#the depths are my one solace…. i love her……….

[00valentina-writes00]

I just thought about this and thought it was so fuckin cute. Ambessa (I’m so obsessed with her I’m sorry) x reader who likes to play in her hair? Just running her fingers through it and maybe styling it just to take it out later.

I love your work so much, you’re so talented but remember to take breaks every now and then. As usual, thank you. 🖤🖤🖤

This is really cute ngl-

LITTLE rant rq: I love running my hands through peoples hair, or just messing with it in general. It’s SO SO SO- comforting and fun to do. Literally I could sit next to someone for hours with a brush and just style their hair if they would let me.

✞⛧Tresses of Power and Softness✞⛧

Warnings: None! Just fluff

You’ve always found solace in the simple things—the quiet moments, the stillness, the warmth. And tonight, that solace comes in the form of Ambessa Medarda. The cold, commanding warlord who takes what she wants and leaves no room for weakness. Tonight, however, she’s different. Tonight, you see her as she rarely allows anyone else to: soft, vulnerable, and still.

Ambessa sits in front of you, her powerful frame a mix of elegance and strength. The dim light from the candles flickers in her sharp eyes, casting shadows that accentuate the sculpted lines of her face. You sit behind her, your knees grazing the back of her chair, fingers poised to do what feels natural in this moment—run through her hair.

Her hair is short, practical, waves of dark, silky locks that are streaked with silver at the temples, adding a depth to the dark hue. You love it. Love how it feels between your fingers, the texture different from the severity of her usual demeanor. With every brush of your hand through it, you can feel her tension slowly fade away.

You start gently, your fingers tracing along the lines of her scalp, carefully moving through the short waves. Ambessa doesn’t flinch, doesn’t move. She simply leans back, resting her head on your chest, allowing you to touch her in this intimate way.

“Do you always find such quiet joy in the small things?” Ambessa’s voice is low, gravelly, as though she’s still adjusting to the feeling of relaxation. You notice the slight amusement in her tone, but there’s a softness there, too. An openness.

You smile, shifting your fingers so they begin to weave into her hair. “Maybe,” you answer, your voice equally soft. “It’s just… nice, you know? The way it feels to be here, with you.”

She hums in response, and you continue your slow, deliberate movements. You gather sections of her hair, carefully styling it the way you like it, always with an eye toward the moment you’ll undo it. She lets you, never questioning your hands.

The first time you did this, you weren’t sure what to expect. It felt intimate—too intimate. Yet, when you brushed your fingers through her hair, you realized just how human she could be. It was an act of care, and something about her letting you do it spoke volumes. Ambessa, who commands armies, who runs Noxus with a firm hand, submitting to this small act of affection.

Ambessa shifts slightly, one of her strong hands resting on your thigh, fingers curling lightly, as if to anchor herself in this moment. The contrast between the weight of her touch and the tenderness in the way she allows you to handle her hair is striking, and you can’t help but smile to yourself.

“I never thought I’d be in a position to trust anyone with something so… trivial,” Ambessa murmurs, her voice barely a whisper, but her words weigh heavily in the air. “But you,” she pauses, her breath steadying, “you’ve found a way.”

You pause, your fingers stilling for a brief moment, feeling the pulse of her breath beneath your touch. There’s something almost sacred about this moment, something you both know but neither of you speak aloud. Trust. Vulnerability. It’s a rare thing in the world of power she inhabits, and yet here she is, letting you care for her in this simple, quiet way.

It doesn’t escape you how different she is when she’s with you, how much more human, how much more like the woman you’ve come to love. A woman who isn’t just a warlord or a general, but someone who can relax in your presence, allow herself to be touched without the weight of expectations.

You resume your work, weaving another section of hair through your fingers, shaping it and twisting it gently. It’s almost a game at this point—styling her hair and taking it out again, a cycle that’s as soothing to you as it seems to be to her.

“Why do you like it?” Ambessa asks suddenly, her tone still soft but curious. Her voice holds an edge of something—something deeper than her usual tactician’s precision.

You smile, your fingers catching a stray lock of hair and carefully smoothing it back into place. “I like the way it feels,” you say, your voice low and unhurried. “I like how it looks when it’s styled, but I like undoing it, too. It’s… comforting, I suppose. To touch you in a way that doesn’t demand anything.”

Ambessa is quiet for a moment, and you feel her muscles, once stiff and tense, gradually soften beneath your hands. When she speaks again, her voice is quieter than before, touched with something rare—vulnerability.

“I didn’t think I could let anyone in like this,” she admits, her fingers tightening slightly on your thigh. “I’ve spent so long keeping others at arm’s length.”

“I know,” you reply softly, not needing to explain. She has always been a fortress, and perhaps that’s part of why you love her so much—the complexity of the woman who holds the world in her hands but, with you, lets it go, if only for a little while.

You twist her hair into another small braid, each movement slow, deliberate, mindful of the way she reacts to your touch. Her breathing has evened out, a sign that she’s not only relaxed but letting herself be cared for.

You finish the braid, pulling it gently through her fingers, watching as she examines it. She turns her head slightly, peering into the reflection in the polished metal of a nearby desk. Her eyes narrow as she inspects the work, the edges of a smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

“It’s… fine,” she says after a beat, her voice soft but laced with approval.

You laugh quietly, brushing your fingers over the braid one more time. “Fine, huh? Well, I think it looks good.”

Ambessa’s lips curl into a faint, knowing smile. “You always think the best of your work.”

You nod, pleased by her rare acknowledgment, but then you let your fingers fall through the braid, undoing the delicate strands, letting the lock of hair fall loose once again.

Ambessa watches you, unbothered by the undone work, a sense of ease settling into her posture. It’s as if the act of letting you touch her hair and undo what you’ve done is as much a part of the ritual as anything else.

“You know,” she says, her tone shifting back to something teasing, “you could do this forever, and I’d still find a way to let you. I don’t know if that’s a blessing or a curse, but I’m starting to think it’s both.”

You laugh again, the sound light and easy. There’s a comfort in it, a softness that you haven’t seen from her very often. She’s a woman of power, of wars and strategy, but with you, in these moments, she lets herself be something else.

And for you, that’s enough. That’s everything.

As you run your fingers through her hair once more, styling and undoing, she leans back into you, a quiet contentment radiating from her. The rest of the world could be falling apart, but in this moment, it doesn’t matter.

Ambessa Medarda is yours, in a way that few can claim. Strong, untouchable, but here, in your arms, she is something else. Vulnerable. Trusting. And utterly, profoundly yours.

[kiddokori]

but you're so right about everything with totk. you put it in words so well 😭 idk if you found memory 9, so i won't spoil anything, but it was SO GOOFY look up gmod smile after you watch it and explode instantly. loftwings would've made the game infinity better, like skeleehorses can go over gloom (such a silly name btw) and horses are always great, but there's nothing to ride in the sky??? missed oppurtunity imo. i basically play with no tech becuase i hate using it 😔 i have much to say on this game and sadly most of it around the plot isn't thatg nice

SKELEHORSES CAN GO OVER GLOOM??????

but no yeah i dont enjoy the tech lol. i think modern tech in fantasy is a slippery slope from “woah cool its so interesting how this fantastical society developed things we never couldve thought of” to “this isnt even fantasy its just sci-fi with medieval paint slapped over it” thats what botw vs. totk is to me. we went from giant magical mechs and tech that felt more like sentient creatures to a straight up four wheeler. also its just clunky. to me. vexes me.

i am playing it very slowly for several reasons so im not far im only two memories in (trying to do them in order) lol but im not impressed by the writing either again ive only beat the rito “dungeon” idk what to call it. it was fine. really felt like they just tried to replicate the divine beasts but it didnt work. the weird disembodied voice felt forced in totk its just this random exposition guy that felt like he was just there for the sake of mimicking the structure of the champions talking to you where in botw that makes sense because they’re important characters that you learn more about and play a role in the story and also they literally died and their souls were trapped in their beasts. and totk was like ah shit ah fuck we gotta have another disembodied voice throw this guy in there and have him lore drop on you. who is he. who cares.

and then the divine beasts were like interesting involved puzzles there was one i thiiiink the camel you literally had to turn entire parts of it to line up electrical signals to get places and unlock things it was a little frustrating but i had to think about it!! same with the elephant you had to control the entire mechanism to move things and you had to Think about it. the rito ship was just go find these things. ok the divine beasts were also that with the terminals but you had to work for it. totk really just went go walk around for awhile and find them. no real puzzle to it. there was a little bit with the doors/levers but it did not feel nearly as involved or thought through.

i will say i did like the boss fight the ice guy. cool guy. looked cool baller music neat new little thing you had to do to beat it i liked it. that was cool i will give them that they know how to get me pumped for a boss fight

ok but the cutscene with zelda near the beginning was goofy as hell. just straight up like woaaaahh she floated into the sky thats crazy!!! whaaat!!!!! felt extremely silly. i was sitting there like is this a gag is this supposed to be funny i cannot tell. very much threw me off. could not take seriously

also. fucking. got rid of her again. if they wanted to have the same success of botw maybe they should’ve gee idk changed the formula again and let zelda be with us. a two player zelda game would be so cool. even if it was still single player and we could just interact with her and have her with us im thinking kindof last of us/resident evil 4 style where she helps you do certain puzzles or helps you fight like other npcs. even if she just stayed at the base and helped purah with research and you could talk to her thatd be more interesting. GIVE HER TO ME!!

the intro really just felt like oh we have to get rid of zelda again because we need link to be alone so we can copy botw uhhhhh magic rock teleports her to the past yeah yeah that works. they decided they needed this to happen and then made a story to excuse those choices rather than actually construct something cohesive.

im not even halfway through the game so i dont wanna be tooo hard on it or form strong opinions but id rather be pleasantly surprised than disappointment after getting my hopes up. i havent been spoiled for anything but i have seen people complain in general so im kinda leaning towards disappointment lol. like its zelda im still having fun i just also am looking at it from a critcal point of view and i have plenty to say. i used this as an excuse to talk for a looong time anyways. im currently working on getting specific horse colors that i preplaned by looking at this horse chart to name after characters from a book i like ✌️ i didnt pay 70 dollars to not have any fun with this game so help me god i am going to enjoy Some of it

[tittiesnhrtz]

i was having a really bad day and only ellie williams fluff could save me bahaja. this was written under fifteen mins so it’s not proofread. also this is pure fluff.

the lamp in the living room casts a glow on the silhouette of your wife sprawled on the couch, with its dim yellow light highlighting her pretty features and the book nestled on her lap. she pretends to be enamoured by the still words on the paper, though what she’s really enamoured by is the sight of you examining the basket of tangerines. your brows are furrowed in concentration as you stare at the circular fruits, probably trying to tell which one is the most succulent, you only want your wife to have the best one after all. she watches as you finally pick one out of the dainty basket, thinking about how she managed to get so lucky, her perfect wife who’s always there for her, anchoring her to the peacefulness of life. almost every thought that weaves itself into her mind is about you— while she’s at work, while she’s at home, even when she’s sleeping, her dreams are a figment of her moments with you. her calloused palms having learnt the texture of your skin, always seem to crave your warmth, unable to stay away from the expanse of your flesh. your stomach, your legs, your arms, your ass, she’ll take whatever you give her happily.

she makes space for you as you lay down beside her, your fingers peeling the outermost layer of the fruit, just like you’d peeled all the tough layers she put up, getting to the core of her heart, learning her soul inside out. you take a piece and bring it to her peach hued lips. she gladly welcomes it, the juices dripping down her chin. “so messy.” you chuckle and wipe the pulp away with your thumb. “‘s not my fault you weren’t holding it properly.” she places a lingering kiss to your nose bridge, letting the sticky liquid make a home on your nose. “ellie!” you exclaim, giggling and nudging her shoulder. she takes a few pieces of the tangerine from your hand and pulps their juices out onto your neck, only to lick them clean, the warm muscle of her tongue flicking across the pulse of your neck. “you’re so gross.” you put the rest of the fruit away from her grasp, letting them rest on the round oak table that serves as a coffee table in the depths of your house. “mhm, you love me anyway.” she smiles against your neck, slender fingers crawling under your cotton dress, tugging and sliding them off your body. your bra and underwear follow suit, joining the fabric on the ground. her hands trace every contour, every blemish and every flawless crest, worshipping your skin like its her salvation. “my pretty girl.” she murmurs, manoeuvring your body to fit inside the oversized t-shirt she’s wearing, her skin erupting at the feel of yours. her arms encircle your waist, spooning you, seeking closeness. her hand slides down, pressing against your pelvis, fingers playing tenderly with the hair that adorns your pussy, in a loving manner. “i love you.” a kiss to your earlobe. “so.” a kiss to your forehead. “so.” a kiss to your collarbone. “much.” a final and gentle kiss to your cheek. you smile at your lovesick wife, equally as hopeless as her. “i love you too. so, so much.” you repeat her euphoric words, longing to hear the three most unoriginal words again and again. she reads your mind, knowing you and your heart’s way better than yourself, and repeats the words like a lullaby, creating a symphony in the humdrum of the living room. all that matters to her is your soft breathing, the book being long forgotten, bridged somewhere between your bodies. as she whispers the words that have became your private altar, her throat grows dry until slumber takes over her body, her eyes fluttering shut as her cheek presses against yours, relishing in the solace of your love.

[carlosainzgf]

Hiiii i love ur writing sm!!!! Can u write a kang dae ho x reader where we had Dated before the games but broke up because of our depts. And we meet again in the games and he was heart broken to see reader there and reader had been ’rude’ (not mean or anything but telling him they dont need his help etc) but after reader had seen how he acted with player 222. They got sad (jealous?) because they thought that they had something going on between those two. But after a near death experience reader Seeks for dae ho’s comfort and he makes sure reader is okay and comforts them. SORRY IT THIS IS CRINGE BUT I HAVE NOT BEEN ABLE TO GET THIS OFF MY MIND AND I CANT WRITE SHIT💔💔💔😔😔😔

the irony of fate

kang dae ho x reader (fluff)

(the words in a different font are throw backs)

the silence in the room was frightening. the metal beds, lined up in precise rows, offered little solace after the chaos of the first game. you fell onto one of the mattresses, exhausted, your breathing still uneven. the memory of the sharp sound of gunshots tormented you. as you massaged your temples, someone occupied the bunk in front of you. you didn't look up, too focused on calming your nerves, until you heard a familiar laugh, sarcastic and full of that carefree tone you always hated.

"well, this is quite a romantic meeting, don't you think?"

you raised your head. there he was, dae-ho, sitting on the bed with one leg crossed over the other, his long black hair as messy as ever, it was just longer than the last time you saw him. his eyes glittered with a mocking spark, and the crooked smile that you knew so well was there, intact.

“no way,” you murmured.

the last time you saw him, things ended badly, very badly. and now, after years of trying to bury it in your memory, it has appeared here, in this nightmare of a place.

“i can’t keep living like this dae ho!” you yelled. “i tried, i really did, but…i can’t anymore. we’re not good for each other. all we’ve been doing is fight for the last few months!”

“you’re giving up on us?” he sounded hurt.

“im not ‘giving up’ dae ho! i tried. it’s not working.”

and you haven’t seen him ever since.

you didn’t wanna break up but you had to. you were both so deep in depth. you both lived constant fear of being found by the people you owed money to. lots of money. the stress of you two brought both you down. you weren’t happy. all you did was fight. you didn’t spend time with each other due to working many jobs. you didn’t make love due to tiredness. you didn’t care for each other like you always did.

the break up took a toll on him. he wasn’t himself anymore. he fell apart after losing you. and he hated you for it. deep down he knew it wasn’t your fault but he couldn’t help it.

“come with me. i found a group of people to stick to. you’ll be safer.” he was still the old caring dae ho deep down. he will always care for you and you knew it.

“no thank you. i can take care of myself.”

“please stop being arrogant for once!” he said a little bit louder.

“i said no! don’t act like you care about me.” you turned your back to him, signaling for him to leave. he looked at your back for a few seconds but decided to leave. he knew how stubborn you could be.

───୨ৎ─── ───୨ৎ─── ───୨ৎ───

your eyes somehow looked for dae ho at every game, making sure he was alive. but every time you looked for him, he was with this girl.

she was short, pretty, around the same age as you. she always kept a hand on her stomach. she was pregnant, you figured.

dae ho always kept a hand on her shoulder or her back, supporting her and looking out for her. you couldn’t help but feel jealous.

did they have something between them? were they dating? was that his baby? did they join the game together? questions occupied your brain.

you soon snapped out of when your thoughts were interrupted by the mechanical voice, explaining the game.

mingle.

first round was ten people. a purple haired man pulled you into their group before you could look for another team to join.

the man was reckless. his pupils were dilated, he was weirdly jolly. he was high. but he had saved you. he kept talking about how you were beautiful as a flower and constantly flirted with you even when gunshots were blaring your ears. he didn’t let go of you when you left the room. he kept you by his side during other rounds.

until it was time to get into groups of four. you didn’t even have time to figure out what was happening when he kicked you in the gut and you fell to the ground, harshly. you couldn’t breathe. it was like all the oxygen left your lungs by how hard he kicked you. panic consumed you.

you couldn’t move. couldn’t yell. then your eyes met dae ho’s. he was about to go in to a room, and save himself when he saw you.

he didn’t think. not even for a second. he didn’t hesitate. he just ran.

10, 9, 8

he ran for you. he picked you up from the ground.

7, 6, 5

he was looking through rooms, trying to find where there were two people inside to make a group of four.

4, 3, 2

he was almost sure you both were going to die. but he didn’t mind. he would be gone with you in his arms. for him, to die by your side would’ve been a heavenly way to die.

just when he had accepted his faith someone pulled you both into a room with them. gi hun and young il.

1, 0.

gunshots once again filled your ears. dae ho sat you both to the ground and started asking if you were hurt. panic in his eyes, trying to make sure you were okay.

you didn’t answer. just grabbed his face and placed a longing kiss to his lips. it didn’t feel foreign. it felt like home.

tears ran down your face as you kissed. dae ho pulled away, wiped the tears away and placed a kiss on your forehead.

“don’t ever leave my side again. okay?”

“okay.”

gi hun and young il watched the interaction, confused, as you hugged each other, pulling the other impossibly closer, mumbling loving words, telling one another how much you missed each other and how nothings the same without them.

who knew such a place would bring you back to each other. what an irony of fate.

𓍯𓂃𓍯𓂃𓍯𓂃𓍯𓂃𓍯𓂃𓍯𓂃𓍯𓂃𓍯𓂃𓍯𓂃𓍯

i loooved this req! please send moree 🫶🫶

-love, a.

[andy-15-07]

can you do a fic with Paul Atreides, where Y/n is a bene gesserit and they find he is the One

Our love is powerful

masterlist ! pairing: Paul Atreides x reader

Dune Masterlist

In the mystical world of Arrakis, where sand dunes whispered ancient secrets, Paul Atreides and you, a Bene Gesserit, found yourselves entwined in a destiny written in the sands of time. The air in the Sietch was charged with anticipation as the Bene Gesserit sisterhood, with their millennia-old knowledge, discerned a truth that transcended the ordinary.

As you and Paul stood in the sacred chambers of the Bene Gesserit, the reverence in the air hinted at the gravity of the moment. The sisterhood, with their eyes that held the wisdom of countless generations, regarded Paul with a mix of expectation and acknowledgment.

"Y/N," one of the elder Bene Gesserit addressed you, "the threads of fate have woven a tapestry that binds your path with that of Paul Atreides. He is the One—the Kwisatz Haderach."

The realization hung in the air, a moment that echoed through the corridors of time. Paul, with his piercing blue eyes and a destiny that weighed heavily on his shoulders, looked at you with a mix of curiosity and acceptance.

"What does this mean?" Paul inquired, the weight of the prophecy settling on his young shoulders.

The elder Bene Gesserit stepped forward, her voice a melodic resonance that carried the echoes of ancient wisdom. "The Kwisatz Haderach—the One who can bridge space and time, unlocking the secrets of the universe. He who possesses both male and female ancestral memories, breaking the limitations that have bound humanity."

You, a Bene Gesserit bound by duty and destiny, met Paul's gaze with a depth of understanding. "Paul, you are the culmination of a plan set in motion by the Bene Gesserit sisterhood. The threads of our bloodlines converge in you."

The gravity of the revelation seemed to settle in the room. Paul, born into a lineage of political intrigue and ancient prophecy, found himself at the crossroads of destiny.

As you and Paul retreated from the sacred chambers, the Sietch buzzed with a mix of anticipation and uncertainty. The sands of Arrakis seemed to echo the whispers of the prophecy that had been unveiled.

"Y/N," Paul began, his voice a quiet contemplation, "what does it mean for us? For our relationship?"

You turned to him, your eyes reflecting the weight of the truth. "Paul, our connection goes beyond the prophecy. The Bene Gesserit may have seen the threads of fate, but our love is a force that transcends destiny. Together, we navigate the path that unfolds before us."

The days that followed were filled with the intensity of preparation, as Paul embraced the training and revelations that came with being the Kwisatz Haderach. The Bene Gesserit sisterhood, with their watchful eyes, guided him through the intricacies of their ancient knowledge.

Amidst the trials and tribulations, your connection with Paul deepened. As he grappled with the weight of his destiny, your presence became a source of solace and understanding. Late nights were spent beneath the stars, the two of you seeking refuge in each other's arms.

One evening, as the desert winds whispered tales of destiny, Paul looked at you with a mix of vulnerability and determination. "Y/N, I may be the Kwisatz Haderach, but my heart belongs to you. Our love will be the anchor as I navigate the complexities of this path."

You smiled, a reassurance that transcended words. "Paul, no prophecy can diminish the love we share. The threads of fate may guide your journey, but our connection is a beacon that lights the way."

As Paul embraced his destiny, the sands of Arrakis witnessed a love story that defied the limitations of prophecy. Together, you and Paul Atreides forged a path that merged ancient wisdom with the unwavering power of love—a journey that echoed through the sands of time, leaving an indelible mark on the destiny of Arrakis.

[thisblogisaboutabook]

Rainy Season

Azriel x Reader

An angsty little one shot. Azriel’s mate is tired of being at the bottom of his list of priorities.

Update: Due to popular demand, this is being made into a series!

Part 2

The air’s getting heavy and we both know why

There was a time when an evening like this brought solace to my weary soul.

Azriel’s hand wrapped around my waist, caressing my stomach, pressing soft kisses to the juncture of my neck and shoulder. His hair tickling against my sensitive skin as we hid under blankets absorbing the incessant melody of drip, drop, drip, drop and the echoing pitter patter of rain drops hitting the roof. His warmth seeping right through to the coldest depths of my soul.

I’d turn around, pressing my bare breasts against his muscled chest. Our breath hitching as his sunburst eyes of brown, amber, and gold bore into mine, his soft lips whispering promises of forever.

Say that this storm is just passing through

But Azriel wasn’t here. He hadn’t been for 6 days, 23 hours, and 50 minutes now. It would have been laughable, comparing the past to now, if it weren’t so damned sad. In the beginning there’d been long, doting love notes with risqué quips regarding his intentions upon coming home, little gifts that he couldn’t resist bringing back from his travels, and the stolen hours where he’d sneak in a visit during the intermittent downtime on his missions. As a realist, I knew that it was not sustainable long-term but relished in it as the gift it was. Newly formed, passionate love that exceeded anything I had ever imagined upon finding my cauldron-blessed mate.

As the years went on I understood when the love notes became briefs and the thoughtful gifts became pecks on the cheek as he hurried through the door to exchange his leathers for clean ones, wipe down his weapons, and rest before his next mission. But time went on, as is inevitable, and distant were the memories of stolen moments away from missions, the desperate caress of his hands roaming my body as if he couldn’t quite believe I was fully corporeal before him - needing to touch me to reassure him that this was real. Now the touches were detached, perfunctory, another task on his never-ending to-do list.

Drop after drop we’re destroying this house and eachother.

The boiling point had been simmering for a while, left on the fire with reassurances of “Things are just busy right now”, “It’ll slow down soon”, “I would stay if I could, love. You know I would. I have no choice.”

But we both knew all too well that there was always a choice. There were times when Rhys let it slip that Azriel had volunteered for missions that his other spies were perfectly suited for, times when all I wanted in the world was to be curled up and listening to the rain with my mate.

Missions became tasks with the Valkyries, “chaperoning” Cassian and Nesta, and emotionally supporting the lovely doe-eyed fawn - Elain - who was the delicate cherry blossom of spring opposite of my wild summertime storm.

It wasn’t her fault. The trauma inflicted upon her, the loss of autonomy that came with being thrown into the cauldron and having her mortality stripped away without her say. The powers she never asked for overwhelming her senses. Hell, maybe it wasn’t Azriel’s fault for responding to the traumas of his past and the need to overcompensate for every ounce of blood he’s drawn by saving anything and everything that needed rescuing.

The problem lay with the fact that where Elain is a “seer”, my ability to “sense” when things are amiss was strong and Azriel’s intentions with her were becoming blurred. Feelings of lust had become more frequent down the bond along with flutters of joy and adoration. When it began I thought maybe things would look up in our relationship - he was missing me, fisting his cock to fantasies of taking me over and over when he returned home - but he only became more distant. He’d return more often than not smelling of jasmine and honey. The strength of the scent coating him correlating with the increase in enamored feelings slipping through the bond.

Six days ago when I’d asked him to skip out on training with Cassian and Nesta and whatever it was he and Elain would do - that was when the thunder clapped and the sky opened. “I can’t just stay home and cater to you all the time. I have duties to this court. Why can’t you find a hobby to occupy your time? Nesta reads and trains with the Valkyries, Feyre paints, Elain gardens and she evens bakes! Why can’t you be more like-“

He caught himself too late, immediately reaching out to place a gentle hand on my shoulder and apologize but it was too late for that.

Please, make it stop

It wasn’t that I wasn’t a forgiving or understanding person. i appreciated his dedication to his court and family and those in need but…

“Why can’t I be more like what? You can stop mid-sentence but you already said it all.” I looked down, shaking my head as silver lined my eyes. Gods, I hate that I’m an angry crier. “You want to know why I can’t be more like Elain in your eyes, Azriel? Because I exist in your fucking blind spot! I have been helping Feyre AT the studio, volunteering at a food pantry in Velaris, and teaching self-defense classes to women and children at the park but you wouldn’t know because you never ask me what I’ve been up to while you’re gone.”

He started to speak but I wasn’t finished. “The reason I cannot be more like Elain, or Feyre, or Nesta is because I’m none of them. I am ME. And you know what? I like me. I don’t want to be anybody else.” Trying and failing miserably to hold my head high I pathetically fell to my knees, shuddering as tears of rage flowed freely.

Warmth enveloped me as Azriel knelt down to soothe my quaking form. I let him if only because I didn’t have the composure to tell him otherwise as he began pressing kisses to my forehead. “I’m so sorry. I have been a terrible mate. I love all that you are- I- I’ll stop with Elain. She’s doing much better and Nuala and Cerridwen can keep an eye on her, so can Rhys and Cassian, and her sisters. It will be okay.”

That consolation attempt only drove the blade of bitterness deeper into my heart. Elain had so many in her corner and who did I have anymore? My chronically absent mate? The family I left behind to move to Velaris with Azriel? There was nobody close by.

“I think you should leave.” I sobbed out.

Azriel ignored the shaky command, continuing to hold me. Fuck - is this what it took for him to notice me? Breaking my heart so he could stitch it back up again?

“Azriel.” I stated firmly.

He met my eyes.

“You should leave.”

His look grew puzzled. “I thought you wanted me to stay - to spend time together? Please, Y/N. Let me make this better.”

“I need space. Give me one week.”

“But-“

“One. Week.”

Azriel’s shoulders slumped, head hanging low for several minutes before realizing that my decision was firm.

“I love you.” He said before heading out the door.

——————

Like clockwork as 7 days, 0 hours, and 1 minute were up, the front door to our home opened and Azriel’s footsteps padded in behind me, my gaze remaining fixated on the rain falling outside the window. A lump formed in my throat as I avoided turning to meet his gaze.

So dance one more dance and tell one more lie.

Azriel stepped around me, wordlessly extending a hand, patiently waiting as I avoided his gaze a moment longer before taking it. His shadows began humming faintly, increasing their melody and reaching a crescendo as Azriel began dancing with me through the room.

Say that you love me even if it’s not true

I let myself melt into the warmth of his chest. The thick air remained heavy upon my soul but I could have this. I could let myself enjoy this moment.

We wordlessly danced through the room in the soft glow of the fae lights.

We made our way through the hall into our shared bed that had become so neglected.

“I love you, Y/N.” he murmured as he laid me down, stripped bare underneath him.

“I love you too, Azriel.”

——————

Wish I could just say it and words were enough to keep you from being the one giving up.

The middle of the night left me restless as he lay soundly asleep beside me. My senses tugged me toward his bag that he’d discarded at the entryway. I brought out his dirty clothes from the week only to be greeted with the fresh scent of jasmine and honey.

Like the sky letting go for no reason

I packed my essentials and voyaged out into the pouring rain. Its patter on my skin washing away the salty tears streaming down my face. Following my senses to where the love was true back to my Summer Court home, my family. As free as a summer storm.

It's just the rainy season.

—————————————

A/n - I know there are plenty of Azriel x Reader and Elain fics out there. It was rainy and dreary here yesterday and this song was in my head for the first time in like 10 years so…. I wrote this.

[pressureplus]

I actually have this request in my head for a while now... but I'm not sure if you be up to do it so thank to let me know if you will do it or not. Fem! Reader who is happily married and live together with Sebastian (when he still human). Until, Sebastian was arrested and sentence to dead. Reader found no long after his dead that she was pregnant. Years later, Sebastian manage to escape Hadal Blacksite probably very injured in the process. He was soon spotted by the kid that look similar to his human self (the kid probably be now close to be a teenager now), as the kid call up their mother. Sebastian was shocked to see his wife come to view.

I'm looking 👀

Love this dramatic shit, I'm SO here for it!

I'm going to be referring to your son as S/N, so y'all can name your boy yourselves! (I'm real interested in the stuff you might choose, so if you wanna put them in the replies, I'd love to see your baby names!)

Smaller Hands

Pairing: Sebastian Solace x Fem!Reader

Au: [Unnamed]

Warnings: Mentions of Pregnancy, an Absent Father, injury, and Imprisonment

◞꒷◟ ͜ ͜ ◞ྀི◟୨୧◞ྀི◟ ͜ ͜ ◞꒷◟◞꒷◟ ͜ ͜ ◞ྀི◟୨୧◞ྀི◟ ͜ ͜ ◞꒷◟

He had been running a very long time before he got to where he was now.

Escaping the Blacksite was only the beginning of his long, long journey home. He had wrestled himself from the depths of the deep ocean and fought his way all the way up to the light far, far above him.

Breaking through the surface of the water had provided him with a hope he never thought he'd see truly grow into something he could really hold. Sunlight and open air and a horizon that stretched endlessly in every direction... Sebastian hadn't known freedom in over 10 years, but there it was.

The way the natural light caught the glint of his wedding ring had him already tearing through the water with a grin, energy back in his tired body. It certainly wasn't his original ring, no, that one wouldn't fit on his new, much larger hand anymore, but the replacement that he got so he could wear a ring on his hand and not just as a pendant was enough of a visual reminder of his love, sending him treading the water the way this body was made to do. He had to get to his wife.

He had to see his Y/N again. That's always what his efforts were for.

It was days before he even reached a beach, and weeks of dragging himself through the shadows and the alleyways, keeping himself out of sight. He would squint at road maps and try to figure out how he was going to get himself home, not very well able to get on the public transport or drive himself there with a body like this. He had to be more than a little creative with how he was going to cross the countless miles between his lover and himself if he wanted to make it there at all. He'd spend his seemingly endless days hopping trains and swimming rivers just to close the distance faster, like it may wash away the last decade he's had to go without her.

Sebastian could only hope she waited for him, though those chances were next to none. She had been there the day he was 'executed', watching him get taken back to the chair that was supposed to put his story to its end. She has every right and reason to think he died that day, and he could never be angry or upset if she decided she still needed to be held the way his other hands used to hold her... Would these hands even fit her anymore? They'd outgrown his first ring... Would they be too big to hold hers anymore? The painful thought was a reoccurring one, and it plagued every dream he had in the moments he would manage to rest.

He's nearing his old cottage now, beaten and scarred from the long trip home, more than a little bit tired and definitely hungry. He's barely going to make it if he manages to get to the doorstep at all, but more thankful than ever he'd made his home with her outside of the city and out into the woods so he might have a moment to his thoughts. He could very well find her with another man, or he could find a completely new family, or even find nothing but flowers and trees- The life that he made with her could be all but ashes on a breeze that swept this place years ago. She could be a memory and this could all be for nothing just as easily as anything else. He wouldn't even have a right to be angry... He wouldn't even feel a right to cry if she's decided to move on.

"SNAKE MAN! SNAKE MAN!!!"

He's shaken from his pondering by an unfamiliar voice, a starry eyed child fumbling out of the bushes like a little animal.

He nearly panics and flees before the brave, feral little boy reaches out for his hand and looks up at him like something right out of a story book- Which, he supposed may be fair given the way that he looks now.

"Are you a forest monster!? Do you grant wishes and eat people and stuff?!" It's clear the boy doesn't know fear, young and small still, with new eyes... But familiar ones.

Sebastian's heart drops into his stomach when he begins to recognize the thick, dark hair and deep brown eyes. This boy is the spitting image of the way he looked when he was around 10 or 11... It's like he's been pulled right from Sebastian's old childhood photos.

Too dumbfounded to speak, Sebastian stands there, every muscle in his body tense while his eyes flick around the boy's face trying to figure out how this could be.

"S/N! What are you doing talking to strangers, you were supposed to be at least playing in the yard and not the woods before the sun started setting." Y/N rounds the trees with a stubborn look on her face and immediately freezes when her gaze meets Sebastian's.

The air is knocked out of the both of them, leaving them only able to stare, and he notes the way she's remained nearly the same as the day that he was forced to leave her behind. Like a flower that never wilts, she stands as beautiful and as amazing as she was when he had first met her. Frozen with an expression he can't place, she makes no motion to do anything at all. The larger man acts first at the realization she must be frightened of him, going to put his two unheld hands up and open his mouth to explain himself-

"You said not to talk to strangers, this is CLEARLY a forest monster." Little S/N beats both of them to the punch and confirms to Sebastian all at once that his attitude is as strong in his blood as that unruly dark hair is.

"Heed your mother, would you? I could very well eat you." Sebastian ushers the child forward with a playful threat, the boy in reference pouting and looking back up at him.

"Come on, I'm only out a little bit late! It's not dark yet! Monsters only eat people in the dark." The boy argues, unfamiliar with the idea of real danger, it seems, but certain of himself the way only children really can be.

"Sebastian I can't believe it... Is it you? Am I losing my mind?" Putting the scolding and corrections on her son's statements off for a better time, Y/N looks up at the mutated form of her lover, hoping she might be right. When Y/N speaks, it's soft and uncertain, a hand going to rest on her child's shoulder so as not to lose him while she's distracted.

"You recognize me?" His heart practically jumps into his throat and he struggles to cope with how quickly she's guessed it was him.

"If not for the way one soul knows another, then for your voice and... Our ring." Unafraid just as well, she walks right up to the towering creature and brings her hand up to the necklace it's strung onto around his neck.

"Am I too late?" Sebastian asks, still scared.

"You're late, but never too much. You had better come home now though." She gets firm near the end and he laughs, melting.

"Awe that's no fair! I'm in trouble for being a few minutes late and he gets to be gone forever!" The boy whines and Y/N seems to laugh when she ruffles his hair.

"You can be out of trouble because it's a special day. Now, let's go home and get you to bed." Y/N's eyes stray back up to her husband, the fondness that was there in those beautiful eyes he fell in love with was something that had grown blurry and hard to recall until now. The way her gaze rested on him so softly brought him back like he'd never left in the first place.

"I think I have some things to talk about with your monster, here." She smiles at him and goes to slide her hand into his, the cold feeling against his palm of her own ring -the matching one to his from the promise that they'd made at that altar a long time ago- made him feel warm again, and made him feel alive.

"Yes, I've got a lot of things I've been waiting to tell her for these years we've spent apart."

[moonxytcn]

Shadows of Dragonstone

| Rhaenyra Targaryen x fem!reader

summary – You have been Rhaenyra's servant since you were a child and you will always be there for her, no matter what

tags & warnings – rhaenyra x fem!servant!reader, angst, a little dark themes?, fluffy if you squint your eyes.

a/n – I'm just back in my era of love for her. My queen! 🤭

| English is not my first language so there may be some errors.

| Masterlist —✽— Pinned post

 ㅤㅤ✯ ━━━━━━ ✿ ✫ ✿ ━━━━━━ ✯

–––

The halls of Dragonstone are cold and silent, a far cry from the warmth and bustling life of King's Landing. Here, the stone walls seem to echo the turmoil in your heart, reflecting the stark isolation that Rhaenyra must feel. She has always been a flame in the darkness, a beacon of strength and defiance, but now, that flame flickers dangerously low.

You have been her personal servant since childhood, a constant presence by her side. The bond you share goes beyond duty; it is a secret love forged in the crucible of court intrigues and whispered promises. It began on that fateful night when Daemon took her to the house of pleasure, a night that changed everything between you. Now, with Harwin Strong's departure to Harrenhal, Rhaenyra's heart aches with a new kind of pain, one that you feel deeply within your own soul.

The morning is bleak as you approach her chambers, carrying a tray of breakfast. You hesitate at the door, listening for any sound from within. The silence is oppressive, broken only by the distant roar of the sea. Taking a deep breath, you knock gently before entering.

Rhaenyra sits by the window, her silhouette framed against the grey sky. Her eyes are distant, lost in thoughts you can only guess at. The fire in the hearth struggles to warm the room, much like your presence struggles to warm her heart these days.

"Good morning, Princess." You say softly, setting the tray on a small table. "I brought you breakfast."

She turns her gaze to you, and for a moment, the mask of the future queen slips, revealing the vulnerable woman beneath. "Thank you." She murmurs, but makes no move to eat.

You approach her cautiously, your heart aching at the sight of her so desolate. "Rhaenyra." You whisper, daring to reach out and touch her hand. "Please, you must take care of yourself."

She looks at you, and the pain in her eyes is almost unbearable. "I am tired." She admits, her voice barely audible. "So very tired of losing those I care about."

You kneel beside her, your fingers entwining with hers. "You are not alone." You say, your voice fierce with the depth of your feelings. "I am here. I will always be here."

Her grip tightens on your hand, and for a moment, it seems as if she might break down. But Rhaenyra Targaryen is nothing if not resilient. She takes a deep breath and straightens her shoulders, the mask slipping back into place. "We must be strong," she says, though you can hear the strain in her voice. "For the realm."

You nod, understanding the weight of her words. "For the realm." You echo, though in your heart, it is for her that you would do anything.

The days pass in a blur of duties and stolen moments. You do your best to be a comfort to her, to remind her of the warmth and love that still exists in the world, even in the shadow of Dragonstone. It is a delicate balance, keeping your relationship hidden from prying eyes while giving her the solace she so desperately needs.

One night, as you help her prepare for bed, she turns to you with a look of determination. "I need to feel alive again." She says, her voice trembling with emotion. "Will you help me?"

You nod, your heart pounding. "Always." You whisper.

She leads you to the bed, her hands shaking slightly as she begins to undress. You follow her lead, your own nerves taut with anticipation and fear. This is different from the secret moments you've shared before. There is a desperation in her touch, a need to forget the pain if only for a little while.

As you lie together in the dim light of the chamber, you hold her close, your bodies entwined. Her tears dampen your skin, and you kiss them away, each touch a silent promise of love and loyalty. In the darkness, the walls of Dragonstone seem to fade, leaving just the two of you in a world of your own making.

Afterward, you lie together, her head resting on your chest. The storm outside rages on, but here, in this moment, there is a fragile peace. "Thank you." She whispers, her voice breaking. "For being here. For loving me."

You kiss the top of her head, your own tears mingling with hers. "Always." You repeat, the word a vow.

But peace in Dragonstone is fleeting. The next day brings more bad news, more reasons for Rhaenyra to steel herself against the world. You stand by her side, offering what comfort you can, but the shadows are ever present, threatening to consume you both.

One evening, as you sit together in front of the hearth, she takes your hand in hers. "I fear I will lose you too." She admits, her voice barely above a whisper.

You squeeze her hand, your heart aching with the weight of her fears. "I am not going anywhere." You promise. "No matter what happens, I will be by your side."

She looks at you, her eyes filled with a mixture of hope and sorrow. "Promise me." She says, her voice trembling. "Promise me that you will stay."

"I promise." You say, the words a binding oath. "I will never leave you."

The days grow shorter, and the nights colder, as the weight of the realm's troubles presses down on you both. But through it all, you hold onto each other, finding strength in the love that binds you.

One night, as the storm outside rages, you wake to find Rhaenyra standing by the window, her silhouette a dark shadow against the flickering light of the fire. You rise and go to her, wrapping your arms around her waist. She leans into you, her body trembling with unspoken fears.

"We will get through this." You whisper, pressing a kiss to her shoulder. "Together."

She turns in your arms, her eyes searching yours. "I do not know what I would do without you." She admits, her voice breaking.

"You will never have to find out." You say, your voice firm with conviction. "I am yours, Rhaenyra. Now and always."

She kisses you then, a desperate, searching kiss that speaks of all the things words cannot express. You hold her close, pouring all your love and devotion into that kiss, hoping to banish the darkness that surrounds you both.

As the storm rages on, you make love again, finding solace in each other's arms. In the heat of your passion, the world outside fades away, leaving only the two of you, bound together by love and necessity.

In the aftermath, as you lie together, spent and sated, she turns to you, her eyes soft with affection. "Thank you." She whispers, her voice thick with emotion. "For everything."

You smile, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "Always." You say, the word a promise and a vow.

The storms of Dragonstone may rage on, and the shadows may threaten to consume you, but in each other, you find the strength to carry on. Together, you face the darkness, knowing that your love is a light that will never be extinguished.

And in the end, that is enough.

[oldsoul007]

forbidden desires

dr. charlie mayhew x reader

summary: you’re fathers doctor is drawn to you and you can’t deny how drain you are to him

Dr. Charlie Mayhew was a man of precision and control, his life meticulously ordered within the sterile walls of the hospital. Yet, beneath his composed exterior, a storm brewed. His days were filled with the monotony of medical routines until y/n entered his world. She was the daughter of one of his patients, a beacon of light in the dark corridors of the hospital.

Y/ns visits were frequent, her presence a stark contrast to the clinical coldness that surrounded them. There was an intensity in her eyes that drew Charlie in, a forbidden allure that he couldn't resist. Their interactions were charged with an undercurrent of tension, each glance and touch igniting a fire that threatened to consume them both.

One evening, as the hospital quieted, Charlie found himself unable to resist the pull any longer. He sought her out, finding her in the dimly lit garden where shadows danced around them. The air was thick with unspoken desires as he approached her.

"Y/n," he whispered, his voice rough with longing. "I can't keep pretending this isn't happening."

She turned to him, her eyes dark and filled with a hunger that mirrored his own. "I've felt it too, Charlie. This... whatever it is between us, it's like a dark force pulling us together."

Their meetings grew more clandestine, each encounter more intense than the last. They found solace in the secrecy, their affair a dangerous dance that teetered on the edge of discovery. The thrill of the forbidden only heightened their passion, each stolen moment a testament to the depths of their desire.

One night, in the shadows of the hospital's deserted wing, Charlie pulled y/n into a hidden alcove. Their breaths mingled, the air electric with anticipation. "This is madness," he murmured against her lips. "But I can't stop."

Y/n fingers tangled in his hair, her voice a breathless whisper. "Then don't. Let the madness consume us."

Our kiss was fierce, a collision of need and desperation. In the darkness, we surrendered to the forbidden, our affair a tempest of passion and peril. We knew the risks, the potential for ruin, but in each other's arms, we found a twisted kind of salvation.

As our relationship deepened, the lines between right and wrong blurred, leaving us both ensnared in a web of dark romance. The hospital became our secret sanctuary, a place where our forbidden love could thrive in the shadows, unseen and unchallenged.

The hospital was eerily quiet one night, the usual hustle and bustle replaced by a haunting stillness. Charlie had been on edge all day, the anticipation of seeing y/n again gnawing at him. He knew it was dangerous, that anyone could walk in at any moment, but the risk only fueled his desire.

He found me in an empty room, the dim lighting casting long shadows on the walls. I was waiting for him, my eyes filled with the same longing that burned within him. Without a word, he closed the door behind him and crossed the room in a few quick strides.

Our lips met in a heated, desperate kiss, years of restraint and propriety melting away in an instant. Charlie's hands roamed over my body, pulling me closer, needing to feel every inch of me against him. I responded with equal fervor, my fingers threading through his hair as I pressed myself against him.

The room seemed to disappear around them, leaving only the two of us lost in our passion. Charlie's heart pounded in his chest, each beat echoing the intensity of our embrace. He backed me up against the wall, his lips never leaving mine, our kiss deepening with each passing second.

I moaned softly against his mouth, my hands clutching at his shirt, pulling him even closer. The sound drove Charlie wild, his desire for me growing with every touch, every gasp. He trailed kisses down my neck, savoring the taste of my skin, the way I shivered under his touch.

"Charlie," I whispered, my voice a mix of need and urgency. "We shouldn't... but I can't stop."

"Neither can I," he murmured against my skin. "I need you, y/n. I need you now."

Our kisses grew more frantic, our hands exploring, claiming. The world outside that room ceased to exist, leaving only the two of us, caught in the throes of our forbidden passion. It was reckless, it was dangerous, but in that moment, it was everything.

Charlie’s hands moved to his tie, loosening it with a sense of urgency. He tossed it aside, his focus solely on me. Our kisses grew more heated, our breaths mingling in the confined space. Just as he was about to deepen the kiss, the door burst open.

A nurse rushed in, her face pale and eyes wide with alarm. "Dr. Mayhew! It's d/n ! We need you right now!"

The words hit them like a splash of cold water. I pulled away, my heart racing for an entirely different reason now. "What happened?" I asked, panic creeping into my voice.

The nurse didn't waste any time. "He's taken a turn for the worse. We need you in his room immediately."

Charlie and I exchanged a look, our moment shattered. Without another word, we hurried out of the room, our passionate encounter forgotten in the face of the urgent news about my dad.

We rushed down the hallway, the urgency of the nurse's words propelling us forward. When we reached my dad's room, they found him sitting up in bed, looking slightly confused but otherwise fine.

The nurse, now catching her breath, quickly checked the monitors and then turned to me with an apologetic smile. "I'm so sorry, it looks like it was a false alarm. His vitals are stable, and there's no immediate concern."

I let out a sigh of relief, my heart still pounding from the scare. I glanced at Charlie, who gave me a reassuring nod. The tension that had built up during our passionate moment shifted into a shared sense of relief and gratitude.

I approached my dad, taking his hand gently. "I'm glad you're okay, Dad," I said softly.

Charlie stood back, giving them a moment, but his eyes never left y/n. The intensity of their earlier encounter lingered in the air, a reminder of the deep connection they shared, even in the face of unexpected interruptions.

After making sure my dad was comfortable and everything was truly okay, we stepped out into the hallway. The adrenaline was still coursing through our veins, but now it was mixed with a sense of relief.

I leaned against the wall, trying to steady my breath. "That was close," I said, a small laugh escaping my lips. "We almost got caught."

Charlie chuckled, running a hand through his hair. "Yeah, that was definitely a close call. I don't think my heart has ever raced that fast."

I looked at him, my eyes softening. "Thank you for being here, Charlie. I don't know what I would have done without you."

He stepped closer, his expression serious but tender. "You don't have to thank me, y/n. I'm here for you, always."

We stood there for a moment, the intensity of our earlier moment still lingering between them. Despite the scare, it was clear that our connection had only grown stronger through the shared experience.

Dr. Charlie had always been passionate about his work, but lately, the stress had been getting to him especially with him and y/n’s affair. His anger issues were starting to surface more frequently, and y/n could see the change in him. One evening, after a particularly grueling day, Charlie's frustration boiled over.

"Why can't anything just go right?" he snapped, slamming a stack of papers onto his desk. I watched him, my heart aching for him but also feeling a pang of fear.

"Charlie, you need to calm down," I said, trying to keep my voice steady. "This isn't like you."

He turned to me, his eyes blazing with a mix of anger and desperation. "You don't understand, y/n. The pressure is unbearable, and then there's you... I can't stop thinking about you, and it's fucking driving me insane!"

I felt a surge of fear and frustration. "Charlie, you're scaring me. I care about you, but you can't keep taking your anger out on me. It's not fair."

Charlie took a step back, his expression softening as he realized the impact of his words. "I'm sorry, y/n. I didn't mean to frighten you. It's just... everything feels like it's falling apart, and I don't know how to handle it."

I bit back my own tears, my voice firm. "I understand you're stressed, but you need to find a way to deal with it without lashing out. We both have our struggles, and we need to support each other, not tear each other down."

Charlie nodded, the fire in his eyes dimming. "You're right. I need to get a grip on my anger, for both our sakes. I'm sorry, y/n. I'll do better."

We stood there, the tension slowly easing as we faced the reality of our situation. It was clear that our relationship was a source of both strength and stress, and we would need to navigate it carefully if we were to find any semblance of peace.

As Charlie stood there, the weight of his apology hanging in the air, I took a hesitant step forward. The tension between us was palpable, a mix of unresolved emotions and unspoken words. I could see the sincerity in his eyes, the genuine remorse.

"Charlie," I whispered, my voice barely audible. "I know you're trying. I can see it."

Before I could say anything else, Charlie closed the distance between us, his hands gently cupping my face. Our eyes locked, and in that moment, all the anger, fear, and confusion seemed to melt away. He leaned in, capturing my lips in a heated kiss.

I responded instantly, my arms wrapping around his neck as I pressed myself against him. The kiss was intense, filled with all the emotions we had been holding back. Charlie's hands moved to my waist, pulling me closer as he backed me up against his desk.

Papers scattered to the floor as we continued to kiss, our passion taking over. Charlie lifted me onto the desk, his lips never leaving mine. The world outside ceased to exist; it was just the two of us, lost in the moment.

When we finally pulled away, both of us were breathless. Charlie rested his forehead against mine, his hands still holding mine close. "I don't ever want to lose you," he murmured, his voice filled with raw emotion.

I smiled softly, my fingers tracing the line of his jaw. "You won't," I promised. "We'll figure this out together."

In that moment, we both knew that despite the challenges ahead, our connection was stronger than ever.

[jonathansthickthighs]

My Sweetest Heart 5: Yandere! Fushiguro Toji 𝐱 Reader (Toji’s POV)

Description: You had a one night stand with Toji and now he won’t leave you alone.

Warnings: yandere, obsessive behavior, female reader, toxic behavior, DARK CONTENT, GORE (slight), murder, jealousy, possessive behavior, stalking, desperate toji, slight smut, unprotected sex (wrap it up), mentions of baby trapping, breeding kink?, daddy kink, masturbation, alternative universe (no curses), age gap (reader is in her early 20’s, toji is in his mid 30’s)

A/N: Greetings, reader. I wanna thank you for all the love you showed this mini series, I really really appreciate it <3. Without further ado, here is the final chapter! It’s a little different as it is written completely in Toji’s POV and it’s also slightly darker that the previous ones, so read at your own risk! Hope you enjoy :)

Italics = flashbacks

NOT EDITED!

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Masterlist

You’re mine.

The instant my eyes landed on you, I knew that was my destiny— the sole purpose for my existence in this floating sphere we call Earth. From that fateful night onward, I became aware. I became aware of what a man truly in love is capable of. All things suddenly made sense, and I felt everything. The gentle breeze caressing my skin was almost like an imitation of your soft hand running through my tough-to-the touch skin. The sun kissing my face with the same passion as your tender lips. Those romance movies and novels I once detested now played endlessly in my mind, imagining it was us, living our own life as a happy couple.

You make me vulnerable.

Vulnerability used to be such a foreign feeling to me, not even experiencing it as a child. It makes me feel weak— you make me weak. But I’ve learned to accept this newfound fragility because I love you. This vulnerability, it’s truly a disconcerting sensation, like exposing an unarmored heart to the world— to you. You’re my world. You’ve taught me more about life than I could have ever imagine, something I wouldn’t expect from someone so young. At your age, I was nothing more than an ignorant boy who didn’t understand or cared about anything. Yet, in your presence, I’ve come to see vulnerability as a strength. Loving you has taught me that this feeling is not about weakness, but about trust and intimacy. Allowing you to see the depths of my soul and getting the same in return from you has made me find solace in those moments. I now embrace the beautiful feeling of vulnerability because thanks to you, it makes me feel like the strongest man alive.

I know I have one or two… loose screws.

I can be an incredibly jealous and territorial man when it comes to you. Insecurity floods my mind at any minimum interaction you have with a man, in particular men your age. No matter how much you reassured me on your desire to only be with me and my age not being an issue to you, there was always a little voice in my head that made me erupt. I know you had lost count of how many times I had caused a scene in public, getting all up in the other man’s face with threats of violence. You’d barely manage to drag me with out of the place, apologizing profusely as you begged the owners to not call the police on your problematic boyfriend. Remember those times? I’m deeply sorry, sweetheart, I’m aware of how much I embarrassed you. It wasn’t my intention, but each occasion I would spot a man eyeing you up, I couldn’t control myself from going ballistic. You are every man’s dream, a vision of beauty too pure for this ugly world. That’s why I can’t let them have you— I’m just trying to protect you.

Even when you didn’t like situations I put you in, I am certain you loved the aftermath. Pistoling my thick cock in your heavenly hole, claiming what’s mine always made my jealousy and insecurities dissipate. Your scream and moans only confirmed how much you enjoyed giving yourself to me. Make up sex with you was so intense and passionate, it almost made me want to start fights with you constantly. Your slick juices coating my cock was evidence of your arousal. You loved make up sex as much as I did. I can’t help myself from remembering how many times you moaned into my ear that me you belonged only to me, making my heart leap in joy. I stay up night after night reminiscing in those precious moments, those are memories I will always hold close to my heart and continue to long for.

“F-fuck me! This pussy is yours, Toji! I belong to you, only you!” Your whines were muffled by my hand placed on the side of your face, pressing your head into the mattress, thrusting my cock into your dripping cunt from behind. The way you moaned my name, telling me you were mine making my cock throb from the overbearing arousal. You could never fully grasp how you make me feel because it transcends anything this world could offer. It’s something beyond words, beyond earthly experiences, as if it belongs to a place untouched by time and space.

“You better not be lying to me, sweetheart. No other man can have you like this, this pretty little hole was made for my cock only!” Delivering a harsh slap to your ass, I could feel myself getting riled up at the imagine of another man seeing you in this position. It wasn’t your fault men wouldn’t stop throwing themselves at you, but I just wish you weren’t so fucking nice about it. Your kindness only encourages them and it makes me sick. It makes me feel like you like the attention and I’m not here for it. All your attention should be on me!

I continued spanking your now sore globes, hearing you let out whimpers, not able to identify if they’re from pain, pleasure or a mixture of both. I was so angry at you I couldn’t bring myself to care. I wanted to hurt you like you hurt me. “Toji, I’m not lying. I’m only yours. P-please!” You sobbed and I felt my heart drop when I saw actual tears falling from your eyes. This is were I draw the line, if there was something I couldn’t stand was seeing you cry. Forcing myself to stop, I removed my hand from the side of your face to wipe your tears away gently, calling your name.

“No! Don’t stop! It feels s’good, Toji!” My eyes widened briefly, but I couldn’t stop the chuckle that escaped my lips. You were crying from pleasure. As much as I hate to see you cry, I can’t keep myself from thinking about how absolutely beautiful you look when you do. The way your skin glows, your eyes sparkle and your lips puff up is like a work of art. An art piece of incalculable value that nobody but me can admire.

“What a fucking slut. You like -hah- being punished don’t you, baby? You like being used by me.” I hissed as I started thrusting into your tight pussy fast and hard, loving the way your ass bounced with each rough stroke I gave you. Grabbing a fistful of your hair, your ass received another firm slap from my hand, making you cry out as your cunt clenched around me. Gods, your pussy is delicious. Nothing felt better than you. Our first night solidified our bond, the connection between us felt so strong I thought it to be impossible for you to not feel the same way.

I could tell by your constant clenching that you were going to release your delectable nectar all over my pulsing cock, which made a wave of relief wash over me as I’d been holding my own release from the moment I felt your slickness engulf me. I absolutely love coming inside you, but it’s a shame you’re on birth control. Those damn pills never cease to piss me off. My intention from the first time we had sex was to impregnate you. It mortifies me to admit that one of the main reasons I came inside you so many times that night was in hopes of baby trapping you so I’d be in your life one way or another, but now that you’re my woman I truly desire to become a father for reasons beyond tying you to me for life. I want to have a family with you.

“Are you gonna let me put a baby in you, huh, sweetheart?” I dare to ask you as I move my hand down to play with your swollen clit because I know how much you love it when I do.

“Yes, daddy! Please, fill me up.” I couldn’t stop my eyes from rolling back from the pleasure, you’re just so good to me. I knew your answer wouldn’t be as positive if my dick wasn’t inside you, but I enjoy the way you feed into my delusions when I’m fucking you, knowing you’d say yes to anything I ask as long as I’m rearranging your insides. Your little plea was all it took for me to paint your insides white, releasing rope after rope of semen hoping that this time you’d be part of that 0.1% of the cases where birth control fails. I felt you coming around me, milking me of all I had, squeezing me so tightly I felt as if I might be trapped inside you forever.

“I love you so much, Toji.”

You broke up with me.

The way you told me you loved me replayed in my mind every hour of every day since that moment. For the first time in my life, I cried. I cried in front of you, raw and vulnerable, and I begged you not to leave me. Despite my tears and pleas, you still walked away, leaving me with a hole in my chest. It’s a cold world, but I’d be lying if I said didn’t drive you to this point.

You found out. About everything.

You hadn’t heard from your friends in months and you weren’t aware of their reasoning for ignoring you so cruelly. You noticed they had blocked you, noticing your messages weren’t going through, the same as your calls. I knew you were thinking to yourself if ditching them a few times good enough reason for them to kick you out of their lives like you meant nothing to them. Years of friendship and memories down the drain because something as insignificant as this. It made you ponder if only you had managed your time more wisely maybe you would’ve still had their friendship.

I listened to you vent about it, trying to understand what you did to deserve this treatment. I was your shoulder to cry on. I had been nothing more than supportive towards you. In a matter of a few months I became your unconditional companion, the greatest reason for your happiness. I could tell you were developing an emotional dependence on me and I knew it startled you, but I liked it. Having you depend on me gave you another reason to not leave me and I would rely on that for as long as I could.

In spite of your growing dependency on me, you felt our love was too good to be true and that’s when you started digging.

You ran into one of your former best friends at the store and despite her efforts to avoid you, your feet strode towards her with unyielding determination and you confronted her. You could tell she was nervous. She had all the reasons to be. After our phone call, I decided that wasn’t enough to keep her away, so I had one of my… “coworkers” pay her a little visit, but only to give her a scare. Nothing serious, only a threat to end her life if she did as much as look in your direction. She’s a bad influence to you, doll, and you know it. Always going out clubbing, encouraging you to talk to men and to let them put their dirty hands on you. Always telling you that there’s nothing wrong with wearing revealing clothes in public like you’re some common whore. You know I don’t like it when you show off what’s supposed to be preserved for my eyes only. I can’t allow that type of friendship. Don’t you understand that’s how relationships get ruined? I’m just trying to protect you.

With hesitation, your best friend spoke to you, her fists gripping the handle of the shopping cart tightly. Her face twisted with pain as she began to speak, her words seemingly causing her physical discomfort. She told you everything, and you stood there, a perplexed expression on your face, unable to believe a words she uttered. You yelled at her for even attempting to tarnish my image in such way, and you have no idea how happy that made me. Yet, despite your anger, the hairs in your skin stood on end, a silent signal from your intuition urging you to believe her.

Remember the shaken feeling you got when I grabbed you by the hair the morning after we first made love, sweetheart? That’s exactly how you felt this very moment. But to my benefit, you were in denial. I knew she’d be a problem from the start and after all my efforts, she keeps getting in the way of our love. That stupid bitch. She went as far as telling you, through tears, that she feared for your life. As if I would do anything to hurt you. She even suggested fleeing from Japan with her. The mere thought filled me with simmering rage. I would never allow such a thing, and you were ever to disappear from my life because of her fault, I would search every corner of the globe, every hidden crevice, until I found you.

You stormed out of the store feeling agitated, trying to control your breath. I could tell you wanted nothing more than to stomp into my place to yell and scream at me, but to my surprise, you were calm when you arrived. You were so serene it was almost frightening.

That night you let me have my way with you, but it was different. The usual sparkle in your eye had vanished, replaced by a lifeless, hollow stare— I could barely get a moan out of you.

“Sweetheart, you seem out of it tonight. Is everything all right?”

I inquired, stopping my thrusts, concerned about your lack of emotion. I had always been able to read you, but this time I couldn’t decipher your thoughts. The only thing that I could think of was that you believed your best friend’s words, but what were you thinking about doing about it? Your confrontational nature had fooled me into thinking you’d touch the topic with me right away, but the way you were so inside your thoughts made anxiety bubble up inside me.

“I’m fine, Toji. I’m just tired. Let’s keep going.” You answered offering me a smile, but the smile didn’t reach your eyes like it usually did.

I can’t explain why I kept going, but I did. You started moaning, but to me—someone who has made you moan like a bitch in heat innumerable times— it was obvious they were fake moans. I could feel my body trembling from a mixture of pleasure and apprehension and I came inside you the same way I did every night. You didn’t orgasm that night. All you did was wait for me to roll off you as I held you with my face buried in your neck. I held you like it’d be our last night together. As soon as I moved away from you warm body, you rushed to the bathroom to take a shower as if you were disgusted about giving yourself to me.

“I love you, sweetheart.” I hesitantly said as I got up to walk after you, but the only answer I got was a door slammed in my face.

That night, I should have held you longer.

Hours turned into days, days turned into a week without a single word from you. My phone became a repository of unanswered texts and calls, each one a silent plea for your return. I wandered past your house, hoping to catch a glimpse of you, but it stood empty. Your absence was haunting me. No physical or mental torture I had endured compared to the pain I felt. Thoughts invaded my mind, did you actually go along with your friends’ plan and fled the country? Noticing all of your important belongings were still at your place, that couldn’t be a possibility.

I sighed deeply as I lay on your bed, the familiar scent of your shampoo enveloping me as the aroma clung to your pillows. I let my eyelids fall shut reminiscing in all the nights we spent together on this very bed, in particular our first. I couldn’t stop my cock from hardening at the combination of your scent and the memories. My eyes landed on your laundry basket, a black thong catching my attention. I recall the time you wore it for me, you looked absolutely immaculate in this little piece. I rose from the bed making my way towards it, gripping it tightly in my fist as I brought it up to my nose. My cock twitched as the ghost of your scent still lingered on it. This brought back old memories of the times I broke into your apartment before you even knew of my existence. All the countless times I sprawled myself on your bed, messing up your bedsheets as I masturbated to your scent. All those times I would orgasm merely from the feeling of your silky sheets on my bare cock as I would grind my hips against them.

I fell back on your bed as I continued to inhale what was left of your scent, feeling the tent in my sweatpants grow larger. Biting my lip, I pulled the waistband down, feeling relief as my erection sprung free from its retrains. I let out a shaky breath as I gripped the base of my cock. I missed you so much, going a week without seeing you, hearing your voice— a week without your touch, had been excruciating.

I stroked my cock slowly, trying to mimic the way you would tease me. “P-please, sweetheart. I n-need you.” I beseeched into the air, hoping that would make you somehow grace me with your presence. I proceeded to pump myself faster, using the precum that was accumulating on my swollen tip as lubricant, making my cock slick and shiny— only a mere imitation of how your juices coated it.

Running my tongue over the spot where your scent lingered, I squeezed the base of my cock to prevent myself from coming already. “I need to taste you, baby. Please, please, please.” I felt pathetic having to recur to these methods again, but the desperation you caused in me was mind-boggling. The stimulation was too much for me, I couldn’t hold it anymore. I removed your underwear from my face before I started stroking my cock with them, feeling it pulse, knowing those panties that were now touching my member, were once so close to your pretty cunt.

“Please, come back to me.” Wincing, I felt my cock throb painfully, my tone laced with exasperation. Salty tears welled my weary orbs, each drop a testament to the growing ache of your absence. The pain of not having you with me becoming unbearable with every passing moment. I can no longer endure not having you. It was in this moment that I saw clarity, I deemed taking drastic measures necessary if I wanted to hold you in my arms once more.

“F-fuck, baby. I’m gonna come! You gon’ take daddy’s cum?” I whimpered, feeling like my cock was about to burst from excitement. My movements were lacking coordination at this point and I rutted into my hand as my cum started tainting your panties, shivering as my toes curled at the delightful sensation something as simple as your underwear brought to me. Clinging to your sheets, I breathe as I attempt to control my breath, feeling my remaining tears subside.

As I continued to lay there I started getting flashbacks from our last day together. The day our relationship ended.

“We need to talk.” Your voice echoed through the room the moment you stepped into my place, and my heart leaped, its rhythm quickened with the weight of impending confrontation. You were finally ready to address what had happened at the store with your best friend. I had been dreading this moment, enduring all these agonizing days of anxiety. It was clear you had reached the end of your patience, unwilling to bear the mental turmoil any longer.

I cleared my throat, striving to make my voice sound firm as I feigning ignorance. “What’s on your mind, sweetheart?” I asked, summoning the courage to meet your face. My heart burned at the sight of your distressed expression on your face. I was so accustomed to seeing you always smiling so prettily at me that the contrast was a reminder of how big of a mistake I made. Perhaps I should’ve found a more subtle way to drive you away from your friends without causing this heartache.

You glared at me as you took a seat at the dining table, and I swallowed hard, sitting across from you. “Never did it ever cross my mind that I would have a conversation like this with you Toji.” You began, a deep sigh escaping your lips as you laced your fingers together in front of you. The disappointment and anger in your tone cut deep, but remained quiet as I allowed you to continue.

“You saw me cry and complain day after day about my friends and you knew. You knew the reason they stayed away from me, yet you still let me suffer.” You let out, your voice trembling with emotion.

“Sweetheart—“

“Shut the fuck up and listen to me. You’re not allowed to utter another word until I am done talking!” You demanded, raising your voice. My eyes widened in astonishment, for you had never spoken to me in that tone before. The look of betrayal on your face was unmistakable, and I knew it was all my fault.

“She told me everything you said to her that day on the phone, Toji. And you sent someone to threaten her too?! Seriously, what the fuck is wrong with you?!” You exclaimed, disbelief etched across your face. I couldn’t meet your gaze, my eyes falling to the floor. I couldn’t bear to see the hurt on your usually bright expression. “Gosh, you can’t even look at me. I didn’t want to believe it, but the way you look right now is proof enough for me.” You laughed bitterly, shaking your head.

“And if that wasn’t enough, you already knew that I knew!” My mouth was agape. As those words left your lips, my heart plummeted to my stomach, and I was sure I looked like a deer caught in headlights.

What?

No, no, no.

“Don’t fucking look at me like that, sweetheart. You though you were so slick, didn’t you?” You spat, running a hand through your hair in frustration before continuing. “I saw you, Toji! You were following me and I know you heard our conversation. You knew I was aware of what you had done and fucked me right after I got home from the store like nothing even happened!” By now, you were full on sobbing and I felt a foreign tightness on my throat, as if it was closing up, making it hard to breathe.

It literally felt like a knot in my throat.

Wait, why does my face feel wet?

My eyes felt like they were burning. Salty tears were cascading down my cheeks as my chest tightened, each breath shallow and uneven. I could feel my face contorting with a mix of surprise and agony, muscles twitching involuntarily. After failed attempts to stifle the sob that rose from the deep within, it escaped. I felt a hollow ache in my throat and all I could see was a blurry image of you.

For the first time in my life I was crying.

“Really? You’re crying? This isn’t the first time you’ve followed me has it, Toji?” You inquired, a painful expression painted in your tear stained face. I couldn't keep lying to you any longer and I would most likely regret admitting to this, but I did. All I could manage to do was shake my head, making you burry your face in your hands as more sobs were released from deep within your chest.

“Fuck! How many times? How long?” You questioned, rising to your feet, slamming your hand against the table. I shook my head, refusing to answer as I bit my lips to prevent more cries to leave my lips. I couldn’t believe this was happening. I could only pray this was all a nightmare and that I would wake up from this torment in the morning with you cuddled up in my arms.

“Answer me! How. Long.”

I gulped hard, before mustering up the courage to say, “A while.”

You ran a hand over your face, before taking a deep breath. “W-what does that mean? How long exactly is “a while”?”

“A c-couple of months before we met—“

“Before we met?!” You jaw slacked, and you regarded me as though I hailed from another realm entirely. This entire ordeal forces me to entertain the notion that abducting you might have been a more merciful path to our togetherness. Initially challenging, yes, but eventually, Stockholm Syndrome would set in, and you would come to love me… wouldn’t you?

“Y-you’re t-telling me that night we met at the b-bar, wasn’t the our f-first time meeting?” You stuttered, nerves overtaking your body. Why did you look so scared of me? Hadn’t you realized by now I would never do anything to harm you? At least not intentionally.

All I did was shake my head before I standing from my seat, striding toward you. Your tear-filled eyes widened with fear as my towering figure loomed over you. You instinctively stepped back bumping into the kitchen counter, clutching the edges of it so tightly your knuckles paled.

“Sweetheart, there’s no need to be afraid of me.” I started gently, cupping your face in my large hand, eliciting a whimper from you. “Everything I’ve done, I’ve done out of love.” And it was true. I knew I’d do anything to keep you by my side, feeling loved, cared for and protected.

“P-please, stop touching me, Toji.” You pleaded, your voice barely audible.

“Don’t ask me that, sweetheart. You’re breaking my heart.” I responded, my voice heavy with emotion. “At one point of my life, I felt undeserving of your love. I thought such an angelic, beautiful creature would never notice a scum such as myself. But that night at the bar, you approached me! You actually came to me! Oh, baby, I was over the moon.” I confessed, a tearful smile gracing my face as I recalled that pivotal moment.

“I knew from that day on that we were meant to be. My feelings weren’t one-sided, sweetheart. You love me just deeply as I love you.” You regarded me with a look that might have seemed incredulous to others, but I didn’t mind. I would do anything to be grazed upon by those breathtaking eyes wether they held love, hate, fear, or disgust— it didn’t matter, as long as they were fixed on me.

“No. No! Let go of me, you fucking creep!” Your sobs echoed through the room as you pounded on my chest, but I refused to release you, even when my heart ached from your insult. Wrapping my arms around your trembling form tightly, I pulled you closer, my grip firm. With a desperate resolve, I sank to my knees, unwilling to let you slip without a fight. If I had to beg for you to stay I would as much as necessary. Every line in your face contorted with pain, your eyes filled with tears that mirrored my own desperation.

“Please, sweetheart. Don’t leave me.” I pleaded, lifting my gaze to meet your grimacing expression.

Without warning, you swung a bottle of Sake from the countertop, striking me across the head with a resounding crack. Stunned and reeling from the blow, I staggered back, momentarily disoriented by the unexpected violence in your part. You fled, sprinting towards the door in a blur of motion and fear, leaving me behind.

I sighed heavily, sitting up on your bed as I rubbed my tired eyes. The events of that day kept replaying relentlessly in my mind, each replay sharpening the ache of uncertainty. You still didn’t know the truth about my occupation, and that haunted me. If you reacted so vehemently to me stalking you, I shudder to imagine your response if you discovered the full extent of my actions. How would you react to me being an assassin? How would you confront the revelation that I was not only stalking you, but taking lives for you, eliminating obstacles in our path to being together?

For now, there’s no need for you to know that information.

I am going to fix this.

Fix us.

I have to say, sweetheart, you really did a number on me with this one.

Who would’ve thought you’d be my most challenging bounty? Two whole weeks— that’s how long it took me to find you. Never in my life had I spent this long perusing a target, but it’s all right, I enjoyed the chase. I felt adrenaline I hadn’t felt in years, a blend of anticipation and thrill surged through me with each lead I followed. Each time I felt closer to you, my body vibrated in excitement. Even amidst my longing for you, the thought of even spotting you from afar felt invigorating.

Now that I found you there was no way I would allow anyone to separate us. Anyone including you.

You were currently passed out in the motel bed while I stood by the window smoking. The soft glow of your phone illuminated the room as I scrolled through your debit card statements, I noticed you had been hopping from one motel to another. Each entry told a story of desperation and fear, a relentless effort to escape from me. A pang of hurt pierced through me as I realized the extent of your actions. You were really spending all of your savings to get away from me? I had believe, perhaps naively, that you harbored genuine feelings for me. Yet, here was the undeniable proof of your running, of your desire to sever our bond.

It seems I was wrong. Love wasn’t something you felt for me, at least not yet. If you didn’t surrender your heart to me willingly, then I would have to take matters into my own hands.

Next to you, on the nightstand, I had bestowed a wonderful gift for you.

Your best friends’ severed little head.

In my desperation, I had gone to her apartment, to try to get information about you out of her. Yet that bitch kept refusing and refusing to cooperate. Each denial chipped away at my patience until there was none left. When it became clear that persuasion was futile, she left me no choice but to break into her apartment to get the information myself. Seething at the lengths I had to go to because of her obstinance, I rummaged through her belongings and electronic until I found a train booking to a town around two hours away when I looked through her laptop. It was definitely for you as it had been forwarded to your email. Dumb bitch.

That woman had an uncanny talent to get under my skin, so I got under hers. Literally.

Doll, if I told you I enjoyed making your friend scream in terror, it would be an understatement. I’m a man of my word. She knew what would go down if she ever came in contact with you again. I’m merely fulfilling my promise. I do have to admit that cleaning up the mess was a pain in the ass, but I withstood it— for you. I’m not even sorry for what you’re about to witness, it was time for you to see the real me. I tried to be better for you, sweetheart, I really did, but if m being honest, you bring out the worst in me. And I love it.

I wasn’t born to be good and you weren’t born to change that. Our fates were intertwined in a dance of contrast, but expecting you to turn me towards light was a fool’s errand. I am who I am and no one— no matter how pure— could change that. I can only wish for your acceptance and comprehension. No matter what you chose to feel for me, I would keep you by my side and show you the same love I always have. Because you’re the only thing I love in this wretched world.

I heard you begin to stir awake, small whimpers leaving your lips as the effects of the drug I had administered you started to fade away. A smirk crept across my face, flicking the remains of my cigarette out the window before striding to were you lay. You squeezed your eyes before slowly opening them, and I couldn’t stop my heart from surging with joy as our eyes met for the first time in weeks. Gods, I missed you.

Your eyes widened when they met mine, and you instinctively crawled back towards the headboard of the bed.

“Mornin’, sleepy head. Slept well?” I questioned as I watched you trying to writhe yourself out of the bed, bumping into the night stand making your friends’ head flop to the ground. Your eyes widened impossibly further and you let out a high pitched scream, covering your mouth with both your hands. “Sweetheart, you need to be more careful. I got this gift just for you and now it’s on the floor.” I tskd before lifting the head up by the hair, dangling it in front of you.

Harsh sobs started escaping your lips as you realized who it was.

“Why are you crying, doll? Don’t you like it?” I asked, feigning disappointment. You shut your eyes and I could tell you were praying this was all a nightmare, but I’m not a nightmare. I’m real and I’m here to stay with you. “Come one, settle down now, baby. You wouldn’t want anyone else to end up like her, do you?” You immediately shook your head. “Yeah that’s what’s I thought.” I said through a chuckle, before setting down the head on the nightstand once again. I sat down on the edge of the bed, itching closer to your trembling form. My hands reached out, cupping your tear stained cheeks. Your skin felt cold and damp beneath my touch.

“W-why a-are you d-doing this, Toji?” You stammered, your voice trembling with horror. You hugged your knees to your chest, trying to create some semblance of a barrier between us, your eyes wide and pleading for an explanation.

“Sweetheart, everything I’ve done for you is because I love you.” I explained softly, my voice laced with the usual tenderness I always addressed you with. “In order to protect our love I’ve been forced to turnt to these measures. It’s the only way to keep us together, to ensure that nothing and no one can come between us!” You were shaking your head in disbelief and I could tell you were starting to feel nauseous. Guilt started washing over me as I realized what I had just made you go through, so I offered you a sincere smile before saying, “I’m so sorry, I promise I’ll get rid of it and she’ll be out of our sight forever.”

I planted a gentle kiss on your cheek, savoring the moment as I inhaled your intoxicating scent as I lingered there. I had never forgotten how addicting it was. A fragrance I had never forgotten, one that was engraved into my memory and haunted my dreams when you weren’t there. Every thing about you was intoxicating and if you were going to be the death of me, I would gladly allow you to kill me. If loving you meant risking everything, even my own demise, then I embraced that fate with no hesitation.

You are my addiction, my sweetest vice, my sweetest heart, and I willingly surrender to your enchantment. For in your arms, I found a love worth any sacrifice.

I grabbed you by the hair just like I did on our first night together, but this time with a firm grip. “Now, Reader, I’m gonna need you to make a decision.”

Are you going to choose to love me or am I gonna have to force you?

[cloudtransprncy]

"One Night Only"

Word count: 11210 Jennie x Male reader

Consequence – That word reverberates through my mind, echoing off the plush walls of this hotel suite. Each decision, every whisper of action, carries its own shadow, trailing behind it. I know this, deep in my bones. Yet, life, in its fleeting dance, seems to mock the very notion of permanence. The only certainty we hold is the silent, inexorable march towards an end we'd rather not face. We push it aside, cloak it in disbelief. Life, in its relentless stride, continues until reality, unbidden, jolts us awake. So, we find refuge in the fleeting – in the amber embrace of liquor, the smoky tendrils of a cigarette, the heady rush of desire. For a night, just this night, we silence the whispers of tomorrow.

Jennie's breath, a ragged symphony, plays against my lips. Our kiss, a dance of longing, tastes of sweet cherries laced our sharp kiss. Her fingers, entwined in my hair, pull us closer, our bodies becoming one in the moon's silver gaze.

Commitment – that once-venerated word now feels like a stranger's tongue. The thought of being tethered, bound by invisible threads of promises stretching across a lifetime, seemed more a prison than a haven. I've always been a creature of flight, a heart unmoored. Maybe that's why she drifted away – a preemptive strike against a future steeped in resentment. In protecting us from the chains of unfulfilled promises, did I sever the only tie that mattered?

Her skin, a canvas of warmth under my fingertips, ignites a trail of desire. As I explore the landscape of her body, each curve, each hidden valley, I lose myself to the moment. Her whisper, a confession in the dark, "I've missed this," binds me tighter than any vow.

Beyond the confines of this room, the city stretches out – a tapestry of steel and dreams under the night sky. Each light, a star in this man-made constellation, speaks of what could be. Once, as a child, I found solace in the stars, in the steady presence of Virgo among the celestial sea. Jennie, like that favored constellation, has always been the light I orbit, the gravity I cannot escape.

In the lunar glow, her face is a serene oasis, her breaths soft sonnets in the stillness. As I trace the lines of her neck, her back arches, a silent plea etched in moonlight. When our gazes lock, in that infinite moment, I see it – the reflection of myself, of us, in the depths of her eyes, a constellation not in the sky but right here, in this room.

--

She'll come. She always does.

In my mind's eye, I knew she was entwined with someone new, a high-profile actor whose name evades my memory. Insignificant, really, in the grand tapestry of our story. He's but one of many, a star in the vast firmament of an industry pulsing with life. His mark on the world may be noteworthy, but in her universe, he's merely a passing comet, fleeting and ephemeral.

We had drifted apart, yet fragments of our souls lingered, delicately preserved within the vases of our hearts. Months had passed since our last encounter, since our fingers last brushed, our eyes last locked. Though a year had unfolded since our parting, the invisible threads that bound us remained unsevered. When she called, I became all ears; when I reached out, she was always there. Our souls, entwined through seasons of love, could not fully disentangle. She may have sought refuge in another's arms, yet a piece of her essence, like a sacred relic, remained eternally mine, as mine did hers.

The revelation of her presence in New York unfurled as I was poised to board my flight from Chicago to Toronto, the next chapter in my tour's melody. A spare day, a gift of time, whispered the possibility of a detour – a rendezvous in the city that never sleeps.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, bathing my suite in a golden haze, I reached out to her. The skyscrapers below sparkled like jewels under the twilight's caress as I dialed her number. She answered, a silence that spoke volumes, a canvas upon which our history was painted. Our conversations had become a dance, a playful chase of cat and mouse, with words unspoken yet understood.

"I'm in the city for one night," I murmured, the words hanging in the air like a promise, a temptation. Her silence lingered, a delicate pause on the other end, filled with the muted symphony of her world – the distant chatter of her entourage, the soft clicks of cameras capturing fleeting moments.

"I got a room for me and you," I continued, my voice a blend of hope and certainty. "This is for one night only." The details spilled out, coordinates to our secret haven, as the line hummed with the electricity of anticipation before falling silent. But my heart knew – she would be there, drawn to me as I to her, in this city of dreams and shadows.

A knock fractured the stillness of the midnight hour, a subtle intrusion into the suite where I stood, lost in thought. Above, the sky had donned its nightly regalia, stars scattered like diamonds on black velvet, while the moon – a coy dancer among the celestial array – cast a playful glow upon the city's silhouette. Clouds, thin as gossamer, shifted in the sky, their movements like silk curtains in a soft breeze, alternately veiling and revealing the moon's luminescence. The hour was ethereal, suspended between the remnants of the day and the possibilities of the night.

As I opened the door, she materialized before me – an enigmatic vision at the threshold. She stood there, robed in a chic, form-fitting black dress that gracefully embraced her figure, ending mid-thigh in a delicate declaration of allure. Encircling her legs were knee-high socks, culminating in a daring thigh garter – a subtle yet bold statement of her unique style. Her presence was a striking contrast to the muted opulence of the hotel suite.

Her hair, a cascade of dark, silken strands, framed her face in a perfect balance of elegance and wildness. It fell around her shoulders like the night itself had woven a mantle of shadows to adorn her. The dress clung to her form, outlining her slender arms and the gentle curves of her body, a testament to her poise and the understated power of her presence.

Her makeup was an artful composition, her eyes highlighted with a subtle precision that spoke of distant lands – a hint of an exotic narrative told in the language of beauty. It was understated yet impactful, enhancing her natural features with an artistry that suggested a story deeper than what the eye could see. Her lips, painted in a soft, natural hue, invited a second glance, a lingering focus.

As her gaze met mine, it was electric, a current of shared history and unspoken understanding passing between us. Her eyes, dark and inscrutable, held a depth that was both inviting and impenetrable. The air around her was perfumed with the rich scent of roses, intermingling with the sweet notes of her perfume, creating an aura that was at once intoxicating and comforting.

Her smile unfurled, a familiar softness that painted her features with an intimacy known only to those who had once shared everything. It was a grin that reached back through time, stirring a sea of memories within me.

"Hey," I found myself saying, my words emerging with a hint of a smirk, a reflex born of countless shared moments.

"Hey yourself," she echoed, her voice a melody laced with history. Her fingers, delicate yet assertive, found my chest, pressing gently, urging me backward into the realm we had once known so well. The sensation of her touch was like a key turning in a long-locked door, opening pathways to a past we had carefully navigated.

"It's been a while," her words floated through the air, a statement hanging between us, laden with unspoken narratives.

"Indeed it has," I replied, my voice a soft echo of our shared past. The click of the door sealing us within the suite marked a threshold crossed, a silent herald of a journey into realms both familiar and uncharted.

In that simple exchange, a current of anticipation began to build. The air between us became charged, a palpable tension that spoke of things unsaid, of paths once walked and now revisited. The weight of our history and the uncertainty of our present wove together, creating a tapestry rich with possibility and fraught with the complexity of our intertwined past.

In the soft, muted light of the suite, it didn't take long for our reunion to transform into an entwined embrace on the couch, a fusion of longing and familiarity. The kiss was a deluge of suppressed desires, a fervent torrent that left no room for ambiguity in our intentions. Her body against mine was a juxtaposition of the known and the novel, a comforting familiarity found on unfamiliar terrain. Our tongues, engaged in a private waltz, rediscovered a rhythm that pulsed with both nostalgia and excitement.

My hands roamed her form with an eager curiosity, tracing the familiar yet rediscovered contours of her body. The sensation of her skin under my fingertips was a tapestry of memories and new sensations, each touch reigniting a forgotten connection. The urgency in our movements was palpable, a frantic energy that surged against the sands of time since our last entwining. We were an orchestra of motion and sound, a harmonious blend of sighs and soft moans, a tempest of passion and need. The air around us was thick with the scent of our mingled perfumes, a heady aroma that enveloped us in a cocoon of intimacy.

She dug her fingers into my hair, pulling me closer with a forcefulness that stoked the flames of my arousal. The pressure of her lips on mine intensified, her tongue dancing with increasing urgency. A soft whimper escaped her throat, sending shivers of pleasure down my spine. Our tongues fought for dominance, fueled by the heat of our desires.

A sharp intake of breath escaped Jennie as my hands found their way, cupping the curves of her ass with a gentle firmness. The motion drew her closer still, eliminating any space that lingered between us. Through the thin fabric of her dress, I could discern the outline of her response, her nipples hardening under my touch. A physical testament to the charged atmosphere that enveloped us. Her body’s reaction, tangible and immediate, sent a wave of anticipation coursing through me.

The texture of her dress under my palms was a subtle contrast to the warmth of her skin, a reminder of the thin veil that still separated us from total surrender. Each breath she took was a melody, harmonizing with the quiet symphony of the night around us.

Jennie's retreat from our kiss left a tangible, connecting strand, a fleeting bridge between us that shimmered in the dim light. Her eyes, dark and enigmatic, bore into me with an intensity that felt as if it could unravel the very fabric of my being. Those eyes were like portals to uncharted depths, brimming with unspoken tales of desire and yearning.

"I've missed this, Owen" she whispered, her voice a soft rumble, resonating with every fiber of my being. She grinds against me, her hips moving back and forth, a tangible expression of her yearning that seeped through the barriers of our clothing. Her fingers, entwined in my hair, drew me back into her orbit, our lips crashing together in a kiss that was as fierce as it was profound. The intensity of our connection, raw and unbridled, engulfed me.

Consumed by her presence, the taste of her lips, the feel of her pressed so close, my hands roamed with a mind of their own. They journeyed beneath the hem of her dress, venturing over the smooth, warm terrain of her skin, each inch revealed a revelation in itself. The sigh that escaped her, a breathless affirmation of the moment, reverberated in me like a symphony.

Our bodies moved in tandem, a harmony of action and reaction, each caress, each undulation building on the next. Slowly, inch by inch I pushed her dress upward, revealing the subtle, sensual landscape of her form. Jennie's breath quickened as her hips rolled, grinding with an increased fervor against me, her nipples stiff and pronounced, brushing against my shirt, an exquisite combination of restraint and liberation. Her arms stretched upwards into the air as I pulled the fabrics of her dress, away from her, lifting its grip from her form, and over her head, which she then tossed casually to one side.

As Jennie's dress slid away, her figure, a stunning tapestry of curves and lines, was unveiled in the lunar glow that seeped through the windows. The moonlight played upon her skin, casting it in an ethereal shimmer, transforming her into a vision of porcelain radiance. She stood there, an embodiment of confidence and sensuality, a modern-day deity framed in a chiaroscuro of shadows and light.

My gaze lingered on her breast, tracing the contours of her physique – the gentle slopes and the pronounced curves that defined her form. Each aspect of her body, from the graceful arc of her waist to the delicate structure of her shoulders, spoke of a silent grace, a beauty that was as natural as it was captivating. Her skin, smooth and luminous, seemed to capture the very essence of the moon's glow, reflecting it back in a soft luminescence that highlighted her every move. My hands, acting with a fervor born from deep within, eagerly explored the expanse of Jennie's skin, a landscape I had once known intimately. The sensation of her beneath my fingertips was exhilarating – a cascade of textures and warmth that set every nerve ending alight. Her skin was soft, yet firm, yielding under my touch with a gentle resilience that beckoned for more exploration.

As I traced the contours of her body, every curve and dip spoke volumes. The softness of her breasts contrasted with the smooth, firmer feel of her abdomen, each sensation a paragraph in the story of her body. The way her skin responded to my touch, with subtle shifts and sighs, was like conversing in a language of sensation, each caress a word, each touch a sentence.

As my hands continued their journey, Jennie's responses turned into a symphony of their own. Her moans, soft yet resonant, were like notes rising from a well-tuned instrument, each one a melody of pleasure and surrender. The sound of her voice, humming in contentment, filled the room with a music that was deeply personal, an intimate concert shared between two souls.

Her moans ebbed and flowed with the rhythm of my touch, crescendos of sound that matched the increasing intensity of our connection. They were not just expressions of pleasure; they were communications, telling me without words how each caress, each gentle stroke was received. Her hums, low and melodic, were the bassline to the higher notes of her moans, creating a harmonious blend that was as compelling as any melody.

After savoring the sensation of Jennie's skin beneath my hands, an innate longing surged within me to delve deeper, to explore her with the intimacy of my lips. I began at her collarbone, a spot often overlooked yet brimming with delicate sensitivity. My lips traced its subtle contours, each kiss eliciting a gentle sigh from Jennie, her skin warm and soft under the tender pressure.

As I journeyed to her shoulders, the texture of her skin subtly shifted, becoming smoother, more resilient. Her responses grew in intensity, her moans a testament to the changing sensations my lips invoked. The scent of roses from her perfume grew stronger here, mingling with her natural fragrance to create an intoxicating aura.

Gliding down her arm, I reveled in the silkiness of her skin, each kiss a discovery of her unique topography. But it was at her armpit where I lingered, captivated by the uniqueness of this hidden enclave. The texture here was more intimate, the skin softer and imbued with a deeper scent that was unmistakably Jennie - raw and personal. Her reaction was more pronounced; her moans louder and filled with a depth that spoke volumes of the pleasure she felt.

As my lips finally reached the crest of Jennie's chest, the change in texture was profound. Her breasts, tender and full of life, responded to each kiss with a symphony of sensation. The delicate softness beneath my lips felt like the most luxurious satin, each touch deepening our connection. The subtle firmness of her nipples, aroused and beckoning, contrasted with the yielding flesh around them.

Gently, I let my tongue dance over the stiffened peak, and Jennie's reaction was immediate. A shiver coursed through her, a physical echo of the pleasure that resonated within. Her breathing became a series of rapid, shallow waves, a delicate soundtrack to our intimate ballet.

Meanwhile, my hand ventured to its twin, mirroring the actions of my mouth. The sensation of rolling and lightly flicking her other nipple elicited from her a chorus of sensual sounds, each moan a note in our crescendoing duet.

When I enveloped her sensitive peak with my mouth, Jennie's moan - "Oh my god" - reverberated through the room. The meticulous circling of my tongue around her was a focused ritual, each motion deliberate and attuned to her responses. The flavor of her skin was a delicate blend of sweetness tinged with the saltiness of her arousal, a tantalizing taste that drew me deeper into the moment. Her chest pushed forward, eager to meet the onslaught of stimulation with an intuitive abandon.

"I forgot how good you feel," I murmured, my voice tinged with a deep arousal, the words escaping almost involuntarily.

"I want to feel you too," Jennie responded, her voice a breathless mixture of playfulness and desire, sending a jolt of longing straight through me. Her eyes, deep and enigmatic like the midnight sky, held mine with an intensity that spoke volumes. Her hand traced a path up my arm, gliding over the contours of my shoulder, then wrapping around to my back with an electrifying touch that felt like a firebrand on my skin.

With an urgency that mirrored our rising passions, she tugged at my shirt, a silent beckoning for me to shed the last barrier between us. In a swift, seamless motion, Jennie peeled my shirt away, her hands immediately finding the warmth of my bare chest. Her initial feather-light touch quickly intensified, her fingers becoming more assertive, tracing and exploring my skin with a growing fervor that matched the beat of our racing hearts.

As Jennie began to mirror the way I had cherished her body, the intensity of the experience magnified. Her lips traced a path down my neck, each kiss a delicate imprint that seemed to sear into my memory. The sensation of her mouth moving across my skin was both soft and fervent, a contradiction that sent waves of pleasure through me.

Her hands, emboldened by her desire, explored the landscape of my torso. The contrast of her delicate fingertips against the firmness of my muscles created an exhilarating dance of sensations. The pressure of her touch varied, sometimes feather-light, other times more assertive, mapping the contours of my body with an attentiveness that was almost reverent. Each caress seemed to speak volumes, communicating her appreciation and desire in a language beyond words.

As she reached my chest, her exploration became more intense. The sensation of her lips against my skin was like an electric current, each kiss a spark that ignited deeper, more primal feelings within me. Her breath, warm and uneven against my skin, her soft murmurs and occasional sharp expletives, added to the crescendo of sensations, making every moment feel more heightened, more vivid.

In the midst of this exchange, a thought flickered through my mind, unbidden yet insistent. I wondered if her nights with her boyfriend held the same intensity, the same unbridled passion that we were experiencing. Was there the same depth of connection, the same exploration of senses? The thought was a sharp contrast to the immediacy of our encounter, a jarring reminder of the reality beyond this room.

Yet, as quickly as the thought came, it was swept away by the tide of our passion. The here and now was all that mattered - the feeling of her hands on me, the taste of her lips, the sound of her soft exclamations. In this moment, nothing else existed but the intensity of our rekindled connection, a fervor that seemed to eclipse all else.

"Fuck! I need your dick in my mouth," Jennie's voice was thick with desire as she slid off my lap. Her hands, eager and insistent, found their way to the waistband of my sweatpants. With a swift, almost ravenous movement, she tugged them down, freeing my aching arousal. It stood, hard and throbbing, just inches from her face. Her eyes, alight with a fiery blend of lust and hunger, locked onto mine.

"You can have it tonight," I responded, my voice a deep rumble of desire, as her small, delicate hands encircled me. The contrast of her soft touch against my hardness only heightened the moment.

"All of it?" Her question was laced with a seductive confidence, her eyes burning with an intensity that spoke volumes of her desire. I could only nod, caught up in the moment's gravity.

Leaning forward, Jennie's lips parted slightly, and she drooled over a thick glob of saliva that landed precisely on the tip. The warm fluid began to trickle down, glistening in the dim light. She deftly used her fingers to spread it, coating me in a sheen that was both slick and inviting. My entire being was alight with sensation, every nerve ending attuned to her movements as she began to work her hand along my length. Her grip was firm, her movements measured, each stroke a deliberate act of provocation.

Jennie's movements became more intense as she tilted her head, sweeping her hair to one side with a free hand while maintaining her fervent stroke. Her gaze remained locked with mine, a fiery blend of intensity and curiosity as she leaned down. The first sensation was the heat of her breath, a hot, moist whisper against my skin. Then came the slow, deliberate touch of her tongue, tracing a circle around the tip. The electricity of her touch sent a tremor through my body, a visceral reminder of our past intimacy.

As Jennie's lips enveloped the crown, the sensation was both familiar and overwhelming. Her tongue skillfully danced and teased, each movement deliberate and laden with sensation. The warmth and wetness of her mouth enveloped me further, each motion a blissful exploration. Time seemed to stretch and warp, the world outside our bubble ceasing to exist in the wake of her expert ministrations.

Her soft moan, vibrating around me, amplified the sensation, sending shockwaves through my body. I was caught in a spellbinding haze of pleasure, each movement she made bringing me closer to the edge of surrender. The combination of her lips, tongue, and the soft vibrations of her moans created an indescribable tapestry of pleasure, leaving me utterly enraptured.

"Holy Shit!" I couldn't hold back the moan as I found support against the couch's frame, my arms stretched out for stability. The intensity of Jennie's movements sent waves of pleasure through me, causing my head to thrash back in ecstasy. My heart raced uncontrollably, every beat echoing the mounting need within me.

Jennie's hair, a dark cascade, framed her face as she moved with a precision that was nothing short of masterful. The sensation of her lips, sliding rhythmically along my length, was unparalleled. Her ability to take me fully, her breath steady through her nose, spoke of an expertise that was both awe-inspiring and deeply arousing. The way her cheeks hollowed, the hungry suction, the repeated swallowing of my length – it was a dance of intensity and passion.

She occasionally paused, deliberately choking on the tip to gather saliva, which she then used to lubricate my entire length, enhancing the ride with each slick, smooth movement. Every action, every technique of hers was a testament to her skill, her dedication to the act transforming it into something akin to fervent devotion. The pleasure she bestowed was not just physical; it was an experience that transcended the mere act, elevating it to a form of worship.

As I felt the tide of climax beginning to rise within me, I instinctively wanted to prolong this intense experience, to savor more of Jennie's body. Gently, I tried to guide her head away, signaling my intention to pause, but she was resolute. Her determination was clear; she was intent on bringing me to the edge right then and there.

My attempts to ease her off were met with a firm slap of her hand against mine, a silent but emphatic message that she wasn't done yet. "You're giving this to me now, and you're giving me more later," she declared with a commanding tone that brooked no argument. Her eyes, alight with a fierce desire, locked onto mine, leaving no room for misunderstanding.

Jennie intensified her movements, her lips and hand working in perfect tandem. The sight of her, so engrossed in the act, her hair framing her focused expression, was utterly captivating. Each movement of her head, each stroke of her hand, was a masterful balance of pressure and rhythm, pushing me closer to the brink.

The sensory overload was overwhelming - the sight of her dedication, the feel of her mouth and hand, and the sounds of our shared pleasure filling the room. Jennie's technique was a perfect symphony of movements, each one bringing a higher crescendo of sensation, making it impossible to think of anything but the imminent and intense climax.

As the moment approached, a feeling akin to a tempestuous sea churned in my stomach, a wave of pleasure building, threatening to crest. Jennie, attuned to my nearing edge, let out a moan that mingled with the surge within me, intensifying the inevitable release. Overwhelmed, I succumbed to the climax, an eruption of sensation, met by Jennie's unwavering embrace. Her lips formed a perfect seal around me, her rhythmic strokes ensuring not a single moment was lost.

Her gaze remained locked with mine throughout, a mirror of pure satisfaction as she swallowed, taking in every part of the experience. In her eyes shone a prideful gleam, a recognition of her own prowess in guiding me to this point of surrender. Her delight was palpable, a silent celebration of the control she wielded, the pleasure she had drawn out.

As the waves subsided, leaving a trail of bliss in their wake, Jennie finally drew back, the connection gently severed, leaving us both in a state of breathless reprieve. She then picked up my shirt from the floor, using it to delicately wipe away the remnants of our encounter from her mouth and hands, her actions as deliberate and composed as they had been in the height of our passion.

Reeling from the intensity of my climax, I found myself being gently but firmly drawn back to the present by Jennie. Her lips met mine in a kiss that was soft yet charged, the taste of myself on her tongue adding a complex layer to our connection. This was more than just physical; it was an exchange of unspoken promises, a dance of intimacy and understanding.

"I'm not done with you. You brought me here, we're gonna make the most of it," she whispered against my lips, her tongue playfully darting out to trace my bottom lip. With a sudden shift, she grasped my hand and led me towards the bed, her movements fluid and purposeful.

As we moved through the suite, the sounds of the city outside filtered through the windows – the distant hum of traffic, the soft murmur of voices, the occasional siren. These were the symphonies of the night, the backdrop to our unfolding story. The room's lighting cast a soft, ambient glow, painting everything in a hue of warmth and intimacy.

As Jennie gracefully made her way onto the bed, her back presented a captivating sight. The arch of her spine flowed into the gentle swell of her hips, each movement accentuating the allure of her lower back and hips. Clad in a small black thong, her hips were teasingly framed, the fabric nestled seductively in the crevice, hinting at the hidden treasures yet to be revealed.

As she reached the center of the bed, Jennie slowly maneuvered herself into a captivating position. Her legs, long and elegantly toned, were raised and folded in a 'W' shape, an enticing display of both vulnerability and invitation. This pose accentuated the length of her legs, the curvature of her hips, and the delicate symmetry of her figure. The knee-high socks she wore added a contrasting element of innocence and playfulness to her otherwise exposed form.

Then, as if compelled by a force beyond her control, Jennie's hands embarked on a tantalizing exploration of her own body. They traced the contours of her breasts with a languorous care, each touch a study in self-adoration. The slow, deliberate movements of her fingers were hypnotic, accentuating her allure in the dimly lit room.

The transformation in Jennie's appearance since our earlier encounter was striking. Her makeup, now smudged and spread, lent her an air of wild abandon, while her hair, disheveled and untamed, framed her face in a chaotic halo. This raw, disordered state only heightened her appeal, lending her a captivating, almost intoxicating aura of realness.

Reclining gracefully, she ran a finger tantalizingly over her lips – lips that still bore the evidence of our previous passion. She continued her seductive journey, her finger tracing a path down her neck, over the gentle swell of her chest.

"come here..." she gestured over for me to join her on the bed, her tone both commanding and inviting. She turned to lay on her back, the sight of her body beckoning me forward.

Still covered by a black thong, her most intimate area was teasingly concealed, yet the way she moved hinted at what was to come. As I stepped closer, drawn in by the magnetic pull of her presence, Jennie reached down with a tantalizing slowness. Her fingers hooked onto the thin fabric of the thong, sliding it off in a motion that was nothing short of seductive. The removal of this final barrier revealed her in full, a breathtaking vision of desire laid bare before me.

In a move that was both deliberate and revealing, Jennie reached down, her hands delicately pulling at the skin on her inner thighs. This gesture was an open invitation, a welcome for my eyes to feast upon her most intimate self. As she gently parted her skin, the hidden beauty of her entrance was unveiled, a sight that was both intensely private and undeniably captivating. Her entrance glistened, its moist perfection a testament to the intensity of her arousal.

As I crawled forward onto the bed, the sensation of the soft, plush sheets against my hands was immediately noticeable. The fabric was smooth and fine, a stark contrast to the fervent energy that filled the room. Each movement I made caused the sheets to shift ever so slightly, creating a subtle but distinct sensation against my skin.

The bed itself was an island in the midst of our passion, its surface both yielding and supportive, a perfect backdrop for the intensity of the moment. As I found my place between Jennie's legs, the bed seemed to embrace us, its softness enveloping us in a cocoon of comfort and intimacy.

Jennie's body was a canvas of desire, painted with the colors of her own passion. Her skin, creamy and fair, glistened with sweat and moisture, reflecting the soft glow of the lamp on the bedside table. Her hair framed her face in a halo of darkness, accentuating her delicate features. Her breasts, small and plump, rose and fell with each shallow breath she took, their nipples hard and erect beneath the thin sheet that covered her.

As I looked at her from my position between her legs, I couldn't help but marvel at the sight before me. She was naked and vulnerable, yet there was a strength in her that spoke volumes. It was as if she had shed all pretenses of modesty and embraced her true self - a woman who knew what she wanted and wasn't afraid to go after it.

Jennie's hands moved with purpose across her body, tracing lazy circles around her nipples before dipping down to explore the sensitive flesh between her legs. Her fingers were long and slender, each one ending in a sharp claw that seemed to dig into her skin with every movement. She moved with an intensity that was both mesmerizing and intimidating - a woman who knew exactly what she wanted and wasn't afraid to take it.

As I watched her touch herself, my own body began to respond to the sight before me. My heart raced in my chest as I felt my own erection begin to stir beneath my sweatpants. The thought of being with Jennie again - of feeling her body against mine - was enough to send waves of pleasure coursing through me.

I couldn't help but feel drawn to her entrance - that intimate place where she had given herself so completely to me before. As I crawled closer between her legs, I couldn't help but feel a sense of reverence for the sight before me. It was as if I were witnessing something sacred - something that belonged only to us two.

Jennie's entrance was like nothing I had ever seen before - a perfect blend of delicate petals and firm muscle. The pink flesh was soft yet firm beneath my fingertips as I traced them over the surface. The scent of wetness mingled with the aroma of sweat and lust as I explored every inch of this intimate place that belonged solely to Jennie.

As I teased her entrance with my fingers, Jennie moaned softly - a sound that sent shivers down my spine as it echoed through the room. Her body tensed beneath me as she reached out for me - drawing me closer until our bodies were pressed together in an intimate embrace that seemed to transcend time itself.

I couldn't help but marvel at the sight before me. Jennie's entrance was like nothing I had ever seen before - a perfect blend of delicate petals and firm muscle. The pink flesh was soft yet firm beneath my fingertips as I traced them over the surface. The scent of wetness mingled with the aroma of sweat and lust as I explored every inch of this intimate place that belonged solely to Jennie. As I teased her entrance with my fingers, Jennie moaned softly - a sound that sent shivers down my spine as it echoed through the room. Her body tensed beneath me as she reached out for me - drawing me closer until our bodies were pressed together in an intimate embrace that seemed to transcend time itself.

I closed my eyes and let out a low moan as I savored the scent of her pussy, allowing it to permeate my senses and fill me with a desire that was both insatiable and exhilarating. My tongue darted out, eager to explore the fleshy depths of her entrance, and I licked the outer folds with a gentle, exploratory motion. The taste was unlike anything I had ever experienced before - sweet and salty, with just a hint of tanginess that spoke of her natural chemistry. It was intoxicating, addictive, and I found myself wanting more and more with each passing moment.

As my fingers delved deeper into her fleshy thighs, I felt a surge of pleasure course through me. The sensation was electrifying, sending shivers down my spine with each lick and suck. Her body pulsed beneath me, her hips undulating in rhythm with my movements, as if we were two dancers in perfect harmony. The sound of her soft moans filled the air, adding to the sensory experience. I could feel the heat radiating from her skin, the texture of her flesh beneath my fingertips, and the taste of her juices on my lips. Every sensation was amplified, every detail was vivid, and I found myself completely immersed into her.

I couldn't help but feel a sense of awe for the view before me - it was as if I were witnessing something holy - something that belonged only to us two. With each flick of my tongue, a symphony of sensations unfolded, like a tapestry of flavors and textures. I navigated the labyrinthine depths of her crevices, discovering hidden chambers and secret alcoves that ignited my senses. The taste of her essence, both sweet and musky, mingled with the salty tang of her sweat, creating a heady elixir that intoxicated me. The warmth of her body radiated through my skin, enveloping me in a cocoon of desire. The taste intensified, the sweetness fading into something richer and more intricate - a taste that spoke of depth and complexity that mirrored our own bond.

As I delved deeper into her entrance with my flicking tongue, I couldn't help but feel a sense of pride in what we were doing together. The world outside faded away, leaving only the raw, unapologetic sensations that coursed through our veins. Our bodies were connected by desire and passion, and we explored each other's with a sense of freedom and abandon. The taste of her essence was intoxicating, and I couldn't get enough of it. The salty tang of her sweat mingled with the sweetness of her body, creating a heady elixir that left me dizzy with pleasure. The warmth of her body radiated through my skin, enveloping me in a cocoon of desire. It was a moment of pure sensory exploration - an exchange of pleasure that transcended words or actions. It didn't matter that she was with someone, all that mattered was what we both wanted - needed..

"Oh my God!" As her slender fingers delved into the silken strands of my hair, a guttural moan escaped her lips, echoing through the dimly lit room like a siren's call. Her touch was a symphony of sensations, each caress sending shivers down my spine. It was as if she was weaving a spell, ensnaring me in a web of desire with every delicate pull and tug. "You're so good at that, Owen" Her teeth sank into the softness of her lower lip, drawing a crimson bead of blood. The skin of her neck tightened, corded muscles standing out like delicate ridges beneath the surface. A low, guttural growl escaped her throat, a primal sound that reverberated through the room.

My tongue, a fervent explorer, ventured beyond the silken folds of her womanhood, tracing the contours of her hidden desires. Each delicate stroke ignited a symphony of sensations, a chorus of whispers reverberating through her core. Her body, a finely tuned instrument, responded with a tremor, a ripple of anticipation coursing through her limbs. She writhed in agony, her limbs trembling with the intensity of her pleasure. Her stomach twisted and churned, a maelstrom of emotions swirling within her core. Her head lolled back, her eyes rolling with ecstasy as her body surrendered to the sensations coursing through her veins.

Her head arched back, a gasp escaping her lips as my tongue ventured forth, seeking the epicenter of her desire. My lips moved in a circular motion, teasing and tormenting her sensitive nub, each revolution igniting a fiery burst of pleasure that rippled through her body. Her legs tightened around my head, her toes curling in ecstasy as her hips bucked involuntarily. One of my fingers slipped down between the silken folds of her entrance, circling and probing, adding an extra layer of stimulation. The combination of my tongue and finger was too much for her, sending her spiraling into the abyss of ecstasy.

The room filled with the symphony of her moans, a primal melody that echoed off the walls. Her body writhed beneath me, her curves undulating like waves crashing against the shore. I could feel her heat and her wetness, taste her desire and her passion. I was lost in the moment, consumed by the sensations that swirled around us like a maelstrom. My finger continued its relentless assault, tracing the contours of her entrance, teasing and probing at its delicate folds. My tongue flicked and danced across her clit, each touch sending shockwaves of pleasure through her body. She was a marionette in my hands, her body contorting and twisting at my every whim. Her fingernails dug into my back, leaving moon-shaped marks on my skin. I basked in the pain, a manifestation of her unyielding passion.

Diving deeper into Jennie's silken depths, I felt her body tremble beneath me, her breath hitching in ragged gasps. My tongue danced across her heated folds, swirling and teasing like a mischievous sprite. Each touch sent shockwaves of ecstasy rippling through her core, her moans escalating into a desperate symphony that filled the room. Her hips arched involuntarily, seeking more of my fervent ministrations.

With one hand buried between her legs, I reached up with the other, exploring the smooth expanse of her toned stomach. My fingers traced the contours of her abs, teasing and tormenting her sensitive navel. She arched her back, her hips bucking wildly as my tongue danced across her clit. I could feel her heat and her wetness, taste her desire and her passion. I was lost in the moment, consumed by the sensations that swirled around us like a maelstrom.

As I continued to lick and suck at her clit, I slipped a finger inside her. It slid in easily, coated in her wetness. I began to pump my finger in and out, matching the rhythm of my tongue on her clit. Jennie's moans grew louder, more frenzied, her body trembling with anticipation. I could feel her muscles clenching around my finger, a sign that she was close.

With my free hand, I reached up to cup her breast, squeezing gently as my tongue continued its relentless assault on her clit. Her nipple hardened in my hand, a dark, erect bud that begged for attention. I pinched it lightly between my fingers, eliciting a sharp gasp from Jennie. Her hips bucked wildly, her body writhing beneath me as I continued to finger and lick her.

I could feel her heat and her wetness increasing, a sign that she was on the brink. With each relentless thrust, I quickened the tempo of my finger, driving it deeper into her slick, welcoming depths. I could feel her body responding, her muscles clenching and unclenching around my eager digit, a symphony of anticipation and surrender. Her breath hitched in her throat, a soft gasp escaping her lips as I continued my relentless assault on her pleasure center. My tongue danced across her clit, teasing and tormenting her sensitive nub. Jennie's moans grew louder, more desperate, a symphony of pleasure that filled the room.

In the hallowed chamber of our love, anticipation hung heavy in the air, pregnant with the promise of ecstasy. Her breaths came in ragged gasps, her whispered words barely audible above the fervent rhythm of our bodies. "Owen," she breathed, "I'm so close," and I could feel the trembling of her body, the clenching and unclenching of her muscles.

We were dancing on the precipice, so close to the edge, and I couldn't resist the urge to push her over. My fingers slid deeper into her slick, welcoming depths, the tempo of our love growing faster, more intense with each passing moment. The air was thick with the scent of passion, the taste of lust, and the sweetness of surrender.

As I continued my relentless assault on her pleasure center, I could feel the tension building, the anticipation growing. The air was thick with the scent of passion, the taste of lust, and the sweetness of surrender. My fingers slid deeper into her slick, welcoming depths, the tempo of our love growing faster, more intense with each passing moment. The rhythm of our bodies was in sync, our movements fluid and graceful, as we danced on the precipice of ecstasy.

I could feel the heat radiating from her skin, the beat of her heart echoing in my ears. Her whispered words of desire were like music to my ears, fueling my desire to bring her to the edge. I could sense the trembling of her body, the clenching and unclenching of her muscles, as she surrendered to the pleasure.

As I felt her body convulse around me, I knew that I had pushed her to the edge, that I had brought her to the point of no return. The intensity of our lust was overwhelming, a whirlwind of emotions and sensations that left me breathless. I could feel the warmth of her skin against mine, the softness of her hair, the taste of her lips on mine.

Her body, a symphony of rapture, throbbed beneath me, her cries of ecstasy echoing through the room. I had taken her to the precipice, and now she was free-falling into the abyss of pleasure. Her face, a canvas of desire, contorted with delight as she surrendered to the sensations that consumed her. I watched, enraptured, as she arched her back, her body trembling with the intensity of her climax. It was a moment of pure bliss, a communion of souls that transcended the physical realm.

As she finally descended from the tempestuous heights of her orgasm, Jennie lay there panting, her body still trembling like a leaf caught in an autumn gale. The aftershocks of ecstasy rippled through her, her skin flushed and damp with the nectar of our lovemaking. I moved beside her, my heart thrumming in my chest like a war drum, its beat echoing in the silence of the room like a primal chant. As I gazed into her eyes, I felt a raw, primal energy crackling between us, an electric current that coursed through our veins and ignited our souls.

After a moment, Jennie gathered herself, her breathing slowly returning to normal. She looked at me with a mix of desire and longing, her eyes locked onto my erection. Without a word, she reached out and spit on it, her saliva glistening on the tip as she began to stroke me. I moaned softly, my body responding to her touch with a fierce intensity.

"Now, for the real thing," Her breath, a warm caress against my ear, whispered promises of forbidden pleasures, unspoken desires. In the hushed tones of a seductress, she confessed, "I've been thinking about this"

My heart raced as she climbed on top of me, her body pressing against mine with a force that was both

exhilarating and terrifying. As Jennie descended upon me, I was captivated by the sight of her pussy swallowing my length whole, her muscles contracting around me with a ferocity that left me breathless. The feeling was ineffable, a surge of ecstasy that coursed through me like a tempestuous storm, electrifying every fiber of my being. Her gaze bore into mine, a mixture of passion and rebellion, as she claimed my cock in her body.

Jennie's body was a sight to behold, her curves accentuated by the soft, ambient light that bathed the room in a moody, atmospheric glow. Her breasts, full and firm, swayed gently with each thrust, their dark, rosy nipples standing erect against the cool air. Her hips moved in a hypnotic rhythm, her muscles flexing with each deliberate motion as she rode me with a fervor that left me breathless.

The view was breathtaking, Jennie's face a picture of pure, unadulterated pleasure. Her lips were parted, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she lost herself in the moment. Her eyes, dark and expressive, were filled with a raw, primal hunger that was both intoxicating and terrifying.

As we moved together, the room was filled with the symphony of our bodies slapping against each other, the wet, slick sounds of our flesh meeting in a frenzied dance of desire, like waves crashing against the shore. The air was thick with the scent of our arousal, a heady mix of sweat and sex that filled my senses and heightened my pleasure, intoxicating me with its primal allure. The rhythm of our lovemaking echoed through the room, a percussive symphony that pounded in my ears and set my heart racing with each thrust.

"Oh fuck, you're so tight," With a guttural moan, I plunged further into Jennie's depths, my body consumed by an insatiable hunger.

"And you're so big, you're stretching me out," Jennie moaned in response, her hips bucking wildly as she rode me with a fierce intensity.

"Do you like that? do you like my cock inside you? you've missed it dont you?" I asked, my voice thick with desire as I looked down at Jennie.

"yes! yes! Yes! Fuck!" Jennie cried out, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she lost herself in the moment.

In that moment, time seemed to stand still, and all that mattered was the intense sensory experience that was unfolding before me. Jennie's body was a symphony of pleasure, her every movement a testament to the raw, primal power of desire. And as I lost myself in the rhythm of our bodies, I knew that I was experiencing something truly transcendent, something that would stay with me long after the last echoes of our passion had faded away.

As she began to move, I felt myself being drawn into a world of pure sensation. Every thrust, every movement, was a symphony of pleasure that seemed to resonate deep within my soul. Jennie's eyes never left mine, her expression a mix of desire and determination as she rode me with a fierce intensity. I could feel her muscles clenching around me, a tight, wet heat that seemed to pull me deeper into her body with each passing second.

With a sudden surge of energy, I flipped her onto her back, guiding her legs apart as I positioned myself above her. Our eyes locked in a heated gaze as I plunged deeper into her, my body responding to her cries of desire with a feral intensity.

In this newfound position, I was able to control the depth and pace of our lovemaking, driving myself into her with an insatiable hunger. The headboard creaked against the wall in time with our frantic rhythm, the room filled with the wet sounds of our passionate union. Her hands gripped my back, nails digging into my skin as we moved together as one.

With each thrust, our bodies collided in a symphony of sensations – the slickness of our skin meeting in a primal dance, the soft moans escaping Jennie's lips as she arched her back to meet my every movement. Sweat glistened on both our bodies, beading on our skin like liquid diamonds under the dimmed lights. Her breasts bounced with each impact, nipples hardened and begging for attention. I reached down to tease them roughly, eliciting a gasp from Jennie that spurred me onward.

I could feel every ripple and fold of her wet heat enveloping me, clenching around my length like a vice. The scent of our arousal hung heavy in the air – musky and intoxicating – fueling the fire that burned between us. As I watched our reflection in the mirrored ceiling above us, I marveled at the sight: two bodies entwined in an age-old dance, seeking solace and release in each other's arms.

As I pushed into her further, I raised Jennie's elongated, slender limbs by their ankles, spreading them outward for my access. The visual before me was captivating - her toned thighs glistening with perspiration, her delicate toes curling and uncurling as I kissed and licked upon them. Her thin arms quivered with ecstasy. One hand clung tightly to the bedsheets, the other meandering down to manipulate her breasts, pinching and tugging at the firm nipples that stood upright against the cool atmosphere. Her eyelids were shut, her visage a blend of pleasure and agony as she yielded herself to the overwhelming sensations coursing through her entire body.

Jennie pulled me down to kiss her, her lips soft and warm against mine. Our tongues danced together in a frenzied rhythm, mirroring the movements of our bodies below. I could feel her heart pounding against my chest, her breath hot and heavy in my ear as she urged me onward. My thrusts did not stop, my body driven by a primal need to claim her once more.

Her nails raked down my back, leaving a trail of fire in their wake, fueling the flames of our passion even further. Our bodies collided with an intensity that belied the passage of time, as if we were two souls trapped in an endless loop of desire and need. The room was filled with the sound of our moans and gasps, a symphony of lust that echoed off the walls. The scent of our arousal hung heavy in the air – musky and intoxicating – as we raced towards that elusive peak together.

In this moment, there was only us – two people lost in a sea of passion, seeking solace and release in each other's arms. As I looked into her dark eyes, I saw the same longing and desire that burned within me.

Soon after we switched positions, Jennie was on all fours, presenting her luscious ass to me as I entered her from behind. I couldn't help but admire the view before me – her toned backside, the delicate dip of her spine, and the way her hair cascaded down her back in a waterfall of ebony silk. Her skin glistened with a sheen of sweat, accentuating every curve and contour of her body.

As I positioned myself behind her, I marveled at the sight of my cock sliding into her wet heat once more. The sensation was indescribable – hot, tight, and wet; it felt like coming home. With each thrust, I could feel every ripple and fold of her inner walls clenching around me, as if she were trying to hold onto me forever. The sound of our bodies colliding filled the room, a primal symphony that echoed off the walls.

In this position, Jennie's body took on an even more alluring form –  hips curved in invitation; and thighs spread apart in wanton display. Her back arched gracefully, accentuating the perfect curve of her spine and emphasizing the delicate line of her neck. It was a breathtaking sight, truly awe-inspiring - this beautiful creature beneath me, her body glistening with a fine sheen of sweat, her breath hitching with every thrust I made. Her moans, they were like sweet music to my ears, filling the room with an erotic symphony that echoed off the walls. They were desperate pleas for more, whispers of pleasure intermingling with the rhythmic crescendo of our bodies colliding. The sight and sounds of Jennie in the throes of ecstasy was intoxicating, pushing me further to the edge.

Every thrust was a desperate attempt to fuse our bodies together, to become one with this woman who held my heart captive. Our bodies collided with a force that belied the tenderness of our earlier lovemaking, a raw and primal display of unrestrained passion.

I reached down, my fingers tracing the delicate line of her spine, feeling the soft texture of her skin beneath my fingertips. Her body trembled beneath my touch, a mixture of pleasure and anticipation. I leaned down and kissed her neck, my lips trailing a path of fire down to her collarbone. She moaned softly, her head tilting back to give me better access.

My hands slid down her body, cupping her firm buttocks. I squeezed gently, feeling the muscles tense beneath my touch. Her hips moved involuntarily against mine, a desperate plea for more. I responded by thrusting into her with renewed vigor, my body driven by a primal need to claim her.

Jennie's body trembled beneath me, her muscles tensing and relaxing in a rhythmic dance of ecstasy. Her moans grew louder, more urgent, as she neared the precipice of release. Her body was a canvas of pleasure, her skin glistening with sweat as she writhed beneath me.

I could feel it too, the heat and tightness building between us, the overwhelming need to explode in a symphony of pleasure. It was like a volcano ready to erupt, the pressure building and building.

"Owen," she whispered, her voice a desperate plea. "I'm so close."

Her hushed murmurs were barely perceptible over the symphony of our pounding hearts and the wet slap of our bodies colliding in a rhythm as old as time itself. The scent of sweat and sex hung heavy in the air, intoxicating me with every breath I took. I carefully parted the supple curves of her ass, my gaze transfixed on the provocative sight before me: myself buried deep within her slick, welcoming folds.

"I'm close too, fuck! I'm gonna cum" I surrendered to the primitive instinct within me, my hips driving against her with newfound urgency. The soft, supple curves of her back molded perfectly against the harsh angles of my chest and abdomen. Her skin was a living flame beneath my fingertips – hot, slick, and glistening with sweat that clung to her like a second skin. The intoxicating taste of salt and woman filled my mouth as I pressed kisses along the graceful arch of her neck, each one drawing a gasp or a moan from her lips in response.

Such sweet music she made – soft sighs and whimpers that danced in harmony with the symphony of our bodies colliding in rhythmic unison. They were notes on an erotic sonnet, each one resonating deep within me, igniting sparks that threatened to consume me whole.

As the intensity of our coupling began to overwhelm me, I felt my legs quivering, the pressure mounting and threatening to spill over. With a firm grip on her shoulders, I channeled all my strength into thrusting against her - plunging into Jennie with an urgency borne of pure desire and unbridled lust. Each thrust resonated deep within me, stirring up a tempest of emotions that swirled in harmony with the rhythm of our bodies colliding. The sweet friction generated by our union was as intoxicating as it was maddening.

The intensity of her orgasm was like a tidal wave, crashing over me and pulling me under. I could hear her screams of pleasure, echoing in my ears as she came undone beneath me. Her body trembled and quivered, every muscle taut and tense as she rode out the waves of ecstasy. Her nails dug into my back, leaving crescent moons etched into my skin as she held on for dear life. The sensation of her walls clenching around me, milking me for all I was worth, was almost too much to bear. I felt myself losing control, my own climax building rapidly as I thrust into her with abandon.

"Fuck, you're so tight," I groaned, my voice strained and desperate. "I'm gonna cum."

"Oh my God, Owen!" She cried out, her voice a desperate plea. "Fill me up!"

With a final, desperate thrust, I let go. The pleasure exploded outwards from my core, a blinding white light that consumed me whole. I felt myself spill into her, my release warm and thick as it filled her to the brim. Her body shook beneath me, her walls milking me for every last drop as she came undone once more. With a surge of desire, her inner walls gripped me tightly, milking every inch of my throbbing cock as she pressed herself against my groin. Her body trembled beneath me, the rhythmic motion causing her juices to mix with the heat of my own release, filling her to the brim with my essence. The sensation was overwhelming and intoxicating, a swirl of pleasure and wetness.

The culmination overwhelmed us, a torrent of delight that teetered on the edge of being unbearable. This peak, an oft-experienced sensation, was a mass consumption of joy that stemmed from my very essence. It was like a dazzling white glare, a flood tide crashing over me and pulling me under its swell. The impact nearly felt scary, but in the most positive way. It was as if each sensory neuron in me had been ignited, a harmonious symphony of sensations that left me breathless and quivering with fulfillment.

As the waves of pleasure began to subside, I collapsed onto the bed beside her, my body spent and satisfied. I pulled her close, my arm wrapped around her waist as I pressed kisses to her neck and shoulder. Her body was still trembling, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she tried to catch her breath.

I looked into her eyes, and what I saw there was a mixture of pleasure and longing, a deep emotional and physical satisfaction that mirrored my own. I held her in my arms, her body still trembling from the force of our climax. Her hair was plastered to her face, sweat sticking to her skin in a way that only added to her allure. She was breathtaking – a sight that I knew I would never grow tired of. As she lay there in my arms, panting and heaving, I couldn't help but think about what could have been between us.

The intensity of our connection flooded my mind with memories and regrets. I thought back to our time together years ago, when things were different. When the possibilities between us seemed endless. Back then, I had felt the magnetic pull towards her – the urge to give myself to her fully, to commit everything I had. But the fear always held me back, gripping my heart like a vise. I was terrified of losing myself in her, of the vulnerability that comes with true intimacy. So I held back, keeping her at arm's length even as we shared our bodies and souls.

She had wanted more, I knew that even then. I could see it in her eyes whenever she looked at me – that simmering desire for the whole of my heart. But the fear was too strong, the habit of self-protection too ingrained. And so she eventually moved on, leaving me bereft and full of remorse.

Now here she was again, trembling in my arms like she belonged there. The old longings came flooding back, mingled with regret. If only I could go back and choose differently, give her the love she deserved. But it was too late for that. The best I could do was cherish these stolen moments together, even as I knew deep down that I would inevitably pull back again. She was my North Star, my guiding light – but one that I could never fully reach no matter how hard I tried. The thought filled me with equal parts bliss and anguish. I held her tighter as she drifted off to sleep, wishing I could freeze this moment forever. --

I draw an elongated, languid pull from my cigarette, allowing the nicotine to seep into my bloodstream as I linger on this balcony, my perch above the dazzling, pulsating cityscape of New York. The night air is sharp, a crisp contrast to the lingering warmth that still clings to my skin—a souvenir from our passionate interlude.

Inside, Jennie is nestled in the land of dreams, her petite frame delicately cocooned in the luxurious hotel sheets that still bear the scent of our shared desire. I ought to join her, to envelop her in my arms and surrender to the beckoning call of sleep. However, a restless energy pervades my being, my mind a volatile whirlpool in the aftermath of our tempestuous coupling.

Jennie, a beautiful enigma, belongs to another now—Yet, tonight, we merged in a wild conflagration of raw desire, our bodies entwining in a dance as old as time itself, lost in a sea of ecstasy. I staked my claim on every inch of her, driven by a primal need to etch myself into her memory, an indelible mark she'd never be able to erase. Her nails etched a path of fervor down my back, her cries a symphony spurring me forward as we hurtled towards the precipice of oblivion. And when that moment of release arrived, it was a cataclysm—a searing flash of divine perfection that shattered us, only to rebuild us anew.

Commitment has always been my Achilles heel, a specter I avoid with the agility of a seasoned matador. It terrifies me, this concept of vulnerability and surrender. The lessons life has imparted have taught me that nothing golden remains, so I seize my moments of joy with a fierce grip, refusing to hold too tightly lest they slip away. I prefer to exist in a world of beautiful fragments, a mosaic of fleeting moments, rather than be tethered to a monotonous eternity. These thoughts weave their way through my mind as I exhale the ashen smoke from my lips, the remnants of my vice liberated from the confines of my lungs.

I flick the cigarette over the edge, its glowing cherry tracing a fleeting arc in the obsidian night, a dying star lost in the city's neon abyss. Jennie, she is my Polaris, an immutable point of light guiding my aimless wanderings even when she's a universe away. The distance between us may stretch into miles, yet I find myself perpetually ensnared in her cosmic pull, tethered to the irresistible gravity of her radiance.

Perched high above the city, I cast my gaze downwards, drinking in the nocturnal theater below. A ceaseless ballet of headlights, the urban arteries throbbing with life—cars darting like metallic fish, blaring horns that sing a discordant symphony of the city's pulse. Amid the clamor, a melody tiptoes into my consciousness, a haunting siren's song birthed from the events of the night. My next creation, a symphony of sentiments woven into delicate prose, stands ready to unfurl. It's an intimate piece of my soul, a whisper of my essence, something to bare and share with the world. A tapestry of words dipped in the hues of my deepest longings, a lingering echo of my heartbeat, yearning to resonate in the hearts of those willing to lend an ear;

I'm in town for one night, one night only

I came around to put it down, for one night only

Just one night

Got a room for me and you, for one night only

You wanna ride for a lifetime, this is one night only

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My first fic, hope you guys like it.

[anhedoniawrites]

Tied 2 You - Spencer Reid

tiny part two of tied up!

(however this can be read as a stand-alone)

Summary: Spencer frees (Y/N), and comforts her, finding solace in each other’s presence... and Henry's.

Masterlist!

Post Prison!Spencer x Female Reader

Genre: Fluff 💌

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: none!

The room was heavy with a silence that felt eternal, broken only by the faint sound of (Y/N)’s labored breathing. She hung limply from the ceiling cuffs, her bare skin shimmering faintly under the dim red light. Every muscle ached, her exhaustion so profound it seeped into her very bones. Time had blurred; minutes felt like hours and hours like days. She blinked slowly, her dry eyes burning, too tired to even flinch when she heard the unmistakable click of the doorknob turning.

Her head turned sluggishly toward the sound, her heart fluttering with a faint, desperate hope. Please, let it be him. The door creaked open, and relief flooded her veins as Spencer stepped inside. But the sight of his face struck her in a way she hadn’t expected. His chocolate button eyes, usually so bright with intelligence, were dark with worry and guilt. He froze for a moment, his gaze sweeping over her disheveled, vulnerable form, and his lips parted in a silent expression of regret.

“Oh, (Y/N),” he murmured under his breath, his voice heavy with emotion. Carefully, he shut the door behind him and turned the lock with a quiet click. He needed no interruptions, not from Henry, not from anyone. This moment belonged to them, raw and aching.

Spencer crossed the room with quiet urgency, his steps deliberate but tender, as if afraid that even the vibrations of his movements might add to her suffering. When he reached her, he hesitated for the briefest moment, his fingers trembling as they hovered near her wrists bound in the cold metal cuffs. His eyes met hers, glassy with unshed tears.

“I’m so sorry, my love,” he whispered, his voice a soothing balm against the sting of her pain. His hands worked quickly but carefully to release her, the soft click of the unlocking cuffs a stark contrast to the heavy silence.

As the metal restraints fell away, (Y/N) let out a shuddering exhale, her arms collapsing uselessly to her sides. The relief of freedom was overwhelming, but her body betrayed her, too weak to support itself after hours of suspension. Spencer reacted instantly, his hands darting to her waist to steady her. His touch was gentle, and firm, the only anchor keeping her from crumpling to the floor.

“You were such a good girl for me,” he murmured, his lips brushing against her temple as he held her close. His voice cracked slightly, betraying the depth of his remorse. “I shouldn’t have left you like that. I should’ve been here.”

Her legs trembled as her feet found the ground, the weight of her body foreign and unsteady after so long. Spencer shifted his hold, one arm wrapping securely around her waist while the other gently cradled the back of her head. He pulled her against his chest, allowing her to lean into him fully, to feel his warmth, his stability.

“I’ve got you now,” he promised, his voice a low, comforting hum. “I’ll take care of you.”

His words melted into her skin like a promise etched into eternity, his hands tenderly rubbing circles into her back to ease the ache in her muscles. Slowly, as her breaths steadied and her body relaxed in his embrace, she felt the faint stirrings of peace. Spencer’s presence, his touch, was a salve for her wounds, both seen and unseen.

Spencer shifted slightly, carefully adjusting his grip on (Y/N) as he bent down and scooped her into his arms, cradling her against his chest. She was weightless in his embrace, her body pliant from exhaustion, but he held her as though she were the most precious thing in the world. His heart ached at the sight of her drooping eyelids and the faint wince she gave when her muscles protested the movement.

With deliberate, measured steps, he carried her across the room toward the plush red velvet chair that sat like a throne in the dim lighting. Lowering her gently, he let her settle into its softness, ensuring she was comfortable before releasing her from his protective hold. Even as he pulled away, his hand lingered at her shoulder, unwilling to lose contact.

Spencer’s gaze swept the room briefly before spotting the oversized t-shirt she’d discarded earlier. He retrieved it swiftly, the worn fabric crumpled in his hands as he knelt before her. Looking up, he met her tired eyes, his own filled with an unspoken promise of care.

“Let’s get this back on, sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice warm and soothing as he unfolded the shirt.

(Y/N) nodded faintly, lifting her arms weakly to help him guide the shirt over her head. The fabric slid over her skin like a comforting shield, the soft cotton a small reprieve from the vulnerability she had felt moments ago. Spencer’s fingers brushed against her arms as he straightened the hem, his touch featherlight, almost reverent. He didn’t bother with her bra—it was unnecessary now. She deserved comfort, and he was determined to give it to her.

As he adjusted the shirt, Spencer’s hands paused briefly to cup her cheeks, his thumbs brushing away a stray tear she hadn’t realized had fallen. He leaned in, pressing a tender kiss to her jawline, his lips lingering for a moment before pulling back just enough to speak.

“Is Henry still here?” (Y/N) asked softly, her voice barely above a whisper. She hated how fragile she sounded, how the experience had reduced her to this state. Her pride wrestled with the reality of her exhaustion, but Spencer’s presence soothed the worst of her inner turmoil.

“Yes, Darling,” Spencer replied, his tone as gentle as his touch. “He’s just watching a movie.” Another kiss found its way to her temple, then to her cheek. His lips moved as though pulled by an invisible force, unable to resist showering her with affection.

“I told him I was going to the bathroom and to behave,” he continued, his voice laced with a soft chuckle as he kissed her again, this time at the corner of her lips. His affection was relentless, each kiss a silent apology, a reassurance that he was there, fully present and devoted to her comfort.

(Y/N) leaned into him, her eyes fluttering closed as his warmth and care enveloped her. For the first time since she’d been cuffed, she felt a flicker of security, a sense of being grounded again. Spencer’s presence, his touch, and his words were her safe haven, and she let herself surrender to the comfort he offered so freely.

"I'm alright, Spence," (Y/N) reassured him, her voice gentle and soothing, knowing all too well that he was silently berating himself for being away from her for so long. She cradled his face with one hand, her thumb brushing his cheek in a tender motion. "I know you came as soon as you could. Henry can be a handful sometimes, and you did what you had to do." Her words were soft, meant to calm the storm she could see swirling in his eyes.

Spencer responded not with words but with a trail of feather-light kisses along her jawline and neck, his lips warm and lingering as if he could convey all his unspoken apologies through touch. He buried his face in the curve of her shoulder, exhaling deeply as though her scent alone could ease the guilt he felt.

"I'm still sorry, my love," he murmured against her collarbone, his voice barely above a whisper. His arms wrapped around her tighter, drawing her as close as possible, as though proximity alone could make up for the hours they had been apart.

(Y/N) stroked the back of his head, fingers tangling in his unruly curls. They sat like that for a while, wrapped in each other's warmth and comfort, letting the silence speak for them. It was only when (Y/N) shifted slightly that a realization hit her.

Her eyes widened, and she leaned back just enough to look at Spencer. "Wait—Henry," she said, the name tumbling out in an urgent whisper. Her gaze darted toward the hallway, and she bit back a laugh. "He’s still here... we’re supposed to be watching him, not leaving him to fend for himself!"

Spencer’s head shot up, his lips parting in mild alarm. "Oh no," he said quickly, already beginning to stand. "Do you think he—"

"Relax, Spence," (Y/N) interrupted with a small smile, tugging him back down before he could spiral. "He’s probably just building a fort or raiding the snack cabinet. But we should check... before he turns the kitchen into a war zone."

With a shared laugh, the couple reluctantly untangled from each other, their brief moment of solace giving way to the delightful chaos that awaited them.

Walking out of the Red Room, Spencer’s arm rested protectively around (Y/N)’s waist, his movements careful and deliberate. He glanced at her every few steps, silently checking on her as they made their way toward the door. Pausing, he locked the Red Room behind them, testing the handle twice to ensure it was secure before turning his attention back to her.

"Alright, let’s take it slow," he murmured softly, guiding her down the hallway. His grip on her waist tightened slightly as they approached the living room.

The sound of laughter and the faint noise of Transformers blaring from the big TV greeted them as they entered. Spencer’s lips curved into a faint smile at the sight ahead—a massive blanket fort sprawling across the room, complete with pillows stacked high like castle walls. Henry’s giggles filled the space, a joyful symphony of innocence.

From her spot beside Spencer, (Y/N) spotted a tuft of blonde hair peeking out from behind the couch. The giggles grew louder, and before she could react, there was the rapid thud of small feet against the wooden floorboards.

“(Y/N)!” Henry’s voice rang out, growing closer by the second. He darted toward her, his arms outstretched with childlike enthusiasm, his face lighting up as he reached her.

The impact was gentle but sudden as Henry wrapped himself around her legs in a big hug. (Y/N) laughed softly, the warmth of his affection momentarily distracting her from the ache in her body.

Spencer, however, stiffened beside her. His protective instincts kicked in immediately, and his hand moved to steady her. "Careful, Henry," he said, his tone a mix of caution and tenderness as he held (Y/N) a little closer against his chest. "Her legs might be a little tired right now."

“It’s okay, Spence,” (Y/N) reassured him, placing a comforting hand on his arm. Her smile widened as she looked down at Henry, ruffling his hair affectionately. "I missed you too, buddy."

Henry pulled back just enough to look up at her, his eyes sparkling with excitement. “I made a fort! You have to come see it! It’s the best one ever!” he exclaimed, pointing toward his masterpiece with pride.

(Y/N) chuckled softly, glancing at Spencer. “What do you think? Do we check out the fort?”

Spencer’s lips quirked into a small smile as he relaxed, nodding. “Only if you promise to sit and not move around too much.”

“Deal,” she teased, letting Henry take her hand and lead her forward while Spencer stayed close by, ready to catch her if needed.

The living room buzzed with warmth, the blanket fort and Henry’s laughter creating a cocoon of comfort that seemed to soothe them all.As Henry eagerly guided (Y/N) toward the blanket fort, Spencer stayed close, his hand hovering near her waist in case she needed support.

The boy’s excitement was contagious, and (Y/N) couldn’t help but smile at his enthusiasm despite the fatigue still lingering in her body.

“Look! I even made a secret entrance!” Henry declared proudly, dropping to his knees and crawling through a small opening in the fort’s fabric walls. His muffled giggles came from inside as he waited for them to follow.

(Y/N) lowered herself carefully onto the floor with Spencer’s help, stifling a wince as she got into position. She glanced up at him with a playful smile. “Don’t worry, Doctor Reid, I’ve got this.”

Spencer sighed, his brow furrowing. “Just... be careful,” he murmured, crouching beside her as she crawled through the entrance. He followed close behind, ready to catch her at a moment’s notice.

Inside, the fort was cozy and warm, lit by a string of fairy lights that cast a soft glow over the carefully arranged pillows and blankets. Henry was already sprawled out in the center, holding up a bowl of popcorn with a triumphant grin.

“Tada! Isn’t it cool?” he asked, looking between the two adults for their reactions.

“It’s amazing, Henry,” (Y/N) said with genuine admiration, settling into a pile of pillows. She reached for a handful of popcorn and winked. “You might just have a future in architecture.”

Spencer chuckled as he sat beside her, his long legs folding awkwardly in the small space. “You’ve outdone yourself,” he added, his tone warm.

Henry beamed, his pride shining brighter than the fairy lights. “Okay, now we watch Transformers! But you have to sit here and stay forever,” he said, pointing firmly at (Y/N).

“Forever, huh?” (Y/N) teased, leaning back against Spencer, who instinctively wrapped an arm around her shoulders to support her. “Well, with a fort like this, how could I say no?”

Henry grinned and hit play on the remote, the familiar sounds of explosions and robot voices filling the small space. As the movie started, (Y/N) relaxed into Spencer’s embrace, his fingers gently tracing comforting patterns along her arm.

Spencer leaned down, his voice soft against her ear. “You okay?”

(Y/N) tilted her head to look up at him, her smile tired but content. “More than okay.”

As Henry giggled at the screen, oblivious to the quiet moment between the two adults, (Y/N) let herself savor the warmth of the fort, the closeness of Spencer, and the pure joy of being surrounded by love and laughter.

For the first time in what felt like ages, everything felt just right.

(the gif is how I picture them in Henry’s fort)

Thank you so much for reading!

Please like & reblog if you enjoyed!

Masterlist!

taglist: @topgunslut @donttrustlove @kakamixoxo

(let me know if you would like to be added)

[pretzel-box]

STREAMER AU MASTERLIST HERE

PART 5: PAINT YOUR DOUBTS

Tags: Fluff, Drama, Angst, Stolen Identity, did I mention drama already? Also Painter!

Words: 3k

Authors Note: It’s almost Thursday and I couldn't wait. If it's weirdly written or you see mistakes: This was edited on my phone and I am suffering. Please bear with me.

Allison could see the lovestruck gleam in Sebastian’s eyes, and she knew she had won. Leaning closer, she gently rested her forehead against his, her lips curling into a sweet smile as her fingers intertwined with his. “I love you,” she whispered softly, her voice dripping with sincerity. “I always have.”

Sebastian drank in her words, soaking up the affection he so desperately craved. Those three simple words were enough to seal his fate. He pressed his lips to hers once more, the kiss soft but full of unspoken promises—promises to never leave her side, to always be there. In his arms, he finally had his Jelly, and he knew he would never let go.

As Sebastian held her close, his heart pounding as if it had been waiting for this moment all along. In his arms, he believed he finally had everything he ever wanted. Allison—Jelly—was his, and there was nothing that could break this moment.

Their kiss deepened, Sebastian’s grip on her tightened, not out of force, but from a sense of security, like he was holding on to the one thing that could keep him grounded. He pulled back slightly, resting his forehead against hers once again, his breath heavy but steady.

"I never thought I'd have you like this," Sebastian murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "I waited so long... I was scared I’d lose you before I ever had the chance."

Allison smiled, a hint of triumph hidden behind her gentle gaze. “You’ll never lose me, Sebastian,” she reassured him, her fingers tracing lazy circles on the back of his hand. “I’m right here. And I’m not going anywhere.”

Inside, she felt a surge of victory—Sebastian was completely hers now. She had taken Jelly’s place, and he was none the wiser. Allison savored the way he looked at her with devotion, not realizing the depth of her manipulation. She had him right where she wanted him.

But as the two stood there, locked in the warmth of what felt like love to him and power to her, a tiny flicker of guilt brushed against Allison’s mind. She quickly pushed it away. This was for her, for her happiness. Being close to Solace, even if it meant betraying her friend, was worth it.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” Sebastian continued, his eyes soft as he gazed at her. "It feels right—finally."

Allison leaned in, pressing another kiss to his lips, silencing him for the moment. She didn’t need to hear his words of devotion; she had already won the game.

And as they stood together, the world outside of this moment seemed distant. For now, Sebastian’s world revolved around Allison—his supposed Jelly—and she would make sure it stayed that way.

“How about I pick you up for lunch tomorrow? We can finally test out the new sushi bar you wanted to try so badly.” He whispers against her lips, hoping she would agree to his planned lunch date. He remembered every single thing about her, the way you excitedly rambled about sushi once. Sebastian had mentioned it to Allison again and of course she had to play along, telling him about a sushi bar that opened near their place.

The truth? Allison hated sushi. The smell, the texture, the taste—it all repulsed her. If she wanted the taste of raw fish, she'd rather go lick the ocean. But she couldn’t let that show, not now. Not when Sebastian was falling deeper into her trap. If she had to eat sushi to keep him hooked, she’d swallow every last bite with a smile.

She nodded, giggling like a schoolgirl. “Of course, I’d love to. Just the two of us,” she said sweetly, masking her distaste behind a charming facade.

Sebastian’s face lit up, his heart swelling at her response. “Just us,” he echoed, his voice full of affection. He kissed her forehead softly, pulling her closer in a warm embrace. “I can’t wait. I’ve been thinking about it for a while now.”

Allison smiled sweetly, but internally, she was already dreading tomorrow. The thought of raw fish made her stomach turn, but she couldn’t show any hint of discomfort. She had to play her part perfectly. If sushi was what it took to keep Sebastian wrapped around her finger, then she would endure it.

“Neither can I,” she said, her voice dripping with false excitement. She leaned into his chest, hiding the small grimace that flashed across her face for a brief moment. Allison could handle this. After all, she had gotten this far.

Sebastian stroked her hair, feeling content in her presence. To him, everything was falling into place. He had his Jelly, the one person he had been dreaming of for so long. Nothing could go wrong now.

As the night wore on and they eventually parted ways, Allison’s mind raced. She needed to make sure her disguise as Jelly was airtight. No slip-ups. She couldn’t afford to reveal her true identity now, not when Sebastian was already so smitten. She would suffer through sushi if that’s what it took. She had worked too hard to let it fall apart over something as trivial as food.

Tomorrow, she would smile and pretend to enjoy every bite. Tomorrow, she will play her role perfectly, just as she had from the start.

The next day arrived with the soft rumble of Sebastian's motorcycle pulling up in front of Allison's place. She stood at the entrance, wearing a carefully curated outfit that screamed casual, yet put-together. Her heart raced, but not out of excitement—more out of the looming dread of what she would have to do once they reached the sushi bar.

Sebastian flashed her a grin, his helmet already in hand as he handed her a second one. "Ready?" he asked, voice warm and full of affection.

Allison nodded with a smile, sliding on the helmet and hopping onto the back of his bike, wrapping her arms around his waist. The engine revved, and they sped off down the road, the cool breeze whipping past them as they navigated through the city.

The sushi bar was quaint, tucked into a quiet corner of the street. Sebastian parked the bike, helping Allison off before they entered the place together.

They were greeted with a soft glow from the restaurant's paper lanterns, the delicate smell of rice and fish wafting through the air. Allison tried to suppress her gag reflex as they were seated by the window. Sebastian looked relaxed, glancing over the menu with a small smile on his face, oblivious to her discomfort.

"I think I'll try the chef's special. What about you?" he asked, looking over at her expectantly.

Allison forced another smile. "That sounds great. I’ll have the same."

The waiter soon arrived, jotting down their orders and disappearing into the kitchen. Sebastian reached across the table, taking her hand in his. "I’m glad we’re doing this. Feels like it's been a long time coming."

Allison nodded, keeping her facade firmly in place. “Me too.”

But just as things seemed to be going smoothly for her, the door to the restaurant swung open, and her stomach dropped.

It was you.

You walked in, scanning the place casually before your gaze locked onto them. Sebastian noticed too, sitting up straighter, a grin forming on his face. He waved you over.

“Hey! Come join us!” Sebastian called out, his voice breaking through the serene ambiance of the restaurant. "Allison's here too, and you're her friend, right?"

You hesitated for a moment, unsure of what you were walking into. But with no real reason to refuse, you offered a polite smile and walked over to the table. A thousand questions flew through your head as you tried to come up with a reasonable idea why the two of them sat together. “Hey guys,” you greeted them, sitting down as the waiter brought you a menu.

It wasn’t until you sat that the tension became palpable. You looked at Sebastian, then Allison, back and forth, trying to piece together the dynamic between them. The two of them seemed strangely close, almost too close.

Sensing your confusion, Sebastian spoke up. “I meant to tell you… actually, I was going to soon. Allison and I are… we’re dating now.” He said it with pride, glancing at Allison with that same lovestruck expression you recognized all too well.

Your heart sank. A thousand thoughts flooded your mind, each one cutting a little deeper than the last, but you kept your expression neutral, unwilling to let anything show.

“Wow, that’s… that’s great,” you managed to say, forcing a smile that you hoped looked genuine. “I’m really happy for you both.”

Sebastian beamed, clearly oblivious to the sudden shift in your demeanor. Allison, meanwhile, met your gaze with a triumphant smirk barely hidden behind her own facade.

You swallowed hard, your appetite vanishing as the reality settled in. Sebastian had moved on, with Allison of all people. But you had to play along. “So, what’s good here?” you asked lightly, trying to keep the conversation going while your mind raced.

Sebastian eagerly dove into a conversation about the menu and what he planned to order, but you could hardly focus on his words. Your thoughts were too loud, too heavy. You felt like an outsider sitting at the table with them, despite their warm invitation.

Pretending to be happy for them both was the only option you had.

In the span of the next five days, Allison seemed to make your house her permanent residence. She was loud, obnoxious, and clung to Sebastian like bubblegum that just wouldn’t let go. Your motivation to stream was at an all-time low, work had drained you completely, and the heartbreak you were going through felt like the final blow. You’d posted a community update on your streaming account, apologizing for your short absence without getting into much detail. Thankfully, your fans were understanding and flooded the post with messages of support. At least the strangers on the internet still had your back.

It was Thursday evening, and you carried two boxes of Chinese takeout—your favorite. Every third Thursday of the month was Chinese Takeout Thursday, a tradition you and Sebastian had started. Either one of you would bring home food, and the two of you would settle in for an episode of How I Married a Wall Dweller, your favorite TV drama.

You kicked off your shoes and set the takeout on the counter, feeling a brief flicker of hope for a cozy evening. But as you moved through the apartment, a soft, melodic strumming drifted out from Sebastian’s room, followed by Allison’s unmistakable, girly laughter. Your heart sank.

Sebastian was playing guitar for her.

He’d never played guitar for you. He always claimed he wasn’t good enough, that he didn’t want you to hear him make mistakes. Yet here he was, strumming away like he had nothing to hide, serenading Allison while you stood there, boxes of takeout in hand, feeling like you didn’t belong in your own home.

You grabbed one box of takeout and tossed the other in the trash, not even caring. The excitement for your shared tradition had evaporated, leaving a dull ache in its place. With a heavy sigh, you retreated to your room, settling into bed and turning on your favorite TV drama. The room felt unusually cold that night, a chill that settled deep in your bones.

Allison, however, wasn’t resting easy. The more you withdrew from Sebastian, the more threatened she felt. She couldn’t stand the thought of you finding solace in streaming—one thing she couldn't control, especially since she knew how much Sebastian cared about your streaming career.

So she concocted another plan: get Jellycatfished banned.

It wasn’t difficult. You’d been careless enough to use the same password for everything, and Allison had no trouble logging in to your streaming account. It took her mere minutes to get you banned by triggering multiple violations. She knew Sebastian would be concerned and question what had happened, but she was ready with a perfect excuse:

The platform must have made a mistake. They banned you for no reason.

It was flawless. You’d be out of the streaming scene, and she’d make sure Sebastian stayed oblivious. No more streams, no more collaboration invites—just her and Sebastian.

Another win for Allison.

The moment the notification hit your inbox, your heart sank. Your account—Jellycatfished—banned. All the hours, all the work, gone in an instant. It felt like the final straw. You could handle work stress, you could even tolerate Allison’s constant presence, but this? This was your safe space, your escape, and now it is gone.

Without thinking, your first instinct was to message Solace. He deserved to know. You quickly typed a message, your hands trembling as you tried to explain the situation.

"Hey, I just got banned from the platform. I don’t know what happened... but I thought you should know."

What you didn’t realize was that Allison had already gotten to him. She’d mentioned it casually when he asked why you hadn’t been streaming, spinning her story about how the platform must have glitched and banned you for no reason.

Sebastian had seemed concerned, sure, but Allison’s explanation had been so confident, so convincing, that he hadn’t questioned it too much. So when your message came through, his response was quick but flat.

"Yeah, you mentioned that during our date earlier. That sucks, but I’m sure it’ll get sorted out."

You stared at his reply, your heart sinking even further. The words didn't make sense, not at all. Date? What date? The realization crashed over you, an emotional tidal wave that made your head spin. You flung your phone onto your bed, letting out a muffled scream into your pillow, your nails digging deep into the fabric as rage, betrayal, and frustration surged through you. Allison had done it. She had somehow stolen your account, your identity, and now, it seemed, she was trying to steal everything else too.

As the echoes of your scream faded into the stillness of your room, you pulled yourself up and grabbed your phone again. The silence around you was stifling, heavy with the weight of everything you’d just uncovered. You took a breath, your fingers trembling as they hovered over the keyboard.

"Solace, we are not dating."

The reply came quickly.

"What do you mean, we are not? We had so many dates already, Ally. You want me to actually officially ask you out? Let me prepare at least, cutie."

He didn’t get it. He didn’t catch the weight of your words at all.

You hesitated for a moment, then typed, "Solace, I am not Ally. It's me. Your roommate."* You added your name for clarity.

And then... silence. Nothing. No response. No footsteps coming toward your door. Nothing at all.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the hallway, Sebastian was staring at his screen in growing confusion. It’s you and not Allison? How? His thoughts raced, his heart pounding in his chest as he struggled to process. He quickly opened another chat, the one he’d been using with Allison for weeks, his fingers moving frantically across the keyboard.

"Babe, why is my roommate on your Discord?"

Miles away, Allison had just stepped out of the shower, towel wrapped around her as she glanced at her phone. Her face paled, her heart skipping a beat when she saw Sebastian’s message. You sneaky little worm... she thought, fury bubbling inside her. You were trying to expose her, daring to unravel the web she’d so carefully woven. But Allison wasn’t going to let that happen without a fight.

She quickly typed back, her fingers flying over the screen.

"Oh god. Seb, I didn’t want to tell you at first..."

“Your roommate is in love with you…they are actually stalking me now since I became your girlfriend and they are jealous. Seems like they even hacked my discord and pretended that they are me…What if they got my streaming account banned too?”

"I'm so sorry, Ally. I promise I'll get this sorted out. No matter what happens, you're my priority, and I support you."

Sebastian’s words echoed in his head, gnawing at him days later as the whole situation weighed heavily on his nerves. He hadn’t even had the chance to talk to you yet, having blocked your Discord account per Allison's suggestion. She'd convinced him it was safer that way until she could switch out her email and password.

Sitting in Painter’s little tech shop, Sebastian sipped on his cup of instant coffee, his mind swirling. "Man, you look horrible," Painter, his friend and confidant, remarked from across the counter. Painter’s small shop was filled with parts and gadgets, tech stuff scattered everywhere, but today it felt heavier with the weight of Sebastian’s troubles.

“It all makes sense now, Painter. The movie nights, Chinese takeout days, working together...Meeting them in the Sushi Bar even. God, I was so blind." He sighed, running a hand through his dark hair before pulling out his phone and sliding it over to his friend. Painter picked it up, scrolling through the chat history and screenshots Sebastian had saved before blocking you.

As he scrolled, Painter’s brow furrowed. Something wasn’t sitting right. His fingers moved faster across the screen, pulling up messages and logs, all while Sebastian sat there, completely spaced out. Painter and Sebastian had a close bond, and having his friend type on his phone wasn’t unusual. In fact, they often shared stuff like this.

"I'm sorry, man. This really sounds tough," Painter mumbled, his voice distant as he dug deeper into the details. Secretly, Painter unblocked your Discord, his technical expertise kicking into high gear. After a few moments, he managed to pull up something that made him pause: the IP address.

He cross-checked it with the logs and Sebastian's own information. It was the same IP. How could that be? Painter’s mind raced. If this account really belonged to Allison, there was no way it would have the same IP as Sebastian’s unless…

Painter’s heart sank as the realization hit. The only possibility was that the account was yours. You had been telling the truth all along.

[aemondapologistfrfr]

A Way Out

benji x targtower!fem!reader 

Summary: You’ve only wanted to be free with the wind for as long as you can remember. You know war is coming and you make an attempt to flee and seek the future you want. When it all comes crumbling down madness is the only thing left to comfort you. 

Warnings: 18+ vulgar language, wine, depression, panic and anxiety attacks, thoughts of wanting to die, mention of sex, pregnancy, birth, kidnapping, poison, mention of death, death/suicide(reader), alicent not being a mother, other targtower children appearances, slight timeline au but the dance is still there, mention of war 

Authors Note: a request from @chainsawsangel - the most angsty thing i’ve ever written! literally the main song in my head and that i played while writing this was Please Please Please Let Me Get What I Want by The Smiths so idk !

Word Count: 8.7k  

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A Year Before

Over the years your mother and grandfather have slowly taken hold of the Iron Throne. You’ve watched the rapid decline of your fathers health and he’s been nothing more than a corpse these past couple of moons. Your eldest brother drowns himself in his cups day in and day out while the younger of your two brothers hones himself into a deadly weapon. Your only sister is so closed in on herself that you can barely hold a conversation with her. The only person you can turn to is your mother who should be offering you warm embraces but can seem to only muster a cold shoulder.

You try not to blame her for your poor upbringing and push it onto an unlucky draw from the Gods before entering this world. Many aren’t as lucky as you and your siblings and you try to remind yourself of this. You have never wanted for anything besides maybe love and a true family. The only living thing you feel a genuine connection with is your dragon. He is your only solace in times of distress and the feeling of the wind blowing through your hair causes you to dream of flying off, never to return. There is nothing for you in King's Landing, you’re only a daughter and not even the first. Some days you don’t even feel like a daughter but a painting to be stared at until they tire and walk away.

You weren’t a painting but a song on the wind. Something never to be grasped or locked away. You were made to free and soar on the breeze. The wind would sing back to you in its high pitched tone and promise you the escape you desired. You and your dragon fly higher into the clouds chasing the sound of freedom away from the city below. One day you promise to yourself and your dragon. One day we’ll leave this place for good. For now you settle for disappearing for a day or two in the depths of the Kingswood. 

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After drinking the last of your water you decide to relent and make your way back to the dragon pits. You coast above the city before your dragon walks you into his cave. Upon exiting the cold stone halls your mother is waiting for you with her hands folded and a frown etched on her face. 

“Let’s go.” she turns on her heel and you follow behind her to the carriage. She glares at you from across the enclosed space and pinches the bridge of her nose as the carriage comes to another stop. “Stay here.” she’s out of the carriage instantly and the door is snapped shut. You lean back into the seat and groan just wanting to be back in your chambers and alone. 

You start to loosen your riding gear wishing you could just put a night dress on and go to bed. You hear your mothers whispered shouts on the other side of the door before it’s being ripped open. You watch as your mother shoves a stumbling Aegon into the carriage before sealing herself in with you both. He takes the seat next to you and smells worse than he looks. Your mother looks over you both with disgust, mumbling under her breath. 

“The Gods must have been playing a cruel joke on me when they sent you both to me.” she shakes her head, grabbing her Star of the Seven necklace. “You disappear in your cups and whores and you,” she gives you a pointed look. “Disappear to Gods knows where.” she scoffs. 

“Do you wish for me to just sit in the castle until you marry me off?” you snap and Aegon chuckles from beside you. 

“And I sit and wait until you usurp the throne from Rhaenyra?” his throat sounding raw. 

“You two should be more grateful for all that is done for you. When we get back to the Keep you each will go straight to your chambers. I’ll hear no more.” she waves you both off off, turning her head to stare out the window. 

You’ll be grateful when you’re sealed away in your chambers alone. 

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11 Months Before

With the succession in question a war for the throne is inevitable. Ravens have been flying for weeks on end to secure secret alliances for the plotted usurpation. Many Lords and Lady’s have traveled to court to affirm these alliances and the Keep quickly becomes stifling. You can’t take the cramped halls and the constant feasts. You’ve had enough of the continuous parading about and the lunches and teas. Tonight is the night you leave. 

The bag on your shoulder should feel heavy but it feels light as the air itself. You’ve had this planned for some time now you smile as you make it out of the Keeps gates. You slip through the city streets and push off people who try to stop you. You sprint up the Hill of Rhaenys to the dragon pits not caring to look behind you at the life you’re leaving behind. 

The massive opening is dark as you slip in and wait for your eyes to adjust. You start in the familiar direction and rest your hands on the cool stones as you enter the caves. The familiar chuffs bring a smile to your face as you slowly enter the cave. He starts to uncurl and pushes his snout into you. You pat your hands down the length of him before climbing up and attaching your bag. You settle into the saddle and he takes you into the dark skies. 

The moon lights your path as he leads you both west. You lean down and hug against his neck feeling his mighty wing beats. You fly on the breeze for hours until the sun begins to rise and you land in a small forest. You unhook from the saddle and recline back feeling safest still atop your dragon in strange lands. 

                                         ᓚᘏᗢ

A week has gone by and you’re dangerously low on supplies. You have no idea where you are but you saw a town not too far off when you landed for the day. You pull your bag down from behind the saddle and start to change out of your riding gear. The nearby creek offers you a different hair color that will help you blend in. The mud feels foul in your hair but once it dries you just look like a commoner living on the streets. 

Holding your breath you wait at the edge of the tree line. You walk out and quickly make your way into the thrum of bodies down the main street. You stop at different stalls and pull coins out of your pocket trying to silently replenish your supplies. You move from vendor to vendor quickly trying to take as little time as possible so you can leave this town. Your bag is quickly filled and you turn on your heel to make an exit until a hand is wrapped around your wrist. 

“I make it my business to know all of the people who carry gold coins in my town. You, I’ve never seen before. Who might you be under all of this mud?” you look up at the man looking down at you with dark eyes. You look him over searching for a house symbol or anything that will mark who he is. 

“Let’s just take her back to the castle. Question her.” his company says. You look over this man and see the symbol of the Blackwoods. You know not all of the River Lords swore obeisance to your mother and grandfather but can’t remember if the Blackwoods were allies or not. 

The grip on your arm is sure to leave a bruise as you're pulled through the streets to the castle in the center of the city. Whispers and nods of ‘My Lord’ follow in your wake through the halls. Surely this man isn’t Lord Benjicot he can’t be a day over five and twenty. You study him and he pulls you through a large wooden door. It looks to be his council chambers but before you can look around you’re pushed down into a seat. 

“I’m a generous host when I know who my guest is.” the man sits back in his chair and looks you over. 

“Who might my host be?” you ask softly and he tilts his head. 

“You’re in my town and you don’t even know who I am?” he chuckles. 

“In honesty I don’t even know the town I’m in. Not for certain. From my observations I’m assuming you’re Lord Benjicot?” he squints his eyes at you. 

“Your speech is too fine and your pockets are too deep to be a commoner.” your heart starts to beat faster. “There’s been rumors of a dragon flying about at night and I’m wondering if you would know anything about that, as a traveler of course.” he tilts his head studying you. 

“I have seen no such thing, my Lord.” you shake your head quickly. 

“No? They say a Targaryen Princess is on the run. The Queen will pay well for any information.” your leg starts to shake. “Where do you come from?” he looks to his men and nods them out of the room leaving you both alone. Your chest starts to tighten not knowing what’s about to happen. 

“I’m from everywhere.” your words hushed. 

“Why would a Princess be on the run?” you watch as he rises and pours two glasses of wine. “And why is she all the way at Raventree Hall?” he sets a glass in front of you and takes his seat once more. 

“I don’t know why a Princess would be on the run, my Lord.” you nibble your lip hoping that your denial will work. “If you’re truly housing the Princess I would keep your voice down or alert the Queen at once. These are trying times.” you keep your words hushed and avoid his eye contact. 

“No matter how much mud you put in your hair it can’t dull the lilac of your eyes, Princess.” he sighs, taking a sip. 

“Please,” the word barely audible. “I can’t go back. Please.” your eyes finally meet his and you see the sadness in them.

“Why are you running?” he nods prompting you to talk.

“I want to live a different life.” you scrunch your brows. “I don’t like being a Princess. I think if we lived other lives I must’ve not been very good in them.” you look at him with a half smile. “This life feels like a punishment.” he frowns at your words. “I’m looking for a way out. I can give you all my coin. Anything. Please just don’t sell me back to them.” you wipe away a wayward tear quickly and huff as you spot the look of pity on his face. 

“What kind of Lord would I be if I denied a Princess refuge in her most desperate hour.” he jests but he doesn’t know how true his statement is. “You can stay for as long as you need. Unbeknownst to anybody.” he nods his head. “Should a dragon come at night, we have feed for him.” he offers you the start of a smile. 

“What is your price?” you squint at him not understanding why he would agree to help you. You’ve never known a kind hand to come without a price.

“No price. It is my duty and honor to house you, Princess.” his face starts to soften.  

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10 Months Before 

It’s been just over one month since you’ve settled into Raventree Hall. Lord Benjicot, or Benji as he requests, has stayed true to his word. No Kingsmen have been through here and you’ve remained unfound. You dye your hair once every fortnight and keep to yourself. Your dragon is content enough to coast above the trees and indulge on the meat you bring him. 

Even with time and distance from the Keep you still feel suffocated and watched by it. You feel lost and alone most days but you have no desire to go home. Benji has never made you feel like you must work to earn your keep here but you’ve become stagnant. You don’t feel like you belong here. The people are kind but they don’t truly know you. You’re constantly looking over your shoulder and you dislike dying your hair so often. You miss your silver hair and fine gowns. You want for a home and a family you’ve never had but at least you didn’t feel so utterly alone. 

“How has my home been treating you, Princess?” Benji looks across the dining table at you. He sees the frown sculpted onto your face day in and day out. 

“Very well. Thank you.” you nod and turn all your attention to your plate. You both share three meals a day and he never has anyone else at the table. You can’t help but feel like a burden. Surely you’ve over extended your welcome but he’s too kind to tell you to leave. Gods what if he tells someone where you are. “Though I think it’s time for me to leave.” you set your fork down and he looks at you stunned. 

“As in you wish to retire to your chambers for the night?” he sits up and studies you more intensely. Had something happened that you didn’t tell him about? 

“No, I think,” you nod your head, steeling yourself. “I think I need to go somewhere else. I don’t fit in here. I need something else. I need the wind, I need freedom. I feel stuck and lost.” you can’t help the words that continue to flow out of your mouth and he turns to you listening to everything you have to say. “I don’t belong here. Maybe Essos will call to me. I just need to not be here. Or anywhere.” you look up to him with tear stained cheeks and his heart stops. 

He can tell you’ve been reluctant to open up to him but he can’t very well just let you leave out on your own. Benji decides right then he’ll go anywhere with you. To protect you. To care for you. To listen to you. To be anything you need him to be. He cannot bear the thought of you out there on your own.

“Then I offer you my sword, Princess. Wield me as you need. Allow me to make your journey less dangerous. Take me where you please. I’m yours to command.” your brows scrunch as you wipe away your tears. 

“No.” you shake your head. “I cannot ask that of you. You’re a Lord and have duties and land to attend to.” you don’t even allow yourself to think of the idea of having him travel with you. 

“Is it not my duty as a Lord to assist the royal family in any capacity I can?” he grabs his fork and begins to eat again. “It is not my desire to send you to your death on the road.” you watch his jaw flex. 

“If you come with me, you know we will never be able to come back.” his eyes lock to yours as he nods. “It may even mean your death.” he sets his fork back down and looks at you unyielding. 

“Give me at least a moon to make silent preparations and we’ll leave it all.” he sips his wine. 

“And if my dragon won’t allow you to ride with us?” you sit back in your chair watching him. 

“Then I shall follow you both from the ground. By horse or foot, I care not.” he shrugs. 

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9 Months Before 

You sit across from Benji as he looks over the map on his desk. You two have been trying to find a route that will offer ample coverage for your dragon during the day. You both have gone back and forth about whether to risk going through the Vale and decided it’ll be the quickest. Your only reservation is that it’s so close to Dragonstone but you have plans to travel by night and take extra precautions. 

“We can leave when you want.” Benji looks at you and your eyes snap to him. 

“You’re positive you want to come with?” you still can’t wrap your head around the idea that he genuinely wants to come with. 

“I am.” he nods and rolls the map up and pushes it away from him. 

“Why?” you chew your lip. “Why do you want to come with me?” you start to pick at your nails. “Why do you want to throw your life away for a sad Princess?” your chest tightens and you beg the tears not to come. 

“You’re not the only one who wants to run from something.” his eyes hold the desperation you know all too well. “I don’t see it as throwing my life away. It’s not my desire to see you leave, no matter how selfish that sounds but I know this is no place for you. I,” he shakes his head at battle with himself whether to speak it. “I care for you deeply. More than I should but I would never do anything to cause you harm or displeasure.” his confession settles into your empty heart. He cares for you. 

“I wish to leave tonight, Benji.” you stare at each other in silent agreement and he nods. “I will start packing.” you get up and start to the door and pause. “I care for you too.” the soft confession has Benji staring blankly at the door that softly clicks shut behind you. 

                                         ᓚᘏᗢ

The first week of travel has gone so smoothly and your mind has finally begun to settle. This time on the road you have more than enough supplies and Benji to hunt for you both. The first night when he said you two had to share a tent you blushed profusely and made him make a wall of supplies between the two of you until the chill of the night came. Every night, still with the same blush on your face much to your horror, he waits for you in the makeshift bed with open arms for you to curl into. 

Slowly you’ve started to open up and relax more. Benji has been able to break down your walls and he’s never been more in love with a sound than your laughter. When he wakes up in the early morning to prepare you breakfast he takes the first couple minutes to himself to watch your soft smile as you sleep. He loves when he turns from the fire to be blinded by your silver hair in the sun as you stretch with pink cheeks. At night he relishes how you fight off sleep to talk to him about all of your dreams for the future and your lives once you get to Essos. 

It all started so innocently you just wanted to kiss him. Just once. He didn’t tease you when you told him he was your first kiss he just asked if you would like to be kissed again. After the second kiss it was as if the invisible wall between you two lifted and you became one. When you were with him you felt as if this was the home you were looking for. He was kind and had patience with you and would worship you until you fell asleep. 

The following weeks were some of the happiest times in your life. The days felt never ending and the nights were warm thanks to Benji. You both decided to slow your travel and move at a more leisurely pace as you make your way across the land. Your dragon hunts at night under the shadow of darkness and you begin to feel at ease. Within the next couple of days you both will reach the Vale and begin the last part of your journey in Westeros. 

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8 Months Before 

The Vale’s forests are more dense than either of you two anticipated. It's taken the three of you longer than anticipated but the road has been easy. Your dragon is content to live off of the land and fly in the open skies above the both of you. As of late you’ve been traveling closer to dawn than normal in hopes of being able to reach the coast quicker. 

“By tomorrow we should be in Bravos.” his words are something you’ve been waiting to hear. Your heart is close to bursting. Your freedom is hours away. Once the sun slips under the horizon again you both can make your last flight over Westeros and leave.

“You still want to come with me?” you offer him leave every night. “I wouldn’t blame you if you just told everyone I’m crazy and forced you to take me to the coast.” you nibble your lip with a soft smile.

“I would be the crazy one to leave you here and now.” your smile widens at his words. “I’ve left everything behind for you and I would make that decision again and again.” he grabs your hands. “Whenever we settle in Essos, marry me.” your heart stops. 

“You don’t mean that.” you shake your head.

“I do.” he nods his head with a smile. “Marry me.” he searches your eyes. 

“I will.” you press your lips to his. You pull him into the tent when you hear distant thunder and tangle together in the bed before drifting off for the day.

                                         ᓚᘏᗢ

You start to stir as you hear shuffling around outside. You smile that Benji is up and packing. By tomorrow you both will be in Bravos and planning your next move. You open your eyes and your heart feels as if it’s being ripped out of you as you open your eyes. It wasn’t thunder. How could you be so stupid? So hopeful?

“Please.” the word barely audible as Aemond looks down on you with disgust. “Please let me leave. Brother, please.” you stand clutching the blanket. “I’ll fly to Essos and you’ll never see me again. Please.” you beg as the tears stream down your face. 

“Get dressed and get up.” his eye looks you up and down. “Mother has been waiting for you to come home.” he looks over at a waking Benji before he scoffs and leaves the tent. You grab your dress as you hiccup back a sob.

“What is going on?” he’s sitting up instantly. 

“Aemond is here.” you shake your head. “I knew we shouldn’t have gone through the Vale. Then we lingered here for so long.” you curse yourself for letting yourself get so absentminded. “I can’t go back. Kill me. Please, Benji please. Use your dagger. Anything. Please.” you look around frantically for his blade. Your brother will surely tell your mother of the state he found you in and she won’t take lightly to it.

“I will do no such thing.” he grabs your wrists. “Look at me.” he watches your ragged breathing and eyes scanning around the tent. “We will get dressed and we’ll go together. I’m not leaving you.” you nod your head, unable to stop the constant stream of tears. After hastily dressing he grabs your hand and leads you out of the tent. You are greeted by Aemond, who is there waiting with members of the Kingsguard. 

“Seize him.” Aemond tilts his head at Benji and the guards are pulling him away the next moment. 

“Aemond please.” you plead. “Don’t kill him. Please.” you run to your brother grabbing his arms. “Please.” you sob and he grabs your face. 

“It is not my decision. The council will decide his fate on our return.” you watch as they throw Benji into a covered wagon and start hauling him through the forest. “You’ll ride with me.” he grabs your arm and drags you over to Vhagar. 

                                         ᓚᘏᗢ

You’ve been locked in your chambers for hours. You pace around waiting for your mother to show up. You have no idea what has become of Benji and it’s making you sick. You need air, you need to see Benji. The doors of your chambers open to reveal your mother before they are shut again. 

“You’ve been gone for months and Aemond finds you naked in a tent with a man? In the Vale? And we find out he’s a Blackwood? Gods.” she looks you over with the same disgust you saw in Aemonds eye. “You’ve been sullied no doubt.” your chest tightens as she continues with her ridicule. 

“I love him.” your voice breaks. “We are going to get married.” she chuckles at you. 

“Mm of course.” she rolls her eyes. “You had better hope the moon tea will still work.” you back away from her. 

“I won’t drink it.” you rest your hands on your stomach. “ And if you kill Benji you kill me too. I won’t live. Mother please.” her eyes start to soften as you start to plead. “Please let him stay here with me. Please.” she smooths your hair back and pulls you into her embrace. 

“Why him? I could have found you a nice husband.” she searches your eyes. 

“I want to marry Benji.” she sighs and looks down at you with a frown. “I’ll run away again.” you shake your head pulling away from her. “I’ll take my life. I won’t stay here alone anymore. I can’t. I won’t.” you start to cry again.

“I will see what I can do.” she sighs and leaves you alone in your chambers once more. 

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6 Months Before

In the two months since your arrival back in Kings Landing much had changed. Your mother had allowed Benji to serve as a guard in the castle. She had known not to test your bluff about taking your own life. He was assigned to a night post on the opposite side of the Keep and it was almost impossible to see him. When you got a glimpse of each other in the halls it made everything worth it and the meals you both would indulge in once every fortnight were the only things you were hold on to. 

By the end of your first month back the maester was able to confirm your pregnancy. He urged you to tell your mother and you outright refused. He warrily agreed not to tell the Queen but you both knew it was only a matter of time. When you told Benji the news he cried and held you tightly and promised to take you away. Hours after he whisked you down the halls but as you turned the last corner a handful of guards stopped you both. After that night you have had at least three guards surrounding you at all times when you are outside of your chambers.

You’re not allowed out of your chambers often and most times are when you need to speak with your mother or for family meals. You haven’t seen your father in ages and rumors spread of his rapid decline. Your mother and grandfather have almost complete control of the throne it seems and everyone is holding their breath to see what happens next. The Keep feels colder than it has in years.

You quickly make your way to your mothers chambers to make your final plea of the day when you round the corner and run into Aegon. You take in his flushed cheeks and watery eyes and can tell he just came from where you’re headed. You notice too late he has one hand on your side and the other on your stomach from helping to steady you. Your spine stiffens as you stand up straighter.

“Does mother know?” he searches your eyes, removing his hands from you. 

“No. Please don’t tell her, Aegon. Please.” you plead in a hushed tone.

“You’re almost as much of a disappointment as I am.” he chuckles. “She’ll find out soon enough.” he shakes his head at you.

“But please not by your mouth, brother.” you grab his hand and he nods at you once.

“Well beware,” he nods his head towards our mothers chambers. “She’s in quite the mood.” he shrugs and continues down the hall. 

You pray to the Gods he keeps his mouth shut before you continue on your course to your mothers chambers. You knock quickly on her door and she sighs when she opens the door and sees you. She lets you in and you take a seat on the couch in her solar. 

“What is it?” she takes a seat in the chair across from you. She looks less than pleased to see you and you shrink in her presence.

“Please let me see Benji.” she shuts her eyes at your words and groans.

“Gods I’ve had enough of this. Enough of you and this River Lord. Enough of your brother sullying his name in the streets. I’ve had enough.” she shakes her head and stands up. “If I hear another word about him this week he will no longer be seen by anyone.” your heart drops at her words.

“I-

“No.” she waves you off reclining in her chair. “Leave. Go back to your chambers.” she closes her eyes in dismissal and you rise with a hot face and wet eyes. 

You sprint out of her chambers and down the hall until you’re alone and curled on your bed. You hold the blanket tightly and let out soft sobs so you don’t alert your guards. The door starts to open and you sit up quickly but when you look at the door it’s still shut. You look around your chambers and gasp with a smile as Benji is standing in a doorway in the wall. You stand up and he walks over to you engulfing you in a hug. 

“How? What is this?” you mumble into his chest as you look at the doorway in the wall. 

“Someone sent me to bring you this.” he holds out a ripped piece of parchment and you look at it with scrunched brows.

i wont tell mother

congrats  

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4 Months Before

The maester has kept his word of keeping quiet about your pregnancy and he suspects that you’ll be on the birthing bed in three months. Your handmaidens have proved their loyalty everyday by keeping you draped in large gowns and extra fabric to help conceal your bump. You’re terrified but so excited to bring such a pure light into this world. You know you have to tell your mother soon and you’re dreading her reaction. Benji has been such a solid force for you to lean on and you’re thankful for Aegon showing him the tunnels.

The tunnels have offered you and Benji everything the past two months. He has been staying with you every night and sometimes you pretend you’re both still in the small tent in the forest. You both secretly plan a better life for your child and hide away coin. You both decided to wait until after the babe comes in hopes of easier travel. Lately tensions around the Keep have been rising and it has you on edge.

“What if we just left now anyways. This babe will change everything. I think we should leave.” you grab his hands and look at him with pleading eyes. 

“You are in no condition to travel. We don’t have a destination set. We can wait. It’ll be okay.” he nods and wipes your tears away. “I promise.” you want so badly to trust him but you feel a sense of impending doom.

“I’m scared.” you hiccup back a sob. “Benji, I'm so scared.” he rests his hand on your bump. 

“It’ll be okay. I-“ your chamber doors open and your mother walks in. 

“What is this?” her face crumbles as she looks at you both and the hand on your swollen stomach. “How? You kept this from me?” her expression changes from anger to hurt and then a mix of the two. 

“Mother-

“How could you keep this from me?” she searches your face. “Go to your post, Benjicot.” she straightens her spine as she lifts her chin to him. He turns to you as you begin to cry. “If you do not leave now I will have guards come in and escort you out.” you stand in front of him and look to your mother.

“Please,” you sob. “Please, I love him, mother.” you hold onto his arm.

“Benjicot, leave now.” she raises her chin and stares at Benji. He pulls on his clothes while whispering promises that he will see you tonight. You follow him to the door crying the whole time. He squeezes your hand and slips out of your chambers.

“Mother, please.” you walk to her.

“Who knows?” she looks down her nose at you.

“No one.” you shake your head.

“Doubtful.” she scoffs. “Your handmaidens and at least one maester if you’re this far along. Gods I don’t even know what to do.” she lets out a bitter chuckle and looks up at the ceiling. “Why couldn’t you just have taken the moon tea? I let that pathetic River Lord stay here in exchange for you to drink it.” her eyes are filled with disdain.

“I would never have drank the tea.” you hold your bump protectively. “I love Benji and this child.” you look at her with watery eyes.

“You’re not even married.” she scoffs looking away. “My own daughter having a bastard.” she chuckles. Her harsh words are a shock to your senses.

“I don’t care.” you say exasperated. “Let us leave. Make up a story. I don’t care. I’m obviously not in the right condition for you to pawn me off for your throne so let us go. Please mother. Please we’ll disappear in Essos.” you know this is truly your final plea. Her knowing about your child is the tipping point. 

“No.” she shakes her head. “You’ll remain in your chambers for the remainder of this pregnancy.” your heart sinks as she leaves sealing shut the doors to your chambers with such finality that you feel it in your bones. 

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3 Months Before 

The past month has been absolute agony for you. Benji still manages to find you through the tunnels but only for fleeting moments. You are watched so carefully that you can barely even get out of bed without your handmaidens rushing in. If your mother hadn’t sequestered you to your chambers the maester would have by now from how sunken you’ve become the more swollen your stomach becomes.

You’ve never felt more alone in your entire life. You’ve taken to talking to yourself and the unborn child you carry. The babe has told you that it’s a boy. You tell him stories you remember hearing about Essos and about the wind. He whispers to you at all hours of the day of the childhood he envisions and how he wishes his father could be with you now. I wish he was here.

“I wish he was here too.” you whisper cradling your bump. “One day. One day we’ll all be a family.” the words barely a breath. 

Benji's PoV

Over the past month he’s watched you slowly lose yourself. He doesn’t understand how the Queen could do this to her own child. Someone so pure and sweet. When he enters your chambers for those minutes he holds so dear you look at him as if you don’t see him. Then when your eyes finally uncloud your face drops and you start crying and speaking High Valyrian. 

He wants to take you away from here but he doesn’t know if you’ll make it. You haven’t been yourself since your mother found out and he’s so terrified. He should’ve just gotten you on your dragon in the Vale and let them kill him. He was so selfish for wanting a life with you. 

He blames himself. He should’ve done more. He should’ve gotten you to safety and now you and his child are.. He doesn’t know. He clenches his fist as the tears fall down his cheeks. He wipes them away angrily before taking a deep breath and opening the secret door to your chambers. 

Your PoV

He’s here. The babe whispers into your mind and you smile holding your bump. You look down as if you can see through the layers straight to the babe within. You can’t wait for the day you get to bring him into this world. You hope Benji will be at your side. Gods you miss him. He’s here. 

“My Princess, please,” you know that broken voice. “See me, please.” you blink your eyes and you see Benji standing before you with a hand resting on your cheek. 

“You're here.” a sob racks through your body. “Stay. Stay, please.” you grab onto him and hold him closely. “You’re here.” you whisper into his neck.

“I’m here.” he doesn’t know what to say. He holds you closely and you cling to him. “I’m here. I’m sorry.” he can’t stop his own tears as he holds you closely. 

My father. The babe whispers with happiness. He’s here. You grab Benji's hand and bring it to your bump. You hold each other as the tears flow and he presses a kiss to your forehead before he rises. I don’t want him to leave. Your heart pangs. 

“I love you. I will try to see you again soon.” his smile broken and defeated.

“I love you.” you watch him open the door. “Stay.” you whisper as the door clicks shut behind him. 

“Princess, is everything okay?” a handmaiden opens up your main doors rushing to your side.

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2 Months Before  

You overheard the news from two of your handmaidens who have long thought your mind no longer works. Your father was dead. You weren’t sad at the news. He’s been dead for sometime now. You turn as your chamber doors open. Your mother walks into the room and looks you over. 

“Your father is dead. Aegon will be crowned tomorrow.” you look at her unblinking. “Benjicot is being sent to the wall. You will have this baby next month and you will be married to Lord Lannister shortly after.” you’ve been numb for some time now but her words slam into you.

“I won’t marry him.” you shake your head going to your couch. “We’re leaving.” you hum holding your bump. “Me, Benji, and our son.” you sit down on your chair. “Somewhere it’s always warm.” you offer her a soft smile. “We’re leaving after you join us.” you coo holding your stomach.

“He’s already on his way North.” she sighs, shaking her head. “He’s gone.” she starts walking towards the door. “Pull yourself together by the time Lord Jason comes to court. I won’t have you embarrass me.” the door thuds closed behind her.

He’s gone. He’s gone. You curl into the blankets on your bed as your handmaidens start to clean up your chambers. After lighting the hearth they leave tea on your table and leave you. You stare out the window feeling the tears fall down your cheeks. He’s gone. 

                                         ᓚᘏᗢ

Someone’s here. I don’t care. He’s sad. So am I. He’s crying. You peel your eyes open and Aegon's red eyes greet you as he lays next to you. 

“What has she done to you?” he searches your dead eyes. 

“What of you?” your voice raw as you see the telling indentations across his brow where the crown sat minutes ago. 

“I’ll try to do something.” he whispers and you offer him a tired smile.

“There's nothing to be done. She’s already sent him to the wall.” his watery eyes meet yours. “Besides you offered us so much when you showed Benji those tunnels. I never got to thank you for that.” you brush his hair back.

“I wish I could’ve given you more.” his eyebrows scrunch.

“You’ve given me enough.” you close your eyes and turn back over. You hear him leave and let the world go dark around you once again. We’re alone. We have each other. I miss him. I miss him too. I’ll be with you soon. 

Benji’s PoV

Benji wakes up chained to a wooden bench being carted down the Kings Road. He’s surrounded by common criminals and he tugs on his chains to see if they’re loose. He bangs his head against the wood and the man next to him chuckles. 

“Like we would be that lucky.” the man smirks. “We’re already lucky enough to be going to the wall instead of the gallows.” he shrugs, shutting his eyes.

Benji ignores him and begins to try and form a plan. Why are they sending him to the wall? You’re about to give birth and he won’t be there. Gods he doesn’t know what to do. He should’ve gotten you out. He has to believe he still has a chance to do so. 

He doesn’t know what to do. His heart starts to pump faster and his breathing becomes ragged. He’s being taken from you when you need him the most. He’s terrified of what they’ll do to you in his absence. He needs to get free. He needs to return to you and his child. He needs to.. He needs to.. He needs.. 

“What's wrong with you?” the man next to him mumbles as his vision goes black as he passes out from panic and anxiety.

ততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততত

1 Month Before

It's time. The voice wakes you along with the immense pressure. You don’t call for anyone as another wave of pain washes through you when you sit up in the dark. You prop yourself up on the pillows and focus on your breathing. I get to meet you soon. A sharp pain tears through you. 

Your teeth dig into your lip as the pressure builds. Your fingers dig into your knees as you spread your legs and begin to push. I’m here. The voice soothes you as you continue in silent anguish. You’re almost there. A small cry comes from you as your son pushes out of you and onto the bed. You scoop him up and bring him to your body. 

He gives out a soft cry and nuzzles against your chest. You’re here. I’m here. You hold him alone in your chambers rocking him and having no care for the after birth or any of the mess and tending to you need. Your child was here. You weren’t alone. He’s here. I’m here. He’s here. I'm not alone.

“Princess.” your handmaidens gasp as they open your door. 

“Oh Gods.” 

“Get the Maester.” 

“Get the Queen.” hurried whispers float around your chambers as you continue to silently rock your son. 

“What’s happened?” your mother bursts into your chambers. “Gods.” she looks at you. “Clean her up.” she walks over and grabs the babe out of your arms. You try to reach for him but she’s out of your chambers and suddenly your son is gone. 

Where are you? I’m here. Where are you? My son. I’m here. Where are you? “Where are you? I’m here. Where are you? I’m here.” screams tear from your body. “Where are you? Where are you?” you call out over and over.

“Princess calm down.” your handmaidens look at you with concern. 

“Where are you?” the maester walks over to you with a cup and pours its contents down your throat. “I’m here. Please, I’m here. Where are..” 

I’m here. 

Please, where are you?

ততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততত

1 Week Before

Where are you? 

You haven’t seen your son since you’ve given birth to him. The only people you see are your handmaidens and the maester who gives you sleeping drafts. You haven’t seen any of your siblings. Not even your mother. You have no one. No one is coming for you. You’re alone.

Where are you? 

You’re in the tunnels in the dead of night holding a candle stick. The stone bites into the soles of your feet as you climb higher making your way towards the maester’s tower. You softly push on the door and peek in seeing an empty room filled with glass vials and books. 

Where are you?

Your eyes scan over the small glass tubes quickly reading them over. You walk over to the cabinets and continue your search. It has to be in here. A comforting warmth washes over you as your eyes stop. 

Tears of Lys. 

There you are. 

ততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততত

1 Day Before 

Your mother sits across from you for the first time since she took your son. She mentions nothing of him and instead tells you of your wedding tomorrow. Apparently Lord Jason is here and awaiting your company. You don’t speak or hold her eye contact. You stare at your nails as she continues to tell you what your life is to become. You wince as you dig into the skin around your nail and a droplet of blood appears.

You decide it has to be tonight. You have no idea what the state of the realm is in and have no desire to try and tread through it again. Especially now that you’re all alone. You call out to your son everyday but never get a response. They took your two great loves. You’re alone.

I’m sorry. I’m leaving. I can’t stay. 

Benji’s PoV

Tonight was the first night they didn’t chain him when he slept. After everyone was asleep and the man on the night watch turned he was gone. There’s a month of travel and a war between you both right now but he will do everything to get back to you and your child. He wishes he had a way to get a message to you but it’s impossible.

ততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততত

1 Hour Before

You sit at a desk with a blank expression and a quivering hand. The ink splatters across the parchment and you scrunch it up and grab a new one. This one is stained with your tears. 

Benjicot and my boy-

I’m sorry. I promised you both freedom and songs of the wind. Instead I’ve ruined everything. 

I will be with you both again in the afterlife. 

-Your wife and your mother

You leave the parchment spread on the desk next to the countless others you attempted to write. Walking to the table that holds your wine feels as if you’re walking across the city. You hold onto the wine with a shaking hand and pour yourself a glass of wine. You pull the vial out of your pocket and empty the entirety of it into your glass of wine. You swirl the red liquid around and down the mixture. You set the glass and vial next to your letter and go lay back on the bed. 

You let out one last exhale before shutting your eyes and calling out one last time.

ততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততত

Death 

Where are you?

I will remain here.

ততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততত

2 Months After - Benji's PoV 

The one month journey turned into two because of the raging war. The road was hard but all he thought about was you and your child. Gods he misses you so much. He doesn’t know what is waiting for him in Kings Landing but whatever it is he’s taking you both to Essos and starting the life you planned those months ago. No waiting, no excuses. 

                                         ᓚᘏᗢ

Getting into Kings Landing was easier than Benji had thought. He snuck in through the docks and made his way into the Keep through the tunnels. He walked up to your chambers and listened for any sounds. You must be asleep. He opens the door and finds your chambers empty.

No, your chambers look abandoned. Left as they were never to be lived in again. He walks to your desk and sees the letter. The empty vial next to the empty glass. No. No. This isn’t real. No, he won’t accept this. 

“No.” he shakes his head reading it again. “No. Where is she?” he grabs the letter and slips back into the tunnels. Where are you? Where have they hidden you away? This isn’t real. Where are you? Benji’s heart races as he flies down the stairs.

He makes his way down the steps and into the crypts. He won’t believe it. It can’t be. He presses against the wall as he sees someone kneeling on the stone lighting a candle. He waits the couple minutes the woman whispers before she pads away. He continues down the hall and falls to his knees at the lit candles. No. No. His vision blurs as the tears fall.

“I’m sorry.” he chokes out. “I’m here. I’m sorry.” he looks at the date etched on the stone dating two months ago. He was far too late. “I’m sorry.” he grabs for his dagger. “I’m here. I’ll be with you soon.” he brings the tip of the blade to his heart. “I’m sorry.” he lets out a sob.

“Stop.” his head turns at the soft voice. “There’s someone who needs you.” he follows the stranger up the tunnel steps and into the back of the nursery. A small boy with black hair and violet eyes stares up at him. He’s here.

“My boy.” Benji picks him up. “Our son.” he starts to cry. He’s here. 

He turns to thank the stranger but they’re gone. He wraps his son up and packs a bag quickly and leaves out of the Keep through the tunnels. He races to the docks and shoves coin into a shipmate's hand and boards the boat, stowing himself and your son away in the underbelly. They’ll arrive in Essos by the end of the day. Your dream is coming true but you’re not here to see it. He holds your son tighter as his tears start once more. 

As the ship leaves the harbor there is a loud crack heard from the city followed by a roar. Benji looks up and sees your dragon flying above the Blackwater with a chain hanging from his neck. No other dragons come for your dragon and Benji thanks the Gods they were able to get away.

ততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততত

4 Months After

Benji sits with his son in the countryside just outside of Volantis. Above your dragon soars on the wind. He’s followed the two of them across Essos and watches over their travel. Benji was worried the dragon would bring too much attention but no trouble has come of it. Your dragon only approached Benji once when they first landed to allow him to remove the chains but since then he keeps his distance. Your dragon seems to be waiting for your son to acknowledge the claim he has placed on him already.  

Benji is thankful for this last gift you’ve given them.

The sun is high and warm as the light breeze flows through the tall grass. 

Faintly, Benji swears he can hear your voice wind.

I’m here. 

ততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততত

masterlist 🔌 

um i cried while writing this and while editing and while just thinking abt it xx 

pls take care of yourself bc i know this is a rough topic and there are people out there who care for you and who will answer when you call and there are resources out there if you need them!!

taglist ✍️

@clarityisnofun @gabriella-aesthetic @callsignwidow @llynx7 @violetiss3lfish @ka1afbr @akiko-oo @papichulo120627 @lizzylovebooks280501 @thatgirl101blog @1-fuzzy-squirrels @arya-brooke @ashovertheriver @zanygot7straykidsbonk @moonymoo1 @malfoycassimalfoy @april-notthemonth69 @anaviieiraaa @p45510n4f4shi0n @neocockthotology @thereaderwitch @hardkiddonut @faenyra @hiimava11 @daintylittlesunflower @primroseluna @fiction-fanfic-reader @povofjustme @multilover19 @alexxavicry @cedstars @fuckalrighty @mrsmunson-harrington @misspendragonsworld @nz2004 @ninihrtss

[aventurineswife]

I would like to ask which of the HSR characters would be their favorite type of Goth Girl and how they interact with the goth girl reader.

HSR characters and their favourite type of Goth Girl

Hmm, that's a good question! I'm not very familiar with fashion, so I had to look up the different subtypes(?) and styles of Gothic fashion. Here’s what I came up with, but keep in mind—this is just my opinion on these specific characters!

Blade – Traditional or Occult Goth

Blade would gravitate towards a goth style that embodies the Traditional or Occult Goth aesthetic—dark, intense, and reminiscent of ancient mysteries. This style complements his own fractured soul and aligns with his sense of danger and fatalism.

Blade would admire her goth style in a quiet, intense way. He’d likely avoid compliments, but his lingering gaze would speak volumes. Occasionally, he’d make cryptic remarks about her choice of symbols or accessories, intrigued by the darker meaning behind her look.

He’d invite her on nighttime walks, where they could talk about life, pain, and purpose. Blade would share his own views on suffering and self-destruction, finding solace in knowing that someone understands the allure of darkness without flinching.

When she shares her own struggles, Blade would respond with empathy, quietly urging her to embrace her scars. He’d consider her as a kindred spirit, united by a mutual understanding of darkness, perhaps even guiding her towards finding strength in their pain.

Kafka – Elegant or Victorian Goth

Kafka would be enchanted by an Elegant or Victorian Goth style, one that exudes mystery, timeless beauty, and a touch of refined danger. A style that combines old-world charm with darker, alluring elements would captivate her attention.

Kafka would treat her as her accomplice, matching her elegance with her own polished look. She’d appreciate her ability to blend dark, regal sophistication with subtle danger and would often compliment her in her composed, low-key way.

She would revel in their shared love for all things dark and alluring, occasionally teasing her with whispered secrets and mysterious invitations, making her feel like part of an exclusive, hidden world.

Whenever the reader/she reveals a darker or emotional side, Kafka would listen intently, then offer her hypnotic words of wisdom, nudging her towards a balanced yet sophisticated approach to their emotions. She’d subtly manipulate her into embracing her elegance as armor.

Sunday – Dreamy or Romantic Goth

Sunday would be drawn to a goth style that embodies a sense of ethereal beauty and dreamy mystique, like a Romantic or Dreamy Goth. This aesthetic, filled with delicate lace, ethereal black layers, celestial accessories.

Sunday would admire her goth look as if she's an angel of the night, often complimenting the dark beauty she bring to his Sweetdream Paradise. With poetic and enigmatic language, he'd express how she reminds him of a serene vision, free from the pain of the waking world.

Behind closed doors, he’d reveal a gentler, protective side, seeing her as someone worth preserving in his dream-like world. He’d subtly ask her about her philosophy on life and pain, curious if she'd share his perspective on a reality without suffering.

Whenever she displays a darker or more melancholic side, Sunday would be there to “soothe” her spirit, gently guiding her towards his paradise—although this “soothing” might actually involve urging her to escape painful thoughts.

Robin – Ethereal or Pastel Goth

Robin would admire an Ethereal or Pastel Goth style, with softer tones like lavender and violet combined with traditional goth elements. This blend of gentleness and depth aligns with her own music and tragic past, which holds an undercurrent of beauty amidst sorrow.

Robin would feel a comforting connection with the reader’s look, as it aligns with her own aesthetic of blending light and dark. She’d often give small, heartfelt compliments, noting how her style reminds her of a bittersweet melody.

She’d enjoy quiet moments with the reader, perhaps inviting her to her studio, where they’d share their thoughts on beauty, darkness, and the ways they each express their emotions. Robin might even dedicate a song to her, inspired by her unique blend of innocence and mystery.

When the reader is feeling down, Robin would offer soft-spoken support, listening patiently and reminding her of the beauty in every emotion, treating her struggles like notes in a beautiful song that deserve to be heard.

Aventurine – Cyber or Industrial Goth

Aventurine would appreciate a goth style that leans into cyber or industrial aesthetics—think metal accessories, bold colors, and futuristic touches. This type of goth aligns with his strategic mind and love for taking calculated risks, mixing sophistication with an edge.

Aventurine would be fascinated by her bold look, often pulling her aside to compliment her style in a playful, flirtatious way. He’d likely buy her accessories, such as metallic chokers or bracelets, to enhance her look and treat her style as another high-stakes investment, always encouraging her to be bold.

With his knack for creating excitement, Aventurine would take her to the casinos or exclusive places where they could revel in the aesthetic together. He’d suggest that every encounter and style choice is part of a larger game, creating an atmosphere of thrill and risk, which he finds irresistible.

When the reader shares her darker feelings or thoughts, he’d humorously encourage her to “double down” on it, teaching her to gamble with her emotions, to transform them into something powerful and alluring.

I hope you like it! I tried my best, and it was challenging to decide styles (and writing for a female reader as I'm used to writing for gender neutral) and all, so I really hope you enjoy it 🫶❤️‍🩹

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

In The Gloomy Depths [Chapter 7: Sapphire] [Series Finale]

Series summary: Five years ago, jewel mining tycoon Daemon Targaryen made a promise in order to win your hand in marriage. Now he has broken it and forced you into a voyage across the Atlantic, betraying you in increasingly horrifying ways and using your son as leverage to ensure your cooperation. You have no friends and no allies, except a destitute viola player you can’t seem to get away from…

Series warnings: Language, sexual content (18+ readers only), parenthood, dolphins, death and peril, violence (including domestic violence), drinking, smoking, freezing temperatures, murder, if you don’t like Titanic you won’t like this fic!!! 😉

Word count: 5.2k

💜 All my writing can be found HERE! 💜

Tagging: @nightvyre @mrs-starkgaryen @gemini-mama @ecstaticactus @chattylurker, more in comments 🥰

💎 Thank you for reading (and tolerating all my nautical puns)! 💎

How can love be a curse? How can it be something to fear, to condemn, to break?

She has dreamed of him all her life. First he was a protector, almost fatherlike, and then a remote, bewitching phantom as she crept into adolescence, and then when Harwin Strong died Daemon sailed over Saint George’s Channel to offer her solace in England, and at last the fantasies she never would have confessed to anyone were fulfilled, two marriages and four children later. Rhaenyra remembers what he told her in the mist-draped lakeside cottage where they met in secret, crossing paths like an asteroid striking a planet: My wife means nothing to me. She’s not like us. She is young, and weak, and afraid, and I could never respect that kind of person. Her father owns the last Connemara marble quarry in the world, and I needed a son. But the only woman I want is you.

Aegon fires the pistol as he chases her through the corridors of A-Deck, and when she shrieks nobody hears, or if they do they don’t appear to rescue her; the ship is full of people screaming, sobbing, clawing for their lives against wet walls and locked doors. He shoots and misses again. There’s something wrong with his hands. He keeps fumbling with the gun and almost dropping it, hissing in pain as he squeezes the trigger, and there’s blood staining his fingers.

Good, Rhaenyra thinks. I’m glad he’s hurt. I hope he’s dying.

She sees an open room and ducks inside, slamming the door behind her and barring it with the weight of her body as Aegon rams it with his shoulder. Rhaenyra is surrounded by the trappings of another family who purchased first-class tickets: chairs with velvet upholstery, a faux fireplace, paintings by Rousseau and Boccioni and Homer. The lights flicker and the steel beams of Titanic groan, low and disastrous. There isn’t much time left.

“Daemon!” she yells as loudly as she can. If he hears her, he’ll come running. I have to get to a lifeboat. I have to live for my father, for Jace and Luke and Joffrey, for the children I will one day give Daemon.

Rhaenyra struggles with the lock as Aegon batters the door and it quakes on its hinges. Just as she latches it, he fires the pistol through the door. Wood cracks and splinters; a bullet pierces Rhaenyra’s ribcage like a blade. There is unbearable pressure, and then a sharpness, a pain she believes she cannot stand until it keeps getting bigger, deeper, ripping her open and filling her with dark wet weight like the ocean surging into Titanic. She crumples to the floor. When she coughs, blood spurts out onto her lips. Rhaenyra wipes it away and then stares at the red on her palm.

I can’t die now. My life just became what it was supposed to be.

Aegon punches a hole through the mangled door large enough for him to reach in and unlock it. Then he stands in the threshold looking down at her, his hands shaking but his eyes hard, fierce, unflinching. Rhaenyra has never seen him like this before. She didn’t know he could be good at anything.

“How the fuck did you get on the ship?” Rhaenyra snarls as she scrambles away, hacking up more blood. The black opal ring Daemon gave her gleams like onyx or obsidian, something born of heat and earth and insurmountable, ancient gravity.

Daemon and I were made for each other. The same blood, the same bones, the same will to carve treasures from the bleakest places.

Aegon follows her across the floor, slow stalking steps. He doesn’t answer; instead, he shakes his right hand a few times—steadying himself, casting out tremors like demons—and then grips the pistol with it. He raises the gun, the barrel aimed at Rhaenyra’s face.

“Daemon?!” she screams, but he isn’t here. Then she asks, sudden desperate confusion, her blue eyes wide: “Why are you doing this?”

Aegon’s voice is calm. “Because she can’t be free unless you and Daemon are gone.”

That girl? Daemon’s sad, stupid wife? I’m dying because of HER?

“Father never loved you,” Rhaenyra seethes, red on her teeth, blooddrops spilling from her lips like rubies. Her eyes are cold, glinting sapphires, pools of freezing water that only needs minutes to stop the heart. “Just like Daemon never loved her.”

“I know. And I used to care. It almost killed me, it almost ate me alive. But now I’m better. And I finally know exactly who I’m supposed to be.”

Aegon pulls the trigger.

~~~~~~~~~~

As Daemon descends the Grand Staircase, you crawl down towards the next landing, your head spinning, your hands empty, writhing on your belly like a snake.

The dagger???

But you can’t find it, and you don’t have time to stop and search. Daemon is only a few steps behind you. When your palms hit B-Deck, you try to drag yourself upright, grappling for the banister; but before you can get your feet under you, Daemon kicks you and sends you hurtling down the next flight of stairs. You tumble towards C-Deck, clawing in vain for something to break your fall. Your head strikes the English oak wood and you hear your father’s bewildered voice as he sat at the dining room table in Lough Cutra Castle: Where are you going? When will you be back?

Never, never, never; and now from somewhere below you recognize the roar of rushing water.

“You were going to kill me?!” Daemon taunts as he bears down on you like a storm. Blood soaks his throat and the white shirt beneath his black suit jacket. His eyes are bright, feral, monstrous. “After all those times I spared you when I could have drowned you in a river or a hot bath or the sea? You’re so fucking useless. You really can’t do anything right. All you had to do was shut up and endure, and you could have lived to be an old, old woman with all the comforts my empire afforded you. Now, my dear, you will never see another sunrise. And when Titanic sinks, you’ll be buried with her.”

Down, down, always down towards the ocean floor, you crawl faster away from him as his footsteps grow louder.

“Help,” you moan weakly. Aegon? Anyone? But the only reply is the echoing of your own voice and the sounds of the dying ship: breaking metal, distant screams, gushing torrents of seawater.

You crash into C-Deck and again try to stagger to your feet, but Daemon is here, shoving you as if from a cliffside or off a balcony. And as you plummet down the Grand Staircase towards D-Deck—where the First-Class Dining Saloon is, where Thomas Andrews once assured you that Titanic was unsinkable—it is not hard wooden steps you collide with but swirling ice-cold seawater. You plunge beneath the currents and then come sputtering up to the surface, your white wool coat drenched and threatening to pull you below again like an anchor. You struggle to shed it with arms that are rapidly going numb.

I’m so cold, I’m so cold, if I don’t get out of the water I’ll be dead in minutes—

Daemon’s fingers close around your throat and he forces you under the waist-deep water. You thrash and try to push him away, to pry him off of you, but your muscles seem to have disappeared, they have been scraped off your bones and now you can only wait to die, your breathless lungs burning as your body freezes. You have a sudden vision of Daemon in his firelit study at Lough Cutra Castle, marveling at a shard of Larimar dredged up from the Caribbean Sea and quoting the first known treatise on gemstones, written by Theophrastus in the time of Alexander the Great: Of things formed in the earth, some have their origin from water.

“No!” you scream through the depths, bubbles rising up to air you cannot taste. You claw at Daemon’s hands, but you cannot wound him, cannot get a grip on him, and hasn’t that been true since you married him five years ago?

The dark, freezing water makes you want to give up. It makes death feel easy, painless, inevitable. You imagine faces you’ll never see again: Draco, Aegon, your parents, Fern. You hope Carpathia will be here soon to rescue the survivors. You wonder what will happen to Aegon’s paintings.

Through the water come the muffled booms of explosions, four of them, surely something catastrophic, the ship splitting in half or a distress flare misfired or boilers bursting and shearing through what’s left of the hull. Then Daemon’s hands vanish from your throat and someone is hauling you up out of the icy currents, they are freeing you, they are disinterring you from an oceanic grave.

“I’m here!” Aegon is shouting as you burst into open air, gasping and flailing. He drags you towards the Grand Staircase where you can climb out of the flood, but you’re looking for Daemon. He is a few yards away and floating face-up, one hand clasping his chest and a gurgling sound leaking from his throat. The water around him is turning red. He’s fading, but he’s not dead yet.

“Aegon, he’s still—”

“I know. I’ll take care of him once you’re out of the water. I don’t have any more bullets left.”

“I want to do it.”

“We need to get you dry and warmed up—”

“I want to do it,” you say again, and Aegon lets you go.

You twist off your black opal engagement ring and throw it into the water beside Daemon. Then you place both of you hands on his chest and push him beneath the surface, Aegon standing just behind you with the barrel of the pistol in his grasp in case he has to use it as a club. The glacial seawater froths and whirls as it rises over Daemon’s hemorrhaging chest. He startles—a death rattle, a late rite—and resists feebly, gazing up at you with glassy, disbelieving eyes. They ask: How did this happen? I was supposed to kill you, remember? I own you. I own jewels trapped in subterranean darkness all over the world, and you are the very least of them.

“Draco isn’t yours,” you tell Daemon as you force him under. “Rhaenyra isn’t yours. And I’m not yours either. Now sink and die and make me free.”

He twitches, he bares his crimson teeth at you, but after all this time finally Daemon is the weak one. The rising water flushes maroon around him, his skin goes a frail and translucent bluish-white, his heart is drained until the chambers are cold and grey and empty. You hold him beneath the water until the bubbles roiling up from his nose and mouth disappear. He will never touch you again, he will never hurt anyone, he will never bruise or break or ensnare or captivate. And who will inherit his mines scattered across the planet?

Draco. His only son. And my family and I will act as trustees until he’s eighteen.

“We have to go,” Aegon is saying. He must have taken off his coat before he went into the water after you. He stands shivering in only his white shirt and green corduroy pants, the ocean now lapping at his chest.

“Rhaenyra?” you ask.

“She’s gone. I’m sure.”

“It’s over,” you say softly, feeling weight like stones roll off of you, feeling warmth like sunlight on your face.

As if in reply, the listing ship groans and the lights flicker again. “Not yet,” Aegon says, grabbing your hand. “Let’s hope there’s a lifeboat left.”

You wade to the steps and climb out of the water. Aegon helps you wring out your soaked hair and the skirt of your gown, then snatches his black wool coat off the steps where he left it and puts it on you. You race up the Grand Staircase to C-Deck, and then B-Deck, and then the A-Deck landing where you find your green handbag with Aegon’s tiny aluminum lighter still inside.

“I think you dropped this,” Aegon says when he spots the dagger on a nearby step, still covered with Daemon’s blood. He wipes it clean on his corduroy pants and then passes it to you. When you hesitate to take it, he grins. “Who knows. You might need to stab someone else tonight.”

“I never want to draw blood again.” But you accept the dagger and place it in your handbag, the captive gemstones glimmering there: amethyst, tiger’s eye, black opal, emerald, ruby, bloodstone, sapphire like the North Atlantic Ocean that is swallowing Titanic down into her cold, crushing belly. Then you ascend one last flight of steps to the Boat Deck, passing the bronze cherub statue and the ticking clock, stealing a glimpse up at the dome of glass and wrought iron that will soon shatter when the sea punctures through it like a bullet or a blade.

Outside the night air is so frigid that ice crystals begin forming in your hair, and the hem of your blue gown begins to stiffen as it freezes. You are barefoot, you only now realize, and if splinters from the pine planks of the deck needle their way into your flesh you won’t be able to feel them. There are only two lifeboats left on this side of the ship, one of which is already being lowered down to the sea. Officers are still directing women and children into the other. Benjamin Guggenheim and his companions are very drunk, clumsily herding frantic first-class passengers towards the boats. The string quartet is now playing The Merry Widow by Franz Lehár.

“Come, come quickly, Lady Targaryen!” the officers shout when they see you, knowing by your gown that you belong here, perhaps recognizing you from strolls on the Promenade Deck or when you and Daemon boarded Titanic in Cork with much fanfare. Aegon helps you into the lifeboat, his wounded hands cradling yours. Another distress flare is shot into the sky, metallic rain, doomsday portents.

We’re going to be alright, you think. We’re going to survive this.

“Darling, you’re sopping wet!” one of the women in the lifeboat exclaims, and they all begin to fret over you. There are dogs here, a Pomeranian in one lap, a Yorkshire terrier in another.

“Get her under a blanket,” Aegon is saying. “Keep her warm or she’ll get pneumonia. Give her a lifebelt.”

“We will, we will,” another lady shimmering in jewels—a mother of two boys in heavy coats and blue-striped pajamas—promises him. “We’ll take good care of her.”

You turn back to Aegon. “What?”

He tells you, his voice quiet: “Petra, they’re not going to let me in.”

“No, no, you can’t stay here—”

“Women and children only!” an officer booms, then begins waving several shrieking maids towards the vessel, just moments from launching.

“Aegon,” you say, horrified. He’ll die if he stays. He’ll drown or he’ll freeze and he’ll be entombed at the bottom of the Atlantic. “No.”

“I’ll be okay.”

“No you won’t,” you sob, then look desperately at the officers. How can I change their minds? “He’s a Targaryen, he’s a first-class passenger, he must be allowed aboard!”

“A Targaryen?!” one of the officers says distractedly as he battles with the rigging. “I know all the Targaryens on Titanic, and he’s not one of them!”

“Just look at him,” the other officer mutters, meaning: He isn’t dressed like someone with castles or mansions or titles or mines. He can’t be someone who matters.

“He is,” you plead, tears stinging on your cheeks as they freeze. “He’s Aegon, he’s a Targaryen, please, he can’t be left behind—”

“Women and children only!” the first officer barks at you as the other pushes away a group of panicked young men in black suits trying to bribe their way into the vessel. “And if you want to stay here with him, that’s your business, but get to it so the rest of us can try to make it off this ship alive!”

“There’s more than enough room for him, for Christ’s sake, there are dogs in here!”

“There will be other lifeboats, love,” one of the women tells you as she drapes a scratchy wool blanket across your shoulders, but you don’t believe that’s true. The maids are climbing into the lifeboat; the officers are beginning to lower it with sharp lurches that make the occupants gasp.

You reach for Aegon, your hands catching on his drenched shirt, the thin layer of ice cracking beneath your fingers. “No, no, Aegon, I can’t go like this.”

“You have to,” he says calmly, and he holds you face still and touches his lips to your forehead, a kiss goodbye, gentle and lingering.

“No—”

“You have a kid. You have to go. Draco will be looking for you on Carpathia.”

“You deserve to be free too.”

“I’ll stay out of the water for as long as I can,” Aegon says like a vow. “I’ll try to find something to float on. And once Titanic goes down…maybe the lifeboats will come back to pick up any survivors.”

The water is too cold. I’ve felt it, I’ve been paralyzed by it, once you go under you only have minutes. “You can’t…you won’t…”

“Petra,” Aegon says, and his eyes turn desperate. He knows it’s his only chance. “Make them come back for me.”

“I will,” you swear to him.

And he pries your fingers off his shirt and rips away from you before your resolve can weaken. High above and through tears that blur your vision, constellations of stars gleam like diamonds.

~~~~~~~~~~

He runs to the other side of the Boat Deck, searching for lifeboats that haven’t launched yet. He can’t find any. There are swarms of passengers weeping, shouting, jostling, and officers trying to restore order. Pistols and flares are fired, chairs are tossed overboard for passengers to cling to as they float. But Aegon knows that won’t be enough; if they stay submerged, they will die.

I need something bigger. I need something I can lie on. A door or a dresser or…

He shoves through the crowd to get to the ship’s railing. Below, the ocean has gotten so much closer. He sees a lifeboat bobbing in the waves, just far enough away that someone brave enough to leap could not get to it. Inside, along with perhaps twenty first-class women and maids, Aegon recognizes Laenor Velaryon and his ever-present Parisian friends. They are puffing on cigars and toasting glasses of brandy, celebrating their good fortune. They must have successfully bribed their way aboard.

“Fuck,” Aegon sighs, his breath fog in the frigid air.

How am I going to stay out of the water long enough to survive until I’m rescued?

Then he replays the evening in his mind—his first night with Petra, perhaps his last night on earth, red silk and candles and oil paint and the warmth of her beneath his hands—and Aegon gets an idea. He sprints back to the Grand Staircase and soars down to B-Deck, seawater ankle-deep on the floor. He splashes through the corridors to the staterooms once occupied by Daemon Targaryen’s wife and child, now rid of him, now waiting for what will come next. Aegon hurries through the sitting room, passing the taxidermied tiger head above the fireplace and the large, heavy chest where Daemon made Petra lock up the art she bought in Paris.

She didn’t remember to put the real Picasso’s paintings in a lifeboat, but she saved mine, Aegon thinks. If I make it out of this alive somehow, I’m marrying her the second we dock in New York.

He goes to the bedroom, finds what he needs, carries it with him as he returns to the maze of hallways. Now the icy water is nipping at his knees.

~~~~~~~~~~

The ocean is calm, the lifeboat rocking placidly on inky surf. The women comfort their children and their dogs. You take Aegon’s aluminum lighter out of your handbag and light yourself a cigarette, then pass it around so the other passengers can thaw their lungs with hot plumes of nicotine, here in the early hours of the morning when it feels like you’ll never be warm again. The officer who took command of the vessel—the same one who shouted at you and refused to admit Aegon—is rowing vigorously as you and several other women help him, staring horror-struck at Titanic as she goes down by the bow.

“We have to get away from the ship,” the officer keeps saying, and he sounds genuinely petrified. A woman in a glittering gold gown steers with the tiller. “Or she’ll suck us into the water with her.”

There are shadows of other lifeboats nearby, also fleeing from the condemned Titanic, that miraculously colossal and opulent triumph that everyone had told you was unsinkable. You wonder which one Draco and Fern are in, undoubtedly cold and frightened but safe.

Aegon deserves to live too. I have to find him, I have to save him.

Now there is seawater flooding over Titanic’s deck at the bow, where you and Aegon saw third-class passengers—now dead, or very soon to be—kicking around pieces of the iceberg that they didn’t know had doomed them. The ocean surges higher, covering B-Deck, and A-Deck, and finally the Boat Deck, where the towering funnels collapse and you can hear shrieks and guns firing. You know you won’t be able to see Aegon from here—you won’t be able to tell if he made it into a lifeboat somehow, or if he is one of the figures that falls from a lethal height into the waves, or if he is crushed or shot or trapped below deck and drowned—but still, you cannot stop looking for him, peering through the night to where Titanic glows in her spotlight of white-gold electric luminescence.

As the bow sinks, the stern begins to rise, higher and higher until the tension cracks the ship in two, and the passengers you share the lifeboat with wail and sob as the ship’s lights blink out for the last time and the gravesite goes dark. Women call out the names of their husbands, fathers, brothers, adult sons, knowing they must be dying. You can only watch with tears streaming down your face, thinking: How could he survive that? How could I have left him?

The stern bobs for a while in the nightscape sea, a shade, a phantom, and then it plunges into the ocean. The water—indifferent, dispassionate, not a mortal but a titan, here long before humans and destined to outlast them, not unlike the treasures of the earth—gulps down metal beams and pine planks and split bones and shredded flesh. There are screams, so many, so pitiful, so loud they fill the sky, and the howling women in the lifeboat cover their ears and those of their children so they will not have to try to exorcise the sound from their memories later.

As soon as the stern has been consumed by the depths, you say to the officer: “We have to go back to look for survivors.”

“Are you mad, Lady Targaryen?” he snaps at you; but there are tears in his bloodshot eyes. “We’ll be mobbed if we sail into that. They’ll pour into the boat until we go under too. Do you want to freeze to death with them?”

“People will die quickly. They are dying already, the water is cold enough to kill in minutes. If we start rowing towards them now, most of the passengers will be dead by the time we get there. And then we can rescue anyone who’s left.” Please still be alive, Aegon.

“Not a chance in hell,” the officer says.

You turn to the other women. They blink back at you in dazed, timid terror. “It’s murder to leave your men behind,” you implore, you beg them to agree. “Help me row to them.”

But the women only weep softly to themselves and look to the officer to tell them what to do. He smirks at you victoriously, an expression of no humor but rather grim, fearful misery that could drive someone insane. In the lap of one woman, the Pomeranian whimpers.

I can’t leave Aegon, you think. I can’t, I can’t, I can’t.

You open your green handbag and pull out the dagger, the blade pointed at the officer. He shouts and bolts away from you, incredulous, furious.

“You’re threatening to kill me?!”

You shake your head. “I’m offering you a gift.” You turn the dagger around so the officer can grasp the handle. His gaze catches, transfixed and wondrous, on the gemstone spheres like perfectly aligned planets. “This dagger is worth more than you would make in a decade of work. Go back for survivors, and it’s yours. Refuse, and when we are rescued and my son inherits my husband’s fortune, I will make it my life’s work to destroy you. I will follow you anywhere on earth. I will ruin you. So take the dagger as payment and break my curse, and let us save the people who are left.”

The lifeboat sways in the small, serene waves, and the stars revolve high above in a moonless sky, and you and the other women wait for the officer to reply. After a minute or more—we have to go back now, right now, we don’t have much time—he finally lifts the dagger from your open palm and tucks it into his belt.

“Fine,” he says, picking up his oar again. “Let’s go. I cannot abide your damnation. I’ll be haunted by enough ghosts already.”

He and several of the other women row into the throng while you find the flashlights stored in the bottom of the lifeboat, then perch at the bow searching for Aegon. Instead you see hundreds of bluish corpses floating in their lifebelts, dead men and women and children, some of them first-class or crewmembers of the ship but most of them third-class passengers: Italian, Polish, Greek, Syrian, Russian, Chinese, Irish, discarded people, good for dying in the operations of mines or factories or railroads and little else.

“Aegon!” you shout over the water, but he does not answer. There is only the mist of your own words and the sound of cold currents rippling as the lifeboat cuts through them.

Your group saves two people from the sea, both nearly frozen to death and unable to speak: one man floating on a table washed out of a dining room, one little girl clutching her dead mother. Then a long time passes with no living souls to salvage.

“Have we done enough now, Lady Targaryen?” the officer asks you gravely. “Have you seen a sufficient number of the dead to assuage your wrath?”

“Not yet,” you say, steely, your eyes fixed on the water as the flashlight illuminates lifeless faces, scraps of wreckage, nothing, nothing, nothing. And then the light settles on him.

When the stern of Titanic went under, so did Aegon: there are ice crystals in his hair, and his clothes are freezing to his skin, and his lips are blue, and he’s shivering violently. But unlike over 1,000 other passengers, he didn’t stay in the depths long enough to perish as the cold stopped their hearts and lungs. He had something with him, a life raft, a second chance, a treasure mined not from some far-flung crevice of the earth but from the bedroom where he uncovered you, where you found each other and never wanted to go back to the way life felt before.

Aegon is sprawled across the oval-shaped mirror that once stood beside your bed, the fractured glass reflecting the stars that glimmer in the night sky. His ravaged hands cling to the wooden frame. And when the beam of the flashlight skates across his face like moonshine, Aegon knows you’ve come back for him, and he reaches for you until your hands link with his and help pull him aboard.

~~~~~~~~~~

Carpathia arrives an hour later, just before four in the morning on April 15th, and as the sun rises over the North Atlantic Ocean you and Aegon find Draco and Fern on the bow deck, where stewards are distributing blankets and tea to the survivors. Women wander the ship pleading for help finding their lost loved ones, weeping endlessly for their brothers, their fathers, their husbands. Your tears have stopped entirely.

Carpathia’s passengers are generous. They offer in charity their food, their clothing, even their rooms. Children share their books and toys with Draco. Fern teaches him how to play marbles; you read him The Story of Saint Patrick. A doctor onboard disinfects and bandages Aegon’s hands, and assures him that he will be able to play viola again, not now, perhaps not even soon, but one day.

That first afternoon, as you and Aegon are taking a stroll on the Boat Deck, you spot a man painting a scene of the sunset: gold, tiger’s eye, ruby, red beryl. Aegon shows him some of the portraits from his scuffed leather portfolio…though, of course, one in particular is not suitable for mixed company. The man is so impressed that he insists Aegon must not be deprived of the ability to create such beauty for lack of supplies, and gifts him an easel and some paper, brushes, and oil paints.

It’s difficult with his sore, bandaged hands, but Aegon still wants to try, and when his brush begins to shake he asks you to help him. Aegon explains things to you as you steady his hands: chiaroscuro, scumbling, alla prima, glazing, impasto, a foreign language that will soon become familiar. Already, you are learning. And as Carpathia sails into New York Harbor on the evening of April 18th, Aegon takes a paintbrush and draws a circle around your ring finger in vivid, sapphire blue, a worthless gift of no gleaming gems or metal, a vow that means everything.

It’s been years, but Aegon remembers the way to his mother’s house. He leads you, Draco, and Fern to the doorstep of the Hightower mansion on Fifth Avenue. He knocks and a butler answers, a middle-aged man who gapes at Aegon in shellshocked disbelief.

“One…one moment, sir, if you’d be so kind to…to…to just wait here, please,” the butler stammers, then disappears inside. A few minutes later, a different man appears in the threshold. He must be Aemond, tall and white-blonde and precise in every movement, his left eye concealed by a black leather eyepatch. His remaining eye, a clear alert blue, darts to where Fern is holding Draco on her hip and then to you and Aegon, his bandaged hands resting so lightly on you they could never leave a mark.

Then Aemond’s face softens, and there is a kind sort of relief that seeps in, and you imagine your parents will look the same way when you return to Lough Cutra Castle. “You’re home,” he says quietly.

And Aegon smiles and replies: “We all are.”