of threats to both Edmure and his wife, the Tully lord managed to sullenly tell him what he knew of the Blackfish’s whereabouts. Which, to Jaime’s dismay, was very little.

“He swam away,” Edmure had told him. He had the very same blue eyes as Catelyn did, as well as Robb. The very same look of loathing in them, as well. There was a time when you looked at him like that. “The Water Gate’s portcullis was raised. Not enough to be noticed, only three feet or so. My uncle is a strong swimmer. He pulled himself beneath the spikes and I can only assume the current helped him from there.”

Damn it all.

Jaime had hounds and hunters on the prowl for the Blackfish, but he had little hope of catching him. And Edmure was to be heading west the following morning. Jaime was glad to be rid of him, though he worried that the man would slip through the guards he would be traveling with. The knight wasn’t too keen on hunting for the Tully a third time.

News of Ryman Frey’s death was brought to him by young Edwyn, the former’s son. Hanged, apparently, by a band of outlaws nearby Fairmarket, which was boldly close by. Thoros, or Dondarrion, or this mysterious Stoneheart woman. There was little to do about the matter now—Jaime ordered more guards posted and that was that.

That night, he practiced his shoddy, left-handed swordsmanship with the silent Ilyn Payne. He managed to last a grand total of three hours before giving into his cramping muscles’ begs for a rest. Afterwards, he poured the both of them cups full of Hoster Tully’s wine, and told Payne of how he used to kiss his sister when they were children. It was innocent at first, until it wasn’t. It felt nice being able to freely tell someone of everything knowing he couldn’t possibly relay such information to anybody else—Payne’s lack of a tongue ironically made Jaime chattier than ever.

“Tyrion once told me that whores oft avoid kissing their patrons. They’ll fuck you until your legs fall off, he said, but they keep their lips far from yours. It’s what separates work from real romance. I wonder if my sister ever kissed Kettleblack.” Jaime thought for a long moment. “I kissed the Bitter Wolf.”

Payne spared him no reaction.

“She was crying.” Jaime took a sip of wine, leaving out the fact that he had shed a tear or two. “Not because of the kiss, though. I hope not, at least. I’m not that bad of a kisser. Cersei never cried when we kissed.” Though, after he said that, he realized basing his assumptions around Cersei wasn’t a particularly smart thing to do. You and Cersei were many leagues apart from one another.

Payne drained his cup and gestured for Jaime to refill it.

As he did, Jaime went on. “If not for Tyrion’s reckless call for a trial by combat, I would have married her. The Bitter Wolf. We would be at Casterly Rock, and Tyrion would be at the Wall, and my father would still be alive, and my son would sit the Iron Throne, and all would be well. Or not. Cersei would make matters difficult. I doubt Y/N would be pleased about her predicament, either, come to think of it.”

He decided to change the subject back to Kettleblack when Payne’s silence stretched for a little while longer.

“It would be ill-fitting to slay mine own Sworn Brother. I should geld him and send him to the Wall—make up for Tyrion’s loss in some way. He’s been to the Wall, perhaps he had no taste for returning. It’s bloody cold there, I’ve heard. Of course, if I were to lay a hand on Osmund, there would be his brothers to consider, as well. Brothers can be dangerous. Aegon the Unworthy had Ser Terrence Toyne dismembered into pieces after finding him abed with his mistress, and forced her to watch. Toyne’s brothers tried to kill the King for it, though their plans were ultimately foiled by the Dragonknight. It’s written in the White Book. All of it, including every knightly deed and chivalrous act. It doesn’t tell me what to do with Cersei, though.”

Ilyn dragged a finger across his scarred throat.

“No,” Jaime said. “Tommen has already lost a brother, and the man he thinks is his father. If his mother were to die by my hand, he would hate me for it. I’m sure his sweet little wife would use that hatred to her benefit, as well.”

An ugly smile stretched at Ilyn’s thin lips. Jaime misliked the crude gleam in his eye.

“You talk too much,” Jaime told the mute.

The next night, Jaime found himself in Hoster Tully’s solar, looking over a map, wondering where the Blackfish could have gone. Many of his hunters had returned that morning, torn and bleeding. Direwolves, they had told him. A monstrous pack with a large she-wolf leading them. He wondered if that could have been the wolf that had mauled Joffrey what had felt like a lifetime ago.

In consequence, Jaime couldn’t help but wonder about you. Did the direwolves like you at all? He strained his mind to remember, but couldn’t seem to recall. It confused him when his chest constricted at the thought of forgetting you.

The war was practically won. Dragonstone was taken, and Storm’s End would be very soon. Stannis was welcome to the cold fruits of the Wall—if Roose Bolton hadn’t already destroyed him. And the Riverlands were successfully taken without Jaime ever having to raise a sword against neither Stark nor Tully. All in all, he was to be content.

But where did that place you? Once everything calmed down, what would happen to you? To Sansa, who surely deserved no harm that would come to her? She was just a young girl and you… you were far from the paragon of innocence, to be certain, but surely he could have Tommen pardon you for any of your crimes. Your crimes being allegiance to your own nephew, which Jaime could hardly fault you for.

Then again, Cersei was the problem. There was no chance she would sit idly by and let you live. Once he returned to King’s Landing, he had to find a way to whisk Tommen from her crutches before he would turn as corrupt as Joffrey. A new council full of abled men would be in order, as well.

More and more days passed. Jaime had the entire Tully garrison safely released from their keep, which displeased his Aunt Genna greatly, but Jaime was intent on letting them go. There was little harm they could do when they were scattered, weaponless, and hungry.

He dreamed of Cersei most nights. Of her golden hair, which then molded into golden hands. In his dreams, he always had two hands. Sometimes touching her, stroking her, holding her—dreamy memories of old. Sometimes he was strangling her, which he certainly had never done before.

Other nights he dreamed of Brienne. Her big, brutish face red with rage and exhaustion. She would swing Oathkeeper at his neck and he awoke just before his head rolled off his shoulders.

Some of the nights, however scarce they were, were far more precious. He dreamt of you, your hair freckled with snow, your eyes alight as you watched children play beneath you. He was in Winterfell, he realized, and with a shocked start looked back down at the children. His? No. They were your nieces and nephews, of course. Their faces were a blur, but their red hair was unmistakable. Save for the littlest girl and the bastard boy. Snow, Jaime remembered.

“We should have one,” your dream-self said to him, so serious that Jaime wondered if it was actually you standing there in front of him. “A little wolf-lion.”

Did Jaime want that? Would they have golden hair like his? Like Joffrey, Myrcella, and Tommen? But how could he have another child when he was never a father to the ones he already had? It felt wrong to even consider it. Dishonorable. Any romantic notion of a normal life with you was quickly dashed.

“I know we can’t,” you continued on before he could respond. “They’re all dead.” You gestured down to the Starklings. “And I’ll be joining them soon. But it’s a nice thought, isn’t it?”

“No—” he said, reaching out to you, but you had already faded into a blur.

Not all of his dreams with you were as bleak. Once he was abed with you, and another time he was bound by rope as you pointed an arrow at his forehead while he cackled maniacally.

A week after releasing the last of the garrison, Jaime woke up with a start after dreaming about a cloaked figure that looked eerily similar to Cersei, though he knew it wasn’t her. His mother spoke soft riddles, where Cersei would bark harsh insults. He couldn’t quite tell which he favored. He threw the covers off him with his stump.

The room was frigid. The hearth’s warmth had waned away and the windows had been left pushed open when he fell asleep. In the darkness, Jaime made his way to close the shutters, but his foot touched against a wetness on the ground. Blood had been his first thought, but blood would not be so cold. Rain, perhaps, but he would have heard the sound of pattering coming from outside.

Jaime drew the damp curtains apart, letting the moonlight stream through. Moonlight and snow. Down below, the yard was spotting with white, growing thicker and thicker in the minutes he watched. After a moment, he even began to see his breath misting in front of him.

Winter is here, he thought. Marching south, and our granaries are half empty.

He watched the snow fall, and stood there thinking of you. It irked him that you haunted his every thought. Nonetheless, he hoped you were warm, wherever you were. If he was as fanatically religious as his dear coz Lancel, he would have even prayed for your safety.

When morning dawned, Riverrun’s maester came to pay him a visit. He was pallid-faced and shaking.

“I know,” Jaime said, glancing at the bound letter in the old man’s quivering hands. “The Citadel has sent a white raven. Winter has come.”

“No, my lord,” said Maester Vyman. “The bird came from King’s Landing. Forgive me, I took the liberty to open it, I did not know it was meant for your eyes…”

Jaime took the letter and sat by the window to read. It was Qyburn’s hurried hand, but he knew it to be Cersei’s fevered words.

Come at once. Help me. Save me. I need you now as I have never needed you before. I love you. I love you. I love you. Come at once.

“Does my lord wish to answer?” asked Vyman, hovering by the door.

A snowflake landed on the letter. He was reminded of the snowflakes in your hair, in his dream. It was quick to melt, blurring the inked words and streaking down the paper.

Jaime rolled the paper back as tight as he could with his one hand, and handed it back to the maester. “No,” he said. “Put this in the fire.”

#jaime lannister x reader #jaime lannister fanfiction #jaime lannister fluff #jaime lannister angst #jaime lannister fic #jaime lannister x you #jaime lannister x stark!reader #asoiaf fanfiction #game of thrones fanfiction #got fanfiction #game of thrones fanfic #jaime lannister

430 notes · View notes

written-in-flowers · 3 months

Text

Her Pretty Lords: Sanhwajoong x Fem!Reader

Pairing: incubi!demonline x fem!reader

Genre: smut, angst, fluff

Word Count: 18k

Summary: A summons from a princess has the demons of Black Keep shaking in their boots. A person from the past comes back into YN's life, and she wonders if she'd truly lived in the living world.

Tags: dominate/submissive themes, polyamorous relationship, mentions of abuse/rape/domestic violence/illness, talks about misogyny and misandry, lost families, carriage sex, exhibitionism, mutual masturbation, nipple play, breast play, foursome (m/m/m/f), oral sex, rough oral sex, vaginal fingering, pussy slapping, dirty talk, pet names (bitch, slut, whore, kitten, darling, pet), light degradation, fingers in mouth, light spanking, creampie, unprotected sex, overstimulation, some squirting, facials, cumming in mouth, choking, biting,

Pretty Lady Masterlist

Previously on Pretty Lady

***

“It’s a beautiful day here in His Majesty’s city. This is your host, Beezee, bringing you the greatest hits this morning! Totally wicked news just came into the Hot Spot, and it is piping hot! A few little Imps have been talking and they say a new cambion has entered our massive royal family! We here at The Hot Spot want to personally welcome lovely Lady YN, Marchioness of the Trees and a Lady of Eden! Princess Lilith must be thrilled to hav-”

“WHAT?!”

It was not her mother’s voice that stunned Andromeda into silence. It was the name. Your name. The vision of a little girl with dirt on her hands and under her fingernails came to mind. Her heart tore itself to pieces at the memories: baking cupcakes after school, snuggling on the couch during prime-time television, singing in the garden and dancing in the living room. Her pride. Her joy. The sole reason she’d stayed in the living world made her way to the burning city of Inferno. Andromeda did not know whether to be weeping from joy or sorrow. She knew this day might’ve come, but not like this.

“Andromeda!”

Her mother’s shrill cry cut through the garden walls. Long gone were the days she feared Lilith’s wrath. Andromeda, in her dress of pale pink muslin, left her garden patch for the pebbled paths of Lilith’s Garden. She passed several of her “sisters”, who gave her cautious glances before turning away. Andromeda knew better than to keep a child secret from her mother. She knew no matter what transpired between them, her mother would welcome any child of hers with open arms. But, she did not want this life for you. She wanted you to be free and untethered from traditions or expectations. Even when you severed yourself from her, she let you live as you wanted. It broke her heart, but at least you were free.

Andromeda appeared in the archway to her mother’s private garden. In an enclosed circular space, her mother sat playing cards with her sisters, Gaia and Rhea. All three women wore the flowing gowns and floral headpieces typical of Ladies of Eden, but Lilith stood out. Long black hair tumbling down her back, her curved horns reached far behind her and her piercing crimson eyes set her apart from the glowing beauties she’d birthed. Daughters of Lilith did not resemble the common demons in the city and circles: a warm glow radiated around them, bringing life rather than death, and were the finest creatures in existence. Andromeda knew you’d be as beautiful as her when she had you, and she’d been right.

“Yes, Mother?” Andromeda said, standing there looking strong and firm.

“Do you care to explain this?”

In her hand, Andromeda saw an official paper. Her stomach flopped over and over seeing it. She moved forward and read it herself, her suspicions proven true. Yes, you had come to Inferno. Yes, someone did discover who and what you were. Hot tears stuck in her lashes as she reread your name. Her special girl. Her honey cake.

“Andromeda, explain yourself, now.”

“What is there to explain, Mother?” she asked, reading your death date. “I had a child and didn’t tell you.”

She remembered that day with a heavy heart. She’d gotten the call from a nurse in the hospital, telling her you'd been admitted. Being your mother, she rushed right there with hopes of saving you, but she came too late. Never did the world feel so cold or be so dark as it did then. With her precious girl gone, Andromeda saw no reason to remain in the living world. She came back home where she made amends with her family. She hoped you never came to Inferno. She hoped you managed to turn your life around, become a good person, and be accepted into Paradise. Big dreams, she knew, but she dreamed them.

“Tell me why,” her mother demanded coldly. “Why would you keep such a thing from your family? From me? I thought we had moved past childish secrets.”

“I kept her a secret for the same reason I left to begin with.”

Lilith scoffed, “I learned my lesson with you, Andromeda. I would have let your little cambion roam free beyond Eden. I wouldn't want to lose another daughter.”

Her sisters told her about their mother’s anguish. They told her Her Highness cried for months after she left. Lilith received very few things when Inferno was first founded. She was Lucifer’s only true-born daughter; a sister to The Seven Princes. Her future lay in marrying one of them and producing children for the circles. But, when she took over Eden, slaying Adam and corrupting Eve, she made her own path. Lucifer let her keep her garden, where she grew her daughters from the flowers around her. Andromeda, she knew, came from a peony. Gaia, the eldest from gentle primroses, and Rhea from beautiful hydrangeas. Lilith birthed all her children through the flowers; they followed suit to have their own daughters. She liked to think of you in a bed of freesias, a flower symbolizing freedom.

“Sister,” Gaia spoke softly. Her hair in soft yellow curls, her solemn brown eyes looked at her with concern, “You know you could have told us.”

“If you had told us, the poor child wouldn't have suffered in the circles,” said Rhea sternly, square-jawed and dark-haired. “I can’t imagine the pain she’s endured since her death. The circles are so unkind and horrific. Why would you rather she go undiscovered and suffer than be acknowledged and accepted?”

“I didn’t want this for her,” she said, still reading the letter. “I wanted her to forge her own path as our mother did once. Being a Lady of Eden, she would have been stuck here forever. She wouldn’t have space to grow or explore herself. I didn’t want her to feel as trapped as I once did.”

“I have changed since then, Andromeda,” her mother said, standing from her seat. “I thought I would’ve proven that to you by now.”

“You have, Mother,” Andromeda saw her sad eyes and went to her. “I know you made many changes on my behalf. I know they were hard for you,” she continued, holding her mother’s hands gently. “I am forever grateful for them. The precautions I made with YN were long before our reconciliation. I’m sorry,” she said with all the honesty behind it, “I’m sorry I kept this from you; that I kept her from all of you. But, I was only doing what I believed was right at the time.”

“Enduring pain at the hands of a man-thing just to keep your daughter from demons?” her mother said sadly. “Andromeda, you might be a free spirit, but you are also a blind spirit. Your hesitancy and pride caused your only child to be thrusted into a world of pain and loneliness. I spoke with Wooyoung today-”

“-Ugh, not Wooyoung-”

“-And he told me that YN is living with Asmodeus’s heir, Seonghwa.”

Andromeda vaguely remembered her cousin. Handsome, brooding, and bookish, her mother liked to call him ‘The Brain’. Hongjoong was ‘The Beauty’ and San was ‘The Brawn’. She wondered how you ended up there. A shot of fear struck her.

“She was their pleasure slave, wasn't she?”

Lilith paused, but eventually blurted out, “Yes.”

No. This was all her fault. Her stubbornness led to your enslavement. The thought of her daughter in rags, chained and abused night and day made her collapse into a seat. What had those man-things done to you? A slew of lewd, obscene images crossed her mind. Hongjoong’s insatiable, broad appetite became common knowledge amongst the elite. Stories of Seonghwa’s cruelty made the strongest of demons shudder. San might be the sweetheart, but he could be deadly when crossed. More tears rushed down her cheeks thinking about it. She knew with a single retort or disobedience, those men would crush you. Andromeda could not let it go on any longer. She needed to save you. She needed to bring you home.

“I must go to her,” Andromeda said shakily, putting the letter on the table. “I must go to their keep and get my daughter. Mother, I promise I will present her to you soon, but I need to get her before they do-”

“-That will not be necessary, my sweet peony.” Her mother embraced her warmly, putting Andromeda’s head on her shoulder as she sobbed. She felt a hand soothingly rubbing her back, a gentle hum playing in her ear. “I already sent word to The Black Keep. She will be brought here this afternoon.”

“Mother, I must see her,” Andromeda emphasized through thick tears. “I have to talk to her. I have to tell her I’m sorry for all of it; I need to make this right.”

She knew you resented her. It did not take a genius to see what you thought of her, but she never stopped trying. Despite being an adult already, she could not help worrying for you. A demon might’ve found you and dragged you to your grandmother. They’d clamp their invisible chains, and you’d never be free. It appeared the inevitable finally happened, and in the worst way.

“You will see her,” her mother assured her. “Our YN will come home. I promise.”

Regardless of who their father is, Asmodeus’s boys could not ignore a Princess’s summons.

****

“Just focus. Keep your eyes on your target and focus.”

Seonghwa stood by the work table in Octavius’s lair, watching you from afar. On the table, he’d placed a flower pot. After filling it with soil and fertilizer, he wanted to experiment with your abilities. He deduced you could manipulate, grow and speak to plants, but he sensed you could do more. Seeing whether you could create plants from nothing was the first test. Firmly standing at the table, you pressed your hands to the ceramic pot and closed your eyes.

“Envision the type of flower you want, and see if it comes up,” he directed. His eyes remained trained on you, and you could feel them studying you.

A sunflower. You hadn’t seen sunflowers in ages. Picturing their pointed petals, a vivid yellow surrounding a fuzzy center, you imagined it sprouting from deep in the soil. It’d break through the dark dirt, absorbing the nutrients needed to accelerate its growth. You saw it unfurling from the thin roots extending to plant itself in the very center. A distinct tingling started in your shoulders before vibrating down your arms to your fingertips. You shuddered from the tickling shivers up your spine. You kept yourself focused on your goal. You had been at this for an hour, and you hadn’t grown anything. Maybe growth isn’t in your skill set; you might only be able to rejuvenate plants, not grow them from nothingness. Once you felt the weakness starting to come over you, you stopped.

Opening your eyes, you saw an empty pot.

“I suck at this,” you complained, kicking the wooden table leg. “What’s the point in a plant ability if I can’t grow them? I was able to do it the day I met Octavius. Why can’t I do it now?”

“Perhaps because the plants you controlled flourished in the ground,” he suggested, arms crossed. “Whereas this soil isn’t being touched by you,” you heard the realization come to him as he stared at the rich dirt.

You did it before he asked. Sliding your cold fingertips into the soft earth, you reimagined your sunflower. You kept yourself focused on the image in your head, and you gasped once something smooth touched your fingers. What felt like thin strings extended into the pot, bringing on a twinge of excitement. The feeling passed by, you opened your eyes and expected a flourishing sunflower. Instead, you stared at the bare soil again. You squeezed your eyes closed, pushing your head forehead to try capturing that feeling again. This produced nothing again. You continued this with no success. You’d done it before. Why could you not do it again?

“Damnit,” you hissed, removing your hands from the pot. “Why isn’t it working?”

“It might be too advanced for you,” Seonghwa guessed out loud. “We should’ve started with something simpler?” He searched the work table, pushing aside tools and papers before finding a seed packet. “Simple basil seeds,” he said, sprinkling some in the small pot. “Let’s see what you can do with these.”

“It’s not going to work,” you frowned.

“Yes, it will. If you can heal them, you can grow them. Go ahead and see.”

“Can’t we take a break? Go do something fun?”

“This is fun.”

“No, it’s frustrating.”

“Science isn’t always going to be a fun time-”

“-Science is dumb, and so are these experiments,” you lashed out. One of Octavius’s offspring hissed at Seonghwa, and you saw him regard the reaction.

“You’re only saying that because it’s not going your way,” he pointed out. “Just do it one more time,” he moved behind you, long arms wrapping around your waist, “Then we can do something else.”

“Promise?”

“I promise,” he said, kissing beneath your ear. “We can do whatever you want,” he said, putting stress on ‘whatever’ which made you grin.

“We can always test other abilities too,” you suggested as he guided your hands back into the pot. “I’d love to see the side effects of my kisses.”

“An interesting suggestion, Kitten,” he said. “Come on, let's do this one more time.”

Planting your feet firmly on the ground, you sink the seeds into the pot. Their smooth shells pressed against your fingertips, and you imagined them cracking open to reveal their roots. Soon, the thin veins traced over and around your fingers. You opened your eyes to see sprouts gradually lift from the bottom to the surface. The pointed leaves with their soft ridges sprung from thin stems. Blooming a bright green, they grew until they reached over the edges of the pot. You beamed, a giggle coming through as you removed your hands from the dirt. Gently touching their leaves, Seonghwa placed his hand over yours. His touch felt so different from San or Hongjoong. They worked with their hands. Seonghwa worked with his mind, leaving his hands smooth and soft. He put his other arm over yours to hold you close.

“It’s beautiful,” he said softly.

“Thanks,” you replied.

“You’ve done great work here,” he said, “Overall, I mean. Everything in here looks so healthy and lively again. I don’t think I’ve seen cognizant ones like this in a long time.”

“Because you created them, then left them to rot when they no longer served a purpose or amused you.”

“I know,” he brought your other hand to your chest, holding you tightly, “I’ll admit I’m guilty of neglect. Dennis’s-”

“-Octavius’s-”

“-Octavius’s appetite became too much for any normal demon to handle alone. I thought the slaves or the servants who came in here might satisfy them, but I was wrong. But, they’re lucky they have you now,” he kissed the curve of your neck, “To care for them. Most of the demons here would’ve passed out after being with Octavius so long, but not you. You kept going.”

“It felt good,” you said, eyeing the herb leaves. “The best sex I ever had in my life.”

“Oh really?”

“Really.”

“What about with me?” he said, pouting comically. “You cum so much with me, Kitten. I go for as long as you want,” he kissed the spot again before kissing further up. “I’ll prove it to you right now, if you want. We haven’t done it in a while.”

“A while? We had sex a few days ago when you came back home.”

“That’s too long for us,” he slid his hands from you to trail up your stomach. “Kiss me,” he whispered in your ear, “I want to know what you did to Mingi that made him fuck your cunt without permission. Sweet Jongho pumped out nothing by the time your toxins wore off. I won't even tell you what I heard from Yunho. Your kisses sound deliciously toxic.”

“You want to experience it yourself, Master Seonghwa?” you turned around to face him, hands wandering up his chest. “Is that it?”

“Yes,” he whispered, drawing closer to your lips. “I want to be consumed by you too.”

“Then come closer.”

Right before your lips could touch, an offspring hissed. You turned your head to see Yunho coming through the lair’s entryway. Any heat in your cheeks cooled down at the sight of the house manager. He stood by the arch, a silver tray with an envelope on it in his hands.

“Master, Mistress,” he inclined his head to each of you, “A letter has arrived for you, Master Seonghwa.”

“Just put it over there, Yunho,” he nodded to the other end of the long worktable. He turned his attention back to you, eyes filling with lust again, “I’ll get to it later.”

“Forgive me, sir,” Yunho intervened, “But I highly suggest you read this now.”

“I’m busy, Yunho,” he said, nuzzling your nose before pecking your lips, “Later.”

“It’s from Eden, sir.”

The both of you froze. A week has passed since your official identification card arrived in the mail, making you a real citizen of Inferno. Since they said visiting Eden is voluntary, you’d decided to put it off as long as possible. The mere possibility of seeing your mother in the flesh scared you. Late at night, whether alone or in somebody’s arms, you pictured various scenarios. In some, she wept and embraced you. In others, she smacked and insulted you. Those hurt the most because you deserved that.

Yunho brought the letter over to Seonghwa, who took it. Breaking a green wax seal, he left you by the table. He moved about the room as his brain worked the words, comprehending and considering them before speaking or taking action. The prolonged silence twisted your anxious insides. You exchanged a glance with Yunho, who appeared as concerned as you.

“Well?” you finally said. “What does it say?”

“‘Dear Lord Seonghwa,” he read out loud, venom in his voice, “It has come to my attention that one of my granddaughters is living in your house. As she is a Lady of Eden and no longer a plaything, you will present her to me as is customary for new cambions. If you do not comply, I will have no choice but to take this to your father, Prince Asmodeus-Oh give me a fucking break!”

Seonghwa balled up the letter and tossed it away. You saw him fix his waistband as he paced back and forth. “She talks about it as if we knew the whole time!” he snapped, eyes concentrated on the ground. “She acts like we kidnapped you! We didn’t know until a month ago! That bitch…”

“Seonghwa,” you walked over to him, intent on soothing him, but he raised a hand to stop you.

“It’s not as if we have you tied up in here,” he continued his tirade. “We’ve treated you well, right? We’ve fed you, clothed you, pampered and cared for you. You could ask for anything, and we’d give it to you. All you have to do is bat those pretty lashes and I crumble like a damn cracker!” He ran his hands through his hair, “Doesn’t she know the effect you have on me? Doesn’t she know that I, Park Seonghwa, a Duke of Lust, has been weakened by the most beautiful cambion to ever walk into Inferno? In all of Hell, as a matter of fact?”

“I guess not.” His words touched a sweet spot inside you. “Have I really done that?”

“Yes, obviously! If I didn’t want you, YN, I would’ve tossed you in here and forgotten you existed,” he said, stopping only to speak before ranting further. “I would have taken you to her if you'd wanted me to. I would have no objections to you seeing your family. You simply never asked, and I wasn't going to pressu-”

“-Seonghwa?” you carefully walked over to him, sliding your arms around him from the side. Instantly, he wrapped one around your waist and took the other hand. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“Putting it off,” you said. “I know I should have gone to her sooner, but I kept procrastinating because, well…” you hated saying it out loud. If any time was good for a mind drill, it was then. “I’m scared she’s there.”

“Your mother?”

“Yes.” He turned in your arms and you rested your head on his chest. Seonghwa smelled like roses. A lovely bed of fresh roses clung to his body, not just his clothes. You buried your nose in him, wanting to get lost in his scent. “It might sound stupid to you,” you finally said, “But I…I’m scared to see her.”

“Why?”

“Because I was awful to her. I said terrible things, and pushed her away from me when she needed me.” Your throat dried up at the words. “She kept coming back to me, and I kept moving further. What if she hates me?”

“I doubt that,” he said. “If she kept trying to contact you even when you pulled away, then I don’t think she’d hate you.”

“I’d hate me.”

“You’re you, so yes, you would.”

You smacked his arm as he laughed. “I mean it,” you said, burying your face in his shoulder, “I can’t go there.”

“That letter says you have to.”

“Can’t we pretend we never got it?”

“No,” he scoffed. “Don’t think too much about it right now. We have important things to go over.”

“Like what?”

“What you’re going to wear, for one thing. Your outfits are cute and casual, which is fine any other time, but not for this.” He sighed, hands on your biceps, “There’s not enough time for Wooyoung to make anything new, so we’ll have to find something in the closet. You need to look like a proper lady.”

“I can be a lady.”

“I’m not denying you can’t be,” he said, “But if you want to continue living here, we need to convince Lilith that you’re not being forced to stay here.” He paused, “You do know that, right?”

“I do,” you said, hugging him again. “I like it here actually. The food’s great, the greenhouse is lovely, the staff is more than helpful and you…” you smiled up as you pulled him to you by his shirt collar, “Have been so good to me.”

Seonghwa’s hands ended up on your hips, “I wouldn’t be anything else. Even with your freedom, you’re still my special Kitten. All I want to do is take care of you.” He played with the end of your hair, focused on the way it felt between his fingers, “I knew you were special when we met-”

“-Spare me the ‘I-knew-you-were-special’ pitch,” you said, giving a disarming smile, “Jongho and Yunho already used it.”

“Ugh,” he grunted, “That was going to be my line.” The two of you chuckled softly, then he said, “But they're right. I couldn’t place my finger on it at the time, but the first whiff of your scent threw me off. Not because you were a human dressed as succubus, but because humans typically didn’t have specific scents. The brothel girls often smell like a mix of every demon they’ve been humped by; they smell like flesh and blood. You didn’t. You smelled-”

“-Like honey?” you guessed, remembering what he’d told you.

“Yes,” he admitted. “It was electrifying. I never experienced anything like that before you. It didn’t feel like a normal fuck for me. It felt intimate. It felt real. Every time feels like the first time with you. Rolling around in the sheets with you and my brothers,” he caressed your cheek with the back of his fingers, “Is encapsulating. For those few moments-”

“-It’s like nobody exists but us?” you interrupted, taking his hands in yours.

“Exactly. I get so wrapped up in you, in them, that I don’t notice anything around me. I only think and care about you, Kitten,” he pecked your lips softly, “And how my butterflies dusted off their wings when we first kissed. They haven't flown in centuries.”

“Let’s get them some exercise then,” you grinned, arms sliding around his neck.

Seonghwa’s arms went around you: one hand slid up your back to your neck while the other went the opposite direction. Your fingers tangled in the ends of his black hair, feeling the silky curls on your fingertips up to the roots in his scalp. For that brief moment, Seonghwa drowned every sense. He became another world to get lost inside of. Neither of you noticed loyal servant, Yunho, standing nearby still until he coughed for attention.

“Sorry, sir,” he said, nodding curtly, “But the messenger is outside waiting for a response.”

“Tell them she’ll be there soon,” he replied, only focusing on you. “Right now, she’s mine. All mine.”

“As you wish, sir.”

Yunho walked away, and Seonghwa took you over to the work table again. This time, neither of you concerned yourself with the plant and instead worked on removing each other’s clothes.

All other worries went out the window right then.

****

‘Curtsy like Yunho showed you. Only speak when spoken to. Don’t make direct eye contact with her unless told to do so. Give the brothers glowing reviews on their treatment of you. Don’t mention anything that can possibly cast a negative light on your situation. Lie, if you must. Downplay the sex. Tell her it doesn’t happen as often, and that you’re mainly their female companion, nothing more.’

They gave you so much to remember you thought your head might pop. The ruffled ends of your dress rubbed between your nervous fingers. Off your shoulders, the pale pink chiffon dress came with embroidered pink freesias and leaves. Seonghwa thought covering you in florals might endear your grandmother to you more. You hoped that it’d work because otherwise you’d be at a disadvantage. In a white and gold carriage, the four of you sat together against the comfortable seats as it went through town.

“Do you remember what we told you to say?” Seonghwa asked.

The brothers wore fine tailored suits for the occasion. Seonghwa wore a black and white suit, sleek with clean silhouettes; Hongjoong added a bit more color with the crimson serpent and rose pattern shimmering faintly on the jacket. San kept himself modest and simple with a 3-buttoned blue suit, which you couldn’t get enough of. You rarely saw the three of them wearing similar outfits before. Apparently, meeting royalty canceled out personal tastes. You noticed right away your pink dress would make you stand out amongst them even more.

“Yes,” you nodded. The serpent-rose brooch on his breast gleamed in the sunlight, and you realized San and Hongjoong wore a similar one but in gold. Sons of Asmodeus making themselves known in Eden.

“Don’t be nervous.” San sat beside you, his fingers sliding between yours to give a comforting squeeze. “Lilith will love you. Firstly, you’re her granddaughter and also you’re a woman, so you’re immediately in her good books.”

“Yeah, it’s us she’s going to bear her fangs at,” said Hongjoong, slumped in his seat and gazing out the window. “She hates men.”

“Why?”

“She likes to say it’s because she believes the female spirit should be celebrated and how womanhood is under constant threat of the patriarchy,” he said in a bored tone, “But everyone knows it’s because of Adam.”

“Adam? Like, ‘Adam and Eve’? That Adam?”

“Yup. Word was that they were madly in love, but when she disobeyed God, God created Eve to replace her,” he said. “And Adam then fell in love with Eve. I don’t remember the full story, but apparently Lilith managed to corrupt Eve, kill Adam and then claimed Eden as her own. She brought it down here, and started planting her Garden of Daughters.”

“Garden of Daughters?”

“She created her children from plants,” explained San, “So then she could control the sex of the babies. She only wanted girls.”

“Eden is a paradise,” Hongjoong smirked to himself. “The most beautiful women in all of Hell live there. God, I would’ve given anything to have my pick of them once.”

“What changed your mind?”

“You,” he smiled over at you, giving a subtle wink that warmed your cheeks. “Here, let me fix this.”

He reached over to straighten the pink diamonds hanging from your neck. He did nothing to hide his leering. His eyes stayed directly on your bosom, gently brushing it. When he settled it properly, he traced the back of his finger down to the tiny bit of cleavage. You already saw all the dirty thoughts running through his mind, creating a sly smirk.

“You look beautiful like this,” he pondered, finger tracing over the tops of your breasts. His light touch spread warmth that had nothing to do with the sun. “I personally prefer you naked, but this is a good substitute.”

“Seonghwa told me walking around Eden fully nude isn’t ‘acceptable behavior’.”

“Ah, what does he know? He always pisses on everyone’s parade-”

“-You two do know I’m right here?-”

“-Come here,” Hongjoong beckoned you closer, “Give me a kiss.”

“No kisses,” Seonghwa pulled him back into his seat. “We don’t have any cold serum on us, and if she walked up to Lilith stinking of your cum, it might deflect from the picture we’re trying to paint.”

“A little one won’t hurt,” he insisted, puckering his lips at you, but you shook your head and laughed.

“Seonghwa’s right,” you said. “There’s plenty of time for kisses later.”

“Promise?” he pouted like a kid being refused candy.

“I promise.”

“What about me?” San’s hand smoothed over your lap to grab your inner thigh, “Do I get kisses later too?”

“As many as you like,” you told him, “And maybe some special ones too?”

“My favorite,” he smiled, leaning close but forcing himself away in a deep breath. “Gosh, I wish I wasn’t so damn weak.”

“Me too,” Seonghwa agreed.

Your devilish giggle amused the men. Demons didn’t differ from humans at all. A little glimpse of your chest or whispered promise of a “special kiss” turned them into melted popsicles. Pride fluttered whenever you left one of them wanting more, knowing that even if they'd owned you, you held the power. Your grandmother might see this at work and decide not to hate you.

“What do you plan to do?” Hongjoong’s question cuts across your thoughts.

“About what?”

“Your mom. She's likely there. What are you going to do if you see her?”

“I don't know,” you said, playing with the ribbon bracelet on your wrist. “I haven't seen her in such a long time.”

You really wouldn't know until you saw her yourself. You pictured the last time you’d seen your mother. It’d been after graduation when you told her you’d be moving in with your friend, Kelly. She begged you to stay; she said she’d leave your father, and you’d move in together. You didn’t believe her. Maybe if you’d agreed to that, you wouldn’t have died in a club bathroom, alone and stinking of booze and sweat. You’re awful. You’re cruel. You deserved to be in Hell, not her.

“I don't think she'd turn you away,” Seonghwa repeated his words from the greenhouse. “She loved you, and likely still does.”

“If she did, she would have known I was here.” It occurred to you that your death preceded hers. She might know you came to Inferno, and doesn't want to see you. You'd understand that, if it were true. “I wouldn't blame her if she didn't.”

“We'll be right next to you the whole time,” San assured you. “If she doesn't want you around, then you know you have us.”

The words comforted you regardless of how small. You wondered what Demon Andi looked like. She must be an imposing figure, since she is Lilith’s daughter. You wouldn't care. Seeing her would be enough.

The Gardens of Eden laid on the far outskirts of Hell. You knew it when you spotted thirty-foot tall hedges encompassing the land. Women in gold breastplate armor and leather walked along the battlements of the gates, keeping eye for visitors. Mingi, the driver for today, pulled up right to the iron gates where two more female guards stood. You only heard bits and pieces of Mingi’s conversation with the guard. The nerves swirling your guts made it difficult to care. You knew nothing about Lilith. She might be a horrid mistress of darkness who’d punish you for what you’d done. She might be so offended she’d strip you of everything. You saw yourself not putting up a fight this time.

Mingi drove through Eden, and you saw the quaint shops and houses lining the stone streets. Everything had some kind of vegetation growing around or on it. From bus benches to official looking buildings, Eden truly looked like Heaven in Hell. The air did not feel so hot, and the sun shined even with thin clouds covering the sky. It was when you arrived at the main “palace” that you paid real attention. Reaching up into the sky, the palace sat on a high hill with three walls descending in size circling the place. Flowers you'd never seen before you poked out of the cracks and overran the gates. It looked magnificent. It reminded you of fairytale castles in picture books. Beautiful. Ethereal.

“Mingi! Dude, what’s up?” a female guard beamed brightly at him as he pulled up. “What brings you to this side of Inferno?”

“I have a new Sister,” he answered, nodding to the carriage. “She’s come to see her grandmother.”

The guard brightened at this and peeked into the carriage. Your eyes met hers, and she smiled. “Holy shit,” she laughed, pleased to see you, “Well met, Sister. We’ve been expecting you. Drive on through, Mingi".”

“Thanks, Diana.”

Mingi drove into the palace entrance and parked near a horse stable. More people wearing white and gold went to and fro, focused on their daily tasks than the new ‘Sister’ coming into town. Anxiety doubled when Mingi opened your door. You froze in place, body getting covered in a cold-sweat. You can't do this. You shouldn't do this.

“Don't be scared,” San said, offering you his hand to help you out. “I'm right here.”

But, you’d passed the point of no return. You’d decided you’d go through with this, and you would, no matter what happened. Stepping down from the carriage, you walked with them towards the stone steps leading into the castle.

“Relax,” San said, reassuringly. “Lilith is wonderful really. She might have a bad rep, but she’s very fond of women. She won’t hurt you.”

“She’s a demon princess who feels she’s been lied to,” you noted. “She has every reason to turn me into a frog or a flower or whatever.”

“Not with me around,” he said, kissing your hand. “As long as I’m alive, you’re safe, Darling.”

A bundle of peonies on a wall followed you with their “heads”. Mama. She loved them.

Reaching the tall open doors, more guards stood beside security sensors. Instructed to remove any jewelry or metal items, you did it without thinking. All the castle windows had no glass. Only more plant life. You could feel them feeding off the sun and carbon dioxide in the air, returning it with their own oxygen. Tiny bumblebees floated around flowers on the wall, and butterflies flew near the ceiling. You tried finding comfort in the environment, but it only reminded you of her again. You wished she’d leave you alone, but also remain in your spirit at the same time. She might not even be here. You might be freaking out for nothing. Passing through security, Mingi’s weapons and a blade San kept hidden were turned into an armory window.

“My lords!” a female voice chimed.

You looked up to see a young woman coming down the steps. In a gown of white muslin, she bowed and greeted the four of you. She wore a tiara of daisies atop her dark hair, and painted the same ones around her thin eyes. Unlike succubi, this woman glowed faintly. Something about her radiated warmth and gentleness. You weren't sure how, but a connection happened between you. This intensified when she locked eyes with you and smiled brightly. You felt as if you knew her, though you’d never met.

“Welcome Sister YN,” she said. “Her Highness has been eagerly waiting for you. We are so glad you've arrived at last. I'm Artemis, Daughter to Lady Rhea. We’re cousins!” she nearly leapt as she hugged you tightly, giggling with delight.

“A cousin?” you never thought about your extended family. Your mother never mentioned them. She always steered away from the conversation whenever you’d asked. “Um, wow. Nice to meet you.”

“Where is Her Highness?” Seonghwa asked, searching for her in the large hall.

“In the citrus groves,” Artemis answered, her eyes surveying him. “She is taking tea there right now. She wishes to see you and your brothers as well.”

“Lead on, then.”

Artemis linked her arm with yours to guide you ahead of the men. “I can't believe she invited them here,” she huffed irritably. “Men in Eden. It’s not right.”

“Men don’t live here?”

“No,” she shook her head. “Before your mother left us, we weren’t allowed to leave Eden. Grandmother said that our walls and gardens are meant to protect us from those who would hurt us.”

“They’re not like that,” you told her, recalling how the masters treated you before you gained freedom. “They might not be Prince Charming, but they’re good ones.”

“Psh, there’s no such thing. You’ll see that with time, Sister.”

“Maybe that’s why they’re so worried about meeting her,” you said.

“They should be,” she replied. “Princess Lilith is the Guardian of Eden, the Queen of Flowers, and Mother of Womankind. She protects all women, and celebrates their femininity. Were it not for her, many of us would be pleasure slaves in the slums or working in the circles.”

You tried hiding your face, shame coming over you. You'd made that choice: escaping one evil to end up in another. For a brief moment, you imagined a life where you knew the truth. But, this thought was interrupted by music.

A tranquil melody came from somewhere nearby. In a courtyard of flowers, you saw three women sitting on stone benches. They all wore long thin dresses they kept belted at their waists. Hair falling down their backs, they might’ve been mistaken for angels if it weren’t for the curled horns and tails poking through their gowns. One woman sat playing a lyre lightly, while the other two harmonized in song. You recognized the language as Latin, or at least you thought so. The women must’ve felt your stare since they gazed up as you walked by. They smiled and waved, and you did the same. Comforting. This castle felt comforting and safe.

“Good morrow, Sister,” one passing woman said to you and Artemis.

“Um, morning?”

“Morning Sister Calypso.”

“Is everyone here related?” you asked Artemis.

“Sister is the general term,” she explained. “Ladies of Eden see all women as sisters and Princess Lilith is our mother. She birthed most of us in her gardens, while some are granddaughters of different generations.”

“They mentioned I'm a first-generation granddaughter?”

“You're one of the first granddaughters.”

“There are others?”

“Oh yes. Princess Lilith had twelve daughters. For instance, I’m a first generation too because my mother, Rhea, is Lilith’s third daughter.” Artemis then looked at you curiously, “Did you not know that?”

You had twelve aunts? Twelve? “No. My mother never mentioned them to me.”

“Then this will truly be a grand homecoming!” she beamed, unbothered by your ignorance. “Everyone’s here! Everyone! Oh, I just know the other girls will be excited to meet you. You’re all they’ve talked about since this morning. I know I’ve been elated. It’s always wonderful when a new Sister comes to Eden.”

Artemis then led you into a citrus grove. The fragrant smell of oranges, peaches, lemons, grapefruits and other citrus fruits wafted between the trees. You imagined they stayed ripe and growing regardless of season. Mama had a mango tree once, and she’d let you pick them when they became ripe. She’d love it here, you knew that much.

The sound of laughter carried through the trees from up ahead. Your feet turned cold and numb in your sandals, and your sweaty hands skidded on the smooth fabric. The row of trees ended in an archway leading into a small enclosure of more flowers and fruits. At a stone table, three women sat chattering over a game of cards. Two of them wore the white flowing garb of Ladies, while a third wore a peach colored one. She had a golden circlet in her black hair, several purple orchids molded into the band. Her otherworldly appearance intimidated and fascinated you. Her long horns stretched behind her, and she'd put gold bands around her short tail. This was Lilith, your grandmother.

“Grandmother,” Artemis brought you through the archway, “Our new Sister has arrived.”

All three women turned when you approached. Lilith gazed upon you, studying from afar. For a moment, you worried she’d transform you into a plant or bug to stomp on you, but no. Instead, the Queen of Flowers smiled fondly. All three women stood up from the table, and she walked over to you. Crimson eyes scanned over your face many times, as if examining a beautiful painting.

“Well, look at you,” she finally said, lifting your chin to turn your face side to side. “Oh,” she sighed, “Such a gorgeous flower. You really do look like Andromeda. If you’d come to me from the beginning, you would’ve flourished so well here.”

“Thank you, Your Highness?”

She laughed, a chime in the wind, “Call me ‘Grandmother’, darling. Every Sister here does.”

Her warmth turned icy as she gazed upon Seonghwa, Hongjoong, and San behind you. “My lords,” she said coldly, hands clasped in front of her, “Welcome to Eden.”

“Thank you for inviting us, Your Highness,” Seonghwa said with a curt bow. “It's a pleasure to see you again, Auntie.”

“It'd be a merrier occasion if it weren't marred by current events. Tell me,” she stepped forward, “When did you plan on informing me of my granddaughter?”

“As soon as her paperwork went through,” Seonghwa answered. “I swear, Your Highness, we didn't know she was a cambion. We were equally surprised when her powers began flourishing. I suspect being in a demonic environment triggered her dormant abilities. We, of course, would have told you once we had confirmation of who and what she was. YN wanted to visit right away, but we told her we should wait. This delay wasn’t her fault at all.”

“And how long had she been your pleasure slave?” This question stunned the men, so she continued, “Demons such as yourselves would not take up a beauty like YN because she's a good servant. I am more than aware of a man's appetites and inability for self-control. How long?”

“Three months or so,” he answered honestly.

Her disapproval came out in a soft grunt.

“We never did anything Lady YN didn't already want,” he continued. “We would never do anything to hurt YN.”

“As far as you know, boy,” she said spitefully. “YN?” her tone suddenly turned soft again as she turned to you. “Is this true?”

“Yes,” you admitted, looking into her eyes. “You might look down on that-I don't know- but I have enjoyed living with them. They treat me well there, and even more so now that I'm no longer a slave.”

She considered this. Like with Seonghwa, you felt her surveying you. “Is that so?” you saw a teasing smirk cross face, “You're a true Lady of Eden then. I only ask because men can be aggressive when they want something a woman won't give them,” she told you gently. “You were a slave for so long. Imagining what men put you through sickens me. If I knew about you earlier, you'd be living here where you're safe.”

“She's perfectly safe with us, Auntie,” San said. “I'd never let anyone or anything harm YN. She has become very special to all of us.”

“She also has a bodyguard who watches over her day and night,” Seonghwa added.

“With those plants of hers, she's not exactly a helpless kitten anymore,” Hongjoong said. “Her blood is poisonous and her pets are very protective of her.”

“Pets?”

“The plants in my greenhouse,” you told her. “Seonghwa's experiments. They went a long time without being taken care of, so I have been watching over them. They’re pretty attached to me, I think.”

“How intriguing,” she said, as if the plants weren't Seonghwa’s idea. She wrapped her arm around yours, “I will take YN from here. You three can wait in the parlor. I think you’ll find it satisfactory.”

“Thank you, Your Highness.”

Seonghwa lightly kissed your cheek, “See you soon, love.”

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t,” teased Hongjoong before he kissed you, “Or anything that I would.”

“I’ll be counting the minutes until I see you again, Darling,” San said in his crooning tone that made you laugh. You laughed in his gentle kiss, shaking your head.

“Ugh, just go,” you said, pushing gently. You watched them leave, putting them to memory before turning to your grandmother. Her confused expression worried you. “Sorry,” you said quickly, “It’s how we, uh, you know, say goodbye.”

She nodded, wrapped her arm around yours and started walking. “How long have you been in Inferno, sweetling?” she asked, not going to touch the romantic display of affection.

“About eight or nine years now,” you admitted, wondering if you should have kissed them in front of her.

“Where did you end up when you arrived?”

“Circle of Lust.”

“As expected,” she snorted, leading you out of the enclosure and through the grove. “A woman as beautiful as you no doubt had plenty of lovers in her lifetime.”

“I might have had a few.”

“How did you pass?”

Shame suddenly came over you. You felt cold as you said, “I overdosed in a bathroom.”

Lilith remained silent a minute, mulling over the information. “How tragic,” she finally said, “That must’ve been terrible for you.”

“I guess. I don’t remember much of it, to be honest. I remember getting super dizzy, and throwing up in the toilet. There was this terrible pain in my chest, so I was breathing hard and choking on the vomit. I sort of, I guess, knew I was dying? I started panicking which made everything worse. When I got here, I was in this big forest for a super long time. I didn’t even know what I was looking for to be honest.”

“Nobody does. That is the purpose of the forest, but you found it eventually. Oh,” she frowned, “I can’t imagine how terrified you’d been. The circles are not gentle places. I understand why you might have chosen to be a pleasure slave.”

“I wanted to escape the circle, and that was the only way.”

Her face soured at that. No doubt hearing about her granddaughter working in a brothel upset her deeply. “How disgusting,” she said, “Those pigs in the slums peddling my daughters and granddaughters to the highest bidders. I’ve seen the conditions those women live in, and it’s despicable. I’d burn the whole damn brothel district to the ground if I could. But, as that’s Asmodeus’s territory, I have no authority there.”

“But, I bet any man who lingers around here ends up in worse shape than if he’d stayed away?”

She smirked, “It’s happened quite a lot. Those demons in the city like sneaking in here to try getting at my girls. The last time one of them did that, I had the scum broken on the wheel. Nobody touches my girls. Nobody.” You heard the bite in her voice as she brought you out of the citrus groves and through a garden path. “Every woman ever born is a giver of life. We take care of the home and hearth; we endure and persevere against the men who do us harm; we fight and stand up for ourselves and our sisters. Our plants,” she stopped by a flower wall, “Our special Eden are our children and our protectors.” She cradled one blossom in her hand, brushing the supple petals with her thumb. “Nature is strong. I’ve seen tornadoes level out entire towns in a single night. I have witnessed the oceans rise and drown thousands of people. I wanted all my daughters to be nature personified, strong and resilient against the odds.”

“That’s admirable,” you stood beside her, taking in the floral wall. “I don’t know if your ideals got through to all your daughters.”

She paused, sadness in her eyes, “Andromeda.”

“Andromeda. She let my father abuse her for years. She took every hit and insult instead of fighting back. If she was a demon, why did she let that happen?”

“Not all strength is physical,” she explained. “It takes lots of endurance and courage to remain in a relationship like that one. I imagine she put up with it for you.”

“For me?”

“If your father hadn’t beat your mother, he certainly would’ve turned on you. Andromeda would take a hundred punches for you. I know she’d jump in front of a knife or a bullet for you.”

Deep down, you knew she spoke the truth. You couldn’t count the amount of times your mother got between you and your father. She’d find a way to redirect his anger to her, so his fists landed on her face instead of yours.

And you abandoned her.

“Is she here?”

“She is. Where did you think I was taking you?”

You left the flowers behind and she brought you into another part of the massive castle gardens.

‘…He’s got something that I can’t resist, but he doesn’t even know that I-I-I exist.”

You heard her before you saw her. Her soft voice moved through towards you like a lighthouse in a bay. Lilith let you go ahead of her while she hung back by the entrance. Surrounded by all varieties of flora, you gulped down the ball in your throat. In a thin dress of pale blue, Lady Andromeda looked different from Andi YLN. Cream-colored horns stuck upwards in waves, with a short matching tail. She wore a headscarf to keep her hair out of her face like at home. Tears burned your eyes looking at her. Every terrible thing you ever said filled your ears and made the feeling worse.

“Other fellas, call me up for a date, but I just sit and wait. I’d rather concentrate on Johnny Angel…"‘

Her voice sounded exactly the same. It washed over you like a cool breeze on a hot day. With her hair held back, you saw her profile. The shape of her nose matched yours, but her jawline came out sharper. Soft lips curled into a smile as she tended to the garden bed. You recognized tomato plants by the ripe fruits hanging off the vines. She’d wept when you walked out of the house, duffle bag over your shoulder and anger in your chest. She begged you to come back. She pleaded for you to stay with her; she said you’d be safer with her. You never wondered what she meant by that. You watched her withered hands work the soil gently, pulling weeds from the bottom. Her singing brought the old favorite back to you, and it came out as easily as breathing.

“And pray that someday he’ll love me, and together we will see how lovely heaven will be…”

The lyrics stamped into your memory flowed out shakily. They came through your thick tears, which flowed freely down your cheeks to your jaw. She stopped singing right away. Her hands stayed in the dirt, staring at the plants. Slowly, your mother turned her head to look at you. Regret brought forth more tears as you stepped into the sunshine. Her eyes, a similar shade to yours, stared at you in shock and disbelief.

“YN?” she whispered your name, hands curling into her dress. “Is that…”

“Hi Mama.”

Andromeda carefully stood up and faced you. She nervously walked towards you, drinking in the vision of you. You looked over her face again, remembering every smile. Any moment, you expected claws to sink into your shoulders to drag you from her. They’ll pierce your skin, whispering the hurtful things you said and claimed. You weren’t worthy of this reunion. You should never have dared show your face to her. The closer she came, the more tears she shed. She hates you.

“Little Andi…” she said, “My honey cake…Look at you,” she exhaled through her chest, “You’re so beautiful; so much more than I ever imagined.”

“I’m sorry, Mama.”

You sobbed, and there she came. She wrapped her arms around you, the scent of peonies in her skin and hair. Each sob wracked through your body, uncontrollable in every breath. The trembling went from shoulders to hands; you thought you might get weak knees from it. Every argument. Every disparaging remark. Every time you ever told yourself you hated her rushed back. She'd done so much for you, and you'd kicked her to the curb.

“I left you alone,” you cried. “I left you alone. I’m sorry, Mama. I’m so sorry.”

“Hush now, sweet baby,” she cooed, stroking your hair and pecking your temple. “I expected it to happen, if I’m honest. Daughters of Lilith are hard to keep locked up forever.” She finally lifted your head from her shoulder and cupped your head in her hands. “The only one I couldn’t forgive was myself.”

“For what?” you asked through your tears.

“For not telling you things in the first place,” she said. “I should have. Maybe if I'd been honest, things may have turned out differently. Look,” she released you, though still holding your hands, “Let’s have some tea and we can talk about whatever you want.”

You nodded, wiping your cheeks with the back of your hand before she withdrew her handkerchief.

She wiped your cheeks for you, studying your face again. “I bet you were a maneater up there,” she smirked knowingly. “I used to laugh at any boy who ended up infatuated with you. They had no idea who they were getting into.”

“I know. I remember.”

“Lucas,” she called out into the air, “Lucas!”

“Your Highness?” a young boy materialized from the thick hedges, dressed in an outfit made of leaves like Peter Pan. Only difference was his scarlet eyes and the tiny horns sticking out of his head. An Imp.

“We’ll take afternoon tea in the west gazebo today.”

“Right away, my lady.”

She guided you out of her plot and towards the western side of the garden. “What have you learned about yourself so far?” she asked on the way there.

“That I can regrow plants and talk to them,” you said.

“That’s all? Hm, we’ll have to fix that.”

You couldn’t take your eyes off her. You worried if you did, she’d disappear.

“Mama,” you said, “What happened after I left?”

“Not now, YN.”

“Did he get better? Worse?”

“YN.”

“I want to know, Mama,” you told her. “I left you behind. I want to know what ended up happening. He couldn’t have been happy about it.”

She sighed, “He wasn't. He saw it as another servant walking out on him. He didn't even change after I gave him pestilence.”

“Pestilence?”

“Sickness curse. It can take any form of illness, and your father's turned into cirrhosis of the liver,” she said. “The doctors told us it was too advanced and irreversible. They could've done a transplant, but he’d be on a waiting list for a while. He ended up dying before then.” You caught a shadow of a smile on her face, “He was told to stop drinking, and you knew your dad. He always did whatever he wanted; he never listened to anyone, no matter how good the advice. I woke up one day and found him throwing up everywhere. He died at the hospital.”

“You called me,” you said guiltily, “And I ignored your call.”

“I know.”

“I shouldn’t have. I should have gone home for the funeral at least.”

“I wouldn’t have wanted you to.”

She brought you to a wooden gazebo in the middle of a circular garden. Two small children had set up a spread for tea time. At least, they looked like children. You learned a long time ago demon imps often resembled children. The sole difference between an Imp and demon offspring were the eyes: Imps had dark glowing eyes, while demon children only had crimson rings. She brought you over to the table, where they’d set up an afternoon tea setting with tea, finger sandwiches, scones and small tartlets and cakes. You had no appetite. The sadness sitting inside you took up too much space.

“Why would you not want me to come home?” you asked her, watching her prepare a cup of tea. You almost did not want to know the answer, but asked.

“They would have found you.”

You paused, not noticing the Imp placing a finger sandwich on your plate. “Who?”

“Demons.” She paused for a moment, eating her sandwich then said, “I didn’t want you to end up here, YN. It’s why I did not register you. It’s why I tolerated and endured your father. His wickedness kept away any demons who might’ve tried sneaking into our home. If they discovered you, they would’ve taken you away from me. I…” she let a small dandelion wrap around her finger, watching it coil like a snake until it sprouted past her fingertip, “I told myself when I left home that I’d follow my own path. I told myself that just because I was a demon did not mean I must live like them. I knew if I had any children, my mother would send demons to bring them here. I didn’t want that. I wanted you to grow up away from this, but it seems it found you anyways.”

“I don’t know, Ma,” you said, “This place is pretty awesome. Where I’m living right now is pretty bitchin’ too.”

She snorted, “Why am I not surprised? My mother will never admit that Asmodeus’s boys always come out so handsome. I just hope they didn't force themselves upon you.”

“Not at all. I like them.”

“Only like?”

“I haven't lived with them very long,” you said.

You took her in as she ate and drank tea. She couldn't be there. This wasn't real. Any second this dream would turn dark and bleak, with its claws forcing you away again. Ever since you arrived at the Black Keep, Mama came to you more and more. You found yourself thinking of sunny days and fresh lemonade. The sight of her sitting so near felt unreal to you; another daydream brought to life to torment you.

“Why did you leave here in the first place?” you asked her. “Seonghwa mentioned something about not being able to leave here?”

“He's right,” she nodded. “Before my return, Ladies of Eden were forbidden to leave the city. My mother claimed it was to keep us safe, but that never sat right with me. I shared the same sentiments as you: I wanted to break free. Eden might be heaven in hell, but it felt so suffocating. Instead of cherishing my darling plants, I felt restrained by their vines. There was a whole world beyond this garden city waiting to be explored. So, one night, when everyone slept, I dug a tunnel and escaped,” she shrugged. “I went to the living world and decided to make a new life there.”

“Didn't you miss it here?”

“I did. I thought about going back several times,” she admitted, eating a finger sandwich. “But then I met your father and things changed.”

“They did?”

“Yes,” she nodded. “He wasn't the way you remember him.” She smiled softly, “He was charismatic and charming. He liked flowers, poetry and music. We used to go to dances and dance the night away, drinking and kissing. I never felt that way for anyone before. I'd never fallen for a man. I'd been taught they were violent, evil beings, but your father didn't seem that way.”

“Then he became a drunken asshole.”

“Your father went through a lot during the war, honey,” she said. “A lot of men did back then. I tried getting through to him, but nothing I said worked. Your father….A part of him died on the battlefield, I think.”

“Is he…” you felt afraid to ask, “Is he here? In Hell?”

“No,” she shook her head, “He went to Purgatory when he died.”

“Really?”

“He hadn't sinned enough to end up here but wasn't good enough for Paradise,” she said. “In Purgatory, he can repent and earn his way there. Kind of like how people here can fight in the arena to win their ticket to Purgatory.”

“Have you seen him?”

“No.”

“Would you ever want to?”

She hesitated, sipping from her tea cup. “Yes.”

“Really? Why?”

“I don't know. To slap him? To kiss him? To tell him that I hated him, loved him, missed him, wanted him dead, wanted him alive? I don't know, darling.” You watched her grow a daffodil from out of her palm. She looked at it with forlorn eyes, “We had our first kiss in this meadow outside of town. He blew on a daffodil, and when I asked him what he wished for, he said he wished for me to kiss him.” She laughed softly, “I loved him so much back then. I thought he was the love of my life.”

“You thought?”

“Yes, until I met someone else.” She looked over at you, tears in her eyes and daffodils spiraling around her fingers. “You were the most precious being I'd ever seen. I realized I hadn't known true love until you came. I held you in my arms that night in complete disbelief. I couldn't believe a creature like me created something so pure and innocent. I never loved anything as wonderful as-YN?”

And you hated her. You, her true love, hated and ignored her. She loved you beyond all reason, never giving up on you once, and there you'd been: in your designer outfits scowling as you held the phone to your ear. You couldn't imagine the heartache you'd caused. Tears stung around your sinuses, and you sniffled them away until they poured back out. Your head fell into your hands, body shaking in each hard sob. The day you died must have been the worst day of her entire life. When her gentle hands touched your arm, you knew she'd comfort you like she always did.

“Come here,” she said, gradually pulling you to face her. With your body turned to her, your mother tenderly removed your hands from your face.

“Why don't you hate me?” you asked her thickly.

“I'm incapable of hating you,” she answered, tears starting to form in her eyes. “Even when you walked out of my life, I loved you. You might understand that some day, but I couldn't hate you ever.” She wiped your tears with her handkerchief again, “I do wish you'd stayed with me, but I knew you had to go. I knew you had to spread your wings and fly away from home, even if that leaving me-”

“-I was so mean to you,” you rasped. “I never called or wrote to you. I told people I either didn't have a mom or that we don't talk anymore. Mama,” you took both her hands, “I used to like telling myself I lived with no regrets. But, I've realized that isn't true. I regret cheating people out of their money. I regret getting high in the bathroom. I regret being cruel to you, Mama,” you said in a breath. “I regret drifting away and never looking back. Maybe if I had-”

“-Let's not live with ‘Maybe’,” she interrupted. “She's a bitch and says mean things.” She tucked hair from your face and said, “I don’t hold it against you, love. It must’ve seemed that way to you because you didn’t know the truth. I should have told you. There’d been so many times where I considered it, but by the time I decided, you’d already gone. The past is the past, sweetheart. The best thing the two of us can do is move forward from it.” She kissed your cheek, and you basked in the comfort of her kiss. “Eat something. You must be so hungry.”

The two of you sat there for what felt like hours. You learned everything about her then: her birth, her escape, and her life in the living world until she met your father and had you. You told her about your flashy, living fast life before your death. Lovers, enemies and friends all sprung back to you as you talked. You wondered, as you told her a story about a night at a club, if you lived a fulfilling life. It sounded so shallow out loud. You never made lasting connections, never settled down or stopped to relax. Everything was money, sex and power. Nothing meaningful remained to you.

“Think of it like this,” she said when you told her this, “You're getting a second chance.”

“A second chance?”

“You're not a prisoner here anymore,” she said. “You're getting a second life down here; you can make those connections and have that meaningful feeling, whatever they might be.” She hesitated before saying, “You can start with those handsome men who adore you already.”

“They just like screwing me,” you scoffed.

“It doesn’t seem that way to me.”

“You’ve only seen me with them for a few minutes, and we weren’t really talking to one another.”

She laughed at your words. “I don’t need to see it to feel it. I saw the four of you together, and I immediately sensed their protectiveness over you. How Seonghwa was quick to tell your grandmother that none of it was your fault; San holding your hand so comfortingly, telling you it would be okay-”

“-How?”

“The flowers, Darling,” she said, the daffodil sprouted brand new as her words. “Sons of Lust do not attach to partners very easily. Most of them never marry or take up personal slaves. Yet, here are three of them being more than fond of a single person.” She let the flower swirl around her hand, “When you can see through your flowers, you’ll be able to watch them as much as they watch over you.”

“My flowers…When can I learn how to do that?”

“With time and practice.” She then said, “I can teach you. If anyone should be showing you how to hone your talents, it should be another botanical sorceress, not a bunch of horny incubi.”

“You’d do that?”

“Of course I would,” she smiled. “Why would I not? I would’ve been your teacher if you’d known sooner. You could also learn from your aunts, your cousins, your nieces-”

“-I have nieces?!-”

“-And your grandmother, of course, will insist on teaching you. They’re all masters in various aspects of our kind, so you wouldn’t be missing out on anything.”

“We’d love to teach you!”

You and your mother turned to see two women standing a few feet away. The blond wore a soft yellow gown while the brunette wore a lavender dress with floral borders. When they smiled at you, a special kind of warmth surged in your chest. You had never seen these women in your life, yet you felt as if you knew them. The same feeling you had with Artemis.

“YN,” your mother stood up and you copied her, “These are two of your aunts: Gaia,” the blond curtsied, “And Rhea.”

“Hello,” you smiled at them.

“You really do look like Andromeda,” Rhea said in a low voice, marveling over you as they approached. “I always wondered what natural born daughters might look like. My own girls hardly look anything like me.”

“Neither do mine.”

“Your daughters? You mean, my cousins, right?”

“Yes,” Gaia giggled. “If a certain someone,” she shot a look to your mother, “Had told us about you in the beginning, you would’ve known all of us. Oh,” she hugged you tightly, which made you laugh, “How we’re so glad you’re here! We’re always happy to welcome a new daughter!”

“You had your turn, Sister,” Rhea told your mother, “We’re taking her to the rose gardens now.”

“No, Sisters, I think that’s too soon.”

“Too soon for a girl to meet the rest of her family?” she questioned, already taking your hand in hers. “Mother insists on it.”

“My girls are going to love you!” Gaia beamed.

*****

The rose gardens must've been an Eden daughter hangout. Several poofs, pillows and blankets scattered around like picnic spots with a pavilion in the center. Underneath it sat a group of girls in the flowing dressdz and floral crowns of Eden Ladies. They appeared to be chatting together with a spread of food and drinks in front of them. All of them looked like the epitome of beauty. You understood what Hongjoong meant by wishing he could stay. You would too, if you were him.

“Ladies!” Gaia clapped her hands for attention, “Ladies!”

The girls all turned to look at her. “Your cousin is here,” Rhea said with a smile. “Lady YN, Marchioness of the Trees and a Lady of Eden. She’s your Aunt Andromeda’s daughter, so she's your first gen-”

“-Cousin!” The group cried in unison, rushing down the steps to you.

You didn't have a moment to breathe before they were on you. Kisses, tight hugs and excited squeals surrounded you. Somehow, the group guided you over to the pillows and blankets in the pavilion without you realizing. You finally got a look at all four of them: you recognized Artemis, but you didn't know the other three. They all wore different flowers in their hair, likely signifying something about them.

“Um, uh, hi?” you began with uncertainty.

“YN,” Artemis began, “Allow me to introduce our first cousins: This is Kali, Aunt Rhea's daughter,” the brunette with the button nose and square jaw waved, “This is Hera, Aunt Aurora's daughter,” the freckled red haired girl smiled, “Aurora's your mother's sister; you haven't met her yet.”

“Okay, cool.”

“And I'm Hestia!” the youngest of them chimed in. She had lilies weaved into her long, coarse braid, and large almond eyes. “Sister Freya’s my mother. You haven't met her either but she's going to be thrilled when you do. We heard about you this morning, and we've gotten a bunch of stuff ready for you.”

“Like what?”

“Your garden patch for one,” said Hera. “We put all the tools you might need, if you're the kind to tend the plants by hand. I personally prefer using magic, but everyone's different.”

“There's also your room,” Kali said. “Grandmother said you can sleep in the room next to Andromeda’s, so you guys are together.”

“How was your talk with her?” asked Artemis curiously. “My mother said she'd kept you a big secret from us. You guys must have had fun catching up.”

“It was…special, for sure. I never thought I'd see her again,” you said. “I didn't know I was part demon until Seonghwa and his brothers bought me. Well,” you thought for a moment, “They technically stole me since San killed my previous owner-”

“-You were a slave?” asked Hestia, her eyes wide. “How terrible!”

“Yeah, for a while. But, it's how I found out who and what I am.”

“Wait, you mentioned Seonghwa,” said Kali. “Asmodeus’s son?”

“Yeah.” You saw their unsettled glances, “Why? What's wrong with that?”

“It's not that it's…” she exchanged a glance with Hera, who hid a giggle behind her hand. She then blurted out, “Oh my god, what are they like?!”

“Huh?”

“Are they romantic? Passionate?”

“What stuff do they like?!”

“They’re so dreamy,” Hestia swooned. “Seonghwa’s eyes are like deep pools I could stare in forever. He’s so sophisticated and smart.”

“Hongjoong’s such a rebel,” said Hera, the tips of her ears turning pink. “He never does anything people tell him; he doesn’t act like the other men that come here. They’re all so boring.”

“And he’s so exciting!” beamed Kali. “I heard he used to go to the brothels in the city and buy the whole house for himself. One girl said he could go for hours.”

“Ugh, gross,” said Aretmis with her arms crossed. “I can't believe you three. Daughters of Lilith fawning over useless man-things. It's shameful.”

“It's okay to look, Sister,” Hera reasoned. “We like men but we don't like them,” she explained to you. “They like seeing us women as playthings, so why shouldn't we see them the same way?”

“I get that,” you nodded. “I used to be the same way. Men liked to use me, so I used them back. It definitely got me farther than it did for them.”

“Ooh, tell us more!”

You spent some time telling the girls about your experiences with men. From high school athletes to hot shot business guys, every man you’d slept with gained you something in return. Whether it be popularity, a higher status or money, you never hooked up with someone unless it benefitted you. The meaningful relationships you could have built really turned into stepping stones to something better. Once a guy began boring you or lost his purpose in your life, you found another. The men in clubs or bars were the morsels you devoured in between. Some treated you well, others not so much. By the time you entered enslavement, you’d learned how men think and act.

“They don’t act any differently down here,” you shrugged, picking at a grape from the spread. “It was rough at first, but once I figured out my place in the world, I adapted to it.”

“That must have been difficult still,” Artemis frowned. “Having men abuse you night after night, being demeaned and having your dignity stripped off you little by little…I’m surprised you’re not sick or pregnant from being in those places.”

“I guess I was lucky,” you shrugged.

“Then you were bought by our uncles,” said Kali.

“In a way. They’re saints compared to the way some men before have treated me.”

“What I can't get over is how you disrespected so many of your fellow women,” Artemis said. “Women are blood through our feminine spirit. You went around sleeping with other womens’ husbands and boyfriends to satisfy and secure your own needs. You speak about ruining people's relationships as if it doesn't matter to you. Didn't that bother you?”

“It does now, I suppose. I never thought of it like that. Breaking people up wasn't my intention.”

“Only an unexpected result,” she drawled.

“But, they weren't the only casualties in your search for power and money,” Hera noted, sipping from a wine cup. “You were hurt as well. You might have not known it at the time, but those fleeting relationships left you empty inside. I know they must have. None of your lovers stayed, did they? They always picked their wives or girlfriends over you, didn't they?”

“Funny you mentioned that,” you said, finding the irony humorous. “I told my mother the same thing. I spent so much of my life floating around that I didn't make anything lasting. The friendships I had were shallow and self-serving. The romantic relationships I built could be torn down in minutes. I thought I was living at the time, and in a way I did, but was I really?”

You heard the hedge nearby shift slightly, and every nerve in you stiffened. As the girls discussed their opinions on men, you took a whiff of the downwind scent. Cinnamon. Candy. Roses. Your boyfriends clearly hadn't gone to the men's quarters as directed.

“Getting married and having children isn’t a marker of having lived well,” said Hestia. “That’s what my mother says. It can be for some people, but not everyone.”

“Being charitable, loving with your heart and building a home and community of people you care about,” said Artemis. “Scheming, cheating, lying, and ruining others' lives in pursuit of your own desires doesn’t sound meaningful to me. It sounds exhausting. It sounds lonely and sad at the end. Burning so many bridges leads to loneliness. I’m not saying you need to be best friends with everyone, but having people who love you isn’t bad.”

“My mother loved me,” you said out loud, though you hadn’t thought about it. “She loved me regardless of what I did or said. I…” you stopped eating the grapes. That sinking guilt weighed down your stomach, “I never met anyone who loved me so unconditionally.”

“As it should be.”

Their scent came to you once more. You turned your head to the bushes and called out.

“I know you guys are there!”

“Huh?” Artemis looked in their direction, “Who's here?”

“Seonghwa, Hongjoong and San.”

“Where?” asked Hestia hopefully.

“Behind the bushes,” you nodded toward the tall hedges lining the garden. “We know you’re there!”

“They're not allowed here,” the eldest said, crossing her arms. She stood up as she said, “Come out of the bushes, you! My grandmother is going to be livid when she finds out you're not in the men's area.”

“We come in peace, oh Divine One,” Hongjoong broke through the hedge first, hands up in surrender. “We wanted to make sure our beloved wasn't upset. She was nervous about coming, and we got worried.”

“As you can see, she's fine,” she replied. “You can leave.”

“Last time I checked,” Seonghwa and San appeared next, “You were a rank below us, so you can't tell us what to do, Marchioness.”

Artemis scowled, unable to refute this. “Let them stay, Cousin,” Kali said. “They obviously aren't here to hurt any of us.”

“Hm, yes,” she said spitefully, “They’re here to collect their plaything. YN’S a free woman now, and she doesn't need your permission or supervision to be here. So, go.”

“How was your visit, Darling?” San asked, ignoring her as he approached you. “I hope it didn't go too badly.”

“‘Darling’?” Artemis scoffed. “You even call her by demeaning nicknames?”

“It's not demeaning,” you told her. “I let them call me by their little pet names. It's cute,” you grinned back at San. “It went better than I thought. We sat and talked over tea for a while. I didn't realize exactly how much I missed her until then.”

“Grandmother will be furious if she finds out you're here.”

“But you ladies are so much more fun than that boring room,” said Seonghwa sitting between you and Hestia. “There isn't anything for me to do in there,” he told her, letting the suggestion linger to make the young woman giggle and blush. “What's your name, beautiful one?”

“Hestia,” she said shyly.

“That's a beautiful name. You're one of Aurora's daughters, right?”

“No, Freya’s,” she shook her head.

“Ah, yes, of course,” he said in fake realization. “You know, she's my favorite cousin.”

“Really?”

“Yes, and you're just as lovely as her.”.

“Hi Hongjoong,” Hera said timidly, playing with her hair as he sat with her and Kali.

“Hello Hera,” he replied kindly. “Hello Kali.”

“You remember us?” Hera asked with a sweet smile.

“How could I forget you two? The dance you both did at the Hallow’s Eve festival was…inspiring,” he smirked at their bashful faces.

You couldn't help the stab of jealousy seeing the flirtation. San caught onto this right away, “It gets us to stay here,” he explained. “We wanted to see you. It really is boring in the men’s quarters. It's literally just a room with a table and a chair.”

“I still don't like it.”

“Flirting doesn't mean they love you less, Darling,” he said, brushing hair from your shoulder. “It's a bit of fun, that's all. You can have fun with us too,” he pecked your lips, “Lots of it.”

You chuckled softly, “Is this all I do for you? Turn you on?”

“You actually make me incredibly soft,” he admitted. “I used to think I had no weaknesses; I thought I was unstoppable, invincible. But then one night this human slave dressed as a succubus came into my life, looked at me with innocent eyes and became my everything. I only think of you. No matter where I am or what I'm doing, you're in the back of my mind. I know they feel the same way,” he nodded over to his brothers. “It's just in us to do this. We thought flirting with some of them might get us a ticket out of that stupid room. And, I don't know about you, it seems like it's working.”

“They need to go,” Artemis said once more.

“Artemis, they're not hurting anyone,” Kali said, smiling at Hongjoong. He relished in the attention from the two women, whispering to Hera who giggled. “That men's room really gets boring, and there's no food there.”

“You must be hungry, my lord,” said Hera.

“Famished,” Hongjoong replied. They both chuckled when she fed him s strawberry.

“Me too,” said Seonghwa. “But, I think a kiss might stave off my hunger. Don't you think so, Hestia?”

“A kiss? Oh my…” she said, tucking hair behind her ear. “My grandmother would be upset if she heard I'd kissed you.”

“Which is why no kissing is happening,” snapped Artemis. “Can't you see what they're doing? You girls should be ashamed of giving into their charms so easily. Ladies of Eden don't conduct themselves like pleasure slaves. Grandmother will be furious when she finds out.”

“I can kiss more than one of you,” said Hongjoong, turning to her. “I've heard your kisses are quite sweet, Lady Artemis.”

“So did I,” Seonghwa grinned. “Kissing doesn't hurt. We can show you, if you'd like.”

“No, because I'm not that kind of woman,” she said crossly. “I'm getting Diana.”

“Come on, Artemis,” you spoke up. “They're only talking. Okay, flirting too,” you said distastefully, “But it's not like they're trying to hurt them.”

“You don't understand, YN. Men aren't allowed in Eden in the first place. Their intentions are never good, ever.”

“Hello, Lady Artemis.” Mingi’s deep voice came from behind her. Your bodyguard stood at the top step, hands in his pockets and a soft smile on his face. “It's nice to see you again.”

“Hello, Mingi,” she faced him, irritated by the men’s sudden appearance. “I was just telling your masters that they can't be here and neither can you.”

“I'm only a servant. I have no power over my masters, as you well know.” He took a step to her, “I thought we could go to your archery range? I saw you had a new bow and quiver, and I wondered if I could try it out.”

“Really?” she said, unconvinced. “So your masters can defile my sisters?”

“Defile is a harsh word. My masters never take a woman against her wishes, and you have my word on that.”

You saw him go closer to her, and by his soft eyes and smile, he worked his own incubus magic on her. San turned your head to him, and he kissed the corner of your mouth. His fingers trailed from the nape of your neck to your collarbone. You shuddered when he reached the neckline of your dress.

“Can I see them?” he asked, kissing your neck. “I haven't seen them in so long. I need to touch them or I'll go insane.”

“Here? In the place you're not supposed to be that hates men who objectify women?” you laughed, amused by his eagerness.

“I'll risk it.”

“She broke a man on the wheel. I don’t know what that means, but it sounds awful.”

“Again,” he kissed your neckline, “I'll risk it. Besides, look at them.”

You turned to see Seonghwa giving flustered Hestia gentle kisses that slowly grew deeper. Hera and Kali took turns kissing Hongjoong, who rested against a pillar as both women felt up his chest. Mingi managed to lure Artemis away from the pavilion, leaving all of you alone. You thought your cousins might eventually snap out of it, and slap your boyfriends. However, things only became more heated, especially when Kali slipped her gown off her shoulders to show Hongjoong her breasts. He sighed when Hera did the same, groping one from each of them.

“Would you like me to touch you?” you heard Seonghwa whisper to Hestia, “Or do you want to keep kissing a bit more?”

“Can we kiss a bit more?”

“Of course. Whatever you want to do, my lady.”

He laid her down against the pillows, resting at her side as he continued kissing her. San’s lips distracted you once again, and you looked at him. “I suppose you can have a little peek,” you said, pushing down the top half of your dress and showing him the matching pink bra.

You put his hands on them, inhaling when he squeezed them softly. San rested you on the cushions behind you as he started kissing down to your cleavage. He lifted your dress over your thighs, settling between them and tugging your bra under your tits. San let out a soft moan once he revealed them, then bent to kiss each of them. Your hands slid from the back of his neck into his hair, gripping the short strands to guide him over them. You could hear distant muffled moaning and soft kisses from nearby, but you became too entranced by San’s mouth on your nipples. Your brain connected each spark of pleasure to the spots his tongue hit, whimpering when he rapidly flicked one of them. A part of you knew how bad this might look. You knew you should stop, go home, and continue there. But, San’s cock brushed your naked core, and you slowly floated off.

“You’re not wearing panties,” he whispered, kissing your lips softly.

“They show through the dress layers,” you said. “Might be why everyone around here wears them. I think I might adopt the style.”

“Just to torture me, right?” he said, cupping your tits to suck your hard nipples.

“No,” you shook your head, “To tease you all so much you bend me over the nearest surface and pound my pussy hard and fast.”

“You wouldn’t need to with those lips.”

“It’s not as fun if I’m only kissing you to get dick,” you replied. You reached down to his groin where you felt his bulge. “I like getting it the old fashioned way.”

“Then I’ll give it to you the old fashioned way.”

He’d started unbuckling his pants when a pale pink blur brushed near you. “What the hell is going on here?”

Your mother stood in the middle of the pavilion, hands on hips and outrage on her face. Her ‘scary mom’ face. Even years later in Hell, that face still struck fear in you. Quickly, you and your cousins covered yourselves up, while the men appeared annoyed at the sight of her.

“We’re only having a bit of fun, Andromeda,” said Seonghwa, not moving from his spot with Hestia. You noticed her out of breath with swollen lips, with her hand on top of his where her breasts were. “No harm being done here.”

“Do you three have a death wish?” she hissed. “If anyone else finds you like this, they’ll have you strung up by your balls for sure.”

“Nobody would have if you hadn’t shown up,” Hongjoong said, clearly irritated at being interrupted.

“Shut it, boy,” your mother spat. “Girls, I am very surprised and ashamed of you. If your grandmother heard about this, she’d have a fit. You know how she feels about you coupling with man-things, so imagine how she’d feel if she found out you were doing it in her gardens.”

“We’re sorry, Auntie,” said Hera, pushing hair from her face.

“Yes, very,” added Kali.

“Get yourselves together and go to your rooms,” she nodded towards the palace. “You’re lucky I’m not telling your mothers about this. I don’t care if you do it, just don’t do it here, got it?”

“Yes, Aunt Andromeda,” the three said together before getting up together.

She then turned her attention to you, “YN, really? Is this the impression you want to give?”

“It sort of happened,” you said sheepishly.

“Which is exactly what you said whenever I found your hand down a boys’ pants,” she spat. “Baby, if you didn’t want to live in the Black Keep anymore, you could say so. You don’t have to get your boyfriends tortured and killed to do it.”

“I would prefer to stay in tact, thanks,” said Seonghwa, standing up. “We only did it so we could see YN,” he told your mother.

“Oh, please. You three just didn’t want to be stuck in the men’s quarters all day,” she accused them.

“That’s just an added bonus.”

“Do you blame us though?” asked Hongjoong. “The men’s quarters are more like a prison cell than an actual room. Besides, we weren’t hurting anyone. We only intended to have a bit of consensual fun, that’s all.”

“You know how Lilith feels about men being in her garden and touching the ladies,” she scoffed. “You are fools for escaping. What if the guard went by and noticed you’re not there? You’d be hunted down just for that.” She took a deep breath, “You boys take YN home before the guards find you here.” She ran a hand through her hair, “I swear, you three…There’s certainly no dispute over whose children you are, that’s for sure. Only Asmodeus’s children would risk their necks for some tail.” She shook her head and took your hands, “Come here tomorrow and we can start your training. There’s so much you need to catch up on.”

“Hold on,” Seonghwa said, “YN’s being trained by myself and her head of house.”

“Not anymore,” she replied coolly. “If anyone should be teaching her, it is those who know her talents best. Besides, it gets you three out of her hair for a few hours.”

“It’s not like I do anything at home anyways,” you told him. “It’d be good for me to get out of the house and do something productive with my time. My closet is only so big.” You hugged your mother again, holding onto the memory of her a moment before letting go. “I'm….Mama….” you couldn't find the right parting words.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” she repeated warmly, kissing your cheek. “Get sleep,” she peeked a glance at the men behind you, “Or as much as you can with them around.”

You laughed together before embracing again. Your inner child didn’t want to let her go. She wanted to hold onto her forever, clinging to the person she’d once loved the most. Your mother sensed this and hugged you tighter, her hand stroking your hair. When you forced yourself to release her, she kissed your cheek again. That surreal dread of a dream came back when you looked in her eyes. Apart from the scarlet ring around her irises, they matched yours. Except, yours always carried a look of disdain, while hers showed nothing but love. How could you do that to her?

“Bye, honey cake,” she whispered, pecking your other cheek before stepping away. “Go, before Diana shows up.”

“Yeah, let’s get going,” agreed Hongjoong.

“Go back the way you came, I’ll keep the guards away.”

You hugged her one more time, letting her scent cleave to your nose, then left the garden. In the semi-darkness, the four of you snuck through the garden hedges and walls before coming upon a plain dirt path. In the distance, you heard people shouting to one another as they searched the grounds. You knew you’d need to be quick. Nerves began shooting up your body in each step, and the adrenaline started running down to your feet. You didn’t want to think what might happen if someone discovered you before you reached the castle again. Your first time in Eden and you’d broken a rule already. A warm hand stretched for yours, and you recognized San’s touch right away. He moved ahead of you, walking behind Seonghwa while Hongjoong remained at the rear.

“There it is,” Seonghwa whispered when you all reached the staircase leading back up into the castle.

“You!” a guard dressed in gold and white marched over to him, “Men are not allowed in Eden at dusk. What is your business here?”

“They’re with me,” you said before Seonghwa could speak. “I went to get them from the men’s room-place-thing and we got lost in the garden. It’s my first time here, so I don’t really know my way around yet.”

The woman stared you up and down suspiciously. You thought she’d catch the lie, but instead she said, “I’ll escort you out, my lady. The gates close in a few minutes.”

“Yes, please. Lead the way.”

You followed the guard out to the front entrance where you’d met Artemis that afternoon. The women posted there bowed as you passed. It made you feel important for a second as you reached the carriage nearby. Mingi sat in the driver’s perch, his blond hair slightly tousled and lips a warm pink. He’d clearly found a way to distract Artemis. You all climbed into the carriage quickly, and Mingi cracked the reins.

“I’m glad we made it out,” Hongjoong said, turning to peek into the window, “With our bones still in the right places.”

“Psh, you’re telling me…”

“Speaking of the right places,” San whispered, turning your head by the chin, “Where were we?”

A small chuckle came from your throat as your mouths came together in light kisses. Turning in your seat to face him, San immediately grabbed your breasts and his lips fell down your neck. The familiar hardness in your clit returned at the sudden stimulation. Fingers brushing over your nipples stirred the pot even more, his mouth reaching the neckline of your dress. You let your hands go through his dark hair to keep him close, occasionally feeling down the back of his neck and into his jacket before coming back up.

“Pull the top down,” Seonghwa ordered from nearby, and you turned to see him focusing on you and San. Hongjoong sat beside him, watching as intently. “We want to see them too.”

You lifted your back from the cushions to let San unclip the top part of your dress, then pull the zipper. Your arousal rose when he finally pulled the top half of your dress just beneath your breasts. They all moaned at the sight of your pink satin bra; their jaws dropped when San put them underneath to expose your breasts entirely. The brushing breeze from outside came in through the open windows, going over your nipples and making them cold. San remedied this with his hands and mouth: he scooped them in his palms and tenderly sucked one of them. He shifted around so your legs went over his lap, and immediately started caressing your thighs and legs. Fully on your back, you laid there enjoying his tender touches. Every brush against your skin sparked goosebumps up and down your arms; your soft whimpers became the only sound in the carriage. San eventually lifted up your dress, showing his brothers your bare sex. The three of them groaned. Seonghwa and Hongjoong rubbed their crotches while San squeezed your inner thighs.

“Sannie…” you whined, his thumb dangerously close to your pussy now.

“Give me a hand and touch yourself for me, hm?” he asked, licking your nipple in circles. “Open your legs a bit and let them see you get wet. You know how much we like that.”

They liked it a lot. Moving around until you sat on San’s lap, your back pressed to his chest, you let your legs fall on either side of his open knees. Your sex throbbed at the hands groping your chest, and the lips kissing up your neck and shoulder. You pointedly sucked and wet your fingers, keeping your eyes on the two men in front of you. Your middle and ring finger dragged down your tongue as a real cock might, and then went back up to the last knuckle. The outlines of their dicks started pressing into the pants as they watched your fuck your own mouth. They followed your fingers then down to your damp sex, mouths falling open when you lightly slid them up and down your opening. You went with the natural motions: stroking yourself as you sunk into your pussy little by little. Once past the outer folds, you circled your hard clit on top. Small shocks of pleasure came each time you ran over the center, pushing underneath and back to the hood. In the dimness of the carriage, both of them could see your pussy growing wetter. San tweaking your nipples at the same time added more coal to the fire. As much as you wanted to, you didn’t speed up. You kept the same gradual pace, even spreading your pussy open for them to see your hardening clitoris and empty hole.

“Let me have a little lick,” Hongjoong said, his high voice strangely low as he leaned forward. You trembled at the few swats of his tongue, keeping it open with both hands for him. “Fuck, you taste so good,” he groaned, idly moving the tip of his tongue over your clit. “I can eat this forever.”

“Move over,” scolded Seonghwa, pulling Hongjoong away. “I want a taste too.”

Using the flat of his tongue, Seonghwa shook his head to brush over your clit. Then, he took it in his mouth to suck the juices leaking from you. You whined when he withdrew, but San’s fingers fixed that soon enough. He took your clit between index and ring finger and stroked it. You grinded into his hand when you felt his middle finger dip towards your entrance each time, wanting to be filled with it. Your hands gripped the ends of his jacket behind you, trying to keep still as he rubbed your pussy side to side in light, rapid brushes. When he pulled away, his brothers each took a turn doing the same. The brief pauses in between kept you dangling on the edge. You yelped when Hongjoong started tapping and slapping your aching pussy, occasionally shoving fingers inside before pulling them out to smack it again. The twinges of pain only aroused you further. San and Seonghwa followed suit, also smacking and partially fingering you. When both Seonghwa and Hongjoong pushed a finger inside, San continued spanking your pussy.

“It’s been a while since we’ve fucked her together,” said Hongjoong, watching your reactions to his fingers curling alongside his brother’s. “That’s why she’s not wearing panties.” He pushed right to that squishy, soft spot that drove you wild, “You wanted to fuck us in that garden, didn’t you? You were hoping we’d all take a turn in your slutty cunt?”

“Yes,” you whimpered. “I love it when you all fuck me at the same time. It feels so good. I love getting treated like your fuck toy.”

“Then that’s what our little lady will get,” Seonghwa smirked, pushing his fingers faster. “Good thing I told Mingi to take the long way home.”

San rested you on the seat again, lifting one leg over his shoulder to keep you displayed for the others. Anticipation bubbled in your stomach, lowering the further you saw San move. Holding onto the end, San slowly slid the tip up and down the slit to only bring on more torture for you. Nails embedding themselves into the smooth fabric, you grinded to it in hopes of getting him inside you.

“You're so needy,” he growled, smirking down at you before finally pushing the tip. “My pretty Darling always gets so wet,” he withdrew just to rub until a slick sound came out, “You hear that?” he asked, tapping your clit, “That's how wet you are. I love getting you like this,” he breathed finally putting the head inside again, “I love seeing my girl desperately wriggling around to get my dick.”

“She's so cute when she does it,” said Hongjoong. “It's even cuter when she's tied up with no way to get what she wants.”

“I like it when she pretends she's a virgin,” Seonghwa said in a raspy voice. “When she gets on her back,” he started stroking faster, “And tells me she's never done it. It's so cute.”

“Corruption kink to the max,” Hongjokng chuckled.

“Do you like it when we do this?” San asked you, languidly rocking his hips to yours. “Do you like us treating you like a little cock sleeve?”

“Yes,” you gasped, holding onto his shoulders. The slight stretch made you see stars. “Yes, I do. Just like when we did it the first time,” you said, head sinking to the pillow behind you as he rolled his rips. “When you all fucked me as long as you wanted…”

“You want us to do that again, Kitten?” asked Seonghwa.

“Please…” A whimper came through when San shoved himself particularly deep, holding onto his forearm as he did it.

“How's her hole today?” asked Hongjoong, eyes heavy with lust and arousal.

“Tight,” San said, starting to go faster, “And warm. I could fuck this forever.”

“Look how easy she takes it,” Seonghwa moaned. “Even after all this time, her holes are perfect.”

“You mean ‘our holes’,” Hongjoong said. “Because this,” he knelt beside you, still stroking with one hand while shoving fingers into your mouth, “And that belongs to us. I don't care if you don't wear a collar anymore. We still own your slutty holes,” he groaned when you sucked his fingers, letting him push them further.

“That's right,” Seonghwa said, reaching over to your swollen clit. “This pussy is ours. We get to fuck it whenever we want.”

“Not like she says no,” San said, grunting as he kept his strokes hard and deep. “She loves dick too much to not pass it up. Look at her right now,” he made a few quick pumps to hear you moan around Hongjoong’s fingers. “She pratically begged me to fuck her.”

“Because she's a whore,” said Seonghwa. He gave your clit a few sharp smacks before rubbing it again, “You can take the whore out of the brothel, but you can't take the brothel out of the whore. Isn't that right, Kitten? Are you a filthy whore?”

“Mmhmph,” you nodded.

They all laughed, jeering at your answer. When your moans grew louder, they taunted you further. The moment you clenched around San, he moved faster straight into the knot driving you wild.

“Oh, she's gonna cum,” he announced, “I can feel that hole getting tighter.”

“Is that true, slut?” Hongjoong asked you, removing his fingers to slather around your lips. “Are you going to cum?”

“Yes! Yes, oh my god, yes!”

“Then go ahead,” he said.

“Go on,” gibed Seonghwa, spitting on your sex, “Cum.”

They continued goding you until you finally came. Hard hitting, all the muscles in your body stiffened. San came right after, pumping into you wildly as his orgasm took over. The feeling of his squirting inside prolonged your climax. The hands and cock keeping you going played with the sensitivity causing you to move away.

“No, no, no,” said Seonghwa, “You're gonna take that no matter how sensitive it gets.”

“That’s right,” said San, teasing you with his wet tip, “You stay there.”

“Rock, paper, scissors for next turn?” Hongjoong suggested to Seonghwa once San finished.

“Sure. Best two out of three.”

You watched through heavy eyes as they played the game. San, meanwhile, continued pushing his cum back into you. You could do this forever in this carriage.

“Yes!” Hongjoong cheered when he won the third round. “Turn her around. I'm going to fuck her like the bitch she is, he said, fixing his pants at his thighs as San and him switched positions. Seonghwa and San flipped you over, giving the eldest a space in front of you.

“Whores always like having more than one cock at a time,” he said, forcing your head into his lap. His length went all the way to the back of your throat, and you swore you might come again even sooner. “Don’t you dare stop sucking,” he warned, slapping your ass harshly. “Don't miss a fucking beat. I want that mouth on me the entire time. You got that, bitch?”

You nodded, and your obedience amused them. He held onto your hair while Hongjoong shoved himself inside. All the pent up arousal from earlier unleashed itself in his hips. Hands grabbing your ass, Hongjoong did not take the gradual pace like San. You felt every push from entry to end just like Seonghwa did. The feeling of them both abusing you had you shaking in their grasp. No matter how much saliva and precum leaked from your mouth, you did not withdraw. Even when Hongjoong started hitting a different angle, making you shudder and moan around him, you didn't stop. Your pussy tightened when Seonghwa held your head against his groin for several seconds, laughing at your choking, before lifting you to the head where you drew a few breaths.

“You fucking love that,” Seonghwa groaned, pushing you back down. “I'm glad because I like shoving my dick down pretty throats like yours.”

“And I love fucking their pussies right after,” Hongjoong breathed, a whimper coming right after. “Oh fuck, I'm going to fucking cum. Stay right there.”

You came right as he withdrew, bursting with nothing inside you to coat. Hot streams fell onto your lower back and ass cheeks, leaking down between them where Hongjoong rolled it again. Neither brother gave you time to breathe as Seonghwa pulled you onto his lap.

“Fuck me,” he ordered, smacking your ass, “I'm not pushing into you. You're doing the work, not me.”

You held onto the back of the seat, pulling at the decorative drapes, as you started bouncing on him. “Don't stop,” he said, watching you ride him, “If you stop, I swear…”

Even with the burning sensation in your thighs, causing you to shake and tremble, you didn't stop. Whenever he sensed you slowing down, he'd slap your ass to keep you going. But, the strain began weighing you down. You tried pushing yourself by your legs instead, though this position made that hard to do. Eventually, you made the mistake of stopping to catch your breath and ease your aching thighs.

“Did I say you could stop?” asked Seonghwa harshly. “Huh?” a light tap to your face excites you, “Why did you stop?”

“It….It hurts.”

“Do I look like I care?” he grunted, smacking your ass even harder, sending more pleasure through your body. “Do I?”

“No, sir,” you whimpered.

“I have to do everything around here,” he lifted you up to put you on your back again. “What's the point in a whore if she doesn't fuck the way I like?”

Raising your legs over your head, Seonghwa dove right back into you. He wasn't the gentle dominant partner you were used to. Something primal came over him as he pounded you into the seat. It delighted and aroused you.

“Master,” you said, surprised by his roughness, “You're being so rough with me.”

“You're a whore,” he gritted, “Why should I care about being gentle?” Yet, for the briefest moment he stopped, “Am I going too hard? I'm not hurting you too much?”

“I love it,” you assured him, pushing hair from his face, “So much.”

“Of course, you do.”

He kept the same speed until he had you squirting around him. Seeing the squirt come out of you caused Seonghwa’s own orgasm. He withdrew the second he reached the edge, and began jerking himself over you. He pinched your nose to force your mouth open, and made you take the cum shooting from his tip. His load splattered your chin and mouth, droplets falling on your outstretched tongue until he finished completely.

“How was that?” he asked, fingers pushing hair away from your face.

“So good,” you smiled, cleaning the dick with your tongue. “I can't get enough.”

“You can have more when we get home, baby,” Hongjoong insisted, wiping cum from your chin to slide into your mouth. “As much as you want.”

“Really?”

“Of course,” he said, kissing you softly. “We'll even do it in my room so we can play with all your favorite toys too.”

“I personally love watching you cum all over toys,” said San. “That way you're already nice and wet when I fuck you.”

“I just like watching you cry when I overstimulate you,” shrugged Hongjoong.

You all laughed right as the carriage stopped right in front of the house. You knew you wouldn't be sleeping tonight and you didn't mind at all.

***

A/N: awww see? everything worked out in the end. I'm not sure when I'll be posting another one of these, but I will be posting for this one still lol Thanks so much for reading, and please don't forget to reblog and like <3

#ateez #ateez fanfiction #ateez fanfic #kim hongjoong #park seonghwa #choi san #san x reader #hongjoong x reader #seonghwa x reader #hongjoong ateez #san ateez #seonghwa ateez #demon line ateez #pretty lady series #pirateeznet

464 notes · View notes

mcuamerica · 3 months

Text

Stranded | Part Three

Featuring : Azriel x Fem!Reader, Eris x Reader (platonic), Rhys x Sister!Reader

Summary: Rhys is not happy when he finds out Azriel left you in Autumn. Requested by @sidthedollface2 here.

Warnings: 18+ only, description of ruined wings and skin scarring, canon level violence, mention of SA, not proofread (i'll do it later), let me know if anything was forgotten...

Disclaimer: I do not own SJM’s characters, only the ones I create for the purpose of this story. This is a work of fiction. I do not give permission to repost my work on any other platform or medium. Please be respectful.

Dividers from @saradika

Part One | Part Two

You stood on the side of the room, next to Mor, as Rhys let out all his anger on Azriel. You would’ve let him keep going, but you started to feel a tug in your gut, telling you to stop Rhys.

You looked at Cassian as he eyed you and you gave him a simple nod. “Rhys, stop. Please.” You said, but there was little pleading in your tone.

Cassian put a hand on Rhys shoulder as he pulled back, then stood up. “I will never forgive you for this.” Rhys said and stepped back. You were pretty sure Azriel was unconscious until you watched him sit up, holding his ribs.

“Neither will I.” Azriel said, not even looking up at Rhys as he walked out of the room.

You waited, watching as Cassian helped Azriel up and sit on the couch. “I’ll go get Madja.” Mor said.

Azriel face was completely swollen, his nose was broken, his ribs were probably as well… but you noticed as the small cuts slowly started to heal. “No,” Azriel said. You rolled your eyes, always wanting to suffer, he is.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” You said. “You’re no use if you can barely see or move.” You said and looked over to Mor, nodding your head so she could go get the healer. Quickly, Cassian went after Rhys and Amren disappeared. They must have known that you needed time to discuss by yourself.

“You could’ve fought back.” You said, leaning against the wall still.

“It was no use… I deserve it. I’ve been waiting for it for 50 years.” He said, peering up at you. His shadows circled your ankles, like incessant toddlers.

“Why did you leave me that night?” You asked.

“I-“ he started and then paused. “I didn’t think you wanted me watching over your shoulder the whole night. And Mor really was upset… I knew you could handle yourself if you got in trouble.” He said, then stopped at the words. “Why didn’t you go to the Moonstone Palace?” He asked.

“Because I didn’t want to go to the Night Court if Rhys wasn’t there.” You said. “And even after I thought it would make a difference, I quite liked Autumn.”

“With Eris?” He let out an animalistic, possessive growl.

You furrowed your eyebrows. “When he was there, yes. I enjoyed his company. He kept me safe.” You said, feeling the need to defend the male that had done nothing but be kind to you, shelter you, for the past 50 years.

“He’s a monster. What he did to Mor-“

“Mor hasn’t told the entire story.” You spat.

“He our enemy.” He said.

“Your enemy sheltered me from Amarantha for 50 years. Your enemy stopped me from being raped. Your enemy helped heal me when my wings were just about burned to ashes.” You said, walking closer to him. Azriel stood up as you made your way to him, wincing we he did so.

“He did it for his own gain. He’ll turn on you as soon as he gets the chance.” Azriel said.

You clenched your fists in your hands. “Eris has never turned his back on me. He has never left me. That was you. So tell me why I should trust you anymore than I should trust him?” You asked.

“He’s not your mate!” Azriel said. Your breath hitched, stumbling back away from him.

“I don’t have a mate.” You said, just above a whisper.

“Yes you do. I’m your mate. The bond snapped the night… everything happened.” He said.

You narrowed your eyes, tears forming as you shook your head. “My mate wouldn’t leave me in ‘enemy’ territory.” You said and took another step back when he went to step towards you. “You are not my mate.” You said, holding back a sob as you turned away.

“(Y/N)-“

“I need time, Azriel.” You said, then ran up the stairs towards your bedroom. There was only one place that you could clear your head and your thoughts.

You were going to Autumn.

Eris knew you were at the cabin the second you winnowed into it. He had wards set in place to make sure no one but you and him, and anyone you allowed in, could enter. He got your note, and hoped that you would return soon enough.

Once he got away from his father, he went straight to the cabin.

He was shocked to see you sitting on the couch, wiping away tears.

"What happened?" He asked. You didn't even flinch at his voice. You knew he was there. You hoped he would come so you could confined in him.

"Azriel is my mate." You simply said, sniffing as you wiped the tears that streamed down your cheeks. Ever since he said it, so much more of your life had made sense. Why you were always so drawn to him, more worried about him on missions than your brother or Cassian... Why you would always do anything to keep him from harms way. But did he feel the same about you? He had left you with your enemy, alone, without anyone to defend you. His mate. He left you. How could you ever get over that?

You told Eris what you were thinking, how it all happened. Once he sat down next to you, he rested a hand on your knee. "You don't have to accept it right away. Cauldron, you don't have to accept it at all. But if you want to work on it with him, you can." He said. "And if not, if you can't even stand to be around him, then you come here. And you hide away or act as emissary to the Autumn Court, but you'll be away from him. Whatever you need, (Y/N), I will help you." He said.

Azriel's words gnawed at you. He will turn his back on you the first chance he gets. But in all your years of knowing Eris, he had never once been cruel, or unkind, to you. He had supported you every single time. Unlike Azriel, who left you when you needed him most.

"Can I stay here for a little bit?" You asked timidly. "I'll send a note to Rhys... if you can allow him to cross the borders and just talk with me... I just need to explain." You said.

Eris gave you a gentle smile, one you were sure only you saw. "I'll speak with my father.." He said and stood up. "Do you need anything else?" He asked.

You took a shaky breath and shook your head. "No, I'm just going to stay here for a little while. Clear my head." You said.

With that, Eris left the cabin and you got started on your note to Rhys.

You stayed in Autumn for a year, only visiting Velaris when Rhys asked you to. You were an expert in the knowledge of Prythian's history, a hobby you took up as a young child in Windhaven, and he needed you for the war against Hybern. And he wanted you to meet his mate, Feyre. Eris told you that was the girl who saved everyone. She was once friends with Lucien.

You were there in Hybern when they decided to try and trick him, break in. But then Tamlin and Lucien showed up. With both of Feyre's sisters.

And then Azriel almost died, Hybern holding him hostage as Feyre's sisters were plunged into the Cauldron. You felt every moment, felt every restraint on your body as you tried to get to Azriel. Despite your tenacious relationship with him, he was still your mate. Your first instinct was to protect him and save him at any cost.

You collapsed next to him when his wings were shredded, holding onto him as you all winnowed back without Feyre. You healed his wings as best you could until Madja was there, telling you to stand back. You couldn't leave his side. Not while he was this hurt. Not while he might never fly again. That was already taken away from you. You would not let it happen to your mate.

Your mate. When he was healing was the first time you used it in an enduring way. Not towards him, but to Mor. Who came in and asked how he was doing. "My mate is doing fine." You growled out, obviously agitated that another female was in the room. Nonetheless, one that he had pined over for centuries.

When he was healed, you stayed in Velaris. Opting to help Rhys figure out a way to get Feyre back from Spring safe and sound. Now that she was High Lady, and your sister by law, you had even more to worry about when it came to your family.

And then Azriel started to hang around Elain. Steering her around like a puppy he found on the side of the street. You started to notice similarities to him and Mor, when he would follow her around. Doting on her every need.

Once night, you had enough. You went to Rhys immediately, the jealously in your gut building the rage inside of you.

"I'm going back to Autumn. I can send you encoded notes from there. I'll be closer if anything happened to Feyre and she needs a way out." You declared. Rhys didn't put up a fight, understanding your frustration.

You gave Azriel the courtesy of leaving a note, explaining to him that if he wanted to act like a true mate, he would help you. If he instead wanted to dot on Elain, who was barely more than a shell of a faerie, he wouldn't come to Autumn. He would stay in Velaris and do just that: be Elain's keeper.

So you traveled to Autumn and stayed in your cabin, worry clinging to you more and more as the hours passed by. Why had you given Azriel a choice? Why did you leave without saying anything? Why didn't you talk to him?

The questions consumed you so much you didn't hear the first knock at the door. Or the second. But you heard the third as the familiar male pounded harder and called our your name.

Part Four (Azriel) | Alt Ending (Eris)

A/N: A little cliffhanger... who is going to be on the other side of the door???

Join the Taglist Here

Tagging: @feiwelinchen @circe143 @sidthedollface2 @crazylokonugget @i-am-infinite @thestartitaness @buttermilktea11 @tele86 @yearninglustfully @bunnyredgirl @romantasyreader28 @rcarbo1 @ren-ni @scoliobean @adalia-jaycee

Main Masterlist

#acotar #azriel x reader #acotar fic #acotar spoilers #azriel shadowsinger #azriel #azriel spymaster #azriel acotar #acotar fanfiction #katie writes #stranded

396 notes · View notes

minswriting · 4 months

Note

hey hey I saw you're open for requests!

Anything for Hotch getting caught with non-BAU reader who he shouldn't be associated with? Maybe there's an age gap or she's the babysitter or someone's daughter/sister or even an unsub/witness.

Ik its a really broad request but I love your writing so I totally trust you - I just love a semi forbidden ship (without an angsty or sad ending!).

Thanks!!

nsfw | mdni

warnings: talks of murder, stalking, rape (nothing detailed because it’s literally just a summarization thing lol), nsfw content, getting caught, inappropriate relationships, etc.

it all began when you were a victim of a case. you had been getting stalked by an unsub in new york, a man who was killing women that reminded him of the woman that left him. he would stalk his victims before raping and killing them. you had been approached by the fbi, taking you into protective custody to ensure that the same thing didn’t happen to you. and that’s when you met aaron hotchner.

to say the two of you had immediately taken a liking to one another was an understatement. the two of you flirted with each other right off the bat which wasn’t really the best thing to do due to his position. you were a victim, not someone he met randomly at the bar. even so, he just couldn’t get you off of his mind.

so before he left to go back to virginia, aaron had given you his number. and now? well, it’s been a few months and the two of you have been seeing one another regularly like this weekend. you had flown to virginia to visit aaron and stay with him.

the house was quiet as jack had gone to jessica’s to sleepover for the weekend, leaving you and aaron to be alone. the only sounds in the house were the sounds of your moans mixing with the sound of skin slapping together.

“god, you’re so beautiful,” aaron exclaimed as he thrusted his cock inside of you. his brown eyes were looking down directly at your face. your head rested on the pillow, hair sprawled out, cheeks red, and face contorted in pleasure. “you love my cock, don’t you?” he asked as he watched your eyes roll back with each thrust of his cock.

“mhm,” you nodded your head, licking your lips. “i love your cock so much, aaron,” you replied, moaning loudly. “always feels so good.”

aaron rocked his hips, thrusting into you at a pace that felt best for the both of you. his cock hit your sweet spot repeatedly, making you see stars. aaron looked down at your pussy, watching his cock disappear inside of you. your cunt was glistening with arousal. “you’re absolutely soaked,” aaron groaned, bringing a hand to start rubbing your clit.

you simply whined in response, gripping the sheets below you as you felt yourself get near the edge. “i’m so close, aaron,” you moaned, opening your eyes to look at the man in front of you.

“fuck, me too, baby,” he replied.

and just as you felt your peak nearing, there was a “oh no! oh god!” at the door, followed by a small thud, signaling the person had dropped something. “i’m so incredibly sorry, sir, i-uh,” you and aaron both looked at the person at the same time, scrambling to cover yourself up with the blanket.

at the door was a blonde, someone you’ve never met before. “garcia,” aaron’s face hardened as he tried to compose himself, fully covered by the blanket. “what brings you here?”

“i-well, sir,” garcia began, glancing at you and then at aaron. “you hadn’t answered your phone at all in the past three hours and we have a new case so i told the team i’d come here and look for you and well- is that y/n from the new york case?” penelope asked finally as she rambled, looking at you fully.

you looked down at the blanket, being unable to come up with the proper words to speak.

“not that it matters but yes,” aaron exclaimed. “now please, leave. i need to get changed and then i’ll be right there.” and without a second glance, penelope picked up her phone from the ground and left slamming the door closed, leaving you and aaron alone. “i’m so sorry about that,” aaron apologized, looking at you. he grabbed your hand. “i didn’t expect to be needed at all tonight.”

“it’s okay,” you said with a small smile. “duty calls.”

“are you okay?” he asked, checking in on you.

you let out a breathless laugh. “other than being absolutely mortified that your co-worker just walked in on us nailing one another? i’m perfect.” you grinned at your partner.

aaron laughed as well, bringing your hand to his lips and kissing it. “yes well, i agree.” he exclaimed. “i should get ready. i’m sorry we won’t be able to spend the weekend together.” he said, looking at you with a look of guilt.

“don’t sweat it, aaron,” you said with a reassuring look. “i can come down next weekend. maybe even spend a week?”

“i’d love that,” he said, pulling you into his arms.

“sounds like a date.”

and with that, aaron kissed your forehead and lips before getting up off the bed and getting himself ready. let’s just say that when next weekend rolled around, you guys definitely made up for lost time.

however, the secret that aaron was seeing you had most certainly had been told to the rest of the team.

#🌸 — min’s asks #criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds smut #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner smut #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotch x you #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotch fanfiction #aaron hotch x reader #criminal minds x you #criminals minds x reader #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds reactions

593 notes · View notes

tangerine-brooks · 5 months

Text

I've seen many posts that were like "💕what it would be like to date [insert a tsh character]💕" with cute romantic stuff and i was like GIRL NO, so that's what it would actually be like to date the secret history characters:

Charles: is drunk 24/7, throws stuff at you, hits you, disappears without explanation to be found in a hospital three days later, secretly fucks his twin sister

Richard: stalks and idealizes you even before your first conversation, then lies to you constantly about literally everything to make himself seem cool, never tells you anything about himself, gatekeeps, gazlights, fantasizes about hitting and raping you, doesn't care to know you, obsesses over you after a breakup for years

Francis: is gay and only dates you as a cover-up for being gay (for gays: doesn't know what consent is at all, kisses you and then tells you he doesn't feel anything for you, probably only wants a one-night stand, wakes you up at 2 a.m., because he just had an anxiety attack)

Henry: forces you to join a cult, never talks about feelings, never tells you anything about himself, suspiciously often talks about murder, then kills himself in front of you, mentally scarring you for the rest of your life

Bunny: is sexist, racist, homophobe, mentally unstable, doesn't have a job, insults you on purpose, spends all your money, reads your diary without permission, throws tantrums, steals from you, then dies under mysterious circumstances

Camilla: cheats on you with her twin brother, and we know nothing about her personality besides that thanks to richard who was so in love with her that he never saw her as a human being instead of a highly idealized pretty picture

Everyone: are high and/or drunk most of the time, are in a cult, do kill people

#i don't mean to offend anyone #but let's be frank #they only seem cool because richard romanticizes them HARD #they're so cringefail #not in an “adorably pathetic” way #in a “very creepy and disturbing” way #richard papen #henry winter #francis abernathy #charles macaulay #camilla macaulay #bunny corcoran #tsh #the secret history #donna tartt

688 notes · View notes

radfemsiren · 3 months

Text

I’m the type of person that doesn’t cry easily, but one exception to that is seeing women protect young girls.

In this video, 2 young sisters, Zian (20) and Ashanti (11) Fagan, see a man and a 13 year old girl, and know something is terribly wrong. They call their mother, and the three of them follow him and the child until he finally releases her. Later they will find out that he had just raped her on her way to school.

The ending always brings me to tears. We hear Zian, the older sister recording, start crying because she understands what it feels like to be a vulnerable girl and live in a world hellbent on stealing away your innocence and hurting you for the crime of being born female. The child saying, “I was just on my way to school.” breaks my heart so badly.

Radical feminism is about love for women and girls, that’s the core of the movement, never forget that women are the protectors and that’s why we do this.

The young girls name is protected so I couldn’t find much information about her, except that she is back with her family recovering from this horrific crime.

The attacker, Kadian Nelson, was sentenced to 20 years in prison for child rape… and if it gives you any consolation, searching his name on twitter will show his face slashed with razors by his fellow inmates, with reports of him requiring plastic surgery to remedy his facial disfiguration. It’s not death, but it’s something.

In the original 8 minute long video, these girls are following him for so long, and you can hear their voices soft and afraid… but they keep going. Their bravery in the face of danger is something I’ll never forget.

#tw csa #tw csa mention #tw rape #radfems interact #radfem #radblr #radical feminist safe #radical feminists do interact #terfblr #terfsafe #feminism

230 notes · View notes

totaly-obsessed · 11 months

Text

Family away from Home

Barca femení x reader request

-> Ingrid's little sister spends the Summer holidays with her and gets into trouble, leaving the whole team worried

-> Warning: talk of rape, drugs, and stalking - do not take this lightly

-> For this request, I hope you like it!

➳ Masterlist

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

Eight weeks of pure free time, a blessing – especially when your sister lives in Spain and you can stay there for free. Ingrid lives in a nice apartment in the middle of Barcelona, together with her girlfriend Maria and two cats. It was a nice surprise when she asked you if you would like to spend the summer with them – of course, you said yes. Who wouldn’t?

Mapi was nice, very nice and while there was a language barrier and situations were hard sometimes, everyone did their best to get around it. You learned Spanish in school, but it was very different from actual Spanish, especially in Barcelona where many people speak Català.

The two footballers had early training sessions but usually, you all had breakfast together, or at least for the last ten days that you had been there. Today, however, you were nowhere to be found, and Ingrid was panicking.

You had gone out last night, which she knew, but you had not returned and now it was eight in the morning. She called and called you, made Maria call you, and even tracked your location, which was still at the club.

No ten minutes later she was pulling you out of the dark environment by your hair. It’s not like she didn’t try pulling you by your arms but your body was much too sweaty and she kept slipping.

The brunette didn’t even talk to you on the way home, just depositing you in the backseat. It was Maria who took care of you at home, guiding you to the shower and pulling out an outfit for you, thankfully with sunglasses.

Half an hour later Mapi pulled into the training grounds, helping you out of the car while Ingrid stormed ahead. As thankful that she was, that you were okay, she was pissed. You had promised her that you would be back at least by three in the morning, you had promised her that you would take care of yourself and be watchful – which you obviously had not been.

At some point during the night, you noticed that everything was a little hazier, and disoriented and you completely forgot where you were.

Your drink had been spiked.

Terrified of seeing Ingrid like this – or rather her seeing you like this, you had decided to stay there, in the hope that she would be gone once you headed home. But when your sister had seen your dilated pupils and wonky behavior, she knew that you were not ‘just’ drunk. She was so pissed that you took drugs, putting that toxic stuff into your body, that she did not even question if you wanted it.

Her angry stomping was interrupted once she ran into Keira, Lucy, and Ona who stood in the hallway chatting. “Jeez, what happened to you?” The heavy Spanish accent teased the Norwegian just enough to give an answer. “My sister happened to me.” Just at that moment, Mapi dragged you around the corner – a cap pulled deep into your face, together with sunglasses effectively hiding it.

The three footballers quickly understood the situation, huge grins on their faces, thinking you were drunk of your ass.

In the changing room, Maria dropped you in your sister’s cubby, who immediately sat down next to the blonde in hers. Upon seeing the taller woman’s facial impression most people just ignored your presence, going about their day as usual but it was Frido who approached you first. “Lille Ingrid!“

You were pulled into a tight hug, the blonde footballer having missed you – effectively ignoring the pained expression on your face. “Hi, Frido.” Kisses were pressed on your cheeks as she pulled off the sunglasses.

Both of you winced. You because of the bright light, Frido because of your wide eyes. “Hva har du gjort? Ingrid is pretty mad.“ You pushed her hands away, pulling the glasses back on, trying to hide once you saw Pina and Patri curiously looking at you. “I didn’t do anything Frido, I promise. But Inni is mad at me.” Your voice was low, just above a whisper that the Swede could understand you. With soft coos and head pats she went back to her own cubby.

The girls started to walk out the door, ready to hit the pitch. This time it was your sister who pulled you up, pushing an isotonic drink into your hands. Maria had been fine with letting you sleep in the changing room but Ingrid decided to punish you – sitting you down next to the field, in the early heat. It was unbearable to sit there – the sun burning down on you, the shrill sounds of the whistle annoying your forming headache.

It was Lucy who was sent off to take a break because of her knee, and Alexia who still struggled with her ACL, who took a seat on both sides of you.

¡Hola, nena! The captain pressed a series of soft kisses on the top of your head, pulling you into her body. While she was even warmer, she shielded your body from the sun – and she was very comforting to your upset head. “How’s your hangover?” Lucy’s teasing voice was quieter than usual, going easy on you. “Hasn’t even formed yet.” The two older women shared a look over the top of your head, knowing that did not mean anything good.

It was silent for a good couple of minutes, with everyone watching Claudia score a screamer – the two women at your side cheering.

Ana joined you after a bit, sinking in front of you effectively barricading your view of the pitch as she pulled the glasses off again. “Ai! Did you take drugs?” Her voice was shockingly loud, alarming everyone in your vicinity but especially Lucy and Alexia, as their heads snapped to you.

The Spaniard grabbed your face, squishing your cheeks as she observed your eyes – the Brit copying her shortly after. “Do you know how dangerous drugs are? You are ruining your body!” Alexia was rambling in Spanish and Ana just looked disappointed. Her blue eyes were drilling into your soul, there was something wrong and she knew it. She just didn’t know what it was.

The whole situation was uncomfortable – three women who you respected a lot talking about you, talking at you, about how bad what you did was. “I didn’t take them.”

Silence.

It was finally silent, giving your buzzing head a short break.

The other girls were still on the pitch, blissfully unaware, but you could see Ingrid and Mapi eyeing your little circle. “What do you mean you didn’t take them?” Lucy was the first to find her words, but it was Ana’s pleading eyes that made you spit it out. “Someone put something in my drink. I didn’t take anything. I promise.” Alexia’s eyes teared up, hoping that she misunderstood. But upon repeating yourself the blonde understood that she heard you correctly.

You pleaded with them that they would not tell your sister or her girlfriend, and they agreed – under the condition that you would join them at team night that evening – which you agreed to.

The rest of the day was hard. Ingrid ignored you for most of it. While her teammates had begged you to let them tell her, you refused. You didn’t want your sister to worry even more than she already did. Her heavily tattooed girlfriend however made you food, something to drink and brought you to bed – in the hope that you would feel better when you woke up, or at least be sober.

Your head still hurts after waking up, a hangover having taken the place of your previous drunken state. After some food, an Advil, and a nice long shower you felt much better – dressed to impress and ready to go.

The team bonding for the night was cooking together at Alexia’s place, seeing as her kitchen was the biggest. Upon arriving Ingrid sat you down on the couch where you were quickly joined by Claudia, Patri, Jana, and Bruna, the younger ones on the team. They didn’t even question why you were at their training in the morning, just happy that you were with them again as they had last seen you for a spring vacation in Greece. It didn’t take long until you were filled in on all the newest gossip;

Jana’s girlfriend Jill is a very good partner

The girl Patri got with a couple of weeks ago became clingy, she panicked and told her she was married, which she wasn’t and a quick Google search proved that

Bruna’s brother had gotten a girl pregnant, so now they were getting married with the young brunette as a bridesmaid

Alexia and her girlfriend had broken up and it was messy

And apparently, not even Lucy, Keira, and Ona knew what was happening with them.

It was Sandra who called them over to help prepare the food but you and Claudia were sent away again, not trusted with the sharp knives, so you took your previous places on the couch. “How long are you staying with Ingrid?” The two of you fell into a comfortable chatter, the short brunette taking up her favorite place with her head in your lap as you braided her hair.

The kitchen was noisy as they made food, just a few people were scattered throughout the room. A phone started ringing - yours. The number in the display was unknown to you, so you pressed the red button.

Just a few seconds later it started to ring again – declined again.

After that Pina and you talked for a bit, your eyes falling to the phone from time to time until it rang again. Annoyed you answered with a pissed “Hello?” The silence on the other line was disturbing until you heard a creepy chuckle. “Hello?” Claudia watched the interaction as your brows furrowed, and so did the brunettes. “Don’t you remember me?”

Your heart started to beat incredibly fast and loud. Sure, you hadn’t actually fallen asleep from the drug that spiked your drink but there was still severe memory loss from the night. “I thought you liked my drink. I made it just for you.” His voice was just a whisper that reached your brain in a very uncomfortable place. “Who is this?” The chuckle was back and instead of an answer, your phone dinged – a message from the same unknown number that was talking to you.

The Spaniard on your lap watched as you took the phone away from your ear, opening the message. It was a picture of you. And it was taken at the bar from last night.

In it, you were sitting on a guy's lap but your pupils were blown large, a stare that didn’t reach anybody facing the camera, as his ankles crossed yours keeping you in place, as did the hands whose knuckles turned white as they were holding onto your wrists. “Don’t you like this picture? You were so happy when we took it.”

By now the other youngsters were back, leaning over the couch, watching you. Once Bruna understood what was happening, she ran off, just to return with the rest of the team – forget cooking.

Ingrid practically sprinted at you as she took the phone, throwing it to her girlfriend who took a screenshot of the number and yelled down the line. Your sister took your shaking form in her arms as Alexia went to help Mapi with whatever she was doing.

Once you had calmed down a silence filled the room, a silence that was waiting for you to explain. “I didn’t take any drugs last night, my drink was spiked. And apparently, some things happened that I don’t remember. I- I don’t know how he got my number, and I don’t remember doing anything with him. And, and-“

You were crying, burying your face in Ingrid's thick hair, trying to hide from the world. Frido and Caro tried to calm down your sister who was also crying while Lucy pulled you into her own arms.

The whole team was there for you – and now they knew that you hadn’t voluntarily taken drugs. They also knew what a blackout could mean, especially when the guy had your number and pictures like that.

It was Ale, the trusted captain who voiced the next step. “Let’s get you to a hospital, Nena. Get a rape kit done.” Tears were streaming down your face as Claudia and Patri tried to hand you tissue after tissue. “I’m scared.” Ingrid, who felt so incredibly guilty for treating you the way that she did, not even questioning you if you really had taken drugs, took you in her arms. “I know, baby – but you have us, you’ll never be alone again.”

And she was right, you were not alone.

Ingrid, Fridolina, and Ana accompanied you to the hospital, where you got tested. It was positive, but you were not pregnant or had syphilis but you had definitely been taken advantage of. The good news? There was a DNA sample that you could take to the police, along with the picture of you and the guy, the number you were called from, and a drug test positive for Rohypnol.

Maria, Lucy, and Alexia went into the station with you and held you as you cried when retelling what happened, but the rest of the team was waiting outside – hoping that they could find the guy who did this.

Turns out that they could.

Two weeks later you had gotten the notification that they had caught him with Rohypnol on his body and pictures of you on his phone – it was over.

The whole team of Barcelona Femení took you under their wings you spent training with them, went out on team nights with them, and went on little hangouts with some of them.

You had found a second family – away from home.

#woso x reader #woso imagine #woso #woso imagines #alexia putellas x reader #mapi leon x reader #mapi león x reader #barca femeni x reader #barca femeni #lucy bronze x reader #keira walsh x reader #ingrid engen x reader #fridolina rolfö x reader #claudia pina x reader #pina x reader

675 notes · View notes

cutieeva · 2 months

Text

Love of immortal

Female reader

Warnings : Kidnap. Minor injuries. Molestation. Mention of rape.

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒

Mermaids, sirens and more mystic creatures belongs to myth but more importantly came from ocean adding another layer of mystery to the ocean than it was already to (Y/N) who dislike oceans for petty reasons but it was the creature lurking under the ocean who consume her in the end.

Ocean. For some it's the peace of water that calms and erase their hard version of reality while for others a symbol of nightmare where tragic acts occur to horror them however (Y/N) somehow falls on the between of category. She neither has love or horror nor despise rather she merely dislike the ocean. Why ? Any actions or tragedy ? None rather she doesn't perceive ocean safe only because it is a mystery itself. She often find herself comparing abyss and ocean because neither of it has any predict of dept and once stare too much it can consume you. She pretty much fears the mystery lurking underneath the picturesque waters when bleamed by the golden rays from above the skies.

However who would ever predict that (Y/N) one day will be sitting on a cabin cruiser boat along side her older brother's family.

"Aunty ! Aunty ! Look at the gold fishes !" Her adorable five aged nephew cheerfully point at the little fishes swimming their ways.

"Yea, Yea". Her shoulders shrug glancing at the pretty ocean creatures yet a unknown shivers tense her spine just staring at the dept of water. An alarm inkling creep within her stomach making her (E/C) eyes avert to the lovey dovey couple.

"They pretty much brought me because they wanted a free babysitter. I am sure". Irritated she scoff earning her brother's attention.

"What ? Stop being so bitter just because you had to come in place of dad and mom". She rolled her eyes remembering how heartlessly they are traveling around the earth together leading them to turn down their son's invitation to the cabin cruiser boat he was offered by the company due to his excellence performance however they are family of three and they wanted no outsider to invade their holiday where they are free to be themselves and enjoy the blessed time choosing (Y/N) who is single, on her holiday and have nothing better to do. She was a substitute to her parent's place and abducted from the safety of her four wall she calls home by her brother only to watch their public affection and monitor their child.

"Shut up before I fucking cut your throat". Not holding back she cursed after placing her hands over the innocent boy's ears. Her brother, Anton click his tongue in annoyance while his wife, Maria who (Y/N) very much have connection alike an sister chuckles.

"You know I married you for your sister's company ?" She teased making her husband's mouth agap and catch her waist only for her to slip through his hands and playfully step back.

"What the ?" He tried to catch again only to lose turning it into a cat and mouse catching game where the couple laughed heartily.

"Ren want to ! Ren wants to play too ! Ren wants to play too !" Her nephew adressed himself as third person join to play the game too chasing his father. The scene evolving in front of (Y/N) won a laughter over her lips. The adorable family stare at her melody like laugh unable to seal their happiness too. Transformating the distant air to mellow unaware that caught the eyes of an mystic.

"How about I also catch aunty ?" In playful tone her brother presented went towards her to catch which ended him with a punch on his face.

"Don't". She snort watching his face twist into deep frown.

"How cruel". He commented

"Look who's talking". She remarked.

"Wifey, I am wounded. Please help me". Faux a sad tone he layed on his wife's embrace curling himself small when in (Y/N)'s view he looked like an bear trying to fit on top of an human.

"Yikes ! What a rubbish".

"Ouch ! Wound me again".

"Eww". Regret lace her voice on how on earth this grown man is her brother instead of an cool gentleman she saw others have. She side eyed the man getting coaxed by her sister-in-law who looks glad.

"What a teriffying thing love is". She shake her head to which her open (H/C) hair flow at the rhythm of cold breeze sparing a certain someone her entire view.

"Oh look !" (Y/N) eyes follow Maria's finger pointing to the ocean.

"An dolphin". Excitement sparkle Ren's eyes making (Y/N)'s eyes wide knowing exactly what this little trouble about to do.

"Ren stop". Despite her warning the oblivious child race to the railing tempt to touch the creature he finds fascinating, his little hands raise to cross the railing before (Y/N) caught his wrist. "Ren don't !" She yelled hugging the boy closely noticing how not one but tons of dolphin are either side of their ship.

"What in the world....?" A dread fill her stomach counting at least twenty or more dolphins surround their ship. "Anton, Maria stay away from the railing for now—MARIA !" She turn her head to find the woman reach her hand to pet the aquatic mammal.

Still cradling the boy she hastily slap her sister-in-law's wrist away. An inch. An inch was their gap she realized calming her pumping heart.

"(Y/N) ! What's your deal ? Why did you overreact ? Maria simply wanted to touch the dolphins also isn't it safe to pet them if they approach you first ?" Anton glare at his sister rubbing his wife's skin lightly.

"You are blind. Can't you see how many dolphins have surround us ? It's an alarming rate to ignore. Also as much as it's fine to pet. You can only do if you are a professional because only they know how to react to their behaviors not us !" (Y/N) glare back, guarding her sister-in-law as she watched in disfavor to the dolphins that tilted it's head. "And their sensitive parts are usually melon means forehead, eyes and blowhold and if petted could result to serious injury". She added noting how the group of dolphins are swimming in circle manner within themselves.

"Something is wrong. Very wrong". She narrowed her eyes at the dolphins she isn't much fond due to their another less known pet name 'the gangster of the ocean' since their behaviors doesn't match their innocence alike appearance where they forcefully rape other female dolphins, use pufferfish as their play toy resulting their deaths, mess with sharks for amusement and such. As much as they are intelligent enough to save a human as well as to drown one too.

"What are they doing ? Only dolphins are surrounding us not other fishes". Unease followed trying to find an answer for their pattern that might be normal yet something, something brewing inside her says otherwise.

"Just calm down and rest, we must not provoke them then they will go in their merry way". Maria tested to cheer up yet failed seeing her frown deepen so she nudged her husband.

"What ?" He whispered leaning near her.

"Do something !"

"What can I do when she is a grumpy cat". He groan when she hit him on his ribs.

"It was a command, mister". She smirked.

"(Y/N) it's alright, there is nothing to worry sometimes dolphins tend to circle around the ships, boats as a sign of protection or curiosity". The (H/C) haired woman nod remembering indeed she read that in an article at her brother's word.

"Okay. Also forgive me for suddenly slapping your wrist and yelling". Guilty weight on her voice as she apologized.

"It's alright. You were doing for our own sakes". Maria smiled revealing her side dimple.

"Still stop being a worrywart". Anton not forget to comment loving his sister's muttering curses. (Y/N) sighing stretch her head putting her nephew down to stretch her arms as well to finally focus on the rare opportunity.

"So empty". No other ships or boats seen yet "So beautiful". The ocean's vast expanse gleamed like a canvas of molten gold, as the sun's radiant beam danced across its waves. The water's surface shimmered and sparkled, a dazzling display of light and color, as if a thousand diamonds had been scattered across its surface. Above, the sky was a brilliant blue, with just a few wispy clouds scattered across it, like cotton tufts carried on the breeze.

In the distance, a line of birds flew in perfect formation, their silhouettes etched against the sky like a delicate pen and ink drawing. They moved in unison, their wings beating in a slow, hypnotic rhythm, as if choreographed to the ocean's gentle swell. The sun's golden rays caught their wings, casting a shimmering glow around each bird, like a halo of light.

As the birds flew overhead, their soft cries echoed through the air, blending with the soothing melody of the waves. The ocean's gleam seemed to intensify, as if reflecting the joy and freedom of the birds in flight. The scene was one of perfect harmony, a symphony of light, sound, and motion, where the ocean, sky, and birds blended in a glorious celebration of life and beauty she ever seen at one sight is truly to behold. An living art is what deity has bestowed humans in form of nature. For a moment truly did all of her tension, clouded thoughts wash away lifting her mood.

Eyes too captured to blink as if the sight would lose from her grasp when her breath hitched and eyes wide in rejection because a huge dark patch of figure in between the dolphins is swimming at her side. "What is that ?" She whisper in utter confusion.

Immediately did (Y/N) search her bag to find her binoculars and squint to look clearly yet to no avail did she success in figuring the creature out. "What is this ? Another sea animal ?" Curiosity ate her as she sat near the railing waiting to understand. "Are the dolphins protecting the thing ?" Because the figure only move in between the dolphins that circle around it, also if it were enemies the fight would had broken out already.

SPLASH ! Disbelief paint her expression witnessing an tail flared out of the water, its vibrant green scales glistening in the sunlight. The tail's surface rippled and flexed, revealing a mesmerizing pattern of lighter and darker shades of green, like the swirling hues of a tropical lagoon. For a fleeting moment, the tail's full majesty was on display, its sleek, streamlined shape slicing through the air. Then, with a swift motion, it vanished beneath the waves once more, leaving behind only a hint of its presence—a whispered promise of secrets hidden beneath the surface.

"It's impossible ! That was almost like an mermaid !" She screamed standing up from her seat startling the family who had been engrossed by the fishes on other side, their heads jerking up in unison like puppets on a string. Silence spread except for (Y/N)'s heavy breathing, as if the very air had been sucked out of it. Anton's family exchanged bewildered glances, unsure how to react to her outbrust of something unbelievable. The tension was palpable until finally, Anton burst out laughing, breaking the spell, and the air erupted into chuckles.

"What are you talking about ?" Anton questioned.

"Aunty ! Mermaids are only myths don't you learn ?" Ren's eyes winkled in mischief and grining ear to ear.

"I think you should rest". Suppressing her bubbling smile Maria suggested making her enraged.

"I am not lying ! I truly saw it ! I-I-" She spoke with a hesitant cadence, her stutter punctuating each sentences as if the words sounds distant to herself. "Believe me—" An abrupt end her sentences as the boat shuddered violently, its hull creaking in protest, before jolting to a sudden, eerie stillness.

"What happen ?" (Y/N) was quick to question, her heart sank in her stomach.

"It's alright let me check !" Anton wave his hands controlling the situation by walking to the back of the boat while Maria hold her child and gave a comforting pat behind (Y/N)'s back who's eyes glance up to meet the softly glowing sinking sun low, warm hues fading to pinkish blues, slowly extinguishing its light, about to surrender to darkness.

"We have to hurry". Suddenly a gentle noise turn her attention to the ocean where her fearful eyes locked onto the twenty dolphins, their fins slicing through the water, swimming away from the ship, as if luring her into the dark, mysterious depths, escalating her anxiety. Confusion of their sudden departure crawl into her mind raising a unbelievable question.

"Did the dolphins did—"

"Sorry honey and (Y/N) but there seem to be some kind of problem I can't figure out". He click his tongue in annoyance looking at the water. "Maybe I should dive in to che—".

"No ! Not at all". Her voice broke in denying in beat. "It's not safe to dive without having the knowledge of what animals are underneath". She finished elaborating her honest worry.

"Then what should we do ?" Her sister-in-law rest her chin on her palm.

"Maybe stay at the ship !" Ren glee voice yell loud, smiling non-stop.

"What ? But aunty doesn't—". Anton's voice once again cut.

"Aunty is okay with it as long as we are safe". Straining a smile she bent to hug his small body. Unaware the words were far from the reality bound to happen.

Darkness shrouds the boat, stars twinkling above. The woman presses against the window, gazing out at the black ocean, boat's lights casting a golden glow on the waves and little view for her to guard around. Yawns slip past her lips she can't conceal unlike her sleep all because of her growing fear of what might happen if she fell asleep peacefully.

"Did I imagine the tail ?" She pondered on how much her dislike for water grew to the point she hallucinate something belonged on fiction tales and stories to amuse children. She saw her wrist watch : 11:00 pm as drowsiness crept over her, heavy eyelids drooping, until a faint splash echoed through the air, jolting her awake with a start.

"What was that ?" Instantly she sprint outside her room to outside only be finding nothing not even water drops on the wooden floor. Her head tilted pluzzed questioning whether she herself heard right or perhaps it was the noise within the water. Relieving a sigh she walk back to her room noticing how in hurry her door opened a little offering her to spot wet wooden floor.

She halted. Knowing very well the ship isn't crash to be filled with water nor did she spill any water yet how come it's wet ? Unless "It was a trap. A trap for me to go outside and someone—" Fear gripped her throat to let out any voices knowing someone is inside her safe room. Slowly stepping backwards she wince at the creaking noises and walk to find her brother's room only to encounter group of dolphins gather at the boat's railing, clicking and whistling softly as they try to squeeze through, their bodies undulating and scraping against the metal in a gentle yet persistent bid for entry.

This time the scream was unrestricted freezing the sea creatures as she run back to her room forgetting about an intruder inside her room, quickly her fingers barricade the door with any possible object. Her chest constricts, air trapped in her lungs as fear paralyzes her. Her heart races, mind frozen in terror, unable to process the surreal horror unfolding before her. When a cruel realization wash her now she is alone with an intruder.

Ever slowly she turn around facing the certain someone she confirmed got a glimpse earlier, eyes wide with dread, she's petrified, her breath caught in a silent scream gazing the mythical creature.

A merman.

She shrink back in fear and fascination entwined like the tendrils of a vine. Her breath hitches, heart racing, as she stares into his shimmering scales and piercing gaze. Transfixed, she's unable to look away, her terror tempered by a hypnotic allure, as if drawn into the depths of his oceanic eyes. The merman's mystique holds her captive, a siren's call that beckons her closer, even as her mind screams to flee.

"It's not real". She whispered refuse to acknowledge his existence in front her. How could she if he had the power to crush her in his palm only ? Options limited for her to choose from, flee ? How when outside soldiers of dolphins are scattered. Fight ? Unbeatable his strength are comparing to hers just merely stare at those muscular flesh. Pled ? Perhaps yes.

"P-Please. P-Please don't kill me and my family". Her (E/C) eyes swell up with tears. His on the other hand curve in satisfaction. Silence was all given answer before his lips parted and his voice unfurls like a dark bloom, petals of sound that envelop (Y/N) in an unsettling embrace. His song is a low, thrumming whisper, a vibration that resonates deep within her chest, making her heart quiver. Fear's icy fingers crawl up her spine as his melody conjures visions of shadowy depths and forgotten nightmares. A voice masterful of manipulation, weaving a tapestry of dread that ensnares (Y/N)'s mind, each note a delicate thread of terror that binds her closer to his will.

"He is not a merman instead a siren". Her hands clap into her ears protest against the enchantment no matter what. She even dug her fingers deep into her ear buds yet the voice still sweep. Blood bled yet his voice stayed. No. No. No. No. No. She won't lose without a tough fight she decided retrieving her fingers staggering her feet she broke the wooden table holding a piece of wood further entertaining the male siren who sat comfortably on the soft bed, singing his lure.

He is confident. Even arrogant she won't able to resist longer after all he is a siren, the very creation of creature made to spellbound humans by his mesmerizing voice awakening the deepest desires of foolish humans who deem themselves intelligent and courageous. In reality they are very insignificance to mythically sea species as plankton. However it falter his view a little when her hands grasp the wooden plank crashes against the siren's tail, the impact sending a shudder through the air along his melody stutter like skipping beats allowing her a chance to attack again this time on the same spot intend a injury however he was faster, smarter shifting his tail and slapping her entire being to the floor.

Ha. An enigmatic smile cast upon his ruby lips as his eyes studied the fragile being refusing him, his voice drop to a low, husky whisper like the gentle lapping of waves on a moonlit shore. An unfamiliar interest spark because the entire reason he even attacked the ship was for his boredom. Weeks had passed with no signs of any new human toy leading him to hunt trivial creatures with his species rejecting any seduction from his female species because they were dull, boring until today a joyful laugh captured his eyes with curiousity. A boat with humans. Mischief control his mind to hunt them right away yet a strange feeling to observe came over so he watched. Their teasing remarks, pretending fights that he realize too late his compatriot dolphins has appeared too to guard him even though in sea world all knew the most dangrous predator is sirens themselves yet the dolphins befriend their species like moth to flame.

First he was angered for the dolphins to do as they pleased yet he was curious to see how would those humans react especially that female (H/C) head and certainly did not fail to surprise him by showing disfavored towards the creatures humans oh so adore. Giving him more reason to hunt the boat and to see more unfolding layers of emotions on the certain female he gifted peek of his existence biting back laugh to destroy their weirdly metals called engine he heard them talking.

The trap was set now the prey has to walk into it for him to tear, dices the warm flesh like he always did leading to their current time.

But he come with the terms to enjoy his little toy longer. Yes, he will show generousity by sparing her alive and label her his pet. The delicious thought impatient him greatly he slams his tail on the boat's floor, echoing like thunder, His eyes not tearing from her figure, With each strike, the winds howl and waves churn, the siren's song weaving a tempest of delightnent. The boat shudders, wooden planks creaking beneath the force of his call. Floor shakes unable for (Y/N) to hold her balance.

"What is happening ?" She cried out falling on the hard floor again and again. Her barely lidded eyes stare at the window to see dark clouds converge, unleashing a torrent of rain that lashes down on the boat. Winds shriek, whipping waves into a frenzy as the vessel creaks and groans. Water pours in, flooding the decks as the boat's timbers shudder and crack. The siren's song reaches a fever pitch, his tail thrashing the sea into a chaotic tumult. The boat's hull splinters, planks bursting apart as the waves surge in, threatening to engulf all in their path. Rain pounds down, stinging skin and blinding her eyes, as the tempest rages on, merciless and unrelenting eventually drowning into the ocean she fears.

"Brother. Sister-in-law.." Her thoughts tailed off. "Ren". Inhaling water, paralyzing her body that is useless against the water as she not learnt to swim. Mind spinning and finally she freed her conscious to be under the song spell closing her eyes wondering if it's forever. Missing the way a tail carry her waist upwards.

Her eyes slowly open, a grogginess clouding her mind and a sense of disorientation washes over her. As she tries to sit up, she felt touches of unwanted hands and caress on her bare parts. Fingers trace her arms, sending shivers down her spine. Her gaze falls upon the siren, his eyes fixed intently on her, his hands roaming shamelessly on her skin with a gentle yet firm touch. His calloused palms graze her shoulders, sending a spark of electricity through her veins. (Y/N)'s heart races, her mind foggy, as she tries to process what's happening. The siren's hands continue their exploration, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake, as (Y/N) struggles to find her voice, to protest and move away.

"Aww, is the little human can't move ?" A sarcastic laugh fell on her, his first words to her is a mock comparing their gap of strength angering her rather than fear.

She glared after all she is bound to die if sooner what's the point ? wiggle from his disgusting touches she tried her best to control her moments in which the male creature snicker leaning closer to her face.

"I saved you not to free you. You little delusional human. You are mine rightfully and let me use you as I please". A sinister smile curve finding fear mix anger on those beautiful eyes he before not paid attention. His fingers cup her cotton soft skin careful to not gaze her with his sharp nails. He press the skin more, feeling bones underneath and a flinch from the human.

His eyes wide in delightment. His another hand caress her cheek intensely watching her every twitch to blink.

Pearlix's finger pads rub (Y/N)'s lips. She narrowed her eyes.

His finger continue to trace path down to her chin. Her lips twist in scowl still under spellbound under him.

He paused at the delicate curve of neck and her pulse flutter under him.

His nails dance across the collarbone and her breath caught at her throat.

He is curious while she is in denial.

The contrast between them utterly fascinated Pearlix, that he toyed more around her body she so obsessed to cover with irrelevant clothes. Tearing bluntly he was baffled to find another layer of cloth so he tore again this time a pleasant hum vibrate from his chest staring the assets of female he never interest on his species yet this woman's are captivating inviting him to bite, touch so he comply to his desire.

One breast been fondling, another one biten harshly earning a wince from her. He smirked coating her bud with his saliva, sucking more and more with hunger that border on desperation. (Y/N) sucked a chunk of breath, tears itself steaming from her tail of eyes as she layed helpless until her body stirred, limbs twitching and sensation returned. Her face contorted, mouth opening in a ragged cry, as her sobs grew louder. Her voice cracked with emotion, cries echoing through the air. She wept uncontrollably stopping the siren entirely.

However not for the reasons she hoped for because he licked her salty tears savouring her sorrow and finally pounce on her attractive lips, grasping her air in form of claiming his possession, dwelling under her tongue, twisting and sucking altogether like an mad beast ignoring her whimpers, pushes against his chest.

Raged she bite down his slit tongue causing him to glare at her and dragging out his wounded tongue bleeding the sliver rivulets both surprising and scaring her.

"You know now I understand this fraction between us. I understand why I wanted you, kissed you, possessed you because". An errie smile stretch across his ruby lips while vivid green irises shone like beacons hinting his deadly obsession. "I love you". His icy heart pound warm against his flesh, heating his cheeks yet the razor sharp smile stayed.

"Be my wife". He announced not focusing her terror and he slashed his own palm, opening a deep gash that welled with silver blood. (Y/N) struggled to free herself, but the siren's hold was merciless.

He forced her lips to his palm, pressing her lips to the wound. (Y/N) tried to turn away, but he held her fast, his fingers wrapped around her jaw like a vice.

The first drop of his blood touched her tongue, and a searing pain, like liquid fire coursed through her veins. She gagged, trying to spit it out, yet the siren's grip was unrelenting. He forced her to swallow, his eyes blazing with an unnatural hunger.

As the silver blood burned its way down her throat, (Y/N) felt her vision blur, her senses reel. "Now you will be immortal like me. Mine for eternal". He sing song knowing no force of nature, not his merfolk, not even her dead familiar humans separate them.

"Our". He pressed a sadistic kiss. "Love of immortal".

FIN

174 notes · View notes

talesofadragon · 10 months

Text

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐔𝐧𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞

Summary: Theodore Nott came to learn that an inciting incident can alter the course of history. Lucius Malfoy’s fall led to Draco’s dark mark and the death of Dumbledore. The rise of the Dark Lord urged Harry Potter into hiding and Death Eaters into prominence. And then there was Amycus Carrow, with his tainted hands on Y/N, who forced Theodore Nott to do the unforgivable.

Warnings: Sexual assault, attempted rape, graphic description of violence, panic attacks

Pairing: Theodore Nott x Non-Slytherin!Reader

Genre: Angst | Hurt/Comfort

Word count: 5.8K

All Masterlists | Theodore Nott Masterlist

𝐅𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐳𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐥𝐬. The lines between the two flow steadily, each following its own cadence. And yet, despite their distinct course and the light years between them, they somehow find a way to draw parameters of joint space. Somehow, someway, they eventually overlap—meeting each other at the apex of catalysts and the twists between junctures to shape history and write the present.

Today starts like most stories do: quaint and subtle, setting the tone for an inciting incident that will tip this fable on its axis.

It’s a typical day, or as typical as it could get during Y/N’s last year at Hogwarts. She’s sitting at the far end of her Defense Against the Dark Arts class, donning the same apprehensive expression as all her classmates. The turmoil that governs the halls is a jarring contrast to the flourishing and effervescent school of witchcraft and wizardry Hogwarts once was.

In this mangled reality, there are specks of the idyllic tales she’s heard about, and witnessed, growing up. Slytherins and Gryffindors sustain their infamous rivalry while in search of their individual purpose, purebloods hold themselves on par with Merlin himself, and more often than not, students find refuge in a forgotten nuke in Hogwarts when the burden of magic becomes too heavy to bear.

In the first drafts of the story, Hogwarts held its students under one embrace. But now, as we’re nearing a hazy end, an isolating veil drapes over the school, fracturing it into fewer than four houses and dividing it more than ever before.

“Now, as Barty Crouch Junior has so tirelessly shared, you have already been acquainted with Merlin’s three most formidable spells,” Alecto Carrow, one of Voldemort’s trusted Death Eaters explains. Her heels dig into the marble floors of the classroom, their screeches ricocheting across the walls in warning.

“The Unforgivables,” her brother Amycus eagerly finishes. His yellow teeth wither under the dim light of the darkened sun as his arms open wide. It’s unsettling how he and his sister welcome such misfortune so openly.

As it happens every single time the Carrow twins revel in the darkest boulevards of magic, Y/N shifts in her seat until she’s nearly imperceptible. Each time, her eyes rove the expanse of the classroom, seeking out the comfort of peculiar hazel eyes. Within just ten seconds, her wandering gaze comes to rest on the idle brown walls, a weight of defeat settling upon her.

Upon her reluctant return to Hogwarts this year, Y/N was met with a torrent of unimaginable changes, starting with students being separated not only based on their house but also their blood status.

Purebloods became a procession of peacocks—majestic, refined, otherworldly. Only allowed to flick around with students of the same upper class.

Half-bloods, on the other hand, belong to inconsistent ideologies. They teeter on the precipice of honor, waiting for Death Eaters like Umbridge and whoever else is in the Ministry to decide their fate.

Muggleborns, it's best not to get started.

Y/N doodles a few meaningless shapes, swirling her quill around the parchment as she thinks of Theodore. Lately, it's become increasingly difficult to talk to him, let alone spot him, with all the changes in place.

Her classmates know she’s not paying attention and that she's only pretending she has her nose buried deep in her notes. Her quill, which scratches against the parchment, is nothing but a ruse to get the Carrows off her scent.

This class truly has nothing to offer except for a modicum of nostalgia and a barrage of abuse, so if the Carrows are so gullible to believe that Y/N is actively listening, then so be it.

By now, she takes it a step further, looking up to meet the eyes of the young children brought forth by the Carrows. She’s mastered the art of stoicism to a T, gazing at their expressions without showing a measly emotion. But every single time, she finds herself transported eons back to a time when things were drastically better.

Her memories vary, depending on whatever catalyst she encounters. She recalls seeing a girl with ginger waves once, and her mind acted on autopilot, bringing her back to the times she and her friends would huddle in their common room to animatedly talk about the latest Weasley prank.

At the previous hints of pink, she remembered Umbridge when she was finally escorted outside of Hogwarts grounds.

And today, her memories are not too different. Bittersweet at best and wistful at most.

She finds a boy biting down on his lower lip. He’s a Gryffindor, judging by the color of his tie, more so by his audaciousness when he decides to lift his head and contain his fear. His eyes are hazel, edging closer to honey brown underneath the dim light of the classroom. And her mind is cruel enough to conjure the image of Theodore hovering above her naked body with lustful hazel eyes and abused fiery lips.

Theodore doesn’t particularly fancy his eye color—he doesn’t quite fancy much about himself. He’s not oblivious to his popularity, but unlike Draco Malfoy, who shines like the stars, Theodore Nott glows like the moon in a dance of subtlety and intensity; a paradoxical luminosity that always leaves Y/N in awe.

He never particularly bothered her during their first couple of years at Hogwarts, which explains why they never interacted until their fifth year. Back when Umbridge was foul toward the student population, especially vile toward anyone of lesser blood.

Dennis Creevey, who had been a first-year at that time, fell victim to her malice. His penance for being born to muggle parents was bloodily etched on his hand. Y/N tried to help him, even though her own hand was hurting just as badly. The healing spells didn’t counter the dark magic infused in the quills, and while she could handle the pain, the poor eleven-year-old couldn’t.

"May I?" a voice softly breathed from behind her, causing her to jump slightly. She turned to see the unexpected sight of Theodore Nott, dressed in an emerald green tie and an aura of pristine silver. Y/N's breath caught in her throat, and her hands trembled, a reaction heightened by the delicate hints of cinnamon swirling in the air.

When Theodore pulled out his wand, Dennis cowered. And to her surprise, Theodore’s face fell. Yet he quickly covered his crestfallen expression with a mask of pure stoicism.

Y/N’s gaze meandered away from the Slytherin and settled on the young Gryffindor. “It’s okay, Dennis,” she recalled herself saying at the time, even though she hadn’t mentally given her words the green light to tumble out of her mouth. Both Dennis and Theodore seemed equally surprised, turning their heads her way. “He’s not going to hurt you.”

Maybe it was the softness of Theodore’s hazel eyes, or maybe it was how he abstained from touching the boy's bruised hand and elected to kneel to his level. To this day, Y/N doesn’t know what exactly made her fall for Theodore at that exact moment in time.

Yet, all she knows in certainty is that she’s in love with Theodore Aurelius Nott. Pureblood, Slytherin Elite, Son of Darkness. But what can she do if one glance at his hazel orbs leaves her drowning in the depths of his moonshine?

“Miss Y/L/N!”

Y/N’s head jerks when a protruding voice disturbs her reverie. She chances a glance at the front of the classroom, finding Alecto Carrow’s lidded eyes on her. Bright and sage, a stark contrast to the malevolence nestled within them.

“Yes?” Y/N wonders aloud.

“Given your diligence in recording the theoretical aspect of The Unforgivables, I believe it’s time for you to engage in the practicalities of said lesson,” Alecto announces with a tone that leaves no room for negotiation or refutation.

With a sharp nod, she ushers Y/N out of her seat, beckoning her over until she's two steps away from her. Y/N stands idly, unaware of whether she's going to role-play as the tormentor or the tormented. But her internal questions are answered the moment Amycus Carrow shoves the Gryffindor boy with hazel eyes into her line of sight.

"Go on." Alecto wears a sinister expression as she levels Y/N with a taunting smile. "Demonstrate your aptitude to the class.”

Y/N doesn't step back nor does she shy away. She clings to the apathetic front she's adopted from her boyfriend, her gaze falling on the young boy, and her thoughts drowning out Alecto's sharp voice. By the time Amycus asks her to draw out her wand, she's mustered up enough confidence to answer with a terse "no."

“What do you mean no, you insolent brat!” Alecto bellows, being the first to succumb to her temper. For a snake, she is known to be as hot-headed as a lion.

“I refuse to perform any curse on anyone,” Y/N clarifies, purposefully refraining from calling her “professor.” And if she had half a brain cell, perhaps she would’ve figured it out.

“Is that so?” Alecto challenges.

“Yes.”

“Very well, despicable half-breed. You know the rules. You’re either the rodent or the snake. Guess you’ll always be the former.”

She's calm and aloof on the outside, but Y/N is dreading what’s coming next. She’s never fallen victim to the Cruciatus, though she has heard all about it from Theodore and his friends—even once from Harry.

She watches with steady eyelashes as Alecto draws her wand and points it at her. Although the curse is released, and screams reverberate across the walls, both Alecto and Y/N remain silent.

To Y/N's horror, the young Gryffindor boy thrashes on the ground with clenched fists and agonizing wails. Above him, Amycus stands like a conductor, his wand beckoning the crooked notes of the boy's voice to rise to a crescendo.

Finally, the screams die down, extinguishing and feeding the anguish of every student at once. Amycus turns to address the class, dismissing them all except for one. “You go ahead, Alecto,” he directs toward his sister. “If the little mouse wishes to squeak, then she’ll have to suffer graver consequences than what you have to offer.”

Whatever Amycus has in mind seems to appease Alecto. Her expression is mirthful as she grabs the robes of the young Gryffindor boy and sweeps him out of the class, using his body as a cleaning broom.

The students all file out, their glances lingering on Y/N. As the last of the students leaves, Amycus turns to the young girl.

“Your wand, Miss Y/L/N,” he demands. Y/N debates not giving it to him, but she knows if she doesn’t, he’ll come and collect it himself. So, she reluctantly hands it over. “Ah, pretty little thing. What’s the core?”

“Dragon heartstring.”

“Fitting for a spitfire like you.”

“I thought I was a meek little mouse,” Y/N counters, making Amycus grin.

“You are a lot of things, little girl,” he replies as he twirls her wand in his hand. “The wood?”

“Larch.”

“Enlighten me, Y/L/N,” Amycus voices out. If Y/N’s a mouse, then he seems to enjoy being a cat. His long and calloused fingers trace her wand while he circles her, trying to break her resolve. “What does the wood say about you?”

The question strokes her ear, carried by Amycus’ ghastly voice. Y/N stills, not seeing where he’s going. She jolts as Amycus taps the wand against her thigh, particularly the exposed skin between her skirt and stockings.

“It’s best paired with wizards and witches who possess hidden talents,” she replies tersely.

The hum coming from her side indicates that Amycus is listening—paying attention, though, not so much, considering he’s rather preoccupied with poking her skin with her wand while rotating around her.

He’s playing with his food, Y/N tells herself, knowing this is just another trick of his. Somewhere in his sadist brain, his senses are sparking with delight at the prospect of Y/N’s discomfort, relishing the power he has over her.

A part of her wants to jam her wand in his eyes, pluck his eyeballs out, and proceed to stuff each in his nostrils. But another part of her stands idle, not even blinking as he keeps up his ministrations.

Amycus smiles, taking up more of her personal space. Y/N’s senses are lit on fire as he traces her wand across her body. “Is your mouth a part of those talents, filthy witch? You don’t talk much, but rotten girls like you must know how to use their mouths.”

“To scream, I presume,” Y/N breathes. Her quip hits Amycus right in the face, and the maniac grins. His face is painted with a nefarious glee, that of a predator eager to feast on its prey.

SA and Attempted Rape Content Begins Here. Skip Through This Scene by Scrolling to "Scene End."

The unsettling sensation against her ribs dissipates when Amycus pulls the wand away, but the apprehension still lingers. As she mentally prepares herself for the inevitable pain that comes along with the Cruciatus, Amycus’ hand cups her chin, and his molten lips crash against hers. The sensation is so crippling and unfavorable it sends her tumbling back into the table.

The pressure on YN’s cheeks intensifies until it becomes sharp and metallic. Fingers dig into her flesh, paving a path for Amycus’ tongue to follow. Though her hands slap against his chest, legs flailing around, he continues his exploration in the depths of her throat.

It feels like he’s finally thrown her off a cliff, yet with all the energy Y/N can muster, she pushes his body away and slaps him across the face.

He looks at her with unadulterated rage. Y/N forgoes reading his face in favor of bolting toward the door. But before she reaches the handle, she’s yanked back by her robes. The fabric tears, as does her heart. Amycus then throws her on top of the teacher’s desk and catches both her wrists in his hand.

“Pitty your blood is impure, little witch. If you had to match your filthy mouth with something, I’d rather it be your pussy than your blood.”

“Get off me,” Y/N enunciates with a quiver in her voice. It seems to feed Amycus’ wicked desires because she suddenly finds him nipping at her neck in pure delight.

“You’ve disobeyed my direct order. When witches are bad, they’re punished.”

“You’re sick!”

“And you’re delicious.”

Y/N takes a deep breath, burying his face further in the junction between her neck and shoulder. His kisses are filthy, heavy, frigid. They make her body feel like ice—they make her feel as if she's been snatched and thrown into the depths of the Dark Lake.

Amycus' hands grab her waist and flip her over until her gaze meets the darkness of the desk’s wood. If the sensation of the wand against her thigh left acid in her mouth, then Amycus’ fingers left her with bile overwhelming her senses.

“What a pretty little ass you’re hiding under here. It was made to be ruined.”

Y/N doesn’t have time to panic. In fluid movements, Amycus lifts her skirt, rips off the shorts she typically wears beneath, and spanks her ass.

She yelps, struggling against the hand against her back that’s keeping her on the desk. She’s hit one more time and then two and three. The slaps are forceful and fiery, leaving her skin scalded and singed.

A roar erupts from the depths of her soul when she feels a finger easing her thong. The force of her scream catches Amycus off guard, enough for Y/N to elbow him and dive to the ground for her wand.

“Cruc—”

“Oh, so now you want to cast it!”

With ease, Amycus manages to slap Y/N’s wand away. He ruthlessly places his palm against her stomach, pushing her back to the ground.

Her head aches from the force of the blow, a scream barrelling through the space between her lips when Amycus towers over her, digging his obsidian nails into her skin.

“It’s a shame that the most delightful toys happen to be the filthiest. Maybe this will teach you and your kind that you will forever remain beneath us.”

Y/N cries as Amycus incapacitates her lips. She squirms underneath his body, vaguely aware of the fabric he’s tearing in half, though oblivious to what clothing item it belongs to.

She tries to non-verbally cast a spell, but her mind is too distracted to focus on the incantation. All she knows is that she needs to get Amycus off her. And yet, no amount of strength in her hands or her spells manages to draw him to a stop.

His spit traces her lower lip, tantalizingly closing the distance between her mouth and collarbone. Y/N shudders, bellowing at the thought of his saliva trailing her skin.

She wails, screams, and shouts until she realizes that Amycus probably cast Silencio without her knowing. Though futile, she tries to push his body weight off her, even resorts to kicking his ribs.

It doesn’t work... until by some miracle from Merlin himself Amycus’ body flies toward the back wall, releasing her.

Scene End

Y/N gasps, pushing her palms against the tiled floor and lifting herself to a sitting position. Her chest heaves as she looks at the discarded fabric of her skirt, the scattered buttons of her shirt, and the remains of her robe that are haphazardly strewn across the room.

Faint sounds register at the back of her mind. A heavy breath, mirroring her own, emanates from behind, accompanied by an erratic heartbeat that matches hers. Amidst it all, she picks up on Amycus’s forlorn groans, muffled by the surrounding darkness. Resilient ropes now bind his hands and feet, rendering him completely motionless.

“Get Y/N out of here,” a voice orders. It’s far away—at least, Y/N thinks so. But despite the fog around its edges, she can somehow sense the enmity lacing it.

Before she can process the shadows creeping closer to her side, a robe is draped over her shoulders as arms wrap securely around her.

She thrashes against the man holding her, trying to repel his hands from her body. “It’s okay, Y/N,” he says in a low octave. “It’s okay. You’re okay. You’re safe. I promise you. He can't touch you anymore.”

The voice carries a bit of an edge, yet it’s the most soothing sound she’s heard all day. Her lips quiver as she internally fights with her thoughts, head spinning and shaking in defeat.

The halls around her move fast, time seemingly irrelevant at this point. She’s crying and mumbling incoherently, burying her face in the fabric of this stranger’s clothes, which smell like a familiar blend of mint and citrus.

The robe is wrapped tighter around her shoulders, and she receives a faint squeeze as she’s brought up a staircase. Words are whispered, a door is opened, and voices mingle with one another until a delicate tone enters her headspace.

“Draco, who’s that you’re carrying?”

“It’s Y/N,” the male voice, the one belonging to Draco, replies. Draco kicks open a door and places Y/N on the bed. She wails even more at the action, curling herself into a ball—at this point, she doesn’t know if she should be relieved or terrified.

“What the hell happened to her?”

“Lower your voice, Pansy! Can’t you see she’s scared enough?”

Pansy stutters for a few seconds before asking again, “Who did this to her?”

Draco hesitates, looking between the two young women. “Amycus,” he replies. And though it’s barely a mumble, it’s enough to send Y/N spiraling.

Pansy’s jade eyes tread carefully as they peer over Y/N’s frail body. She sees the red marks on her hands and the blood that seeps from the cuts on her face. “Cruciatus?” she asks, but something in her tone makes it obvious that it’s just wishful thinking.

“No,” Draco answers. Y/N’s sniffles and shudders fill the air as Pansy and Draco exchange silent glances. Y/N clutches her throat, rubbing it to try and get herself more oxygen.

“What do we do?”

Draco's footsteps echo as he retreats toward the door. “You're going to her clean up. If Theo hasn’t killed Amycus yet, I’m going to join him in his pursuit.”

There was something in that last line that clamped agony around Y/N’s heart, squeezing like a vice. She wept, only vaguely conscious of Pansy’s soothing touch in her hair and the remnants of Draco's anger looming around the room.

The mirror in the bathroom captures two girls in its glassy frame. One of them is put together while the other looks worse for wear. Y/N stares at her wild reflection, moroseness painting her irises. A tiny sob escapes her barely parted lips, and Pansy decides to tear Y/N’s attention away from the broken girl staring at them through the mirror.

She softly holds Y/N's hand and helps her to the shower, turning her head when Y/N undresses and then carefully cleans her blotched skin. Once they’re done, she lends Y/N some pajamas and underwear, giving her the privacy and space to change into them before helping her dry her hair.

Wordlessly, Pansy leads Y/N away from the mirror. Her grip is firm as she swings open the bathroom door. Y/N squints against the sudden invasion of light from the room beyond. Her gaze takes in the expanse of her surroundings and the rich emerald hue of the Head Dorm's walls. Then, her eyes lock on two men. One with platinum blond hair and the other with brunette locks, both embracing the shadows with deadly intent in their fiery eyes.

She bristles, caught between shying away and clutching the attention she’s receiving from them. Y/N doesn’t dwell on their appearance for too long, afraid to develop the ability to read their eyes and stumble across the shame and pity possibly nestled within them.

Pansy whispers something under her breath, which Y/N fails to hear under the barrage of despondency she finds herself in. She feels Pansy’s hesitant touch on her forearm, briefly catching her and Draco retreating away, the door to the room closing behind them in a soft thud.

Silence runs freely around the room, undeterred by the confined space. Its loudness disturbs Y/N, forcing her to wince. She wills herself to say something, but all the words are lodged in her throat, searing it from the inside out.

Theodore takes a deep breath, the sound piercing the stillness in the air. But his words don’t leave his mouth the same way his gaze never paces beyond a fixed point on the ground.

“Why are you not looking at me?” Y/N asks. She’s surprised that she’s articulated her thoughts even though she doesn’t have enough strength to speak.

Theodore shakes his head. “I can’t”. His words have finally forced his gaze away from the ground, although he’s refusing to settle it on her.

“I wouldn’t look at me either. I get it.” Y/N sniffles. Darkness clouds her sight. She’s tired and aching, barely finding her grip on reality.

She wants to scream, and she wants to cry, but it’s like she doesn’t know how. Like her mainframe has been hijacked and forced to shut down.

Something in her periphery catches her attention. Theodore is now standing before her, hands trembling by his sides. They move to embrace her waist, to hold her shoulders, to cup her face; but they never do. They only trace invisible lines that mirror her figure. It’s then that she notices the fray in his gaze. Instead of the rejection and the indifference she expected to find, there’s dejectedness, misery, and pain.

“I would look at you forever if you let me,” Theodore answers with his hands hanging in the space between them. “If you would still allow me.”

“Touch me,” Y/N retorts. Hold me, find me, fix me, love me.

And Theodore does just that with unprecedented gentleness. He traces her cheeks with his thumb and pulls her by the waist closer to his side. His nose nuzzles her neck, breathing in her scent. His lips press against the shell of her ear, his warm breath penetrating her soul and sending a fond tingle down her spine.

He touches her, not like she’s a porcelain doll or a bomb about to detonate. Theodore touches her like she’s the most precious piece of art he’s ever encountered, and he’s afraid that even one stumbled breath could force her colors away.

“I love you,” he confesses. A loan tear accompanies his declaration, inscribing the words on the fabric of Y/N’s soul. “And I am so sorry. So sorry, my love, for what my absence and negligence have put you through.”

“Theo…”

“No, Y/N. Don’t. Don’t try to say anything.”

Theodore wipes her tears, gently tucking some loose strands of her hair behind her ears. Y/N nods, allowing her boyfriend to hoist her in his arms and carry her to bed. She hides her face in his neck, absorbing the lingering traces of his sandalwood perfume.

When he places her on the bed, she notices the change in his demeanor as soon as she tangles her legs with his and rushes to press his hands against his chest. Her eyes fill with tears, and she fails to prepare herself for the rejection that she’s afraid might be rushing her way.

To her astonishment, Theodore pulls her into a tighter hug, as if seeking a connection beyond the surface, binding together not only their skin but also the intricate layers below—souls, hearts, atoms.

“Did he…” Theodore pauses, choking on unspoken words. “Did he go far?”

Y/N shook her head. “No. You and Draco came just in time.”

“Barely,” Theodore denies. A stolen glance gives Y/N a clear view of his clenched jaw and crestfallen expression. The war may be looming, yet to find its way to the Wizarding World, but it has already made a dominion in Theodore’s features.

“Just in time.” Minutes pass while Y/N is cocooned protectively in between Theodore’s strong arms. They encase her, filling her being with the placidity and the tenderness that was robbed of her some time ago. Her eyes close, darkness not as fearful as it seemed now that Theodore’s hands are weaving through her hair, and his voice is carrying a tender lullaby. “How did you know?”

Theodore’s hands falter and the lullaby ends on an abrupt note. His arms pull Y/N closer to his chest as he ruefully explains what happened, “A Gryffindor boy found me. He was frightened and jittery. At first, I thought it was because Draco and I were standing together. Then he said something about Defense class, the Carrows, and the Cruciatus. Your name got suddenly tangled in the gruesomeness of it all, so I rushed to the class as far as I could."

“They wanted me to hurt him,” Y/N whispers in a small voice.

“I know.”

“I couldn’t do it.”

Theodore looks at her with glassy eyes. “I know you would never.”

His hands sooth Y/N, featherless touches easing the altercation in her soul. She meets his gaze, heart shattering at the pain he harbors. She knows it’s not easy for Theodore to be a silent witness to torture and heartache, understanding his unconscious pursuit of absorbing pain and rooting it in his very being.

“Please,” she begins, “please, Theo. Don’t blame yourself.”

“I’ve failed you.”

“You haven’t.”

He declines vehemently, “I promised to protect you from the darkness, within me and beyond me. And I have clearly done neither.”

You had no way of knowing! Y/N argued in her head. You, alone, cannot stop this madness! So many rebuttals swarmed her head. She wanted to pelt Theodore with every single one of them until some sense got knocked into him. “Darkness,” he says so loosely as if he’s ever exposed her to any of it.

All her memories of Theodore exuded radiance, softness, and peace. He’s only ever steered her away from the darkness, whether it was from Umbridge’s rage back in their fifth year or Bellatrix’s terror at the end of their sixth.

To hear him speak of himself like this, as if he’s one of them, a shadow branded by the mark of death, hurts her more than everything Amycus did to her.

“What did you do to Amycus?”

The name causes Theodore’s heart to falter beneath the palm of Y/N’s hands. Her eyes trace the veins of his neck, astounded by the voraciousness of their color as his anger escalates. “Do not say that vermin’s name.”

Darkness, Theodore would call it if he sees himself now. And yet, all the world is witnessing according to Y/N is a darker shade of love and concern: just as sincere, a lot more warm.

“Carrow,” she concedes. “What did you do to Carrow?”

“I wanted to kill him,” Theodore answers, studying Y/N’s face for a reaction. “I almost killed him.” If he was looking for disgust or worse, fear, he couldn’t find it.

“And why didn’t you?”

“Draco called for Snape.”

Y/N hums, absentmindedly reaching for Theodore’s hand. He hesitates when he feels her fingers entwining with his, his entire body tensing up. Y/N whines, and he takes a deep breath. His fingers lace hers, squeezing her hand before bringing it to his lips.

“Are you in trouble?”

“No, treasure. No one but that scum is. Snape said nothing. He bound his hands and escorted him to his office.”

“Good,” Y/N replies.

“That’s not all,” Theodore intercedes, catching her attention. She shifts in his arms, waiting for his next words with a bated breath. “We’re getting out of here.”

“What?” came Y/N’s question, loud, sharp, and clear. It resonated across the room, its intensity surprising her.

“I didn’t kill him,” Theodore admits. He’s moved now, body peering away from Y/N’s hold to better study her features. She keeps them the way they are, with no sign of the acrimony or the resentment she suspects Theodore is looking for. “But I uttered the curse. Draco countered it somehow, and it rebounded. Hit the wall instead. It cracked it, the same way I cracked every single bone in his body and watched him bleed.”

As the words fill the space between them, Y/N rushes to grab Theodore’s hands. She inspects them, surprised to find them bruising. How did I not notice this? She whimpers at her late realization—her neglect. But now that his marred skin is beneath the scrutiny of her gaze, she notices that the blue and purple hues are rather dull in comparison to his story.

Almost as if Theodore understood her silent concerns, he says, “Cruciatus.” Y/N bristles, though her body is traitorous. It jolts, feeling the residue of the invisible needles and acid-laced knives. “Sectumsempra and a number of other curses that flew out of my mouth without thought when I saw you lying on the ground, bloody, bruised, broken. Torn apart by a mediocre middle-aged man, who deserves nothing but to be decapitated, torn limb by limb, until there’s not even a speck of his ashes left on the—”

“Theo,” Y/N calls. Her voice quivers, mirroring the tremble in her body provoked by those words. “Stop.”

“I’m sorry,” Theodore sniffs, head bending down.

Y/N rushes to answer, shaking her head violently. “No. I can’t… I can’t watch you tear yourself apart over something you had no control over.”

“I—”

“Listen to me! Listen to me and not the lies inside your head. Does it hurt? Yes. Does it burn? More than a Fienfyre cast by the Dark Lord himself. But you weren’t there—no, Theo, come back to me and stop traveling in time inside your head.”

“I’m supposed to protect you,” Theo defended. “Merlin, Y/N. I was supposed to be there! To stop all of this from happening. You’re in pain more than I am. So, stop subduing my anger!”

“I’m subduing your self-deprecation! I’m not blaming you, and I will not fan the flames of your anger. You had no way, no way, of knowing Carrow would do this.”

“I’m supposed to protect you,” he answers with a little less fight and a lot more shame.

“And you did, Theo,” Y/N assures, bringing herself closer to his side. “You got me out. You saved me. In time.”

“Barely!” Theodore screams, a deluge of tears running down his cheeks and burying his resolve in their undertow. “But I will save you this time. I’ll get you out. Both of us. I’ll take you away, somewhere you won’t be judged for your blood or your mistake in choosing me.”

“You’re not a mistake,” Y/N refutes, begging him to see. “Look at you. You call yourself a vision of darkness when your love and care are shining through.”

“My love is darkness, viciousness, and cruelty.” It’s almost as if he’s the one begging her to understand.

Tears cascade down Y/N’s cheeks, the saltiness and bitterness of them incomparable to Theodore’s words. “Your love is fierceness,” Y/N professes, taking Theodore’s breath away, “seamlessness, and warmth.”

“I made you live through pain,” Theodore pleads, hoping she agrees. But she doesn't.

“And I will live after it. With you.”

The confession shatters the last of Theodore’s resolve. He pulls Y/N closer, resting his chin atop her head and enveloping her in a secure embrace. “I’m so sorry,” he cries. His fingers weave through her hair, gripping the back of her head, anchoring himself in her presence—convincing himself that she’s here. “You are so strong, treasure. Stronger than life and death, brighter than light, and fiercer than shadows. I love you, my Y/N. And I swear on your head and on my mother’s last breath that I will protect you even if I have to do the unforgivable. No one will ever hurt you ever again.”

“I know,” Y/N nods as Theodore kisses the crown of her head. Each breath he takes, every word he utters, stitches through her soul, mending the threads of herself. “And I love you all the more for it.”

“You’ve endured a war. I’ll be damned if I let you face another,” Theodore promises, capturing Y/N’s lips and seamlessly merging his soul with hers.

Tomorrow remains uncertain, and control extends only so far across the horizon. Yet, with Theodore by her side, Y/N finds the darkness considerably less formidable. Even if he's willing to commit the unforgivable to shield her, forgiveness is a given. His love is the tranquility that follows the tempest, and she's ready to navigate through destruction with Theodore.

I never expected to write about a topic as painful and sensitive as SA or rape.

Hearing the multiple accounts of women around me made me see how these experiences are prevalent yet scarcely communicated. When I wrote this piece, it was with no intention to diminish the seriousness of the issue but rather use this platform as a conduit to raise the matter and bring it to light. Whether you’ve been personally impacted by this disheartening situation or witnessed someone close to you go through this, I want you to know that you are not alone. You are incredibly brave for enduring this, and there is no reason to feel ashamed. You lived through it and will live after it with even more fierceness and courage than you've ever had.

If you ever feel like talking, please know that I am here to listen, without judgment or reservation. 🤍

All-Fandom Taglist: @xxrougefangxx

594 notes · View notes