#the fading away of a fairy king

[fictionadventurer]

By the Shores of Silver Lake was my least favorite Little House book as a kid, and upon starting the reread, I could see why. Earlier books had Laura as a child observer--not engaging in or totally understanding the wider world of the adults, but still engrossed in the simple joys of childhood. In this book, Laura is neither child nor adult--she's too old to play like a child, but she's too young to take an active part in adult life, so she's stuck in this awkward middle ground.

Yet as the book went on, I started to see that that was the point. This book is about growing up, about being on the brink of adulthood and trying to hold onto childhood while also becoming someone new. Laura's growing-up is paralleled with the "growing up" of the country around her. Both the old and the new ways of life have their benefits and their downsides, and Laura has to figure out how to hold onto the best of both.

The prairie is beautiful, wondrous, free. Laura would love to just roam forever, always traveling west, always seeing new places. She doesn't want to marry, doesn't want to teach school, doesn't want anything to change about her way of life. But one can't stay a child forever. Eventually, the infinite possibility of childhood has to turn into the definite identity of adulthood. She has to take responsibility and settle down. The arrival of the town brings that adult life to the prairie, and in doing so, it destroys the innocent wonders of nature--the majestic wolves lose their home, the buffalo are gone, and the ducks no longer land at Silver Lake. Laura has to wrestle with this--is childhood, for herself and the prairie, gone forever? Does she have to let go of childlike wonder and embrace the mundane responsibility of adult life?

This theme is resolved when Laura finds Grace in the buffalo wallow. It's a place of impossible magic and beauty, a carpet of fragrant violets hidden away from the world with butterflies flying overhead, so perfect it seems like a fairyland. Of course Grace, the innocent child, is the one who was able to find it. When Laura asks Pa about it later, he explains that the "fairies" that made this magical ring were buffalo. There's a mundane explanation for the phenomenon, but that doesn't destroy the wonder and beauty of the place--adult knowledge enhances, rather than destroys childlike wonder. The buffalo might be gone, but there's still beauty left behind. Laura can move forward into the future and know that there are still wonders to find. She can be an adult and still maintain a childlike wonder, can take responsibility and still find comfort in the safety of home and family.

This thematic resonance made so much about the book so much deeper. It's the message of the entire series distilled into story form. Remember the past, children, but go forth boldly into the future. It's a message much easier to see with an adult's eyes, so I'm so glad I gave this book another chance.

[tteokdoroki]

✎ᝰ. OCT 15TH ★ MUTUAL MASTURBATION - tobio kageyama .ᐟ

[CHAPTER FIFTEEN CINDERELLA] once upon a time, a soon-to-be crowned princess, once down on her luck, says fuck it and settles on consummating her marriage with the crown prince before they’re actually due to be married ( 9.2K ).

✧ chapter contents - minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact ! nsfw, heavy smut, cinderella!au, royal wedding, mutual masturbation, cherry chasing, clothed sex, soft sex, oral sex, cum play, fingering, jerking off, cinderella + fem!reader, prince charming!tobio kageyama.

✧ fairy godmother's note - yurrr three for three ! i really enjoyed writing this one and i hope you like it as much as i enjoyed it at the time !! ily guys see you in the next one :D - m.list ⋆ kinktober m.list ⋆ taglist ☆

“it’s a perfect fit…”

luck has never been on your side. up until now — it was almost like the universe had turned its back on you. your mother’s spirit had faded before you’d even opened your eyes to the colours of the world and not long after, your father passed away… leaving you with his wicked wife and scornful step-sisters. 

for years, all you’ve known are the painful wounds of cruelty inflicted by their hands. nights of tending sore arms and legs and joints after tending to their every incredulous need. you hardly remember the feeling of love — its warm embrace and tender touch, love to you is an emotion that died with your father when you laid him to rest as a young girl. you’ve been down on your luck ever since then, never knowing if you’d ever be able to experience the same feeling ever again. 

for one night only, you’d managed to get a taste. the sweet sensation of love and affection bursting across your tongue on the night that you’d danced at the royal ball where the king and queen’s only son sought out a beautiful bride. out of all the girls, ladies and princesses there — kageyama had chosen you. danced with you non-stop. laughed with you all night. looked at you as if you were the only girl in the entire world for hours on end. for one night, you felt whole again, happy once more, whether that was down to fairy godmother’s magic or your own subtle charm.

but now, with the crown prince of your kingdom on his knee before you, you can see that your dance meant more than just a fleeting moment.

tobio kageyama of royal blood had practically searched the ends of the earth for a foot that fit perfectly into the glass slipper you’d left behind. by his own will and determination he’d wanted to find you, to love you and make you his — this very reasoning causes your stomach to swim with hope and newfound excitement. this could be it.

the change you’ve been looking for and the love you’ve been seeking all your life. “the shoe…it fits,” kageyama repeats breathily, the prince’s usual stoic expression quickly replaced with an adoring and charming smile that sends a pang straight through your beating heart and directly into your longing soul. “it’s you, you’re the one i’ve been looking for.” 

with a twist of his wrist and his lips dangerously close to your knee — the prince wriggles the glass slipper ( now cleaned of any blood and bits left from your spiteful step siblings cutting off their own toes ) onto your foot, his chest a little lighter and his deep ocean eyes a lot brighter when it slides on without resistance.

“it’s me,” you beam, much to the bitter dismay of the only family you’d known throughout your years. the family that never truly loved you. “you’ve found me…” 

leaning up to grasp your hands, stained black with the cinders from the fire you usually prod and poke at to keep alive, kageyama lets out an airy laugh robust with his own joy and excitement. “and i’m never letting you go, never losing you again. marry me, would you?” one of his thumbs moves to brush tenderly over your ring finger and any sunlight filtering into the room refracts off of your glass slipper — perfectly illuminating the mysterious azure swirling in the prince’s eyes. 

he cocks his head to the side; innocent and pleading like a puppy — and you know right then and there that you’d be a fool to let a great love like this pass you by after all that you’ve been through. “oh kageyama,” you coo shyly, basking in the way that the prince shudders as his name peers from between your precious lips. “of course i’ll marry you!”

and just like that, your fate and newfound happiness are sealed. the crown prince leaps to his feet to twirl you in his arms, lips pressing to yours and acting as a signature to sign off on your new life and love. you’re wanted, you’re loved and by a prince no less.

but even then, you remain unsure if you even deserve it all. 

these doubts are only exacerbated after your first few days at the palace, which pass in an overwhelming blur. 

despite the cruelty in which they’d treated you with, you don’t get to say goodbye to your step-family, nor pick out and see your belongings as they’re packed up for your new home in the king’s castle. in the same day that you’re moved into the towering palace, full of high ceilings and art deco so expensive you can feel your worth drop at every piece you admire — wedding preparations swiftly begin and you’re once more bombarded with all sorts of questions. how do you like your cake? your wedding colours? what style do you want your hair? how many guests? the royal servants mean well, you know, but they give you no room to breathe — as someone not accustomed to a lifestyle where your every need is met in a millisecond and you, yourself are not expected to wait hand and foot on someone else. 

anxiety replaces the traces of elation that had once flushed its way through your system, beginning in the four chambers of your heart. how do you know that you’re cut out for this? going from poverty to a princess? there are no classes to teach you how to step up and rule a kingdom after having notably nothing for your entire life. you’re in desperate need of guidance, the gentle direction of the one man relying on you to help create a beautiful, powerful kingdom now and for the many years to come, you have just that, you have the ring of a crown prince on your finger but…

but, you hardly see tobio as the days go by. the very first night he was whisked off by the many men and royal guard to celebrate his engagement. one moment, he appears by your side — frustratingly handsome, with darkened sapphire eyes that rival the countless Crown Jewels you’ve been shown during your stay, a jaw hard set and angular that makes your knees weak while he explains his demands for your wedding to any staff who may question your choices and a smile so rare that your entire world flips on its axis to disorientate you and like you’re drowning in the palace kitchen’s fresh batch of hot sugar whenever he sends it your way. you consider yourself lucky to be betrothed to such a man, all because of a slipper. 

in those far and few moments where the dark haired prince has time to put aside for you — tobio cannot keep his hands off of you. either settling them on your waist or keeping them interlocked with his. you shudder at the sensation of his nose brushing over your hairline or his lips on the very ring he’d given you — a moonlight silver band with a sapphire gem just like his eyes, all for you. ever since you slipped between his fingers at the royal ball he’s been terrified to let you go, as though you might disappear for good. he doesn’t say it, you can hardly read past his stony expression and stern voice ( used only around others, never when you’re alone together ), but you can feel it when he squeezes your hand in passing and hidden away in the intensity of his stare.

you’d be lying if you said you don’t feel the same, frightful that your Prince Charming will be ripped away along with the happiness that you now have. like when your father died and left you with that wicked woman. but before you have a chance to treasure your prince and seek his reassurances, tobio is off again, leaving you surrounded by an ocean of doubts and fears that you’ll never live up to yet another family’s expectations. 

a pauper to a princess, and next, a queen. 

is your love for each other enough to qualm your unease? 

even if the queen finds you pleasant and the king finds you beautifully perfect for his son upon introduction — none of them phased by their son’s choice in bride. a commoner of no noble blood but thoughts of being out of place eat at you all day, even with kageyama so subtly affectionate by your side.

you’ve come from nothing, by no means cut out to be a royal, and still… everyone wants you here. including kageyama.

and you just can’t help but feel like an imposter.

by nightfall, a week later, the maids have settled into a regular routine of drawing you a buttermilk bath with honey and rose petals.

scrub brushes and soft cotton cloths work at the stubborn grit on your skin — washing away the memories of the turbulent life you once lived. the cinders from under your nails add a darkness to the milky water like a drop of ink on a blank white canvas, a reminder of the commonness you exuded before moving  into the  palace to be with your prince. the sight makes you press your lips into a thin line, your wet tongue gliding over the chapped skin nervously. if the maids notice yet more remaining dirt from your past, they fail to comment on it. 

now with soft scented skin and a dampness to the back of your neck — they aid in dressing you, baby blue silks and cotton white tule is draped over your frame under the dazzling moonlight as they help prepare you for bed. a time that you dread, where you’re left alone with your insecurities once more. 

with your wedding to the crown prince but a week away, the royal staff have kept proper tradition in making sure the two of you remain apart until the wedding night. that, coupled with the fact that you hardly see kageyama during the day, only add to the sting of loneliness and self doubt filtering through your veins. like lemon juice on an open wound. 

“we’ll be back to dress you in the morning, your highness,” your lady in waiting tells you, a tone of patience cushioning the fall of her voice as the group of maide leave you the mirror to admire your solemn reflection. parting your lips, they move around the syllables of your name — debating on correcting her and telling her to use it in place of ill-fitting titles. you decide on the latter, shaking your head ‘yes’ while offering up a timid smile in response. it’s far too early to start speaking out of turn; treating your staff as your step-mother would have treated you. “should you need anything, please ring for us m’lady.”

your head bobs shyly once again and the maids take their leave. “thank you, i will.” 

despite the quiet of the night, where every soul lays sleeping soundly under the stars and watchful eye of the silver moon, your mind and heart are restless — wide awake. you’re alone and you should be excited. you’re about to marry a prince and become a royal and all you can think about is the bed that’s too soft beneath your back and the clothes that are too fancy to be worn as they itch and scratch at your freshly scrubbed skin. the ceilings of your private quarters are way too high, providing a wide space for your panic to fill — constantly reminding you of the fact that you don’t belong. 

leaving you with the sinking feeling that you still have to leave by midnight.

before long, the hours tick by and sleep continues to escape you — every insecurity and doubt you have weighs heavy on your mind like a winter blanket instead of a peaceful slumber that you crave… periodically interrupted by the hoot of an owl and… knocking? 

abruptly sitting straight up in bed, you toss the covers to the side all too quickly — blinking the sadness and sleep deprivation away. “c-come… come in!” you call to the culprit, swallowing down your nerves as your lady in waiting from earlier enters with a small curtesy. you scramble out of bed clumsily to return the gesture, still not used to the royal treatment. “is something wrong?”

the maid smiles fondly, taking a liking to how jumpy you are. “the prince has requested your presence in his chambers tonight.”

“o-oh!” while relief and nervousness floods through all four limbs of your body and anticipation crackles over your brain like a thunderstorm kicking into gear — you can’t help but to question the  crown prince’s motives. why would kageyama want to see you so late at night? was he having doubts too? was he worried sick? isn’t this.. improper? 

observing how you fiddle with the silver band of your engagement ring — your maid must sense your thoughts as they pollute the air with scents of unsureness or nervousness because she takes a tentative step into the room, grasping your attention, to provide a reassuring explanation. “he thinks you might be lonely… i think he misses you too, my dear.”

to hear that you’ve not been the only one craving affection from your lover has you perking up — your shoulders a little lighter and the burden of assimilation relieved. slightly. it proves to you that kageyama is still as caring and thoughtful as he was that night at the ball, your heart leaps to know that he’s thinking of you also. “do i…do i need to bring anything?” 

“no, just yourself your highness,” coos your maid in amusement, offering her arm as you pull yourself from bed — eager to meet with your future husband once more. 

after a short walk from your room to his, guided by candlelight, you’re pushed into the crown prince’s quarters without warning, flinching as large oak double doors creak shut behind your back. leaving you locked and enveloped in the darkness of four foreign walls. your breath hitches once you meet a pair of ocean eyes and a midnight dark gaze, your own adjusting to the dark veil cloaking the room’s lighting. once your vision has settled, you take note of tobio’s figure sitting on the edge of his bed, as if he’s been waiting for you with muted eagerness all this time.

for a moment, or what feels like eternity, neither of you say anything — your baited breaths tickle the cool night air, neither of you can will yourself to move and reach for one another’s embrace despite how much you’ve truly missed each other. it’s almost as if you’re seeing him for the first time and he’s seeing you all over again. recounting the night at the ball, where tobio was forcibly stopped in his tracks by your beauty and your grace. where he felt the beat of his heart slow so much he thought he might have died and gone to heaven. it’s only then that he remembers just how real you are, that he pushes himself off of the bed and takes longing, timid steps towards you at the far end of his room. 

almost as though he’s about to ask you for another midnight dance.

“tobio i—“ you rasp, swallowing down the yearning tone acting as a blockade for your words in the base of your throat. there’s so much that you want to tell him and reassurances that you want to ask of the dark haired prince, words that never come and only die prematurely on your tongue. everything with tobio is brand new and rushed, you would hate to ruin the connection with your insecurities. but you need him, right now, you need him to reach out to you and console you — craving his warmth and the beat of his heart you’re sure only syncs up with your own. 

you need him and he knows that you do. 

tobio kageyama has never been the best at comforting others. growing up an only child and in his own kind of privileged solitude, he’d never had the need to provide sympathetic symphonies or kind hearted whispers — he was a prince. it had never and would never be his purpose in life. born to serve a kingdom left in his name, tobio was to be only one thing. a charming, strong willed ruler. at least, until he'd met you. until he saw you just inches away from the centre of his room, swimming for words and while your doe eyes searched desperately for a solace in him. in your future king, husband and lover. a solace he now felt he absolutely, instinctually needed to provide. 

as long as you were with him, you’d only feel safety and serenity, that was the new mantle tobio kageyama would take up. 

in three short strides he’s across the room, tobio’s smooth large hands cupping the apples of your cheeks as he guides you into looking up at him. “i missed you,” he says the words for you, azure eyes dancing across your face as though to commit every detail to memory. the way your brows creasing the centre of your forehead and the way your lips droop into a needy pout. he kisses you next, unexpected, but slow and gentle — coaxing a sigh of content from your warm mouth. he feels your lashes flutter shut against his pale toned cheeks, and your body melt into his sturdy frame like butter. like you’re being welcomed home — your dainty fingers grip his wrist to keep yourself there. “i thought you might be lonesome… we haven’t been together all week.” 

nodding, your eyes remain shut because you fear if you open them — you’ll wake up from a dream. but tobio’s free hand on your waist, squeezing, grounds you and reminds you that your engagement to the prince is a reality. “the palace has been overwhelming without you,” you admit, feeling the dark haired prince’s fingers slip into your own. 

with a keening whine, you lean into the now empty space where your lover’s hand once was. kageyama grins subtly, wisps of fondness pulling the corners of his lips upwards into a crooked smile. “you seem tense. come lay with me, my princess.” comes his delicate whisper, quiet so that the night remains undisturbed, almost afraid that he's speaking too loud will cause you to shatter into a million tiny pieces. you know that the crown prince will hold you together if you fall apart and allow yourself ushered towards his king sized bed positioned where he stood just minutes ago.

kageyama’s hold on your waist is firm, reassuring — his large palm covering a wide expanse on the small of your back. you’d be a fool to say you didn’t enjoy the sweltering sensation of his touch burning through your thinly veiled night clothes. a liar to say you weren’t imagining his touch going any further. there’s a brief moment where the dark haired prince twirls you in his arms, much like a swift movement from the ballroom, before the backs your knees hit the edge of his bed and you fall into its plush swan-feather mattress.

flustered and bewildered, your once heavy eyelids shoot open to look up at your prince while you scoot backwards onto the bed by the force of your elbows — your breathing grows uneven and mismatched, throat bobbing as you swallow the delightful anticipation brewing within from watching tobio expertly crawl up the bed to pin you against it. athletic and rugged arms that have wielded many a weapon cage you against luxury silken sheets — a pair of wild admiral blue eyes drink you in as ig you’re the last glass of water on earth while pale, milky cheeks glow fiery rose above you.

kageyama’s breath fans warmly over your face, his expression stubbornly contorting to reveal his late night desire for one thing. 

you.

his vulnerable dame who looks oh so pretty under the glinting moonlight.

“tell me,” he murmurs to you hoarsely, the bend of his index finger brushing over your cheeks which turns into his hand when he moves his feather light touch the plains of your unmarked neck. possessively. “why is it that you cannot sleep?”

at first, you’re taken aback by your lover’s question. there are many reasons you could list, starting with the abrupt change to your lifestyle. your home sickness and even, the fact that you miss him…but as kageyama’s gentle hand cascades like the calm flow of a river over your shoulders, collarbone and even dangerously close to your heaving chest — you lose the answer in the hazy fog of your mind. “m-many things, my prince,” you stutter out breathlessly, smaller-than-his fingers lunging at his wrist to hold his hand in place above your heartbeat. “right now… it’s your touch. i hadn’t realised how much i…needed it. how it makes my heart race.” heated tension in the air mounts like a stack of bricks, cemented together by a neediness neither of you have felt before. 

the desire for human touch and closeness, the temperate buzz of love that’s new to the both of you.

it clings to every molecule of air in the room, weighing you both down with a contagious cloying cloudiness. both of you sick with a scorching proclivity that has you feverish all over. you need to touch him, you need to kiss him, to be with your tobio kageyama or you have no idea what will happen. will the world end if you don’t feel your skin against his? will the two of you go up in flames if you don’t get any closer? 

the sounds of sheets shifting in the night bring your attention back to the real world. your lover adjusts, the entirety of his lean frame, keeping you trapped against cotton peaks. “i’m afraid i feel the same, i find it hard to keep myself from touching you,” your browns furrow cutely at tobio’s strangled words, throat running dry as you note the prince’s seemingly internal struggle to stay sane above you. to make sure he doesn’t do something you might both regret. “i find it hard to believe that you’re mine...” 

“tobio, please i—“

whatever you had planned on saying dies on the tip of your tongue the moment tobio kageyama kisses you for the second time that night. this one is different from the first, fuelled by delirious passion instead of the need to comfort — his tongue laps at the small part between your ruby lips from where you’ve gasped in surprise. kageyama tastes you and tastes you, lapping up whatever flavour lies in your mouth — sweet enough to make moan darkly from the depths of his princely soul as he breathes hungrily into your mouth. almost relieved to finally have his pressed against your own after holding himself back. you take it, you taste it, you let your back arch itself into the broad width of his chest and wolf down everything he gives you. the first drops of his saliva as it oozes onto the palette of your tongue, his eager huffs that clouded your mind and make you feel as if you’ve been poisoned.

the world slows and the night turns silent for the two of you. wet smacks of your lips slotting together perfectly echo to the highest point of the ceiling in the prince’s chambers — heat rises in the room as well, kageyama’s touch turning to veiny hands pinning you beneath him using a brutish grip on your waist. not that you’re complaining.

but in an instant, tobio is pulling off of you — breaking away from the kiss like he’s been doused with a bucket of ice cold water from the kitchens. “i’m… i’m sorry. i shouldn’t have—“ the dark haired prince’s nose turns to nudge against your youthful cheek, hot and wet lips now running down to the junction between your neck and shoulders like a tamed stream of warm water. “s-sorry, i’m not sure what came over me.”

compared to his usual stoic expressions and tones, the kageyama before you now looks as though he’s fallen ill, the tips of his ears, nose and apples of his cheeks are all tinged with a rose blush and his chest rises and falls at a rapid, uncomfortable pace. confusion intertwines itself with the beat of your heart and must show on the details of your face, for your lover’s mouth moves to form the question ‘are you alright?’ that is quickly interrupted by your own hazy actions. you pull tobio back onto you by the roots of his dark hair with one hand, the other tilting his chin down towards you. each of his kisses, growing sloppier and sloppier; feel real — not like the fever dream you’ve been walking through since moving into the palace. 

“i can’t…i can’t believe that you’re mine either,” you hum between the pattern of mismatched kisses against swollen lips, letting out a tune of innocent moans like the finest music to your lover’s ears. your shaky fingers curl in kageyama’s soft baby hairs — keeping him close, although the force of your lip locks cause your head to tilt back into the plush array of pillows. 

everything is so hot and passionate and brand new to you, you must be losing your mind. with your eyes fluttering open, you realise that you’ve never seen kageyama look at you so darkly, his own eyes till of sensuality and mirth. you can tell from just a brief glance the depth of his desire for you, he’s waited far too long to have you like this. and now, the sexual tension is obvious.

his rough tongue slips from your mouth to the corner of your lips, dragging a loving trail of wetness down to your prominent collarbones — the prince dares to leave a dark mark in a colour that rivals the midnight skies outside, basking in the cute bleats you let out periodically and the way your nose scrunched up adorably at the pleasure he gives you. using the pointed edge of his teach, kageyama moves to pull down the baby blue, tule bolero the maids had dressed you in — hungrily inching it off of your shoulders while a free hand slides down to play with the doughy, smooth skin of your thighs. almost filling beneath the hem of your nightdress. 

gasping in surprise, you resist the urge to bolt upwards — tentatively tugging tobio by the hair away from you to garner his attention.

“w-wait! what about our wedding night?”

a touch of condescending laughter lays wetly on kageyama’s kiss swollen lips, pulling them back just enough to see toothy smirk and pearly white teeth. “what about it?” without missing another beat he swoops down to steal another salacious smooch from you, tongue edging past the weak seal of your mouth to roll around and toy with your own. he can practically taste the nervous desire on you as he steadies a hand above your head to ground himself. “we’re set to be married shortly. surely i can indulge in my future wife before then…” 

judging by his movements, such as his tightened grip on the headboard above your head and the bounce of his lips between his perfect teeth, you can tell that tobio remains intent on kissing you. not that you can blame him; it’s the most you’ve tasted of one another since your arrival at the palace. but you will yourself to speak and for once, to voice your concern — knowing that your partner will still love you at the other end of your words. “my prince i…i-i haven’t,” inhaling deeply through your nose, you steal your nerves and fight the sweet mewls that brew like a storm at the back of your throat — a natural response to kageyama who now insists on peppering kisses at the base of your neck (since he could not have your lips). “i have not experienced this before. a-and i want you, i do! i’d just… i’d like for our wedding night to be…” 

the crown prince pauses his actions, his dizzy and lustful stare darting up to meet yours whilst his dark, midnight hair no longer tickles your neck. “special?”

“special.” you repeat with a wavering nod of your head. 

a beat passes where neither of you speak and the silence is filled by your ragged panting. for a second, just a split second, you’re afraid that tobio might not understand or may even reject you but just as he were earlier — he lets a tender smile tug in the corners of his soft lips (reserved only for you) as a thread of adoration weaves itself between the jet black flecks in his darkened eyes. “i don’t want to do anything you might regret or that you wouldn’t ask me for…” he murmurs huskily, leaning down so that the words press against the shell of your ear and cause you to arch your back desperately.

“i have no regrets… not right now i just,” you whine into the night, gripping kageyama’s for some kind of the to reality. “want to go slower, not all the way…”

“not all the way…” the prince muses hungrily, smoothing over your inner calf. you feel his teeth tug at your earlobes as tobio’s tone dips into low and sexy territory — setting the butterflies in your tummy alight with newfound lust. “then it’s alright with you…i’d still like to ease you, to touch you. it might help you sleep.” he reaches down, lips ghosting over the faint adam’s apple in your throat, grinning as it bobs beneath his touch. “i promise to be gentle.” 

“promise?” 

“you have my sworn word.” 

you blink up at the crown prince with big doe eyes, willing him to see the trust laced within them. “okay…i’m okay with more.”

kageyama makes haste in his next movements — undoing the poorly tied ribbon holding your bolero together and pushing your nightgown all the way off of your shoulders. a hand squeezes yours reassuringly the more fabric he peels away from your trembling frame. endearing praises, hushed whispers of ‘good girl,’ and ‘you’re so beautiful’, are written across your marked flesh in tobio’s signature too — all the while he remains careful, considerate of your wish as he presses wet, sloppy kisses onto the surface of your newly exposed skin. an almost pained gasp tears through your throat, stealing all of the air from your lungs, when your prince removed enough of your clothing to expose your breasts to the icy night air. a little more, and your soft, supple stomach is revealed too. 

apprehension tingles below your surface. you’ve never been naked in front of someone before, much less a person that you love. the feeling makes you instinctively cover up  — grip retreating from your loved one’s hair to wrap around the curve of your breasts. effectively shielding them from kageyama’s insatiable view. 

“don’t hide from me, my sweet love,” kageyama coos. “you’re so beautiful. i want to see and have all of you.” pulling your arms down until they rest at your sides, he’s quick to sooth you, an eager mouth immediately encapsulating your hardening nipples, tongue rolling over the circumference of your areola wetly. you can’t help but whimper, fingers jumping up like a twitch and tightening in his midnight locks whilst neither of you dare to look away — gazes locked with a key that’s been long thrown away.

the prince’s face flashes with heat while he languidly flicks at your nipples with the searing hot tip of his tongue, a dazed expression etched across the gentle slope of his handsome features, making him appear as a man who’s stumbled across an oasis — dying for water. his very face right now sets your core alight.

it would be distortion of the truth to say the look painted upon your own features didn’t rival tobio’s. there’s got to be tears somewhere or a glossy pout to match the light sheen of sweat dousing your body. either way, you know that you look a swivel-eyed mess — every touch, kiss, bite and pinch you receive from the crown prince accompanied by the unfamiliar twinge of lust you feel for your future husband currently smothering you into satiny sheets, drives you up a wall that was once many feet high. your blood boils hot, buzzing beneath your skin, so hot you might as well have a fever. it’s all so new for you, so overwhelmingly good that you could die here and be happy, slick and cherished. 

somewhere in the mess of your blistering hot limbs and lusty laments, kageyama bunches the skirts of your night dress at your middle and makes his veiny, large hand comfortable between the apexes of your thighs. you quiver violently and even make a darling noise as tobio goes on to prod a knuckle against the seat of your fresh underwear — chuckling almost mutely at the dampness that soils them in response. “oh princess,” kageyama swallows thickly, amused. “you’re soaking right through these already. poor thing.” 

the way in which the prince purrs down at you, eyes murky and hooded, tone superlicious with notes of superiority only serves to drag you further away from the light above. dragging you under the surface of a desire oh so sinful. 

you realise then that you’d be happy to drown in tobio kageyama.

whether you meant to let it out or not, a pathetic sniffle breaks free from the barriers of your pouty lips and clenched teeth — eliciting a sick and prideful sort of expression on the prince’s handsome face. a face that hardly ever moves or shows any emotion for the people of his kingdom. another secret to be kept between the two of you. this version of the charming prince revels in the way that you squirm against his knuckles and finger tips as they bully your swelling clit relentlessly. basks in the juices that darken your underwear despite the innocent gleam to the tears in your eyes. tears that have yet to fall.

“i can smell just how wet you are, princess,” 

shame begins to curl around your organs, but hardly wins the war against your brewing sexual appetite for the dark haired male licking a withering pathway from the valley of your breasts, down your stomach and over your belly button to the point just above your pelvis. “i-i’m sorry, my prince.” 

while tobio battles between torturing you and nurturing you, a hoarse groan loaded with desire vibrates around the cavity of his chest — vibrating through the bed and shooting to your spasaminf centre.  “don’t be, i take pride in knowing that i have this effect on you.” now settled between your shaky legs, your betrothed blows a bout of warm air against your sex, rubbing at you faster and harder until your thighs instinctively spread wide enough for his dirty-minded gaze. “so pretty, mmph.”

“y-you should…you should see the way you look…down there, my love.” bravely, you somehow manage to talk through your pockets of dulcet whimpers and poor attempts to fill your air with lungs. it’s hard to speak and difficult to breathe when kageyama is busy pressing two fingers to your clothed entrance, fucking the slight resistance of your treacly hole as streams of your premature arousal ruins your panties further. azure eyes loose their vibrant shade at the sight, gaze honed in on the newly defined shape of your puffy folds. 

you’re quick to throw an arm over your face in embarrassment afterwards, however, too afraid that you’ve spoken out of turn with the royal despite your improper predicament.

“oh? what a mouth you have there, sweetheart. how… endearing.” tobio smirks zealously, gaze momentarily flickering up towards your angelic face as it twists with uncharted bliss — all the while, he never stops pinching and rolling your clit, ensuring that you’re soaked through and trembling.  “i thought i told you not to hide, that i wanted to see you while i made you feel good,” he continues on, warning you whilst briefly stopping his assault on your slippery sex to push past the lace trimming on your underwear and teasingly pat the entirety of the treasure hidden behind it.

screwing your eyes shut and scrunching up your nose, your head flies back into the pillows while your thighs instinctively snapping closed around your betrothed’s hand — keeping him trapped against your cunt. “o-oh my gods, tobio!” you cry out loud enough to shake the earth down to its core. even with you whinging and writhing, he doesn’t stop touching you, further building on the pleasure at the base of your spine that threatens to explode. stroking you more and more, the more that you ooze. 

“sorry,” tobio laughs airly and presses a kiss to your inner thigh, using your moment of weakness to pull your limp arm away from your pinched, sweaty face. “such a pretty sound, when you cry out my name,” his kisses move higher, ghosting over your drenched underwear and pulsating pussy. “can you do me a favour, my love?” 

blinking slowly, you attempt to catch a breath in the moment of respite kageyama has given you. you’re hardly there as he tugs your panties off all the way, barely able to register the cool hair now hitting your sticky mound. “hmm?” 

“give me your hand,” he commands. you oblige, reaching for his own hand with the one that once covered your face. you let the crown prince manoeuvre you as he pleases — nearly jolting out of your skin when you feel your own rough padded fingertips brush over your clit. “touch yourself for me.” 

“w-what?” your teary eyes, nearly overcome with sleep, fly wide open in shock. you struggle to sit up where kageyama keeps you pinned. 

he smiles. one of those smiles saved only for you.  “touch yourself for me, i’d like to know how my future wife likes it.” he repeats simply, guiding three of your fingers to gingerly circle your throbbing pleasure bud. “like you would if you were alone. i know that you’ve indulged before, i can see it on your face…”

now is no time to be nervous, after all, for the last thirty minutes your crown prince has had you spread wide open and a mess beneath his skillful fingers — scenting him with the slick from your cunt. although you’ve hardly had the time to touch yourself in the past, between the dizzying demands of your cruel step-mother and her petulant children, you’re able to remember what your body likes. what you like. what gets you there the fastest — and now that you have your own prince to fuel your desires, you no longer need to imagine what it’s like to be claimed. owned. fucked.

free from kageyama’s restraint, you shuffle into a sitting position and timidly circle your clit as it pulses with the rapid beat of your heart. you hiss involuntarily and the dark haired male lets out a surprising, withering whimper — laser focused on how you ooze like a tap with running water. 

“thank you for indulging me,” with pools of marina trench blue engrossed by the way you start to move, the soft jut of your hips into your fingers and the way you bite down on your plump shiny lips to keep the whines in — kageyama presses a wet chaste kiss to the back of your arousal soaked hand and then shuffles to sit back on his haunches. kicking off his briefs and other clothes, he knees on his bed — fighting the urge to blush as you watch his cock spring free.  

he stands tall, erect. tan tip flushed against his creamy pale skin as he leaks a fresh wave of precum all over his tense tummy. just as tobio takes a hold of himself, you push two fingers past the tight ring of your unused entrance — immediately curling them to find the familiar pleasure spots clinging to your sluice walls. like a biological instinct, his hips buck upwards, looking for friction to ease the burn in his erection — blood carrying lusty hormones straight to his leaky tip, keeping him hard.

he’s begging to be touched and you need some motivation. 

scissoring your dainty digits, you work yourself open — fucking your cunt silly, faster and faster the less nervous you become in front of your lover. “t-tobio!” you slur, lashes fluttering against your cheeks while you drench yourself in your own slick. your juices begin to splash against the insides of your supple thighs, wetting them like your tongue wets your lips as you lick them — hungrily waiting for kageyama to do something. anything. “tobi…please! n-need to see you…d-do it too…”

“well since you asked so nicely, my love,” the prince finally takes to palming himself, rolling the pad of his thumb over his blazing mushroomed tip — tapping at the string of precum gathering in its centre. he uses it as lube, squeezing himself to the ruthless rhythm of your cunt spasming around your fingers. matching your pace as if to mimic the way he’s going to fuck you. he looks so pretty and flushed — it pulls whistle tone bleats from between your trembling lips. his midnight blue and stormy eyes cloud with desire at every sound you and your slick hole make, those very sounds thick like molasses as they run through his ears. rotting kageyama from the inside out.  

a house of pleasure built by bricks of bliss builds up at the base of your spine — cemented together and supported by tobio’s constant praise and encouragement. a little faster love. such a good girl. ride those pretty little fingers for me. you’re driven by the sight of his dick in his hand, jerking on it cor dear life and spreading webs of white up and down his shaft with each flick of his wrist. his balls are heavy; loaded with cum that he’s saved all for you; it’s predecessor smeared thickly over his thighs and sheets. maybe you stare for a little too long, locking eyes with the prince carnally, because he laughs over the erotic sounds of your squelching sexes and unified moans.

“it’s fair in size, i know,” he says gruffly, gritting his perfect white teeth — stopping his mouth from watering at your body jerking and your fingers that pull out of your tight heat to trace the length of your juicy slit. “but i’ll make it fit on our wedding night,” kageyama thrusts upwards just as your two of your digits sink back into your creamy clenching cunt. “that’s a promise…fuuuck…”

tears tiptoe over the edge of your waterline in response to the filth pouring from tobio’s mouth, streaking a hot part down the apples of your cheeks that now glisten under the high moon. “that’s what i want; for you to fill me… like no one else,” you sour over the saliva pooling in your mouth — no better than the man himself as you tease your thoroughly fucked cunt, bearing down on your own g-spot. “w-would you… will you cum inside?” you ask over the lewd sounds echoing from your squishy insides as they ring out into the sex tainted air. they form the perfect melody with kageyama’s rough groans and laments, increasing in octave the deeper your digits reach into your pussy. 

your elbows threaten to give out and kageyama can tell that you’re trying so hard to sit up and watch him. pride swells in his chest at your vision, a hand between your pudgy thighs and your salacious curves all on display just for him. your skin; marked with beautiful scars and stretch marks glimmering with a light layer of perspiration. you’re perfect, like an angel sent from heaven to watch over him. and he’s so lucky to have found you. “you’d like that, wouldn’t you. if i creamed that princess cunt of yours, filled you with my seed. bred you until you were carrying an heir. all. for. me.” punctuating his horny rambling, the prince bucks his hips into his soiled fist — stuttering as he goes. “got s-such a filthy mouth on you love, you’ll ruin me with it.”

he’s close. the both of you are. if tobio kageyama falls from grace now, you’ll be right there with him.

you nod rapidly, holding back a choked sob as the bedding below your shaking legs darkens from how your juices spill everywhere. “i want your heir, i want your seed, i want your…oh gods!” tipping your head back, the tail end of your words die in a high pitched squeal that dances in the buzzing air between you. everything burns with how close your release is. you drag your forehand up to your bare chest to you with your nipples — tugging on them harshly. anything to impress your lover, get him close too. 

“want my what?” the dark haired prince howls, squeezing the base of his girth. “so greedy and you’re not even a princess yet. punish yourself for me, love. smack that pretty pussy for me — s’pecially if you won’t finish your words.” tobio’s words waft over your mind like a fog over a swamp, pulling a veil of impurity over any remaining thoughts you might have had. dopamine crackles around in your emptied skull, twirling around the ring of your fluttering hole. you gush and gush and gush, pouring the royal family’s future riches out onto the bed like an endless stream of erotica when you pull out from your selfish heat. “come on, love, keep movin’ for me… slap that pretty princess cunt. make your prince proud.” 

“tobio!” you mewl for the millionth time under the midnight moon and bring your hand down against your mound in a harsh slap, kageyama’s entire body shuddering at the loud wail you let out. like a songbird chirping for him in the morning. a stream of your juices fly up your arm, glaze the apex of your thighs like icing on a cake as a result. some even reaching the prince himself — drawing a languid lament from him. “s-so close…think i’m going to…”

you cut yourself off, spanking your pussy again and again and again until the prince’s head is heavy with the sound of your broken whines and pap of your sex replaying repeatedly in his mind. “oh you’re so good, so perfect for me love,” his cock twitches, an incredulous amount of his seed waiting for you. his lucky love, his beautiful betrothed, his princess to be. “me too, love. me too, me too, me too,” he’s right behind you, tobio trying to keep his cool and his movements steady but lasciviousness coagulates in the tone of his unsteady voice while he fucks his hand like a mock up of your pussy. “c’mere, beautiful. come here.” 

despite commanding you, kageyama reaches you first — his lean frame collapsing over you as if to shield your sins from the world. the seedy tip of his cock presses hotly against the length of your slit, right over your fingers still moving swiftly over your throbbing cunt. you feel everything, overwhelmed by the humid air between your sweaty bodies — the prince’s lips as they capture yours and the pulsing veins twisting around his cock decoratively. 

the dark haired heir to the thrown continues to gist the base of his erection  — freehand grasping desperately onto the headboard to steady himself as his high quickly approaches. your own freehand finds purchase on the bag of his neck, toying with the damp baby hairs there while the two of you exchange loving, lasting lip-locks. tasting the affection and sweat on one another’s Cupid’s bows. 

it’s this way that the two of you reach your climaxes. it hits you like a thunderstorm over an ocean, dragging you under the surface of white hot bliss. the bricks that were building high walls of pleasure in your lower tummy come crashing down with your orgasm — and you know then that they were either never steady or that tobio kageyama was the only one strong enough to break them down. you cum hard, juices splashing out onto the sheets, painting your lover’s shaft and expelling a musky sent into the heavy air. you scream as it washes over you — souring the man above you on.

“gods…fuck, my love. i love you, love you, love you.” tobio makes the fall not long after you, finishing himself off right over your clit — nudging his cockhead against your abused mound until viscous droplets of milky white cover it, seeping between your fat pussy lips. he cant help but look as he floods your slit with seed, choking on a moan at the sight and releasing the poor headboard from his clutches. “you’re so perfect,” he peppers your face with smooches, all of them gentle and carefully placed to soothe you. even as they cascade down your neck, sternum and eventually hover over your sensitive sex. “i c-can’t stop now, have to taste you.”

not a drop of cum, from you or from tobio, will be wasted tonight.

securing his grip on the globes of your ass, kageyama pulls you into his impatient and eager tongue. he starts by opening wide, slotting his mouth against the entirety of your ruined folds — immediately sucking all of the cum and juices from them and moaning as if they’re the first flavours to hit his tongue after being starved for a millennia. the vibrations make you spiral and arch from the bed, reaching for the high heavens. the tip of his tongue wriggles past your slick entrance, the movement eased by how your fingers stretched you out. it flickers in an upward motion, making you see stars like those of the Milky Way between sloppy and uncoordinated kisses.

he’s eating you out for not just your pleasure, but his own, hungry and rabid — filling you up as you cry and cry at the overstimulation. you taste so good, the prince will drink you dry if he has to. tobio slurps what you leak, pushing his saliva in and out of your messy hole while you keenly rut into his face — effectively covering his puffy lips and chin in liquid gold. your own face feels tight and hot, throat raw from moaning so loud. 

your betrothed can't help but moan with you in tandem, whimpering pathetically at every roll of your cunt onto his tongue — forcing him to eat his cum out of you. “tobi, it feels… it feels—!” you pant and grasp at his sweaty hair — tugging him further into your cunt, making him wriggle deeper inside, against pleasure points you had no idea existed along your own ribbed walls. he latches onto your clit and rolls it between his teeth mercilessly until your nails are clawing at his scalp and the air in your throat escapes you. 

rapture tears you apart and pieces you back together all in one — evident in the way your cunt gushes into his mouth like a fruitful stream. there’s no room to breathe or cope between kageyama’s tongue pinned to your clit and the content gripes he lets out between your soaked thighs. by now he’s probably cleaned his release from you, yours too but he doesn’t dare stop until he’s replaced the mess with a new orgasm from you.

briefly, the prince pulls away from your pussy — tied to you by a rope of cloudy elixir leaked from your hole. a mix of him and you. a visual representation of your union to one. “such a good girl,” he snarls so deep you hardly recognise, but it makes you clench around nothing — pushing cum you didn’t know was there out of your entrance. “chase that feeling, don’t let it go, love.” he goads, spreading your thighs apart even more just to watch the webs of your arousal form and break apart. “so messy… are you close for me, princess?” 

you nod rapidly, tearily, and kageyama sighs dreamily, licking your lips at the sight of your mound glistening under the night’s natural light. he licks you up and down with fever and newfound video — focused on pushing you over the edge once more. the crown prince hooks his strong arms around your thighs and anchors you to his hot, hardworking mouth because he knows that you’re so shaky from the euphoria pulsing in your bloodstream that you’re too weak to do it on your own.  

your betrothed tongues his words wetly into your overstimulated sex. “show me how messy you can get, princess. make my face wet with it. so sticky. so good.” 

“c-cumming! tobio…please!” with a high pitched squeal, your release hits you just as the world around you fades to white and tobio is with you right the way through. his pink tongue flicks at your sluice sex hungrily, brushing over your g-spot to guide you to the other side of your high. it shoots out of you in clear streams, dousing the man between your legs in everything that belongs to you. like some form of ownership. 

you screw your eyes shut to stop the static buzzing behind them. your jaw goes slack and your body falls limp, you tremble so hard that kageyama has to reach up and scoop you into his arms to calm you down. a soft grip tilts your chin towards him as he kisses you once again, allowing you to suck your own flavour from his tongue and eventually settles between your legs. hugging you close to him. 

“i love you,” you bleat gently, finally coming to. how could you not. he’s your prince charming and he’s shown you that he feels the same. 

kageyama shifts, expression melting into one of those special smiles for you. “i love you…” 

for some reason, you feel the need to return the favour — reaching down between your bodies and intertwined limbs for his cock which you know is hardening again. but the dark haired prince is quick to grab your wrist, bringing it up to his swollen lips for a gentle kiss against your pulse point. “don’t,” he mutters against the skin there, tasting your sweat with a teasing lick. “sleep, my princess. we’ll have plenty of time to learn the rest later. on our wedding night, remember.” 

the prince wriggles his eyebrows, eliciting sleepy and heartfelt laughter from you. “but—“

“an eternity, remember.” he reaches for your other hand and laces your fingers firmly. a reminder that he’s never leaving you. not now. not ever. “you are to be my wife, in my arms where you belong and away from your cruel past. i want you as you are and will teach you whatever you want to know. just rest, for now. sleep my love.”

you remain silent for just a moment, mind racing with a million things to say. though, for tonight, you settle on but one thing — despite having said it a million times tonight. “i love you, my prince.” you whisper tiredly, cupping his handsome face with adoration.

“and i, you. forever more, my princess.” your lover, tobio kageyama, parrots back to you tenderly. the clock strikes for once for an hour past midnight — indicating your new chance at life, that you’ve stayed at the ball beyond the twelfth stroke of the clock  and you feel your eyes getting heavy, drifting off in your prince charming’s arms.

the end.

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2024. do not copy, repost, translate, feed into ai & recommend elsewhere.

[squiddy-god]

Captured

(King! Malleus x reader)

Re upload from terminated blog squid-god-supreme, so the way that this is written, kind of makes it confusing, but basically Malleus is king, reader is not yuu, I wrote this based on a piece of art that I saw that I doubt I will ever be able to find again, but I want to so bad, because it was so good

CW : a little bit of Yan! Malleus, implied kidnapping, short.

Maybe old legends have merit, to not cry wolf, to not throw stones in glass houses, and most of all not to trust cold hands that spin sweet tales, or the elegant faces of looming fairies. Yes most of all to not trust a gift to be given without a price to be paid.

To not drink wine brewed with magic and desire, and to not eat bread with hungring beasts. To not catch the eye of a king long broken by a lonely heart. Yes, that rule of old is most hallowed of all. 

Perhaps the head atop which sat a gilded crown thought of guilt. Thought to ask not your forgiveness with empty words but how to make it right. 

Atop that head and obsidian tresses cascading like rivers black however, was a pair of horns. That head thought not of guilt but of joy that the heart beating behind cageing ribs would now be devoid of loneliness.

Rivers of tar colored feathers gave way to a silhouette slender and looming. Like the moon he, the lonely king, loomed over the sleeping body of the one he fancied his lover. How so enchanting candle light sculpted your face, and how so haunting was the glass goblet reflecting that same light. 

How gentle the fabric lye on your body, so still but so warm. How harsh the red spill of that wine on the floor.   

he had you now, captured and tricked by the gift he gave. He, the lonely king of fairies and of thorns had you now his slumbering lover, his sleeping beauty from old tales of love. 

As the scene removed from glamor once again showed only your small cottage and the candles flickered out to wisps of smoke, the lonely king took up into his arms the dreaming form of his dream come true.

And when you awake you will truly be at the castle he spoke of, and the lovely illusion he showed you will be illusion no more.

Yes heed tales of caution, do not deal with fae folk. Do not dance in moonlight with that shadowed figure tall and slim, do not trace the curves of his grooved horns or sip the wine his cold hands offer. Do not hear the tales he tells as before your eyes your home becomes his. Do not seit his lonely heart no matter how it may ache for he may wish and dream to whisk you away. 

Heed these tales as the wine passes your lips and the glass falls to the floor alongside you. As the magic fades with your vision and your cottage returns from castle walls never truly having left. As that figure you've befriended, that lonely king you've loved, looms at the dream he's now captured.

[sanctus-ingenium]

another one of these posts lol... sketches vs final. not much changed for these ones, i kind of went into them with a very solid mental image already in my head. all of these were done start to finish in procreate

thoughts below the cut

horse fight .... this is based off a really really beautiful sky i saw while driving home one evening. i'm really proud of getting the colours i saw exactly right, this kind of greenish yellow fading to dark blue and with grey clouds low over it that looked very dark against the yellow by the horizon, but very pale against the dark blue.

i thought it would be a cool backdrop to draw a scene i've been thinking about for a while. The little cartoony horses are there to provide some tonal whiplash but also because these are two immortal shapeshifters who can fight violently without it being a huge deal. the little horses represent the actual gravity of the fight (that is, kind of a slap fight between two drama queens) which contrasts with the visuals of two animals brutally tearing at eachother. also i got the two horses at the bottom mixed up, Pascal is the one with the skinny plumed tail and Macha has a more traditional horse tail and i put them on the wrong sides.

i had a LOT of trouble shading this. i didn't want the horses to be too shiny but that meant a much lower contrast in shading and even with my screen brightness turned up i could barely see what i was doing. but i wanted it to read as realistic. mixed results i think. if i did it again i might try a different shading style because this one didn't really do it for me

--

spooky van!!! the post i deleted by accident (rip. i will repost it soon). this is a picture of the barrow (the field) taking a different shape - in this case a cool van. the van contains every single thing the field does (including the human victims that get lost in there...) but compressed down into a manageable shape. the void is Pascal because the field is inside him. he did this for his human bf to provide novel way to travel through the Otherworld. don't ask how this works like, spatially, because the answer is: i don't do hard magic systems in this setting

i loooove shading things with pencil hatching and i really like contrasting it with smooth colours/shading so that's mainly what i did here. it was simple enough. the van is of course heavily referenced and i wish i had been able to stylise it a little more.. maybe next time. i want to draw a kind of cutaway illustration of the van showing exterior and interior (like an old blueprint schematic), which i might use as a cover for the book/comic/whatever but that will require a very intimidating level of precision so i think i'll work up to that.

--

RUA magazine. this is my third time doing a rua magazine cover (first time posting tho). this is an in-universe magazine distributed throughout the Otherworld to an audience of fairies. in the sketch, the illustation was originally the King of Pentacles tarot card (the pentacle being the disco ball). but i decided to make a different King of Pentacles card for him instead, since I try hard to move away from symmetrical composition for the tarot cards (it's boring). so i repurposed this one into another magazine cover. like i said Pascal is a self-absorbed attention whore and has a habit of giving bullshit interviews just so that he can be on the cover as much as possible. he dresses like this all the time (the year is 2017)

the disco ball took 15 years off my life and it's not even the first disco ball i've drawn! i finished my actual king of pentacles card before i finished the rua cover sketch, so i can show u this

which is much better even if i did reference so heavily that it isn't exactly stylised. but this card needs some serious revision before i even think about posting it. i'm just not happy with his face.

original intent was for it be mysterious with emphasis on the neon lights but it ended up far more suggestive than i expected. that's life!

[spectrum-color]

So we all know GRRM, like all authors, took a lot of inspo from real life fairy tales, religion, and mythology. There are a ton of parallels but I picked out a few to put in this poll

Propaganda: Before anyone says anything, I know a lot of these are dark spins on the original. I’m not trying to say Littlefinger is a handsome prince or whatever. Also note that some of this is based on either things that haven’t happened yet but are highly likely to happen in Winds/Dream up to and including being confirmed by GRRM.

Arya and Jaqen as Hades and Persephone-the young maiden of spring is found by the lord of the underworld, who gives her an object (in this case a coin) to trick her into being trapped in the world of the dead. When she leaves home, winter comes, but when she returns, so does spring.

Sansa as Rapunzel-a princess locked in a tower by an evil sorceress (or just queen) who is spirited away by a man who wants to marry her. Strong focus on her hair as a symbol of her identity.

The Brotherhood Without Banners as Robin Hood and his Merry Men-a band of outlaws who defend the common people against corrupt authority figures. This one is really self explanatory.

Cersei as the evil queen and Margaery/Sansa/eventually Dany as Snow White-a vain, cruel women terrified of her beauty fading and being replaced by a younger woman who outshines her, so she tries to destroy her perceived rival, ultimately leading to her own downfall. The girls in Snow Whites slot are the popular choices for the identity of the YMBQ and the one Cersei is currently convinced it is.

Jaime and Brienne as Beauty and the Beast-a double subversion. Jaime is handsome and Brienne is ugly, but when they meet she’s brave and kind while he’s selfish and cruel, so it’s the beast who helps the beauty be better.

Lyanna, Rhaegar, and Robert as Helen of Troy, Paris, and Menelaus-a beautiful woman fiercely desired by two powerful men, she either runs off with or is kidnapped by a prince, leading to her (soon to be) husband retaliating by starting a tragic war.

Stannis and Shireen as Agammemon and Iphegenia-a king and commander sacrifices his daughter to the gods to win a war. Bonus if this ends up causing Stannis’ downfall.

Lady Stoneheart as Demeter-a mother wanders the land bringing destruction and misery as she searches for her daughter(s.) When her daughters return to her, spring comes.

Cersei and Jaimes children as the emperor wearing no clothes-the emperor walks around naked insisting that he’s a wearing magic invisible outfit, but everyone is afraid to tell him the truth until finally a child points out that he’s wearing nothing at all. See: everyone pretending not to notice that Cerseis children are the result of incest with her brother, and Ned finally realizing the truth when his 11 year old daughter points out that Joffrey is nothing like Robert.

Bran as the Fisher King-the Fisher King is a character from Arthurian myth. He is the guardian of the magical holy grail, protecting it so it (and power) does not fall into the hands of the unworthy. Notably, he also has a deliberating injury to his legs or groin (depending on the version.) Of course the endgame Bran of the show is a blatant rip-off of Leto II from Children of Dune, but I think the Fisher King sounds more like GRRM would do.

Dany as Moses-a leader who has prophetic visions, who after performing a miracle, frees her people from slavery and leads them on a harsh journey to a new land. Notably regarded as a critically important figure by a monotheistic religion.

[dovesdreaming]

Wish upon a hook

Summary: You couldn’t grant peoples wishes like your mother could but you always asked them what there wish was. Little did you know you were Harry hooks wish.

A/N: thank you so much for 400 followers! <3

Request

Masterlist

-

Being the daughter of the Blue Fairy came with certain expectations. People saw you as a beacon of hope and kindness, a gentle spirit who brought light into the darkest places. Your mother had instilled in you the importance of using your magic to help others, to grant wishes and make the world a better place, one act of kindness at a time.

In Auradon, you were known for your generosity. You didn’t have your mother’s full power to grant any wish, but you had a special kind of magic of your own. You could help people find what they truly needed, whether it was a little encouragement, a moment of comfort, or sometimes, something more tangible. You were always willing to listen, always there to help. But even with all your light, there was one place your magic had never reached, the Isle of the Lost. When King Ben announced the integration of the Isle kids into Auradon, you had been one of the few who were genuinely excited. You’d heard so many stories of how terrible the children of villains were supposed to be, but you didn’t believe in judging people by their parents. Everyone deserved a chance to find their own path, to make their own wishes come true. You were determined to help them, even if no one else did. Which was how you found yourself face-to-face with Harry Hook.

It was a sunny afternoon at Auradon Prep, and you were taking a break by the fountain, enjoying the sound of the water as it splashed down into the pool below. The students were bustling about, and there was a sense of excitement in the air with the arrival of the Isle kids. You noticed them scattered around, their expressions wary and uncertain, like they didn’t quite belong. Your heart went out to them. They looked so out of place, and you couldn’t help but wish there was something you could do to make them feel more at home. That was when you saw him.

Harry Hook was leaning against the wall, his usual swagger evident even as he stood still. His coat hung loosely from his shoulders, and his hook glinted in the sunlight as he watched the other students with a smirk. He looked so different from everyone else, like he was daring them to say something, to judge him. You knew about Harry. People whispered about him, warned you to stay away from him and his dangerous ways. But you didn’t see danger when you looked at him. You saw someone who had been dealt a rough hand and was just trying to find his way in a place that seemed to resent him for even existing. So, naturally, you decided to approach him.

With a deep breath, you made your way over, your blue dress swaying slightly as you walked. Harry noticed you immediately, his eyes narrowing in suspicion as you stopped a few feet away from him. “Hello” you said, offering him a gentle smile. “I’m [Y/N]”. Harry raised an eyebrow, his hook tapping against his side. “Aye, I know who ye are”. His voice was thick with his Scottish accent, and there was a hint of curiosity behind the wariness. “Ye’re the Blue Fairy’s lass, aren’t ye?”. You nodded, your smile not faltering. “That’s right. I’m glad to finally meet you, Harry”. He scoffed, his smirk returning as he crossed his arms. “Are ye now? And what would a lass like ye want with someone like me?”. You shrugged, unbothered by his attitude. “I just wanted to say hello. I know it must be difficult, being here. It’s a lot to get used to”.

Harry’s smirk faded a little, and he eyed you suspiciously. “Ye think I need yer pity?”, “Not at all” you replied softly. “I think you’re strong enough to handle anything. But that doesn’t mean it’s easy”. He looked at you for a long moment, like he was trying to figure out what game you were playing. But when he couldn’t find any trace of mockery or pity in your eyes, his expression softened just slightly. “And what would ye know about it, lass?” he asked, his voice quieter, almost thoughtful. You tilted your head, considering your words carefully. “Maybe not much” you admitted. “But I know that everyone has wishes, things they want more than anything. And I try to help, whenever I can”. Harry’s eyes gleamed with something unreadable. “Wishes, eh? Ye think ye can grant wishes?” “Not like my mother can@ you said with a small laugh. “But sometimes, just listening, just trying to help, is enough”.

He looked at you, really looked at you, as if he couldn’t quite believe you were real. You could almost see the gears turning in his mind, like he was deciding whether to trust you or not. Finally, he let out a short laugh, shaking his head. “Yer a strange one, lass. Kindness like yers, it’s dangerous on the Isle”. You smiled softly. “We’re not on the Isle anymore, Harry”. His gaze flickered, a shadow passing over his eyes. “Aye, but the Isle’s still in us”. There was a depth in his words, a pain that you could feel even without him saying more. It made your heart ache for him, for all of them. You wished you could take that pain away, could make things better with a wave of your hand. But that wasn’t how your magic worked. Instead, you did what you could. You stepped closer, looking up at him with earnest eyes. “Is there anything I can do for you, Harry? Anything you wish for?”

He stared at you, his eyes searching your face like he was looking for something he wasn’t sure he’d find. And then, with a smirk that was both teasing and serious, he leaned down, his face inches from yours. “Aye, lass” he murmured, his voice a low rumble. “There is somethin I would like. It’s my secret for now ask me again in a few months”. His eyes sparkled with mischief and with that he turned to walk away only looking back to smirk at your confused expression. What had you gotten yourself into?

After a few months of the isle kids being at Auradon you had grown close to a few of them, one in particular being none other than Harry hook. He had become a good friend, someone you could rely on in moments of need. You would have never expected to have become so close to him after all the whispers you had heard about him, yet here you were. Friends with Harry and wishing you could make him like you back. Alas you would settle for whatever he gave you and if all that was is friendship, so be it.

You were sat down in the gardens under a tree with Harry having a lazy day in the sun when you remembered your first encounter and how he never answered your question. “Hey, Harry?” “Yes lass?” He slowly turned to you opening one eye. “You never answered my question. What do you wish for?” He stared at you before opening his other eye and readjusting his position so he was turned more towards you. He smirked before easily saying “I want you”. You blinked, your heart skipping a beat as his words sank in. “I’m sorry, what?” Harry’s grin widened, and he straightened up, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Ye heard me. I want ye”.

You felt your cheeks heat up, and you tried to gather your thoughts, stumbling over your words. “Harry, I-I don’t think that’s… what I meant”. He chuckled, clearly enjoying your flustered reaction. “Oh, I know, lass. But ye asked, and I answered”. You stared at him, your mind racing. Was he serious? Was he teasing? You couldn’t tell, and it was driving you crazy. “You can’t just… say things like that!” you finally managed, your voice coming out more breathless than you intended. Harry shrugged, looking entirely too pleased with himself. “Why not? It’s the truth. I want ye, [Y/N]. Been my wish since I saw ye that day”. Your heart was pounding in your chest, and you couldn’t look away from him, from the way he was looking at you like you were the only thing that mattered.

“I… I don’t know what to say,” you whispered. He reached out with his hook, gently lifting your chin so you were forced to meet his gaze. His eyes were serious now, the teasing glint gone as he spoke. “Ye don’t have to say anythin’, lass. Just think about it”. He released you from the prison of his gaze. Moving back with a small, almost shy smile before standing up. “I’ll be around, if ye ever decide to grant that wish”. And with that, he turned and walked away, leaving you sitting under the willow tree, your heart racing and your mind spinning.

You had been having a care free day but somehow, Harry Hook had turned your world upside down with just a few words. And for the first time in your life, you found yourself having your own wish granted. Something, or rather, someone you’d never expected. As your mind finally caught up to what had happened you realised you had to catch up to Harry before he got too far away.

-

Thank you for reading!

[giggly-squiggily]

A Demon's Only Weakness (Cafe Enchante) **Tickletober2024**

Happy Tickletober! For the final prompt of the weekly challenge, I bring you Cafe Enchante! :D Originally I was gonna make something with Lynette and Allan, but one look at Misyr and boom- my heart was sold! Tickles to and from the trickster demon! >:D

Kotone narrowed her eyes, suspicious.

While Misyr rather loved that cute look on her face, he knew it usually followed with trouble. “How can I help you, my princess?”

“Are you sure you have no weaknesses?” Her question surprised him, his cheeky grin fading into wide eyes as her own narrowed more. “It seems odd that everyone else here does, but not you?”

“What can I say? I am the demon king.” His silly grin returned as he leaned forward, resting against his balled fists. They were basically nose to nose now. “Of course, the sight of a cute girl such as yourself is up there for things that make me falter.”

Rolling her eyes, she pretended she wasn’t blushing as she leaned back in her seat, folding her arms in thought. “I say this with only love, but I don’t fully believe you.”

“I say this with only love, but you really shouldn’t.” He winked, laughing at her raised brows. “Cute baristas such as yourself should be careful around trickster demons like me. We could be telling lies and making you believe fairy tales.”

“You sound like Mister Rindou.” She chided, grinning at his disgruntled look. “So what you’re saying is you do in fact have a weakness?”

“Maybe I do.” He waggled his brows. “Maybe I don’t. Who’s to say?”

“Oh you!” She huffed, standing up to put their cups away. Ever evasive- Misyr loved to mess with her at every chance he got. Not that she necessarily minded it; a small part of her loved the attention. It did funny things to her chest. “I’ll find it- that weakness of yours!”

His content hum was muffled as she put the cups in the sink, Kariya taking them and washing them automatically. She would have insisted on doing it had her mind not been busy. “What kind of weakness would the King of Demons even have? Surely there’s got to be something.”

“Maybe he’s afraid of something? Like bugs?” Kariya offered, putting the last cup away and drying his hands. “Canus despises bugs.”

“No, Misyr doesn’t seem the type. Besides, even if that were to be true, it’s far too mean to exploit.” It was just her and Kariya in the kitchen- no point in pretending otherwise. “Ideally I’d hope it would be something harmless to him. Something he can find amusement in as well.”

“Hmmm..tickling?” Kariya offered, shrugging at her stare. “What? We’re all weak to it- what makes him so special?”

Misyr Rex? Ticklish? A demon king…Kotone hummed, looking out to where he sat in his usual spot. It was so silly- but Kariya did make a good point. They were all ticklish, non-humans included. Would it really be that farfetched of a weakness?

Kotone reached over and pulled Kariya to her, kissing his brow in thanks. “If this works- and I somehow survive- I’ll make you whatever you want.” He waved her off with a blush and a smile, calling out that he’ll keep her to that promise as she skittered back to the cafe.

Here goes nothing, she supposed.

~~~ “Aww, I was hoping you’d bring me another cup.” Misyr mock pouted upon Kotone’s return, finding no fresh brew in hand. “Though I suppose I didn’t request a refill. That’s quite alright- just having your adorable face in my vision is more than enough.”

“You’re too sweet.” She laughed, hoping it hid her nerves. How exactly was she supposed to do this? There was something about Misyr that felt so..otherworldly. Would grabbing his ribs really get the reaction she desired?

Her gut told her no, so she looked at him more closely, slowly moving forward until she was basically standing before him, close enough she could see the varying shades of purple in his hair.

“While I do find this position rather alluring, we’d better refrain ourselves.” Misyr spoke in a hushed whisper, his hands resting on her hips as his eyes twinkled. “There are children present, and the gents might return at any moment.”

“Hmmm..” She ignored his question, taking in the various parts of him. Her eyes lingered on his horns, the curve of them and the tuffs of purple that nearly hid them out of plain sight. Without a second thought, she reached out and ran her fingers against the curve.

“Koto-NEE!” Misyr’s words were suddenly cut off by a squeak, his entire body jumping like it was electrocuted. He gaped at her with wide eyes, a hint of a blush passing over his cheeks at the sound he let out.

Kotone blinked at him. Then, with a smile so cheeky and devious you’d mistake her for the demon queen, she ran her fingers very gently over them again, going for both horns this time. “Found your weakness~”

“Ahehaha! Nhoohohoh! Noohohoh, pleahhahahase! Whahahait, thahahhat’s-Aheahhahhah!” Misyr was a mess of giggles, squirming beneath her ever feathery touch. Trapped on his stool with her body blocking his escape route, all he could do was duck and weave, giggling more and more at the feeling. “It tihihihihickles! Aheahahhahha!”

“I believe that’s the point. How come you didn’t tell me you were so ticklish?” She ran her fingers down to the base of his horns, scratching at the skin connecting there. Misyr nearly flailed backwards at the touch- his laughter spiking up a few notches. “You’re so cute!”

“Aheahahahhahah! I cahahhahn’t goohoohoh around shahahahring thihihis! I’d dihihihiihie!” Misyr cackled out, gently encasing her wrists within his hands and pulling them back. Gasping for air, he tried to give her the sternest glare he could muster, but it was immediately ruined by his giggle fits. “Fihihihine, fihihine, I have one weakness! Just the ohoohohne. Happy?”

“Very.” She nodded, proud of her little discovery. “I found a way to tame the great demon king!”

“Oh, tame me did you?” Misyr pulled her sharply into him, making her gasp. He stood, towering over her and speeding her heartbeat up to likely unsafe conditions. “Are you sure about that?”

“M-Misyr?” She tried to lean back, but his grip was firm. Behind her, she could hear Kariya trying to sneak off- making his way towards the front door. “Now let’s talk this through…”

“A little late for that.” He never took his eyes off her as he reached up, snapping his fingers. Kariya’s whispered curse and the jangling of the knob confirmed they were locked in. “Don’t think you’re about to get away from me, little snow fairy- I know you had a hand in this.”

“Misyr, don’t you even dar-ehehehehehahahahah! Kahahahariya, ruuhuhuhn!” Kotone broke out into giggles when her ribs were suddenly grabbed, Misyr’s fingers skillfully drawing out each laugh. “Sahhahahve yohohohourself!”

“Kotone- I’ll go get help!” Kariya dashed for the others, but the second he ran by the door leaning to the back, hands shot out and grabbed him, pulling him out of view. Seconds later, his screams joined hers- quickly dissolving into laughter. “Nohohohohohohohohoho!”

“Oh how I love causing mischief.” Misyr cackled in devious delight, pulling Kotone up and onto the coffee counter, tickling the entire time. “Didn’t I warn you earlier, my princess? You have to be careful around demons like me.”

“Ahehahahahah! I’ll gehehehhet yohoohohohu bahhahahack!” Her fingers tried scribbling into his ribs, and while it did make him falter some, it wasn’t enough to set her free. “Mihihihiihsyr pleahahhaahhase!”

“I’m sure you’ll get me back one day.” Misyr leaned in as she fell back, planting a gentle kiss against her smiling lips. “Just not today.”

Thanks for reading!

[dnsleif]

malleus draconia x reader. 1.7k words, hurt no comfort disguised as hurt/comfort kinda im sorrryyyyyyy, yandere-ish but its literally just how malleus is in canon so lol, BOOK 7 PART 3 SPOILERS

Green flames take over your vision, followed by the sight of Malleus in front of you.

Everything is hazy from there on out, from the words the Briar Valley prince says, to the yelling coming from your friends in Diasomnia, to the loud beeping and Ortho’s warning that goes unheard from your ears.

The dorm seems to be in a mess of chaos, a panicked state that is overtaking everyone but you. You’re not sure why the scenes before you seem to be playing out in slow-motion, or why the faces you see are blurred and the voices you hear are jumbled together.

The only thing you can see clearly is the horned fairy whose facial expressions are slowly morphing into a Malleus Draconia you’ve never seen before, a part of himself that he’s worked hard to keep hidden deep in the caverns of his very being.

There’s more screaming. Malleus is yelling now, presumably—you can’t exactly hear the exchange. But you can see the pained look on his face and the way his mouth moves in such a hurried and frantic manner.

You thought that, perhaps, you were one of the only people in the world who knew every side to Malleus Draconia. The only person who knew his pet peeves and his loneliness and everything in his heart.

But with the scene unfolding in front of you, you came to the realization that there was no way that could be true. There was a side of Malleus that not even you had seen before, a side that perhaps he didn’t want you to see. But somehow it hurts. It hurts that you’re seeing him like this and it hurts that you can’t do anything to ease the pain he’s feeling now.

Even if you wanted to reach out, wanted to console him, to take his face in your hands and let him know that you’d always be there for him, you couldn’t. Not with the way bodies upon bodies are running out in front of you towards the fairy, ready to attack. Not when it feels like your feet are too heavy for your own body to carry.

And just like that, the haziness becomes all the more apparent as your surroundings are suddenly shrouded in a green hue. You can just barely make out the sight of ebony vines, covered in thorns, snaking their way across the room.

Your eyes are closing, your consciousness fading, mind becoming even more cloudy than before.

Before the last bit of your consciousness slips away from you, you’re suddenly aware of the sleeping bodies beside you. The faces of your friends, the people you’ve come to think of as your closest companions, all fast asleep.

The deadly silence paired with nothing but a symphony of quiet snores was nothing less than terrifying. You watched the thorns continue to latch onto the various pieces of furniture—it was a sinister feeling, horrifying.

From the corner of your eye, you caught sight of the future king once again. He was different, a Malleus you didn’t know stood before you.

Green flames adorned the bottom of his cape, just like when he had first arrived. His horns glowed green, as well. You noticed there was ink seeping out of his shoulders, and his face was deathly white.

You thought he looked beautiful. No matter his attire or his form, he was always beautiful to you. So why was your heart clenching at the sight of him now?

The silence was cut off by the sound of his humming, a deep, low voice—one that you usually found comfort in.

But, somehow, for the first time in your life, you were scared of Malleus Draconia. Even though that voice was the one who called out to you in the dark, even though that face was as beautiful as the nights he laid beside you, you were scared—terrified.

That voice was not whispering sweet nothings into your ears—rather it was humming that deafening tune that made your stomach turn and your head cloud over even more. That face was not bashfully flushed at your hand in his hair, it was smiling at the sight of all your friends in a comatose state.

The last of your consciousness finally drifted off as your eyes closed. You were grateful, somehow, that the moment finally came. You thought that maybe it was better to join your friends in this deep sleep than to look at the man you love in fear.

———

You startled awake, eyes jolting open. Your breathing was unsteady, rapid breaths coming out of your mouth as you tried to settle down.

Just a dream.

Before you was the softness of your blanket and the sunlight of Twisted Wonderland peeking in through your blinds.

Your hands reached up to your eyes, presumably to rub the tiredness away and cope with the sudden brightness of your room, but your fingers were welcomed by a trail of wetness starting to dry on your cheeks. You were crying. Why?

The dream that had startled you awake had all but disappeared from your memory. It must have been a really bad one, you thought. It was strange, though, you can’t recall a single thing about it, yet it was horrible enough to bring you to tears?

You hear a low groan from the other side of the bed that you’re facing away from, making the tears on your face become all but forgotten. Suddenly, you’re aware of the arm encircling your waist, the grip getting tighter and pulling you closer.

You move a bit in the embrace, until you can turn around and see the person that is holding onto you so tightly.

A smile adorns your lips at the sight in front of you. Malleus, with his dark horns and messy hair scattered around the pillow, eyes closed with a small smile gracing his lips, is laying beside you.

A sleepy dragon, just for you. The Malleus Draconia that not a single other soul in this world gets to see.

He’s beautiful and you’re happy at the sight of him before you.

So, why do you feel the corners of your lips spread into a frown?

However, the frown is quickly replaced by wide eyes and slightly parted lips as Malleus opens his eyes. He’s sleepy, you can tell by the way he squints his eyes as he looks at you.

But however sleepy he is, that doesn’t stop the smile on his lips from growing larger when he sees your face in front of him, watching him sleep. It’s a lazy smile, one that has his fangs slightly protruding and his lips lopsided, but it’s so undeniably attractive coming from the ever-elegant prince.

“Good morning, my love,” his voice is groggy. He lets out a hum before nuzzling his face into your neck, still sleepy. The hum is deep, low and… familiar?

Did he sing you to sleep last night?

The thought was gone before it was completely finished as Malleus plants a messy kiss onto your neck. You sigh at the feeling and the sight of one of the most powerful mages in the world beside you in bed, holding onto you as tight as possible while peppering kisses onto every visible surface of skin his still-tired lips can reach. You never knew it was in a dragon’s nature to be clingy.

You love him, this Malleus in front of you. You love the Malleus that looks at you kindly as soon as he wakes up and the Malleus who wants nothing more than to hold you close to him and feel the warmth of your body right next to the coldness of his own.

As you’re thinking of him fondly, the dragon suddenly looks up at you, eyes wide and worried. His eyes are so unbelievably big and green, you feel you could get lost in them if he looked at you like this for any longer.

“You’re crying,” he says in a whisper, taking a hand off of your waist and reaching up to your face. Sure enough, when he pulls away, his fingers are glistening with your tears.

You’re crying. Why?

You’re not sure when the tears had started nor why, but the pit in your stomach that’s been there ever since you woke up from your nightmare hasn’t gone away.

Your lover’s face usually eases all your anxieties, so why, when you look at him right now, does the pit in your stomach grow larger? As he looks at you with his widened, worried eyes, as he wipes away your tears and whispers in your ear that he’s here, everything will be alright, why are you shaking even more?

And there it is.

In the background of your mind you see a flash of green flames and thorny vines and suddenly everything that happened last night is clear once again.

You shake out of Malleus’ arms, needing to be away from him after remembering the events from the night before. You don’t want to be away from him, you would never want to be out of his embrace, but right now, you need to. And he lets you, for he would never want his love to be uncomfortable beside him.

He lets you stumble out of his arms and he watches as you stand up, eyes still locked onto his own as you cry a seemingly never-ending cascade of tears.

He thinks you're beautiful, even as you cry, even as you pull away from his outstretched hand, even when he knows you’ve “awakened.”

But he doesn’t want to see you sad, especially not because of him. Perhaps this dream wasn’t satisfactory enough, maybe he was too simple in creating your dream—thinking that you’d be happy with just him, maybe that was just his wishful thinking.

He reaches out for you once again and you don’t move from his arms, you don’t think you have the strength to do so once again. He whispers in your ear, in that dreamlike voice that you’ve always loved, that he’ll do better, he’ll create a better dream for you, a dream where you’ll feel no sadness nor shed any more tears.

“Let us meet once upon a dream again.” He plants a gentle kiss to your temple.

His lips are cold.

And with that, your consciousness is fading once more and you think once again that this may be for the better—that you’d rather be in a dream forever than be afraid of the man you love.

[callmekenya]

Pairings: Uma x m!Y/n

Warnings: Contains mild violence, blood, intense emotional themes, and complex relationships. Suitable for mature teens and adults.

_________________________________________

The sun was setting over the Isle of the Lost, casting long shadows across the dilapidated buildings and trash-strewn streets. In a dimly lit room aboard Uma's ship, Y/n, son of Eris, sat reading an ancient tome on chaos magic. The sudden burst of the door flying open barely fazed him as Uma stormed in, her eyes alight with excitement and a touch of malice.

"Y/n! You won't believe what's happened," Uma exclaimed, her braids swinging as she paced the small cabin. "Mal and her little gang are back on the Isle. And get this – they brought Prince Ben with them!"

Y/n's eyebrow arched slightly as he closed his book. "Is that so? How... interesting." His voice was calm, but there was an undercurrent of something darker. "I assume you have plans for this fortuitous turn of events?"

Uma's grin was sharp as a shark's. "Oh, you know me so well. I've already sent Harry and Gil to bring our royal visitor to us. But Y/n..." Her voice softened slightly, a hint of vulnerability showing through her tough exterior. "What about Mal? Are you going to try to win her back?"

Y/n sat up straighter, his golden eyes fixed on Uma. "And why would I do that, Uma? Do you think she deserves my attention after everything?"

Uma opened her mouth, then closed it again, unsure how to respond. Y/n stood, crossing the room in a few smooth strides. He took Uma's hand in his, his touch gentle despite the calluses from years of wielding weapons.

"Uma," he said softly, "you should know by now. You have me, all of me. There's no need for jealousy or doubt."

Uma's breath caught in her throat. "Y/n, I..."

Before she could finish, Y/n pulled a dagger from his belt. The blade glinted in the low light as he made a swift cut across his palm, then did the same to Uma's hand. She didn't flinch, her eyes locked on his face.

"With this blood, I bind us," Y/n intoned, pressing their bleeding palms together. "Our lives, our souls, united as one. Do you accept this bond, Uma?"

Uma's voice was barely a whisper. "I do."

A faint glow surrounded their joined hands, and Uma gasped as she felt a surge of power flow through her. When it faded, Y/n cupped her face in his hands and placed a tender kiss on her forehead.

"Now and always," he murmured, before turning and walking away, leaving Uma to process what had just occurred.

Meanwhile, in Ursula's Fish and Chips shop, chaos reigned. Mal had burst in, her eyes glowing green with barely contained fury.

"Where is he, Uma?" Mal demanded, magic crackling around her fists.

Uma lounged against the counter, a smirk playing on her lips. "Who, your precious little king? Oh, he's safe... for now."

Mal lunged forward, but Uma was ready. The two girls clashed in a flurry of fists and magic, their battle destroying tables and sending patrons fleeing.

"You've gotten soft in Auradon, Mal," Uma taunted as she dodged a blast of green energy. "Forgotten how we do things on the Isle?"

Mal snarled, her pixie heritage giving her enhanced speed and agility. "I haven't forgotten anything, Uma. Including how to take you down!"

The fight intensified, both girls drawing blood and leaving scorch marks on the walls. Just as Mal was about to land a devastating blow, a sudden pulse of energy sent her flying backwards. She crashed into the wall, her head ringing from the impact.

As Mal struggled to her feet, she saw Uma surrounded by a shimmering aura of power. Uma's eyes widened in surprise, then narrowed in triumph.

"Well, well," Uma purred. "Looks like I've got a guardian angel. Or should I say, a guardian chaos god?"

Mal's heart clenched as realization dawned. "Y/n," she whispered.

Uma's grin was vicious. "That's right, Mal. He's with me now. And if you want to see your precious Ben alive again, you'll bring me Fairy Godmother's wand."

Mal's jaw tightened. "Fine. But this isn't over, Uma."

As Mal turned to leave, Uma couldn't resist one final jab. "Oh, and Mal? Y/n sends his regards. We've gotten quite... close."

Mal paused, her back to Uma. "Is that so? Well, you might want to ask yourself, Uma – if he's so devoted to you, why does he always come running when I'm in danger?" With that parting shot, Mal stalked out of the shop.

Y/n's hideout was a testament to his parentage – a swirling mix of order and chaos, beautiful and terrifying all at once. When Mal and her friends entered, they found him lounging on a throne-like chair, idly toying with a ball of crackling energy.

"Well, if it isn't the prodigal daughter of evil," Y/n drawled, his eyes fixed on Mal. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Mal stepped forward, her chin raised defiantly. "Cut the act, Y/n. What's this I hear about you and Uma?"

Y/n's laugh was cold and bitter. "Act? Oh, Mal. You're the one who's been acting. Playing at being good, pretending you belong in Auradon. At least I know who and what I am."

He stood, moving closer to Mal. In one swift motion, he snatched the necklace from around her neck – the one he had given her long ago.

"You don't need this anymore," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "Uma deserves everything I can give her. My love, my loyalty, my devotion. She's never tried to change me or leave me behind."

Mal's eyes glistened with unshed tears. "Y/n, please. This isn't you. Uma's using you, can't you see that?"

Y/n's expression hardened. "No, Mal. For the first time, I see clearly. Now go. Try to save your king. But remember – the Isle always wins in the end."

As Mal and her friends left, Evie placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Are you okay?" she asked softly.

Mal squared her shoulders. "I have to be. We have a wand to fake and a king to save."

On Uma's ship, Y/n watched as she paced back and forth, muttering to herself. "Uma," he called out, concern lacing his voice. "What's troubling you?"

Uma stopped, turning to face him. "It's what Mal said. About you always coming when she's in danger. Is... is that true?"

Y/n sighed, pulling Uma close. "Come with me," he said, leading her to her cabin. Once inside, he retrieved a dusty tome from a hidden compartment.

"Do you know what this is?" he asked, opening the book to a specific page. Uma shook her head.

"This," Y/n explained, "is a record of ancient rituals and bonds. The blood-sharing we did? It's more than just a symbolic gesture. For beings like us – demigods, children of chaos – it's as binding as any marriage. More so, even. Our souls are literally entwined now, Uma."

Uma's eyes widened. "So when you saved me during the fight with Mal..."

Y/n nodded. "I felt your danger. Our bond called me to protect you. It has nothing to do with Mal, and everything to do with us."

Uma's face softened, a rare vulnerability showing through. "Y/n, I..."

Before she could finish, Harry burst into the cabin. "They're back!" he announced. "With the wand!"

The confrontation on the dock was tense. Mal held out the fake wand, her eyes never leaving Uma's face.

"The wand for Ben," she said firmly.

Uma reached for it, but Y/n's hand on her arm stopped her. "Be careful," he murmured. "Remember what we discussed about Fae magic."

Uma nodded, then took the wand. She waved it, expecting a surge of power. When nothing happened, her face contorted with rage.

"You lied!" she snarled, lunging at Mal.

Y/n caught her, holding her back. "Uma, stop. This isn't the way."

As chaos erupted around them, Y/n locked eyes with Mal over Uma's head. For a moment, something passed between them – regret, understanding, a hint of the connection they once shared. Then the moment was gone, and the battle raged on.

The Cotillion was in full swing when Ben arrived with Uma on his arm. The shocked gasps of the attendees were music to Uma's ears as Ben declared his love for her.

But the triumph was short-lived. Mal's true love's kiss broke the spell, and Uma found herself backed into a corner. With a cry of rage and pain, she leapt into the sea, the magic of her mother's shell transforming her into a magnificent, terrifying cecaelia.

As Mal transformed into a dragon to meet her, Uma felt a surge of power flow through her. Y/n's gift, their bond, giving her strength. The battle was fierce, water against fire, tentacles against wings.

In the end, it was Ben who stopped the fight. As Uma swam away, her heart heavy with defeat, she knew where she was going – back to the one person who truly understood her.

Y/n stood on the shore of the Isle, his eyes scanning the horizon. When he saw Uma emerge from the waves, her octopus form melting away, he opened his arms without a word.

Uma collapsed against him, her body shaking with silent sobs. Y/n held her close, stroking her hair.

"It's okay," he murmured. "You're home now. We'll find another way, Uma. I promise you, one day, we'll have the freedom you dream of. Together."

Uma looked up at him, her eyes shining with a mix of tears and determination. "Promise?"

Y/n smiled, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. "I swear it on the chaos that runs through our veins. You and me, Uma. Always."

As they stood there, the sun setting behind them, Y/n and Uma knew that this was just the beginning of their story. The Isle of the Lost might be their prison for now, but with their combined power and cunning, it was only a matter of time before they rewrote the rules of their world.

After all, in chaos, there was always opportunity. And they were nothing if not masters of chaos.

[cozy-fantasy-corner]

Daddy’s Home (Steve Rogers Drabble)

Pairing: Caregiver!Steve Roger x Age Regressor!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of stress, age regression, the use of the word “Daddy” (non-sexual usage)

Word Count: 547

Summary: Steve has a long day at work and his best girl knows exactly what to do to make it all better  :)

Author’s Note: This is a sfw age regression fic. Please DNI if you sexualize age regression. It is a coping mechanism. This is a comfort fic. 

After a long day at the office, Steve trudged wearily towards his apartment, the weight of his responsibilities as both an Avenger and a leader pressing down on him like a heavy cloak. Each step felt like a struggle, his mind consumed with thoughts of mission reports and training sessions that seemed to stretch on endlessly. Every ounce of his expansive muscle mass wound tight. All he wanted was to get home to his best gal. 

As he stepped into the elevator and pressed the button for his floor, Steve felt the exhaustion seeping into his bones, his eyelids heavy with fatigue. Leaning against the wall, he let out a sigh of relief, grateful for the brief respite from the chaos of the day. For a moment, he allowed himself to drift, the image of a warm bath and a cozy blanket beckoning to him like a beacon of comfort in the midst of his exhaustion.

But his moment of peace was rudely interrupted by the loud ding of the elevator doors opening. Before he could take a step towards home, a blur of fluffy curls and cable-knit flew at him, filling the cramped space with warmth and sweet giggles. She was swallowed whole by his favorite sweater. A soft chuckle escaped him, Steve found himself enveloped in the embrace of his beloved, her petite frame fitting perfectly against his tired muscles.

Burying his face in her neck, Steve inhaled deeply, the familiar scent of roses and oranges washing over him like a soothing balm. "Baby, I missed you," he whispered, his voice barely above a breath as he held her close, savoring the feeling of her in his arms. She peppered soft kisses across his gruff face and carded her thin fingers through his long mane. A wistful sigh escaped his lips as her nails gently scraped the nape of his neck. 

As they stumbled into their apartment, Steve's heart swelled at the sight that greeted him: a massive pillow fort, expertly constructed and adorned with twinkling fairy lights and their favorite Disney movie ready to play. His exhaustion melted away at the sight of the care and creativity his babygirl had poured into the surprise. Confusion danced across his feature. How on Earth did such a tiny woman get their Alaskan king from the bedroom to the living room. 

She had been staring hopefully at his tired weary face, but his look of confusion was mistaken for anger. With a sheepish look about her, she wriggled out of his embrace, her eyes shining with tears. 

“Daddy, please don’ be mad. Fri said you needed snuggles n sleeps. I made dis jus for you.” she pleaded mournfully to him. Steve's heart ached at the sight of her tears, his love for her swelling with each passing moment. He smoothed them away with a calloused thumb. Pulling her close, Steve showered her with kisses, his laughter mingling with hers as they sank into the comfort of their makeshift castle, the troubles of the day fading into the background as he curled around her petite frame. 

“Oh sweet girl. How could I be mad? This is exactly what I need.” he cooed with a soft chuckle. He rubbed his beard against her soft cheeks and she shrieked out a laugh. 

[zeroth-writes]

Taking Back -Troy Calypso-

masterlist | request

Prompt: Hello! Can I request a Troy Calypso scenario where he and the reader broke up and after a few months he comes back to them and tries to apologize and make up with them?

Pairing: Troy Calypso / Reader

Summary:

Word Count: 1.5K

The last words you heard from Troy still linger in your mind. Whenever you see another couple, your mind goes back to him.

Back to the way he held you, the resting smile on his face when you wake up in the morning.

Everything about your relationship was perfect.

You and his sister got along wonderfully, supported him with his echo-streaming hobby, even helped him design some of the future COV weapons and outfits.

The relationship slowly began to falter once the aforementioned COV began.

Troy spent a majority of his time with Tyreen. Gathering material to make COV related items, Finding additional locations for their hideouts and of course recruiting their new 'family members'.

In the beginning you didn't mind at all. Knowing how important the tasks, you would simply wish him a good day before beginning your own tasks for that day.

As the weeks went on however, the smile you put on had begun to fade, along with your warm words.

It didn't take long for the soon-to-be god king to notice the not-so-subtle changes in your demeanor.

"So, What's gotten into you?" Troy asked you one night while getting ready for bed

Your silence filled the room as anticipation and worry fill Troy.

"I've just been missing you is all. You've spent so much of your time preparing this, I haven't seen you as much"

For most couples, that sentence would bring sadness and love at the same time. Other partners would apologize for making you feel that way then go to bed and cuddle.

But not Troy. His brows furrow as a small 'tisk' leaves his mouth.

"So? I told you this would happen. It's not my fault you've become clingy."

For the first time in your prolonged relationship, you were speechless. Never have you heard him talk to or about you like that before.

"Don't be mad at me when you'd rather spend your time chasing some pipe dream then spending it on something that actually matters."

Before you could stop yourself, the words left you.

You let out a gasp as your hands flew to cover your mouth before spewing out a series of apologies, only to be stopped by Troy's hand shooting up.

"What we are planing with the Great Vault, is bigger than you could ever imagine. Tyreen and I will become gods. The greatest, most powerful being in the entire universe. Nothing will be able to stop us. And you're complaining about me not spending enough time with you?"

Whatever regrets you may have had about your previous word choices flew out the window the more he spoke.

"So you'd rather me sit alone all day so you can go chase fairy tail fantasy? Then not complain about it? Well, don't worry Troy. You can spend all the time you want on it."

All the regret you previously had flew out the window with each word that he spoke.

"Well, don't worry. You can dedicate all your time to the COV without an interruption from me."

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Troy didn't try to stop you that day. Let you walk out of the compound and out of his life.

It didn't take long for you to settle down somewhere else. Picking one of the old bandit camps the Calypso twins already raided.

While things were quieter now than it was a few days ago, you learned to make due.

You took what you learned from Troy to craft your own crude and somewhat functional weapon to defend yourself.

Fending off Skags and Spider-ants while also hunting dinner for yourself in the process.

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One clear, hot day, You begin to hear the sound of a car engine off in the distance. Being away from most people, cars normally don't drive around here.

Grabbing your makeshift gun, you stealthily peak out the window to see a cloud of dust hurling towards you.

it wasn't long after you begin to make out the shape of an outrunner with the undoubtedly familiar pink and blue color scheme.

Once you knew who the invaders were, you feared the worst.

You knew how to deal with bandits. However the COV were a different beast. Now that Troy and his sister had control over them, you didn't know what they were capable of.

Deciding not to run from the past, you turn to face the intruders head on. Walking out and standing on your porch to face the ever growing closer cloud of dust.

It didn't take long for the car to come to a complete stop, To your surprise what emerged from the vehicle was a pair of COV with psychos crawling all over, instead it was once single person.

Troy.

To say you were hesitant would be an understatement. You remember how to acted months ago when you left, you couldn't imagine how he'd be now with all his followers referring to him as the 'God King'.

Though as he steps out of the runner, he seems to have a look of shyness and regret.

Something you haven't seen in a very long time.

"HI, Y/N" His shaky voice matched his apprentice. "Can we talk?"

You take a moment to get a good look at the man standing in front of you.

Since exiting the vehicle, he has yet to move towards you, hasn't even look at you in the eyes. Something that would be unthinkable when you were together.

The sight was adorable and terrifying at the same time.

Before long you nodded before motioning towards the door.

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"So, How have thing been for you here?"

Troy broke the silence that previously filled the room.

"Fine. I've made due with the limited resources."

You didn't mean to sound hostile. However as the memories of your last interaction come flooding back, you can't hold the spiteful tone back.

Trying to avoid the awkward interaction Troy glares around the small room until he lands on your tiny weapon stash.

"Is that one of mine?" His eyes widen as his gaze shifts to your weapon.

"No. I made it myself." You thought he would be disappointed or angry at you, instead he seemed to look even prouder.

"But it looks almost the same. Did you remember how to made it from me?"

Without noticing, the small question turned into an hour long conversation. You explained to him how you made the weapons and he'd give you pointer or critiques.

Before long the once bright sky slowly faded into an orange hue, signaling that night would soon come. Sadly, this also would bring Troy's departure.

"Don't worry, I'll be back again. Promise."

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To you're surprise it did in fact keep his promise. Coming back at least twice a week, if not more.

This continued on for a few months till you noticed he hasn't come around in 2 weeks.

You begin to believe he left you for good this time. That was until you notice a cloud of dust barreling towards your home, and your mind replays the memory of that first day.

"Took you long enough to show your face again." You shouted one Troy got out of the vehicle.

"Yeah well, I wanted to get everything ready."

Before you could question his meaning he flung open the passenger door and motioned for you to get in.

You contemplated turning him down, but eventually gave into your curious nature.

The drive itself was bad, the two of you talked while the taller male pointed out all the changed that have been made over the last few months.

When you arrived at the COV compound. Troy carefully grabbed your hand and ushered you throughout the unfamiliar walls till you reached a closed door.

"Well go on, Open it." Even without being with him for years, his excited was obvious.

The room was something you weren't expecting. At first glance it seemed like his bedroom. All his stuff where you would expect it, however at a closer look you noticed some of the stuff you left.

"I know it doesn't make up for how i treated you. But i think it's a start." His voice slowly came up behind you before you felt hands on your waist and a chin on your shoulder

"You were right. Even though the COV is important to me, so are you. And I took have made an effort to show it once in a while. When you left i was so mad I hated you and never wanted to see you again. Then I started to get lonely- at night and whenever Ty and I took a day off. You made everything better. I hope this can be a new start to us?"

You took a step forward, away from the grip around you and survey the room. Taking the time to look at the all the details. The memories come flooding back, all the joy and excitement you shared.

"Of course, Under one condition. If I say i need you, you better drop everything for me."

[fly-boy-in-the-sky]

Banana Fish & Films PART 1

Recommendations based on aesthetics, themes, decade etc…

These are just my personal recommendations for movies similar to Banana Fish. Most of these films from 1960-90s revolving around some sort of street culture gangs, prostitution, trafficking, drugs all that good stuff…also a few of these I haven’t watched in years so the description may be a little off LOL

TAXI DRIVER 1976

“All the animals come out at night. Whores, skunk-pussies, buggers, queens, fairies, dopers, junkies. Sick and venal.”

Taxi Driver follows a former Vietnam solider insomniac 26-year-old Travis (Robert De Niro) who takes night shifts as a cab driver in NYC. The story is mostly told through his inner monologue, where he talks about his his loneliness and depression along with telling stories of his interactions with his customers. He crosses paths with a 12-year-old prostitute Iris, (Jodie Foster) whom he tries rescuing from her situation.

This film was recommended by Yoshida.

THE WARRIORS 1979

“Since when the fuck are you a diplomat?”

After being blamed for the killing of a rival gang leader in the Bronx, the Warriors have dozens of New York City street gangs are out for revenge battling over turf that ranges from Bronx to Coney Island where the Warriors reside.

STREETWISE 1984

“No one to tell you where to go or what to do.”

A documentary on Street Kids in Seattle Washington 1984. Many of the teenagers do dangerous hustling gigs to survive on the streets.

There’s a story about a girl who is a prostitute with her mother’s knowledge, though her mother is against the idea she doesn’t stop her since it brings in money. Similar situation with Ash and his father..I have seen people say “I can’t believe his father would do that!” or that it’s totally unrealistic. Unfortunately these terrible things do happen, and even though Banana Fish is fictional and exaggerated, the crimes featured are really not far off for the time. Child exploitation human trafficking was huge, that’s one of the reasons how the milk carton missing persons started back in the eighties, especially through mafia/politicians in Europe.

PLATOON 1986

“Any way you cut it, Barnes is a fucking murderer.”

This movie was recommended by Yoshida.

Chris Taylor (Charlie Seen) leaves university to enlist in the Vietnam war. His experiences in combat fades his idealisms of what war is really about and what the troops are fighting this war for. His two Sargents, Barnes (Tom Berneger) and Elias (Williem Dafoe) are constantly arguing together over their morals. Barnes has violent approaches and believes the villagers are harboring Vietcong, while Elias has a more sympathetic view of the villagers and the war. Their disagreements began putting soldiers up against each other, as well as the enemies.

CRUISING 1980

“They told me that there was some... special assignment... and that I was right for it.”

Steve Burns (Al Pacino) is tasked to go undercover cop as a gay man infiltrating New York’s S&M clubs for a psychopath who’s been violently killing homosexuals. Steve begins immersing himself in the subculture and club hopping. While this is going down, he becomes increasingly distant with his girlfriend and the police forces homophobia becomes more apparent as the case goes on.

KING OF NEW YORK 1990

“ I spent half my life in prison. I never got away with anything, and I never killed anybody that didn't deserve it.”

The biggest Kingpin of the underground Frank White (Christopher Walken) just got released from prison. He’s different from most gangsters though. He shares his benefits with the poor, opening children’s hospitals and protecting the wellbeing of underprivileged citizens. Though the streets are much tougher than before. The mafia, Chinatown and Colombian gangs are running the streets partaking in child human trafficking and prostitution, unnecessary killings and racketeering. Frank’s not a fan of how they do business, and puts an end to it.

One of my favorites..the ending even ends similar to Banana Fish and there’s these two gay ass cop partners that the one kisses him towards the end (no spoilerrr) Frank is a super morally grey gangster and very similar to Ash in his beliefs. Film features many famous 90s actors. Must watch.

THE OUTSIDERS 1983

“I used to talk about killing myself all the time, man. But I don't wanna die now. It ain't long enough. Sixteen years ain't gonna be long enough.”

Based on the novel of the same name, an American classic most of us had to read in middle school.

A teenage gang in 1960s Oklahoma, the Greasers have constant clashes with another rival gang the Socs. When Ponyboy (C. Thomas Howell) and Johnny (Ralph Macchio) get into a brawl that leads to the death of a Soc member, they are forced to run away into hiding. With help from their friend Dally (Matt Dillon) he tells them a place out in the rural part of town they can hide until the situation dies down. They are eventually forced to return back to their town after a tragic incident with Johnny happens, and they’re subjected to the consequences of their violent lives once again.

[liillyliilly]

It Doesn't Have To Be Goodbye

sawamura daichi x reader words; 1416 synopsis; it's not how the words sound, it's what the words mean.

“I’ve known you since we were like seven.” Daichi reads aloud the words written on the paper you had given to him. You told him to read it when he was all alone. So, he was reading it now. Reading the lyrics to your love song. It wasn’t exactly a love song, it was a letter, but it pulled at his heartstrings like a love song.

“You’ve seen me at my worst, my best, and my numb. And you stayed with me.” Daichi voice is cracking now, the words strained and struggling to leave his lips. It was as if when he spoke them, then they would float away and he wouldn’t be able to hold onto them.

The collar of his shirt is too tight, the starchiness of his clothing now itches at him. He has no idea how this letter is going to go, if it’ll be some fairy tale ending or if it’ll be like the moral at the end of a Grimm’s story.

What are you saying? He knows what the words mean, but he doesn’t know what you are trying to tell him.

You handed him the crumpled envelope right after volleyball practice. Your uniform prim and proper as usual. But you kept tugging at your tie, like it was trying to choke you. Daichi wanted to take the tie off of your neck to help you breath better. To allow you to be comforted in the way air flowed through your lungs and blossomed into life.

“It might sound silly, but Daichi, I miss you the most. I miss you the most when you’re gone. Of anyone in the world- my heart chooses to be hurt over your absence.” In an instant Daichi was stuck in a maze, lost and left confused. Do you love him back? Is that why you said something about your heart? Or is it just because you are his closest confidant? Why did you miss him? He's right there. Standing tall and with open arms just for you.

Your hands were clammy when you shoved the letter into his hands, he dropped his volleyball at the sudden jerk of your hands. Your hands were never clammy, only when you were sick or when you were nervous about something. Daichi chose to ignore it. He chose to disregard the signs you had been displaying. He should have asked you why you had written the letter and then immediately rushed away to get back home. But you can’t ‘I should’ve’ on yourself, that’s what his mom always told him anyway.

“And I will always wonder if my absence causes you the same pain it causes me.” It does. He feels so alone when you’re gone. When you smile at him and give him a small wave before going away for a trip, going away for your separate classes, just going away from him in general. He never wanted to lose you. Are you pushing him away? Is that what this letter is for?

A letter to say goodbye to your decade of friendship? A letter to tell him to leave you alone for forever? Words piled onto each other, crawling on top of the mountain of memories to declare themselves the king. Daichi slammed the letter down on his desk, loudly. His little sister that stood by his door flinched at his action.

“Sorry.” Daichi softened his fists, opening his hands and moving away from the desk. His little sister forced the corners of her mouth to shape upwards, before walking into his room and tugging on the sleeve of his shirt.

“Did she tell you yet? Or is that what that paper is doing?” She pointed at the crème colored sheet, the bright blue color of your school pen standing out and making the presence of inked meanings known.

“Tell me what?”

“Oh, so you don’t know yet.” Then she left, Daichi called out for her to explain. But she shut his door gently. The lock clicking into place once the door met the frame.

He wanted to finish reading the letter, he really did. But with a clenched jaw and glassy eyes he made his way down the familiar backway path to your house. The colored stones that you and him had painted during childhood seemed faded, the paint streaky and less vibrant then it normally had.

He wished he hadn’t made his way over to your house.

The ‘For Sale’ sign screamed at him. The way the cloudy grey sky mimicked him in an antagonizing manner. The worst part was that you were sitting on the porch covering your face as your whole body moved in a shivering manner. It heaved with every silent shaky inhale and exhale. The normally pastel pink of your sweater sleeves was turned a dark shade from the dampness.

He must have made an audible sound because you shot your head up and sniffled before wiping your face and standing up. You tried to walk back into the safety of your house, but Daichi wanted you to be in the safety of his hands. He wanted to hold his entire world in his hands, so he cupped your face with both of his warm hands.

“I love you.” It came out fast and rushed, Daichi had let the words bubble up too much. He let the words stay hidden on his tongue for too long. It was just like boiling water, at first it seemed manageable, but then it continued to heat up until the bubbling flowed over the pot and burnt the stovetop with a vengeance.

“It’s not really the time for that, don’t you think Daichi? Hell, I can’t have you confessing to me when I’m supposed to be moving across the world next week.” You harshly but lovingly removed his hands from your face, but he gripped your hands in his, keeping you close to him. Keeping your presence with him.

“It’s always the right time to be honest.”

You just shook your head, slowly at first then it became a rapid shake of ‘no’ as you moved your head from side to side. You stopped after a moment, then letting out a cynical chuckle. “Honesty is overrated.”

“No, it isn’t. Stop. What are you doing? You’re being cruel, I just told you that I love you and you’re being mean to me.” His bottom lip quivered before he bit down on it. You felt guilty, you were being mean. You should have told him about your family’s plans to move as soon as you got the news. But there was something in keeping it to yourself that appealed to you.

Daichi swallowed thickly, letting go of your hands and then shoving his own into his pockets. The pair of you stood there for a while. Just standing and staring at the ground while Daichi bit on his lip and you fidgeted with your fingers. Wrapping your hands around each other and brushing your fingers over your knuckles.

“Well, do you love me back-”

“Daichi, I love you too-”

The collision of your sentences caused Daichi to smile. You tried to push the grin on your face down, but it over took your features and you gave him a blinding expression. His favorite type of smile to receive from you.

It was silent, except for the rushing wind that swirled around and made miniature tornadoes composed of crunchy red, orange, and yellow leaves. It was silent, except for the squeaking of the chains from the swing set Daichi was pushing you on. The sun dimmed down, letting a golden time where the sky was painted in brilliant purples and fading tangerine shades make itself known and observed.

If you were going to leave soon, then at the very least Daichi could do was spend time with you, pushing you on the childhood swing set that had caused multiple broken arms and plenty of knee scrapes. Leaving didn’t have to be goodbye after all, leaving could simply be a ‘see you again’.

Even if the ‘see you again’ meant multiple years. Even if the ‘see you again’ meant that you would grow and change without each other. Even if the ‘see you again’ means that Daichi would have to be in pain for a while, be hurt and filled with sorrow from just thinking about amount of time you would be gone. Even if it was a ‘see you again’, it doesn’t have to be a goodbye.

[yoonia]

the bedroom hymns ● chapter iv

⟶ Chapter summary | The time has finally come for you to finally depart from home. You have no idea what to expect from the upcoming journey, but knowing how peculiar the circumstances have been, you probably should have predicted that this trip would not be an average one after all.

⟶Title | The Bedroom Hymns: a Bluebeard’s twist ⟶ Pairings | Min Yoongi x female reader  ⟶Genre | Fairy Prince!Yoongi, Crown Princess!reader, Fantasy au, Fairy Tale retelling au ⟶ Word count | 5,8k words ⟶ Ratings & Warnings | PG-13, +18 / M for Mature in the future scenes; still nothing much on this chapter, but the story may contain classism, threats of abductions, curses, dark magic, fantasy typical violence ⟶ Story Masterlist | ⤎ previous chapter | next chapter ⇢ ⟶ Main Masterlist | Mailbox | Taglist | Feedback | Music Playlist | Ko-fi

chapter iv. in bloom

It is finally time. 

It still feels quite surreal to think that you are going to leave the palace, to finally escape this heavenly-like prison where you grew up in. It still seems unfathomable to think that you are going to be in another place before the next morning arrives. 

But here you are now, standing at the courtyard where the royal carriage is going through its final preparations, with the King standing close by as he is giving his final instructions and commands to the driver of the carriage and the guards who are going to travel alongside you. On the corner of your eyes, you can see Marc and a few guards loading up all the luggage into the carriage, with a couple of other guards making sure that the carriage is safe and secure by checking every detail closely. Meanwhile, you can see Nanny Abigail and Miss Pippa getting busy setting up the seats to make sure that it would be comfortable for your journey, all while fretting about the lack of pillows and blankets to keep you warm inside. 

Aside from Miss Pippa and a small group of guards, you see no sight of any other palace staff around. Not even the advisors or the men who would often work closely with the King. Knowing that your father had intended to keep your departure as a confidential matter, you can only assume that he may have relieved everyone in the palace out of their duties. Except for the people who matters.

As much as you are anxious about leaving, you are also excited for it. To be able to feel a bit of freedom regardless of why you are being sent out of this place, and when it feels like your prayers had been heard—to be given the chance to venture deep into the Elcester Forest and see for yourself the secrets hidden in its gloom. The only apprehension that you have about this trip is the fact that tonight would be the eve of Lemmus Rising—the sacred night that should give more reasons to stay away from the deep forest, where it was said that the souls of the dead would appear once the night has fallen. 

You did wonder the reason why the King would choose this specific evening for your departure. Until you realise that there would not be another night like this one. 

During the evening, everyone in the capital city and the surrounding districts would be paying more attention to their rituals and staying clear from the dark places around the woods, opening up the chance for the royal carriage to make its trip across the Coyne River and into the forest without drawing too much attention. There would also be the thick mist, the fog which would be able to conceal the royal carriage’s movements across the borders until it descends into the deep woods. 

You look up to the sky, watching as the signs of the Lemmus Rising begin to unfold. The bright daylight has been rapidly fading, melting into the warm shade of burnt orange that is dancing across the horizon as the sun continues to descend. Right down below, a thin presence of mist has begun to rise, crawling slowly across the cobblestone-covered ground. You watch it swirling around the wheels of the carriage and passing between the horses’s restless legs as if it has come alive.

While you are closely observing all the movements around you and the changes that are happening as the day turns to dusk, His Majesty finishes his instructions to the driver and the captain of the guards. It draws your attention away from the sunset when you hear the King’s deep voice saying, “I entrust you to do your best to make sure my daughter’s safety.” 

“Indeed, Your Majesty,” you hear the driver speaks. “I will make sure that Her Highness will arrive safely at the home castle by sunrise without any harm.” 

Something that he says draws your curiosity that you quickly turn to look at the driver, just in time to see him bending his waist down to bow at the King. You never paid much attention to the driver when he first arrived with the royal carriage, so you didn’t quite get a good look at the man until now. The driver looks tall, and there is something in the way he presents himself which reminds you of the pub-keeper, Sir Elias. But while he has similar broad shoulders and a pair of arms that look almost as strong, his body is leaner. It makes him look a bit taller than he probably should have once he straightens back up to his height. You cannot tell wether he is old or young, with half of his face covered in a layer of dark, thick moustache and beard, but there is quite a sharpness in his gaze and soft lines appearing around his eyes when he smiles that are showing you that he may not have been that much younger compared to your father. 

You barely have a thing to say when the driver is dismissed, and King Aneas comes to pull you away briefly before letting you go. Once you are in a safe distance away from the other people around you, he surprises you by asking, “Are you armed?” 

“Yes, Father,” you answer him with a low voice. You signal to him the presence of the dagger that is hidden under your dress, tied up to your thigh with the leather-made garter belt that you created with your own hands during one of your crafting lessons. “I carry with me the golden dagger you gave me, and prepared a bow and a substantial amount of arrows. I have them all set up together with my short sword under the seats earlier with Marc’s help.” 

King Aneas, who is known to always hide his expression in front of others, smiles proudly after hearing your answers. “Well done, Princess. I hope that you won’t have to use them during the journey as you will have the guards coming with you to keep you safe, but it’s always good to be prepared,” he says. There is something in his eyes that makes you wonder if there is something else that he may want to say to you, but the look disappears completely as he straightens himself up. “The driver to the carriage is someone who is familiar with the territory and he will take you safely to the home castle. He is also trained to defend himself so you will be safe in his hands. But always stay alert, no matter what.” 

“Father, what—” 

Before you can have a chance to speak, your father immediately adds, “And don’t forget. Never take off your necklace. Make sure that you keep it on you the whole time you are away and never to lose it.” 

Despite the voices nagging in the back of your mind, you choose to keep your questions to yourself. “I promise,” you murmur softly while absentmindedly reaching up to grab your necklace. Pleased with your answer, the King regards you with a nod and begins to usher you towards the awaiting royal carriage. 

“It’s time to go, Your Highness,” the driver calls to you, and with Marc’s assistance, you step into the carriage carefully and settle down in your seat. While the driver and the guards prepare themselves for the departure, you continue to look out the window, unable to look away from your father.  

As the carriage begins to depart through the gate on the south side of the palace, the part of The Citadel which is cleverly hidden from the common folks’ eyes, your eyes remain on the King. His Majesty remains to stand there on the side threshold of the palace, watching you closely with his unwavering gaze. As the carriage continues to drive further away from him, you almost believe that the mist which has been swirling on the ground begin to rise, growing thicker and denser until it almost makes it hard for you to see him, just as much as you are sure that the royal carriage is being concealed. Your gaze remain on your father’s shadow as you look through the back window, until the moment his sight disappears completely with the distance and the obscuring mist, and that is the last you see of him until the palace’s gate is closed behind the departing carriage.  

You finally draw your eyes away from the palace once you notice the carriage slowing down on the bridge passing over the Coyne River. Beyond you appears the short drive towards the woods from the bridge, with the road disappearing between the thickets. Before the driver sets his horses off towards the forest’s borders, he opens the small window separating the front box-seat to the passenger car so he could speak with you and Nanny Abigail. 

“It is the peak of the summer still, so the night will be short. We will still have some sun as we enter the forest, so you’ll get to enjoy the view for a short while before the sky gets dark. Please be aware that it will be mostly pitch-black once we are deep in the forest, but there will be no need for you to be worried. I’ve put up some lamps inside the carriage as you can see, and they will light up once the sunlight is gone so you and the governess can see just as well on the inside,” he nods his chin pointing to the side of your seats, where a couple of lamps—much similar to the regular oil lamps that you have seen uses back at the palace—are hung right by the windows. 

Just as you begin to wonder how to light up the lamps when there are no sight of the oil canisters around you, the driver speaks again. “We do have some fog around us aside from the dense trees, but we should have enough moonlight, so it should be enough to help see around us better,” the driver reassuringly says, as if he can sense how anxious you feel about being in the dark.  

“I can assure you that the sky will be bright once again when we are out of these woods, as I predict that we will be able to reach the home castle at the break of dawn,” he continues, before lowering his voice a little when he adds, “As long as there is no trouble coming in our way, of course.” 

Not knowing what to say, you simply grow silent. Thankfully, Nanny Abigail—who is sitting right across from you and much closer to the driver’s window—takes over by saying to the driver, “Thank you kindly for the assurance, Sir. We are trusting our safety in your hands.” 

The driver nods at her with a grin on his face, and then does the same to you, before closing the window shut and facing forward again to lead his horses, and the carriage steadily moves faster towards the forest’s edge. 

It takes a while, but as soon as the steady sounds of the horses’s foot galloping on top of the cobblestone road fill the air, you begin to grow calmer. Before long the line of trees appear ahead of you, and your agitation soon turns into excitement. 

Once the carriage drives past the borders and into the thicket, your heartbeat picks up rapidly, still in disbelief even as you are surrounded by nothing but trees. The cobblestone road that continues from the palace carries on for a while longer once you are in the woods, with lines of trees standing on either side of the road which seem like they are passing by quickly as the carriage drives past them. It doesn’t take long before the road breaks out into a path covered with gravel, and the forest begins to open up for you to see a lot more from what lies within the grove. 

As you look out the window, beyond you lay endless rows of trees, with a dense layer of foliage formed by the high grass and wild bushes. Through the small openings that you can find between the trees, you get to see the sight of the green sloping land which is adorned with steep hills appearing here and there, all covered in a spread of green grass. There are small hills in the distance which are adorned with clumps of trees crowning each of their tops, and since you are still close to the edge of the forest, you can see the rare sightings of orchards and farmhouses peeking not too far away. 

Everywhere you look, spread a variety of bright and soft colours that are easily drawing your attention. The beauty that comes from the colourful fresh fruits growing from the top of the evergreen and the blooming petals materialising from the shrubberies, all seem to glow under the warmth coming from the setting sun. 

Soon, the darkness will fall, and these colours would no longer be available to your eyes. So you allow yourself to relish on the view and in the moment, until the carriage gets deeper into the woods, just in time for the sun to disappear completely in the horizon. As the sky finally gets darker, the mist around you seems to grow thicker and reaching higher above ground, and the bright colours which you have been admiring is slowly being replaced with dark shadows. The gloom doesn’t have a chance to enter the carriage, however, as the lamps on your side walls suddenly light up out of nowhere, and a gentle glow fills the car immediately as soon as the world outside is covered by the gloom. 

Surrounded by the darkness, the silence within grows almost as thick as the dense trees outside, and that is when your mind becomes louder. Loud enough for the questions that you were forced to silence earlier to come to surface, leaving you wondering to yourself—

If The Citadel was supposed to be your home, then why do people keep referring this new place of solitude that you are heading to as the ‘home castle’?

“What is happening?” 

The journey has been going on without any disturbance for a while, until you finally notice how restless the driver seems to be. With the curtains on the driver’s window left open, you can see it when his demeanour begins to change—he seems distracted by something and starts glancing and turning to his right, looking out into the distance beyond the trees, and his commands sounds more like a mixture of firm shouts and soothing words, as if he is trying to calm his horses while making them march with more haste. Then you look out through the window as two of the guards on horses separate themselves from the group, and another guard leads his horse to ride closely to the carriage so he could talk to the driver. 

Moving on instinct, you jump across your seat and slide open the window just in time to hear the guard’s voice speaking through the loud noises of the horses’ rapid steps and the carriage wheels, “It’s those nosy boys from the Brotherhood of Jorn. They noticed the carriage entering into the forest and are following us close.” 

You hear the driver cursing loudly before asking, “Can you do something about it?” 

“We’ll drive them away from the carriage and apprehend them to find out what they’re up to. In the meantime, focus on getting Her Highness out of here. Fast!” the guard quickly says, before leading his horse towards the trees, as he joins the other guards to chase away the rebel army with a couple of more guards following him. 

Once they departed, the driver looks over his shoulder, looking straight at you with a grin. “Hang on tight, Your Highness. We’re going to have to have a sharp detour right ahead if we want to stay away from the melee,” he yells out, and both you and Nanny Abigail quickly take hold onto the seats to avoid falling as the carriage swerves to the left, just as the gravel-covered road branches out into three different lanes. 

The driver leads the carriage to continue a bit further before he slows down a little, taking his time to make sure that he has taken you away from where the brawl may occur. He looks back through the window, apologising for the crisis at hand before explaining, “Our journey right ahead is going to be a long and exhausting one with us using a different path to be safe. But rest assured, that even in the absence of royal guards, Her Highness’ safety is accounted for. Regardless, we may still have at least two guards with us following in the shadows.” 

You take a quick glance out the window after hearing this, just in time for you to see the shadows of the guards following you from beyond the trees, their horses barely make a sound as they try to match the carriage’s speed. “I shall see it for myself to send Her Highness and the governess to the home castle safely.” 

As you turn back to look and keep your eyes on the driver the whole time he is talking to you, something odd seems to be happening. For a moment, you almost believe that you are seeing his beard glowing faintly with a shade that looks almost blue, and his eyes glimmer in the shade of silver. But they all vanish as quickly as they appear, and the man appears to you as normal as he was before when he smiles at you. Since it is dark around the road, with limited moonlight falling on his face and only the small lamps illuminating inside the carriage, you chalk it all of as nothing more but a trick of the moonlight. 

You don’t have any more chances to make clear what you are seeing, as once the drive is done talking to you, he pulls down the curtains and closes the glass window separating the driver’s seat to the passenger car, covering the whole front of the box-seat as if to make sure that you would no longer be disturbed by his presence or any other incident that might happen. 

The next thing you hear is the sound of his whip cracking in the air, right over his horses, which soon start their steady run once again and the carriage sets off to move along the gravel road. With it, you soon lose sight of your worries and what was possibly a part of your vivid imagination as you continue to take in the scene that you are seeing through the windows as the carriage carries on its journey across the Elcester Forest. 

Never before you truly realised just how far and wide the Elcester Forest was until you are deep within its territory. The journey feels endless, and even if you have let yourself be distracted by the glorious sights around you until the moment darkness fell around you, it feels even more abundantly clear how deep the territory is now once the moonlight is hidden by the tree branches reaching over the road like dark, extended canopy. You see nothing but the eerie shadows crawling between the trees and the gliding mist. Not a sign of this journey ending anytime soon. 

As the evening falls deeper, the air grows colder. Very cold, as a matter of fact, that you feel it piercing through your thick coat even the windows are closed shut. 

“See here, Your Highness, cover yourself with this blanket,” Nanny Abigail says as she hands you a blanket which she pulled out from the storage box beneath the seats. “Best to keep yourself warm until we arrive and catch some sleep, so when you are to see His Royal Majesty, the King father, again, you will be all healthy and well rested. Let us draw the curtains to give you some peace of mind.” 

Taking the blanket in your hands, you simply spread them over your lap while you glance back out into the darkness just as Nanny Abigail starts pulling the curtains to cover most of the windows. “How much longer will this journey take us?” you wonder out loud. “I never knew just how far this forest is spread. Are we even still in Smotia?”

Nanny Abigail gives you a small smile. “My best guest is that we won’t be able to tell until we arrive at dawn, or at least once we’re out of the woods. We might get there a bit later than what the driver promised us if this road leads us through a longer path. Which is why it would be best if we rest through our trip. Have some shut eyes while we can so we can face whatever it is waiting for us on the other end with fresh minds, don’t you agree?” she continues to convince you, though you can still sense the uncertainty in her words. She might still be rattled after the previous crisis, no doubt, so you choose not to say a thing to deny her.

Nanny Abigail soon falls asleep, curling on her side with her head resting against the cushioned armrest under her side of the window. Meanwhile, sleep eludes you, leaving you wide awake even when your body is filled with exhaustion. Still, your mind is loud, still too restless to allow sleep to come and your senses are too high alert for you to relax. In the quietness that falls in the carriage, you can hear nothing but the sound of the soft breathing from Nanny Abigail, the steady pace from the racing horses and the occasional sharp commands coming from the driver. The sounds should have been enough to distract you from your anxiousness, to help your mind to feel at ease, and when they fail to calm you down, you choose to distract yourself with your other surroundings instead. 

After dimming the lamps a little, you pull open the curtain to your side just a little bit to allow you to have a peek of the forest and the one at the front window to be able to see what the driver is seeing. You notice that there are some changes happening with the trees outside, just as there are more bumps on the road and some odd stillness in the air. You may have gotten even deeper into the forest, yet the trees no longer seem as dense as they were, even though they look even more eerie and intimidating with their presence in the gloom. With no more branches reaching over the road, you now had enough opening above to allow you to look up at the sky, and for the moonlight to illuminate through.

You marvel at how the twilight seems to merge into the dark void formed between the gloom of trees and thickets, which would oftentimes swallow the carriage as it drives through the valleys running deep between the spurs of the hills. The mist have grown high enough that you can see it from the window, and it seems as if the fog keeps coming apart around the wheels and crawling closer to engulf the carriage as it drives past. 

Captivated by the sights you are seeing, your hand instinctively reach up to take hold of your necklace, seeking comfort from its presence.

With the tip of your fingers, you trace along the sides of the pendant—a ruby stone shaped as a heart, with a golden frame holding it together, and gold embellishments made in the shape of a smaller heart placed right at the center of the ruby and little curls that almost appear like ancient scriptures circling around the stone and its surrounding frame. You had questioned the meaning of the prettily made twirls to your father once, yet he simply told you that they were nothing but a simple artwork that your mother had designed herself, and she had been wearing the necklace ever since the night of her debutante ball where they first met.

But just like your father, King Aneas, you have been keeping secrets of your own, and one of them has everything to do with the necklace that he had made you swore to never take off wherever you would go. 

For a long time, since the day you received the necklace, you had always admired and loved the beautiful craftwork even as a child. One day, not too long after your twelfth birthday, you had accidentally dropped the necklace while you were playing alone in your bedchamber, accidentally breaking the golden frame holding the stone at its center. 

You remember being so hurt by it, knowing how important the necklace was for both your father and your late mother. But most of all, you were terrified of your father’s wrath if he should find out what had happened. So you locked yourself in your room that night, and tried your best to fix it before you would have to wear it again in the morning, only to find that the necklace held a secret of its own.

The framed ruby stone was a disguised locket, with pictures of your mother hidden inside. On one side, was the image of the young Queen, your mother as a Princess who was no older than you are now today, posing in a lovely dress with a small tiara placed over her head. Just like the one you wore during your debutante ball. On the other side was the image of the Queen once she was just a bit older. In her arms was a small baby who you recognised as yourself from the pictures that you found in your bedchamber. 

You had never told anyone about what you found that night, afraid that your father would take it away if he should find out, just like how he had taken down all the pictures and paintings of your mother from the palace—except for the one he kept in his chamber. You have never truly known the reason why he would do this, so you had kept this necklace close, cherishing it privately as it becomes the only thing that you have left that carries the memory of your mother. That was the true reason why you had been so willing to follow His Majesty’s command to wear it at all times, because it has made you feel closer to your mother while wearing it around your neck, and its presence gives you warmth and comfort whenever you would need it. 

Just like always, you feel a deep longing of your mother’s presence each time you think about her, so you shake away your thoughts before you start getting too emotional and distract yourself by looking out the window again.

Outside, the night continues to grow deeper, while the carriage travels far deeper into the Elcester Forest where the trees are shaped oddly and menacingly than they normally would, and you start noticing how the driver has been making haste. You cannot understand the reason for the sudden urgency as you are unable to see things too clearly in the dark aside from the stars above. And so, at first, you simply reckon that the darkness itself is the reason for the rising speed, assuming that the driver simply wants to get out of the forest quickly as you are lacking guards keeping you secure. 

That is, until the moment you begin to see it. 

For a while longer, you see nothing but the deep dark forest, with the shadows of the trees flashing by at the windows. All the wonderful colours which you had seen by dusk have long disappeared along with the sun, which perhaps becomes the reason why your eyes are quick to find the new colours coming out of the darkness. 

It begins with a faint flickering blue flame emerging through the thicket, a distance away from the road and out of reach from the advancing carriage. At first, you take it in assumption that your eyes are deceiving you. That after straining your eyes to look out into the dark forest, you are beginning to imagine seeing lights and colours appearing against the gloom. You also wonder if you might be dreaming. That sleep has finally come and you have lost the ability to tell the difference between reality and fantasy. 

But soon you can tell that the driver is seeing this at the same time when you can hear the excitement showing in his command as he controls the horses, swerving to start heading towards the source of light. And only then do you finally realise that this is not simply a figment of your imagination, knowing it would be impossible for the driver to know what might be inside your mind. 

From one small flame, another appears on the other side of the road, both flickering from a fair distance from one to the other, then more of it begins to emerge, alternating between the left and right side of the road. You have no idea what to do, or think, as the carriage carries on driving between them while the flames continue to emerge here and there. You wonder if this has anything to do with the Lemmus Rising, and if these blue flames are what the townsfolk has believed to be the souls of the elders, especially when you can see the mist moving as if they are avoiding the flames, crawling away from where they seem to be emerging from.

Surprisingly so, instead of driving out of the road and away from the shady phenomenon, the driver continues leading the carriage to continue the journey by following and turning rapidly towards where the blue flames are rising as if he is using them as a guide to know just where to go. 

The flames continue to emerge more frequently from then on, slowly forming two lines of blue flames on either side of the road and appearing as if they are getting closer and closer while the carriage continues to pick up its speed. Their presence make it seem like the path is growing a bit brighter, yet despite the close proximity, you feel no warmth nor heat inside the carriage. The cold remains strong, and so is the fog that has somehow risen around you, the thick fog dispersing around you as the carriage drives past before gathering back together over the tracks. 

This pattern continues for a moment longer, then what happens next seems to you like a strange optical effect taunting your exhausted mind. The flames suddenly seem to be dancing as the carriage drives past them, while the air ripples around you in a steady current that you almost think of it as being in water instead of a rapidly pacing carriage going through the woods. 

A shout comes from the driver while you are wondering about what might be happening. His unsteady voice startles you, but it does little to worry you when the excitement seems to remain in his voice. You look to the front to see what the driver is seeing, and your jaw nearly drops when something seems to emerge right beyond your eyes. 

Right in the middle of the road ahead, the pair of lines of blue flames unite and form a tall pillar. A massive, roaring blue inferno rises from the ground, as if cutting the end of your journey with its threatening blaze. Once again, the driver’s actions startles you. When seeing this, instead of avoiding it and coming to a halt, the carriage speeds up, as if the driver has every intention of driving the whole carriage and its passengers right into the heart of the burning inferno. 

And that is exactly what he does. 

Before you can react, the driver sends the horses diving straight forward, carrying everything and everyone along with them into the roaring blue pillar of flame. 

On the other side of the forest, Yoongi is awakened by a ripple of strong aura that seems to be passing through the air. He wakes up completely alert but cautious, as he tries to identify the source of this queer force and find out where it is coming from. Just as he pulls out his amulet necklace to help him as a guide, Ansen barges into his tent, his unkempt hair showing that the poor man has rushed his way here after the magic force had awakened him at the same time it did with Yoongi. 

“Your Highness!” Ansen nearly shouts at his Prince with a strained voice. “Did you feel it too?” 

“Yes, I did,” Yoongi says, still feeling obviously astounded as he raises his amulet to see that the black crystal is glowing as it also senses the powerful force reverberating through the air. Yoongi’s brows are furrowed when he realises that the glow appears to be in a shade of iridescent blue, something that seems impossible to happen, not in this realm, but it does help him recognise what kind of magic this one would be. “It’s an ancient magic, an old spell. Seems like someone has gone across the realm.”

“But—how? How was it possible?” 

Before Yoongi can answer him, Yijeong slips into the tent just then and answers for him. “It feels like a portal to me. Whoever it was, they made it across by going through it.” He falls silent, while Ansen seems to be lost in deep thought, until Yijeong openly questions his Prince, “Are you thinking what I’m thinking, Your Highness?”   

Wearing the amulet around his neck, Yoongi slowly nods. “Yes, there’s only one person who can use such a powerful mana to create a portal and send someone away even without him having to be present.” He looks up to his companions with a grim look on his face. “This is his magic. It’s been his magic that we’ve felt all along.” 

There is no need for Yoongi to explain further, as he and his men had been dealing with these old spells for some time now without understanding how it would be possible for such magic to exist in the territory of Smotia. Now that the source of magic has finally shown its true self, they finally have the answers that they needed.

“He really was here the whole time,” Yoongi says, voicing out exactly what the others are thinking. “And I think he knows that we were on to him.” 

Once again, the blue glow shimmers brightly from his black crystal, as if agreeing with him as Yoongi mentions the one name that he hasn’t been able to say out loud for a long time.

“It’s Bluebeard.”

— © 2023 Yoonia, all rights reserved. reposting/modifying of any kind, translations, unsanctioned adaptations are not allowed.

[steviestits]

I Move the Stars For No One - Part 1.2

Written for a prompt dmed to me, which can be read in its entirety on this fic’s masterpost.

Pairing: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson Rating: T (E for later chapters) Summary: After running away from home after an argument with his father, Steve storms off into the woods only to accidentally stumble into the unseelie king's lavish party. The king, Eddie as he likes to be called, is taken by Steve and dances through the night with him. Though Steve enjoys himself, he feels the need to return to the mortal realm, but soon learns that he can't as he has become property of the king after trespassing on a sacred fairy circle. Steve is forced to stay and begins to learn that all is not as it seems, especially in regards to his own past. (Labyrinth inspired story but they share zero plot points.) Trigger Warning: None for this chapter Eventual Trigger Warning: Feminization, Mating Rituals, Heats/Ruts but not the Omegaverse kind

(Link to previous part)

Startled at the sudden question, Steve looked down at his hand within Eddie’s then up at all the masked revelers around them. Though their faces were hidden, the sharp daggers of jealously still stabbed through the air, creating an atmosphere rife with contempt. Steve couldn’t stop himself from squirming a bit under the negative attention, before he carefully pulled his hand away, not wishing to draw anymore ire from the crowd.

“I’d love to, but I’m not dressed for it,” Steve said, motioning down at his plain clothes.

Eddie chuckled, “Is that all?” then snapped his fingers. A bright light surrounded Steve, engulfing him in an effulgent aura of magic, and silver sparks danced across his body, slowly transforming the clothes Steve wore into a flowing, white gown while silver-stringed ornaments wound through his hair while matching jewels appeared on his ears and neck. He also gained a pair of silver heels, though the height of the heels weren’t too high, so Steve found that he was able to keep his balance despite never wearing a pair before now.

“My dad would kill me if he saw me in this,” Steve muttered.

To which Eddie replied, “Is he here?”

“What?”

“Your dad, is here right now?”

Shaking his head, Steve said, “No, he’s not.”

“Then it should be fine. It feels right, doesn’t it? Like this is where you belong?”

Steve opened his mouth to refute Eddie’s statement but closed it when he realize that what the fae king said rung true. For the first time in a long time, Steve felt comfortable with himself. He didn’t feel like he was trying to fit into a mold of his father’s creation. The more Steve thought on it, the more natural it felt. Part of him worried that it was some kind of magic making him believe all this, but for some reason, the rest of him honestly didn’t think this was the case.

“I guess it does,” he admitted eventually.

“Then you have no other objections to sharing this dance with me?”

“But I don’t have a mask.”

“Stevie, your beauty is unparalleled. It would be a crime to hide it with a mask. I want to see it while I dance with you.”

Blush colored Steve’s cheeks, and he replied, “Then can I see your face, too?”

As a reply, Eddie reached up and took the wolf mask off his face, revealing dazzling features and a pair of dimples that made Steve’s heart flutter. He then took Steve’s hand, and despite the glares that were still aimed at him, Steve allowed Eddie to lead him out onto the dance floor as a new song started to be played by unseen musicians. The ball became lively again as the crowd swayed to the harmonious melody surrounding them. None of that mattered, however, as Steve was drawn into Eddie’s presence, unable to look away from the fae king.

Eddie began to lead Steve through the dance, never taking his gaze off Steve for a second. The outside world faded away until it was as if they were the only two in the ballroom, maybe even the whole universe. Steve didn’t care that he had to follow Eddie’s lead as they spun and twirled along the dance floor. He could hear his father’s voice chiding him, telling him that he was supposed to be the one leading the dance, not following like a girl. His father seemed so far away now, though, his words barely a buzz in Steve’s ear.

The song continued, enchanting Steve in the magic of the moment. He never wanted the dance to end, because he felt safe within Eddie’s arms. Steve had only just met the fae king, but he strangely felt as if he belonged here with him, and as long as the music played, Steve would continue to exist nowhere else except within Eddie’s company.

Unfortunately, the song did eventually come to an end, and when it did, Steve drew away from Eddie, even though their eyes remained locked. He’d never met anyone who commanded the room like Eddie did, not even Steve’s father could carry himself with so much confidence that everyone else in the room was forced to pay attention to the fae king. That’s why Steve was still shocked that the other had come up to him and chose to dance with him through most of the night, that he saw Steve as special enough to warrant his time.

Steve didn’t want leave, didn’t want to go back to where he was seen as a useless failure, back to where he wasn’t seen as beautiful by a handsome fae king, but he knew that he had to get back to his home. His dad would chew him out if he was late, which he’d been doing more since Steve turned eighteen. Sometimes, it felt as if all Steve had to do was breathe to set his dad off on him about how much of a screw-up Steve was and how he hadn’t lived up to their expectations at all. So, even though Steve wanted to stay with Eddie, he didn’t want to incur his dad’s wrath any more than he already had by merely existing.

It was then with a heavy heart that he broke eye contact with the fae king and took a step back. At least he tried to, but Eddie caught Steve by the wrist to hold him in place. The grip of the fae king was stronger than Steve expected, effectively preventing Steve from leaving as he wanted. Steve tried to struggle free, but he found he was unable to budge the hand even an inch.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Eddie asked domineeringly.

“I’m heading home,” Steve said, still struggling a bit in the tight grip. “I’m sure my parents are worried about me.”

The fae king snorted in amusement. “You are home. This is where the fae belong.”

“I didn’t mean to lead you on, but I’m not fae. I stumbled into a fairy circle on accident. I’m human. I’m from the human world.”

“Sweetheart, even if you were human, once someone enters the fae realm, they can’t leave. They become property of the fae king, which is me.”

“Eddie, it’s been fun, but I really do have to go. My dad will kill me if I don’t get home in time.”

“You don’t have to worry about that, because as I said, you’re my property. He can’t touch my property, which you are.”

Then with a wave of Eddie’s hand, a silver collar with a thin chain that matched the baubles that adorned his hair. Steve tugged at the collar, but it wouldn’t budge, and when he traced his fingers along the rim, he couldn’t find a clasp. It was as if the collar had been welded together, trapping Steve in it permanently. The chain then lengthened and wrapped around Eddie’s hand, clearly denoting his ownership.

“Until you learn,” Eddie said while giving the chain a tug, drawing Steve closer. “Because you’re mine, and no one else can have you.”

Part 1.1 ~ Masterpost ~ Part 1.3

[exitpursuedbyavulcan]

The Silver Dragon (22/?)

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Original Female Character

Word Count: 7312

Story Summary: Lady Arianwyn Targaryen, the Lady of Runestone, was seeded by her father, the Rogue Prince Daemon Targaryen, in an act of unbridled hatred, and borne of her mother, the late Lady Rhea Royce, as a desperate grasp at revenge.

Ignored by her father, and alone following the death of her mother, she is raised in King’s Landing alongside her cousin, Prince Aemond Targaryen. As they grow, the two find themselves indelibly bonded. But their lives are far from the fairy tales they read, and as tensions in the family rise, they find their paths may diverge.

Will they be pulled apart when the dragons dance?

Chapter Summary: To prevent Daemon from contesting their marriage, Aemond and Arianwyn proceed with the Bedding Ceremony.

Warnings: Adult content, minors DNI.

Series Masterlist

Taglist: @thelittleswanao3 @trap-house-homiecide @50svibes @literishdegree99 @dc-marvel-girl96 @henriettadreaming @multiple-fandoms-girl @gyuxmilk @somemydayy @kittykylax

Author's Note: This is my first time writing smut, so be gentle with me!

The Bedding

“With this kiss, I pledge my love.”

Aemond had dreamed of saying those words to Arianwyn for nearly six years, though he had desired her kiss for even longer.

Her sparkling silver eyes fluttered closed as he brought his hands up to cup her face, careful not to aggravate the purple bruises forming along her soft jawline. She was the very image of the Maiden – pure, innocent, and celestially beautiful.

He thought that with all the fairy tales they had read together, he would know what true love’s kiss would feel like. It was the kiss shared between the hero and his lady love as they left danger far behind. The kiss that broke curses and conquered evil. The kiss that began a happy ending.

This was all that and more.

Arianwyn’s lips were deliciously soft and thrillingly cool, sending a shiver down Aemond’s spine. He felt, more than heard, a slight sound leave her as he pressed further into her, the tip of his nose digging into her flushed cheeks. Her mouth opened slightly, her arms lacing around his neck and into his hair as she pushed forward, kissing him back.

Aemond would have gladly spent the rest of his days beneath the weirwood tree with his mouth on hers, his hands on her face, and her fingers in his hair. But they were not the only ones present in the Godswood, he had to remind himself as he pulled away from her sweet lips.

She leaned toward him as he withdrew, enthralled by the heat he had poured into her with his kiss. The sounds of scattered applause from their sparse audience seemed distant as all she could hear was her ragged breath and pounding heart.

When the clapping faded, Aemond turned to Septon Eustace. “What do we do now?” he asked.

There was no feast prepared, no wedding gifts to receive or toasts to hear. All that remained…

“The bedding ceremony,” Maester Orwyle answered, though he could not bring himself to look at the new couple. He had practically raised them. The idea that it was now his duty to ensure a consummation was uncomfortable, to say the least. “If you should wish it, my Prince – and Princess.”

Suddenly consumed by timidness, Aemond looked anywhere but at his new wife. He cleared his throat before speaking. “It has been a trying day for all of us. I think it best – ”

“Yes,” Arianwyn interjected – her first act of disobedience against her husband. “We want… the ceremony.”

Aemond looked down at her. She was nervous, that much was clear from the way her chest heaved and her hands shook. “Aria,” he whispered, “We don’t have to… if you don’t want to, that is.”

What was he doing? Had he not imagined taking her to his bed for years? Why was he fighting this?

But the answer was simple: because he loved her, and he would never force anything on her that she did not want.

Arianwyn placed a hand on his chest, and he had to take a deep, steadying breath to keep himself from kissing her again. “We do have to, Aemond. If the marriage is consummated, it will make it harder for my father to fight against it.”

She did not say that her fingers were tingling with the desire to touch his warm skin nor that her lips ached for his. Not here, before so many others. Instead, she let silence hang over the Godswood as Aemond stared reverently at her.

“Whose rooms shall we go to?” she asked when he did not object.

“If you’ll forgive my intrusion,” Ser Criston said as he stepped forward, “I believe the Prince’s apartments in the Holdfast will be more secure come the morning.”

While he hated that their protection was a concern on their wedding night, Aemond had to agree.

“Well,” Brynna said with a clap. “As I am the only woman present, it seems as though you’re coming with me, Prince Aemond.”

The memory of his terrified expression at that moment would bring Arianwyn laughter for years to come. As would the stiff way he moved in response to the poking and prodding he received from the boisterous lady’s maid as she herded him out of the Godswood.

As the stifled chuckling from the assembled guards faded, Eustace yawned. “It would seem that my responsibilities have concluded,” he said. “If you will excuse me, I will now happily return to my bed, my Lady – ah, apologies! My Princess.”

The old Septon did not wait for a reply before he strode from the Godswood, leaving Arianwyn alone at the base of the Heart Tree, save for a dozen guards, Ser Criston Cole, and Grand Maester Orwyle – not quite the procession she imagined for her bedding ceremony.

She had always expected that Aegon would be the one leading her to her husband’s chambers, laughing through his usual drunken haze as he watched an assortment of equally intoxicated young lords tear her clothing from her body. Never once did she picture being led to her marriage bed by two men who had taken vows of celibacy and twelve knights, most of whom had been protecting her for the majority of her life.

Though as she considered the alternative, she decided that this was far more appealing.

Indeed, Ser Criston’s touch was gentle as he offered her his arm to lead her from the Godswood. “I hope you will forgive us if we do not behave in the… traditional manner,” he said, actively avoiding meeting her eyes.

“There is nothing to forgive,” Arianwyn replied, wrapping her arm around his, grateful for the stability he provided. “At least not from me. Though I do believe Aegon will be inconsolably jealous that you took his rightful place as my escort.”

Cole, Orwyle, and all the Runestone guards chuckled quietly at her words, the joyful sound echoing off the stone as they entered Maegor’s Holdfast.

“I doubt Prince Aegon would have ever had the chance,” Orwyle mused. “I am only aware of him mentioning it once, and Prince Aemond hit him so hard in return that I had to place several stitches in his brow.”

Another round of laughter went through the party, and none tried to stifle it this time. After all, the bedding ceremony was supposed to be a time of joy and excitement; why shouldn’t they laugh?

“As I understand it,” Arianwyn said, turning back to face the knights who had guarded her for so long, “You are meant to make lewd jokes and tell risqué tales of your own conquests, to prepare me for what I will face once we reach our destination. Or are you all as cloistered as these men of vows?”

She pushed into Ser Criston, his face flushing, and grinned mischievously at Orwyle, who only raised his brows suggestively.

“Our pickings have been slim as of late, my Lady,” the youngest of her guards, Ser Trevor Wren, replied.

Another man from Runestone, Ser Adrew Dutton, smacked the side of Trevor’s helmet. “She is not just our ‘Lady’ anymore, you dimwit. She is our Princess!”

The young knight, hardly older than Arianwyn, blushed beneath his helmet. “Apologies, my Princess,” he muttered.

Arianwyn smiled back at him. “Don’t apologize, Trevor. It will take me some time to get used to as well.”

“Thank you, my Princess,” he said with a smile in his deep brown eyes.

“I doubt Wren has any tales to tell, Princess,” Ser Colren Shett chuckled. “By the time he got to Dragonstone, what few fair women there were knew to avoid bronze armor all too well!”

Several of the knights joined his laughter, surprising Arianwyn. “I had no idea my sworn protectors were so notorious!” she giggled.

Ser Warren Crayne, the eldest among them and commander of her household guard, sighed heavily. “Only the least respectable among us, Princess. Give me time, and I’ll find worthy wives to settle them.”

The words did not sit right with Arianwyn, especially not on the night of her wedding. “Is that the purpose of a wife?” she asked. “To settle an unruly man?”

“Of course not!” he responded, stuttering as soon as he realized he had upset her. “Though, in my experience, it can certainly help. When a man loves a woman, he has not only reason to fight, but to survive and return home. A married man will therefore carry himself with more dignity and honor than a bachelor.”

“That was surprisingly romantic, Ser Warren,” Arianwyn sighed. Her desperate desire to return home to King’s Landing – to Aemond – had prevented her from doing anything to upset her father for the years she was confined to Dragonstone. Though she was often tempted to contradict him or spit insults back at her stepbrothers, she could never risk extending her confinement.

Remembering the long years they spent apart darkened her mood, and the procession again fell into silence as they walked through the empty stone halls. How would things have been different had they not been so cruelly separated?

A thousand different scenarios raced through her mind.

By now, they could have already been married in a ceremony that befitted their stations. They could already have a child, and perhaps another on the way. They would be living peacefully at Runestone, away from the chaos of court and the reach of her father’s influence.

Or they could have drifted away from each other. It was likely that they both would have been betrothed to a different stranger as part of their family’s diplomatic machinations. They would be hundreds, perhaps thousands of miles apart, once again relying on nothing but letters to sustain them.

The road that had led them here, to this night, had been long and not particularly kind to either of them. But so long as it ended with them together, Arianwyn could not bring herself to regret any of it.

A smile had just returned to her face when she realized they had come to a stop – at Aemond’s door. She could barely make out the runes he had carved into the wood, as they seemed worn down over the years, as though he had touched them every time he entered his apartments.

She tightened her grip on Ser Criston’s arm. “I believe you were supposed to have me completely undressed by now.”

Cole smirked, his eyebrows raised in amusement. “Prince Aemond shall simply have to do the honors himself.”

The thought of Aemond’s long, nimble fingers unlacing her dress sent Arianwyn’s stomach churning. Then, as she struggled to control her breathing, she looked into Ser Criston’s dark eyes. “Have you ever… loved a woman before?”

It was a silly question. He had been only a young man when he was chosen as a member of the Kingsguard and taken a vow of chastity. Which made his answer all the more surprising.

“Once,” he whispered, ducking his head in either sadness or shame. “It did not end well. At least, not for me.”

“I’m sorry,” Arianwyn said. Ser Criston was a handsome man who had always been kind to her. She could not imagine that any woman would reject his love.

“It will not be that way for you, Aria,” he said as he lifted his head, looking down on Arianwyn with such a look of pride that she was taken aback. He had never used the diminutive form of her name before. He had always been resolute in maintaining that boundary between himself and the royal family. But he had been there all her life, and next to the King, he was the closest she could come to having a true, caring father.

“Aemond loves you,” he spoke as though preaching a sermon, delivering a message that Arianwyn needed to hear. “He loves you so very much. All he has thought about for the last six years was how to bring you home. I have not a single doubt that he will treat you with all the devotion and respect that you deserve.”

She knew he spoke the truth, and it brought a warmth to her heart she had not felt in many years. “Thank you, Ser,” she said, “for everything you have done for me. And for Aemond. I never had the chance to tell you, but he fought very well on Driftmark. From what you saw, I know that it may not have seemed so, but I think you would have been very proud of him, even then.”

“He put himself in danger to protect you when you could not defend yourself,” he tried to maintain his serious demeanor, but he could not help but beam as he replied. “That is all he ever need do to make me proud. But I thank you, nevertheless.”

Ser Warren cleared his throat, “I believe the Prince is waiting for his bride.”

Oh. Of course.

Arianwyn released Ser Criston’s arm. Her entire body was tingling with excitement and fear as he reached around her to remove the white cloak from her shoulders.

“There,” he said. “Now I have undressed you, and fulfilled my duty.”

But she was far too anxious to respond to his quip as he reached forward to open the door.

Aemond was not in his solar, though Brynna was. She sat on his plush couch before the roaring fire, the Prince’s leather jacket in her hands.

When the maid saw Arianwyn staring at the garment, she stood and handed it, neatly folded, to her mistress. “It was all I could get off him before he threatened me.”

“Oh, Brynna, I’m so sorry! You must know he would never – ”

“I know, darling,” Brynna laughed, kissing Arianwyn’s forehead. “But I also know better than to rile a man on his wedding night.”

Orwyle glanced around the room, “And where is the groom?”

Brynna stepped away from Arianwyn, taking both the Maester’s and Ser Criston’s arms as she led them out of the apartments. “He is in his bedchamber. Do not worry. I am sure the Princess can find her way. But, for now, we shall leave them be. You can ensure the consummation in the morning, Grand Maester…”

Her voice faded as the door shut, and she shooed most of the procession away. Though by the faint sounds of clanking armor, at least four guards were posted at the door.

Arianwyn was alone in her husband’s chambers.

Though she supposed they were now also her chambers – or rather, theirs.

Not quite ready to enter the bedchamber, Arianwyn hugged the leather jacket closer to her chest. It was still warm. Aemond was always so warm, even in the cold of winter. She had fond memories of pressing into his side while they read in the library, far from any hearths or stoves. Perhaps now, she would never have to feel so cold again.

She was turning over the leather absentmindedly when she saw a scrap of periwinkle silk. Hastily, she unfolded the jacket until she found what she was searching for and let the dark leather fall to the floor.

From a pocket sewn into the breast of the coat, she had pulled out a small square of heavily embroidered silk. The black, silver, and bronze thread had not frayed but had lost its stiffness over the years. Now, each of the Runes was as soft and pliable as the silk it was sewn to.

For all these years, Aemond had kept it. Arianwyn had only ever intended it as instructions for the lapidarist at Runestone, for both the color of the stone and the engravings on each facet. But Ser Gerold had delivered the cloth along with the jewel, and Aemond had saved it.

Not only that, but he kept it with him, close to his heart.

The thought had her feet carrying her to the bedchamber door before she knew she was moving. With the silk still in hand, she raised her fist to the dark wood and knocked twice.

There was a long moment of silence before she heard Aemond’s voice.

“Aria? Is that you?”

“Yes.”

His brow was furrowed when he emerged, though he was relieved to see Arianwyn was still fully clothed. He, too, was fully dressed save for his jacket, his white cotton shirt untucked and hanging loosely around his lean form. “Why did you knock?” he asked.

“I…” Arianwyn looked down, suddenly embarrassed. “I thought it the right thing to do when approaching one’s bedchamber.”

Aemond only smiled. “It is very courteous of you, but I think we are well past such formalities… wife.”

Her eyes met his, a giddy grin on her lips. “I don’t know which title feels stranger, ‘wife’ or ‘Princess.’”

Aemond took her hand and led her slowly into the bedchamber. “If you prefer, I will keep calling you simply ‘Aria.’”

“I would like that very much,” she replied, looking around the room.

It was different than she remembered, the decoration sparser. All that hung on the stone walls was a simple mirror directly beside the eastern window. Only candelabras and a few plain ceramic dishes were on the tables and drawers.

But there was no lack of books. Six massive shelves were placed against the walls, each bursting with hundreds of tomes. What could not fit on a shelf had been neatly stacked on the floor, with some piles reaching nearly as high as the torches bolted to the wall.

When she had thoroughly inspected every corner and had nothing else to distract her, Arianwyn looked back at her husband.

Aemond stood only inches from her, his breath nearly as heavy as hers. He clenched and unclenched his fists, at once desperate to touch her and terrified by how she would react. She had kissed him back in the Godswood, but did that mean she really wanted him?

Carefully, he stepped closer, until their chests were just touching. He brought one hand to the side of her face, lifting her chin towards him, and the other to her waist. When she did not flinch or recoil, he leaned down and kissed her.

As fast as he had kissed her, he pulled back, turning away from his wife.

Arianwyn was left breathless, her arms hanging on to the empty air where he had just been, her scrap of silk falling to the floor. Had she displeased him already?

“Aemond?” she asked, afraid to approach as she watched his chest heave with each breath.

He dropped his head. “I am so sorry, Aria.”

“I don’t understand.” She stood in shock as tears began to sting her eyes.

At last, he turned back, his violet eye shining wetly in the firelight. “I am sorry it had to be this way,” he whispered. “You deserve so much better. You deserved a wedding as grand as you are, with more than just your guards in attendance.”

He ran a hand down his chest, refusing to meet her gaze. “You deserve … to do this with a man you truly love.”

Her heart nearly cleaved in two. Didn’t he know? Had he not felt it in her kiss?

“Aemond,” she breathed, daring to bring herself closer to him. He stood unnaturally still, even as she brought her hand to his face, cradling his sharp jaw and tenderly running her thumb along the end of his scar. “I love you.”

His eye flashed to hers, wide with shock and brimming with hope.

“I love you so much,” she continued, tears finally spilling over, “that I don’t even have the words to express it. I love you, and I think I have for a very, very long time.”

Without reply, he kissed her again. Harder, deeper, and more earnestly than he had before. He poured all of his love into that kiss, along with all of the desperation with which he had longed for her.

When he had to pull back to catch his breath, one hand tangled in her hair while his other arm held her to his chest, he smiled ardently against her lips. “I have loved you from the moment I learned the meaning of the word,” he sighed.

It was Arianwyn who kissed him then. Her heart was full to bursting, and the only thing she could think to do was kiss him, and kiss him, and kiss him.

But more was expected of them than that.

Reluctantly, Arianwyn pulled away, instantly missing his warmth. She had to press her hands on his chest to prevent him from catching her lips again. When he finally relented, a questioning look in his eye, she gave him a confident smile to mask her nerves.

“Tell me what to do,” she said.

Aemond sighed, stroking her cheek. “I told you, I will never command you.”

She put her hand over his, turning her head to place a kiss on his palm. “I am not asking for your command,” she replied, her voice teasingly soft. “I am asking what you want.”

Gods, she was the most tempting creature in the world. He wanted her so much it hurt. He wanted to press his lips to every inch of her skin, to kiss her so deeply that her taste would never leave his lips. He wanted to claim her, body and soul, until not even the gods could separate them. He wanted to hear her tell him that she loved him. Again, and again, and again.

But before that, he had one simple request.

“I want to see you,” he said, “all of you.”

Arianwyn smiled and turned around. She lifted her tangled curls over her shoulder, giving him access to the ties of her dress.

Just the sight of her bare neck was intoxicating, and Aemond could not resist nuzzling into her as he slowly began to unlace the silver ribbon. She leaned further and further into him with every tantalizingly gentle brush of his fingers. By the time the dress finally fell to the floor, her head was resting on his shoulder as she pushed her nose into his neck.

Though she still wore her silk chemise, Aemond thought he would lose himself at the sight of her peaked nipples and the swell of her breasts through the thin white fabric. He wrapped an arm around her waist, resting his hand against her belly while the other came up to cup one of her breasts.

Arianwyn sighed at the feeling, at the sheer intimacy of the contact, even through her chemise. No one had ever touched her like that before, and the sense of closeness was overwhelming. She whined when Aemond removed his hand to slip the thin straps of the garment off her shoulder, and the silk puddled on the floor beneath her.

Then Aemond stepped in front of her and, after a long moment staring hungrily at her naked form, dropped to his knees.

He wrapped his hands around her thigh, nimbly unbuckling her garter. Even as he rolled the stocking from her leg and moved to the other, he never looked anywhere but into her eyes, letting her see how fervently he desired her.

Once he had rid her of the last of her underclothes, he pressed a chaste kiss to the sensitive skin just beneath her navel. Arianwyn moaned helplessly as pleasure surged to her core, and she felt an unfamiliar but exquisite heat pooling between her legs.

Before the sound had finished leaving her lips, Aemond rose to capture her mouth with his own. He hooked his hands around her head and neck and kissed her passionately, possessively, unyieldingly. All Arianwyn could do was hang onto his neck and try to answer his passion with her own.

“You are so beautiful,” he murmured between kisses. “Only the gods themselves could have crafted something so divine as you.”

She blushed at his praise, running her fingers through his silken hair and hooking her thumb into the strap of his eyepatch. “May I return the favor?”

Aemond dropped his eye and wrapped his hand around her wrist, “Are you sure you want to see?”

“I was there when it was lost,” she replied. “I did not run from you then, and I will not run from you now.”

He laughed, “You may not have run, but you did faint, as I recall.”

“That was only because of the blood!” she shrieked as he chuckled mischievously and began tickling her bare waist. “It’s not still bleeding, is it?”

The thought seemed to genuinely unsettle her, but Aemond shook his head and let his laughter fade. “Not for many years.”

“Then I want to see!” she said, returning her hand to the eyepatch. “Don’t I deserve to see my gift?”

“Of course you do,” he finally relented, dipping his head to make it easier for her to slip the leather off his head and expose the scar.

Though he was still fully clothed, no one had seen him without his patch for many years, and he felt entirely naked.

But true to her word, Arianwyn did not recoil or react at all to the gruesome sight.

To her, it was not gruesome. Tragic, yes, to mar such a beautiful face with something so brutal. But it was not gruesome.

It was beautiful.

The scar was deep, its color dark and tinged with red. It ran from close to his hairline, through his brow and eye, to the base of his cheek, but an inch above his jaw. Unfortunately, the cut had not been clean, so the mark was jagged and wavered across his skin. But the Driftmark Maester and Orwyle had done well to ensure that it healed properly.

His eye had not fared so well. The skin surrounding the sapphire was grey and wrinkled, so heavily scarred that it did not move when his other eye fluttered closed. As Arianwyn looked closer, she could see where a portion of his lower eyelid had been completely torn out, leaving a ‘v’ in the curve of the eye. The upper eyelid seemed to have been removed entirely, the delicate skin wounded beyond repair by Luke’s knife.

Still, the sapphire sparkled brilliantly, and nothing could ever detract from his ethereal beauty.

For Arianwyn, it was not only a reminder of one of the darkest days of her life, but a testament to Aemond’s unparalleled bravery and strength.

She ran a finger down his jaw, coaxing his good eye open. “It’s not quite the right color,” she whispered coyly, “but it is beautiful nonetheless.”

Aemond looked at her, brows pinched in disbelief. His eye was pleading, do not lie to me.

“I mean it,” she said, desperate for him to believe her. “You are gorgeous, Aemond. So painfully gorgeous that I cannot stand it.”

Arianwyn kissed him again, slipping her hands beneath his loose shirt and running her cool fingers up the hard muscles of his chest. If she still desired him after seeing his scar uncovered, her sweet words must be true, Aemond reasoned as he fiercely returned the kiss.

His hips instinctively rolled forward as he raised his arms to let her slide his shirt off. If he was not already achingly hard and straining against his trousers, the blissful chill of her touch on his skin would have brought him there instantly.

She had seen men bare-chested before – on the docks of Dragonstone, in the training yard, or in the streets of the city – but she had never seen any man as glorious as Aemond. He was thin, but every inch of him was taut with hardened muscle – the body of a warrior.

Curiously, she ran her fingers back down his chest, exploring each rise and crevice until she found herself gripping the waist of his pants. She hesitated with her hands over the laces.

“Go on,” Aemond encouraged, laying gentle kisses on her temple.

She tilted her head up to look into his eye – his eyes, as she began to untie his pants. She let herself stare longingly into not only his lovely purple iris, but into the scar-rimmed sapphire as well. Every part of him was beautiful, and she needed him to know it.

At last, his trousers slumped over his hips. Arianwyn froze, her hands hovering over him. She had absolutely no idea what to do next.

Fortunately, Aemond did. Though this was already infinitely better than his visit to the Street of Silk on his thirteenth birthday, he was grateful that the – admittedly traumatizing – night had left him with the knowledge he needed for this night. He bent down to remove his trousers himself, relieving his innocent wife of the responsibility and stood fully naked before her.

Her eyes were wide as she stared at the hard length of him. While she was innocent, as proper Ladies are expected to be, she understood the general concept of sex. What she did not understand was how he was supposed to fit that inside of her.

Tentatively, Arianwyn wrapped her fingers around his impressive length and ran a curious thumb across one of the large veins crossing the surface. Aemond sucked in a harsh breath, nearly doubling over as he closed his eye and buried his face in her hair.

At his visceral reaction, Arianwyn swiftly recoiled her hand and pulled away from him. “Did that hurt?” she asked with genuine concern.

Aemond only laughed, pulling her chin up to take her in another slow, passionate kiss. “No, my love,” he whispered as he pulled away. “Quite the opposite, in fact.”

Though he wanted her to take him in her hands again, an even more tantalizing prospect entered his mind. He bent down, wrapping his arms around her thighs and lifting her.

“Let me show you.”

He carried her to the bed, reaching down to throw aside the blankets and furs atop it. Arianwyn felt a thrill in her core when she realized how strong he was, that he could hold her aloft with only one arm.

Playfully, he tossed her onto the bed, lustily admiring how her breasts moved as she bounced on the mattress. He had grand plans for those, but for now, he was on a mission. He climbed onto the bed, straddling Arianwyn on his hands and knees.

Gods, it was so hard to keep himself from her mouth. He caught her in another kiss, savoring the heat of her swollen lips and the blissful feel of her tongue against his.

“You were going to show me something?” She asked as she pulled away to take a breath.

“Hmm,” he moaned as he moved his mouth to her collarbone. “Yes, I believe I was.”

Aemond leaned on his left side, still suckling at her skin as he traced his long fingers down her chest, between the mounds of her breasts and past her navel.

His touch was so light, so tauntingly slow. Arianwyn felt heat pool between her legs as her hips instinctively rose, begging his fingers lower and lower.

He happily complied. Pride surged in his chest as he felt the wetness of her folds. She was so eager for him as he was for her. His cock twitched as he imagined how it would feel sliding into her.

Not yet, he reminded himself.

Instead, he ran two fingers against her entrance as his thumb rose to her clit.

He knew he had found it when she let out a desperate whimper, her legs squirming and toes clenching as she reached up to wrap her arms around his neck.

“That,” he said into her hot ear, “is what it feels like.”

She whined against his throat, “Do it again?”

“Gladly.”

He began to grind his thumb in slow circles around the sensitive bundle of nerves as he ran his fingers up and down her slick folds. The gasps and moans escaping her lips were sweeter than he had ever imagined, and he captured each and every one with a kiss.

Arianwyn was entirely lost in the bliss of his touch. The feel of his hand on her breast was nothing compared to this. It felt as though there was nothing in the world but Aemond, his fingers, and this feeling of inescapable pleasure.

But Aemond was only beginning. Once his fingers were thoroughly soaked in her juices, he began to press the tip of his index finger into her entrance.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered into her ear, “but this may hurt a little. Just try to relax, and I promise it will start to feel good.”

She had absolutely no clue what he meant. Not until the pressure began to eclipse her pleasure. This couldn’t be right. That can’t be how this was supposed to feel. Gods, if that was just his finger, what would it feel like when he put his cock in her?

Aemond’s heart clenched as he listened to her whines of pleasure fade swiftly into whimpers of pain. He froze his fingers and laid kisses to her temple, pressing harder on her clit to try and drown out the discomfort. “I know, I know it hurts,” he said, “but it will hurt more if I try to enter you before you are ready.”

“You said it would feel good,” she cried, “when will it start to feel good?”

“Soon, Aria,” he kissed her through his reassurance. “But you have to relax. Just focus on what feels good. Focus on this,” he stroked her clit once for emphasis. “If it hurts too much, tell me, and I will stop.”

She nodded into his neck, signaling him to begin again. He went slower this time, making sure to move only when she was ready. Though her eyes squeezed shut every time he pushed deeper in, she never asked him to stop or pull out.

When he was deep enough, Aemond curled his finger forward within her, searching for the pressure point he knew would be there.

“Aemond!” she shouted, digging her nails into the back of his neck. Whatever he had just done had her seeing stars.

He chuckled at her reaction, pushing against that spot again. At least Aegon had taught him something from all his bawdy tales.

“I told you,” he teased, kissing the sensitive skin behind her ears.

“Am I ready now?” she asked, her apprehension completely vanished.

How had she ever doubted him? He had always tried so hard to please her. That much was clear from the gifts he had given her over the years. He would not fail her now.

“Not quite, my love,” he whispered. “Give it time.”

Aemond kissed her again, gently, savoring every moment. But where his lips were slow, his hand was not. He began to pump his finger in and out of her, brushing that magical spot within her each time, and never neglecting her swollen clit.

Her tantalizing moans of pleasure returned, growing louder and louder until not even his kiss could keep her quiet. Finally, he pulled himself from her lips, reveling in the sight of her in the throes of pleasure and the sounds that escaped her.

When he was sure Arianwyn was feeling only pleasure and no pain, he slipped another finger inside her. Her walls clenched, and he could imagine how blissful she would feel around his cock. But he was determined to wait until she was ready, not wanting her first time to be as painful a memory as his.

He continued to finger her, applying pressure both inside and out as she raised her hips higher and higher, arching her back into his sheets. With every passing moment, she was sure it could not feel better. But with every passing moment, it did.

The pleasure grew and grew, until all she could see was the sparkling of Aemond’s sapphire eye, and her entire body pulsed with an overwhelming wave of bliss. Every muscle in her body relaxed as relief washed over her, and she laced her fingers through his silver hair to pull him in for a kiss.

“What was that?” she asked breathlessly.

He finally withdrew his soaked fingers and pulled her against his chest. “Release,” he whispered.

“Does it mean I’m ready?”

Aemond smiled against her lips, “Perhaps, but I would like to be sure.”

With that, he lowered his lips to kiss down the column of her throat, ever so gently across her cuts and bruises. He continued down her chest, between her breasts, and across the plane of her stomach until he reached her core.

What he had said was true. Only the gods could have crafted something so divine. He had planned to tease her until she was begging for his tongue, but he had not the patience for that. He needed to taste her.

And taste her he did, hungrily, greedily diving between her legs. Her cries resumed, her hands burying into his hair so deeply that she snapped the thin leather strap holding his hair from his face.

The long silver strands fell in a curtain around his shoulders, but he did not slow. Rather, his pace quickened as he plunged his tongue into her, valiantly reaching for the spot he knew would undo her as he suckled on her slick folds. He knew he could not reach it with only his tongue, but by the gods, he would try.

Arianwyn felt simply sublime. She could feel her heart beating in her core, her racing blood carrying heat throughout her entire body. Aemond was a fine warrior and scholar, and by all accounts, a truly gifted dragonrider, but as he ravenously drank the pleasure from her, she was sure that this was the reason the gods created him.

It was not long before she felt that great wave of pleasure, the ‘release’ as Aemond had called it, approaching again. With her hands still entangled in his hair, she clenched her fists and cried out, “Aemond!”

But then he pulled away, leaving Arianwyn feeling cold and empty, hanging over the edge of her release.

Aemond glanced up at her through a lidded eye and gave her a wicked grin. Then he dove back down, wrapping his lips around her clit, and sucked.

Arianwyn thought her vision would never return as the world went white and release swept through her once more, more intensely than before. She did not know how long she lay there, arms splayed and chest heaving as she recovered from the extraordinary feeling.

When the world reformed around her, it was Aemond’s grinning face she saw first as he lay on his side next to her, smiling blissfully and tracing shapes around her breasts with his pinky.

“Now, am I ready?” she asked.

Aemond hoped so, for he certainly was. He had never been so hard in all his life. “I believe you are, my love.”

He rolled on top of her, propping himself up on his elbows as he kissed her and ground his hips against hers, savoring the slick friction. All night, he had been so singularly focused on her pleasure that he had neglected his own, and he would gladly do so again.

Once Arianwyn was moaning against him and writhing her hips to try and draw him closer, deeper, he gave her one last kiss before he pulled away. He reached down to line himself up with her entrance but never looked away from her shining silver eyes.

“Say it again,” he breathed.

She cupped his face, fingers trembling against his skin. “Say what?”

“Say you love me.”

Her face softened, though her grip on his jaw was tight. “I love you, Aemond Targaryen.”

And he slid in, pushing past her maidenhead in one eager stroke, sheathing himself to the hilt in the tightness of her velvet folds.

She cried out once, pressing her forehead against his as her mind swam with equal pleasure and pain. The feeling was all-consuming. But as he stilled, she could whisper only one thing, over and over and over again:

“I love you, I love you, I love you.”

He loved her so much. His body cried for him to move, to fuck her with abandon and fill her with his seed. But he held himself still, knowing that he had gone too far too fast. Her eyes were still shut tight, and her whispering grew quieter.

“It’s alright,” he said as he burrowed into her neck, grounding himself in her smell of smoke and cold sea air. “Relax, Aria, just like before. I won’t do anything else until you tell me to.”

She wrapped an arm around his shoulders, holding him close as she continued to whisper, slipping into High Valyrian. “Avy jorrāelan.”

They stayed like that for long moments, even after her whispering had faded into silence.

“Aria,” Aemond moaned against her throat as his self-restraint waned.

A curious whine was all she could muster as she adjusted to the sensation of him filling her.

“I’m so sorry, my love,” he whispered, caressing her face, “but I need to move.”

Indeed, he trembled with the effort it took to remain still. He did not want to hurt her or cause her any more discomfort than he already had, but he could only restrain himself for so long. He could – and had – practiced in the training yard for hours without needing even a moment to catch his breath.

But this?

He did not have the strength for this.

Still, he did not move until she nodded against him. Even then, he began slowly, rocking his hips ever so slightly to ease her into the feeling.

Much to his delight, she let her head fall to the bed and began to cry out again – with pleasure, not pain. “Avy jorrāelan.”

“Avy jorrāelan,” he whispered back, letting his thrusts go deeper, longer, faster. In mere moments, he was losing himself in the sensation of her tight walls surrounding him, more wonderful than he had ever let himself imagine.

Arianwyn, too, was lost in the feeling of his great length slamming into her over and over, faster and faster. She was sure that they were crafted by the gods specifically for each other, for this, for their joining perfectly as one.

As his pace heightened, Aemond again caught her lips in her own, claiming her just as much with his mouth as he did with his cock. The pain was completely gone, replaced only with pleasure as he stretched her magnificently with each thrust, brushing against that magical spot inside her and sending stars bounding through her vision.

“Avy jorrāelan,” she murmured again as he began to rut into her wildly, drawing moan after moan of pleasure as the pressure in her core built higher and higher. She was not going to last much longer before her release.

But neither was Aemond. Not when he had been dreaming of this for so long. He groaned into her mouth as he felt his hips twitching out of his control, “Aria!”

Desperate for her to cum with him, he brought his hand between them, furiously working her clit until he felt her walls clamp down around him. Only then did he let himself lose control, burying himself entirely within her as he spilled his seed.

Arianwyn felt absolute euphoria. Muscles she didn’t know she had tensed and relaxed as her third release of the night swept over her. Not since her first flight on Emrys had she experienced such bliss so deep in her soul, nor such exhaustion.

He was still inside her, panting heavily as he came down from his high, lazily planting open-mouth kisses to the base of her neck.

“Aemond,” she whined, pulling on his hair to draw his gaze back to hers. His violet eye was hazy with contentment, and the sapphire fogged by the heat of their joining.

“Mmm?”

“Do it again?”

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