#thought about the blood of my enemies for 2 long mayhaps.

[wormchamp72]

AT DEATH'S DOOR.

Walked in the rain too long like a b@d@$$. Mother warned me to put on a coat lest I catch a cold...perhaps for once she was right. But even in her rightness she is wrong...What I have caught is MUCH worse than an 3FFING cold. It kept me off my beloved blog for two days (apologies to my followers. Love) and away from my Creepypastas (of course it could not stop me from imagining them, but even then, my brain was addled with fog).

But I am back.

With a vengeance.

Make no mistake...I am not like Brayden. I will not let a pathetic "FLU" keep me down. I won't give up without a fight...That's what Jeffrey would do.

Anyway...followers (and other viewers) please wear protection.

[nebulaafterdark]

More Than Anyone (Part 7)

Warnings: 18+ smut, targcest, lactation, childbirth

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

Y/N’s term is complete, her body aches. Though she rarely complains, perhaps she knows it will do no good. Or perhaps she had bore enough children that she is used to pain.

Aegon is not sure which. Dutifully he climbs into their bed each night, to hold her and soothe her tense muscles after a bath. Pressing the lightest of kisses to her skin. “After this babe we need no more heirs.” He kisses her temple reverently. Aegon does not wish her to suffer. “You have performed your duty. The crown is satisfied. I am satisfied.”

“What happened to ‘as many as you’ll give me?” Y/N jests. That’s the number of children he’d once asked her for.

The prince smiles, “I watched you bring our son into this world…I would not wish that pain on my enemy, least of all my dearest love.”

“But it’s worth it, wouldn’t you say?” Y/N grunts as she turns to face him.

“Our children are very dear to me.” You are also dear to me.

“Mayhaps this conversation should be tabled for a day when there is not a child pressing against my organs. I might be able to think a bit more clearly.”

“You know, my sweetheart,” Aegon begins chasing another train of thought. “The Maester once told me that babes can be coaxed out the same way they’re coaxed in.”

“Oh?” Y/N smirks, passing a hand over her swollen belly.

“Let me see here.” Aegon leans forward, giving sweet kisses to her bump. Then helping to work her nightgown and small clothes to the floor.

“Aegon,” she flushes, not used to his eyes on her in this state.

“You are beautiful,” he murmurs. “So pretty, so…full. Wonder how you’ll fair with my cock in you.”

Y/N whines, as he cups her breasts, thumbing her nipples to peaks before suckling at the left. The princess is so sensitive that she nearly bursts into tears. The soft pressure of Aegon’s lips finally draws the first signs of milk from within her. “Aegon.”

“You were brought into this world to be mine.” He murmurs, lapping at the droplets. “All the nights I lied awake, to drown myself in cups and wonder, ‘why me?’ I see it all so clearly now. I had to be born who I am and you had to be born who you are, so that our paths might cross. There is nothing we could do about it, our fate was written in the stars. This body longs for me as mine longs for you. All these years wasted fucking whores, to find relief from the aching hole in my heart, when it was you. My sweet girl.”

Y/N inhales sharply, as he latches on to the opposite breast. “I love you dearly, Aegon. So much so that my heart aches with it.”

He hums against her. To be loved, he had so often longed to be loved. His wife was born of love and therefore will never know half his demons. Though when he shared them, she took half their weight.

The Princess faces a different set of battles, to prove herself, to accept what is afforded her, acquired through fire and blood.

“Fuck,” Aegon sighs, his cock sliding easily into her warmth as she lies propped up against the pillows.

Her grin is lazy, spread across her lips like the cat who ate the canary. In this moment, she is every bit the spoiled little thing some thought her to be.

Her husband shifts his weight back on his ankles, fucking into her hard enough to make Y/N gasp. “Just there?” Aegon cocks his head to the side.

Y/N nods as he ruts against that spot within her. Fingers fumbling around in search of his hand. So much of her pleasure and her pain is held in his palms, where she finds comfort and strength in times of need.

Aegon twines their fingers together, feeling Y/N squeeze in time with her cunt. Full breasts bouncing wildly with each thrust. “To think this is what you’ve hidden from me all these years.” He clicks his tongue at her, never were his eyes allowed the privilege of her beauty great with his child.

“I still wish to hide,” she admits.

Aegon chuckles, draping the top sheet across her middle with his free hand. Watching with the softest of gazes as his sweet girl situates the material over her breasts, taking it down nearly to the place where they are joined. His strokes are slow and deep, lulling his wife to a gentle peak.

Y/N lets out a tiny sob as his hips snap against hers in quick succession. Throwing her headlong into a second orgasm, which soaks both of their thighs in her slick.

“Good girl,” Aegon praises, thumbing at her twitching bundle of nerves.

“Aegon,” she warns, catching his wrist.

“Once more,” he murmurs, close to the precipice himself.

“I can’t,” the pretty little thing hiccups beneath him.

Aegon only hushes her, “you can, sweetheart.”

“It hurts.” Too much of a good thing always does.

“Shhh,” he soothes, circling the swollen nub softly.

Tears well up in her eyes as she finds Aegon’s gaze.

“I’ve got you,” he coos.

The princess feels another climax building low in her belly. Breath leaving her in short puffs. “I-”

“I know,” Aegon groans, feeling her inner walls flutter around his cock. He draws pleasure from her cruelly. “I love you.”

“I love you,” Y/N wails, succumbing to him once more. Denied the ability to come down by his deft fingers, nudging back the hood of her pearl. “No more.” She pleads, bottom lip quivering. “Please, Aegon, please!”

The sound of her desperate pleas hurtle Aegon to his peak, cursing as thick ropes of cum fill her twitching cunt. Sore and twinging from exquisite torture.

He pulls out after a moment, collapsing beside her and brushing sweat damp hair from her face. Soft kisses as Y/N catches her breath, drying any trace of tears.

“That was an awful thing to do.” She chastises, no fire behind her words.

“Forgive me, my dearest love.” Aegon repents, helping to situate his wife on her side, a soft pillow cushioning her belly.

Y/N sighs, his arms coming round to stroke the babe in her womb.

“I will kiss it better, if you wish.” He taunts, earning a slap to his forearm.

“Don’t you even dream of it,” she nuzzles farther against him, despite her protest.

“Will you have your maids attend the birth this time?” The last time it was only the two of them. It was peaceful.

“If I ask for you and only you, will you be terribly upset?”

Aegon shakes his head. He would not be upset, “it would be my great honor.” To deliver another of their children…especially if this is to be their last.

Y/N let’s out a yawn, “that is what I want.”

————————————————————————

The morrrow comes too soon, forcing Y/N from the warmth of her bed to tend her duties. A council meeting, as heir, the princess cannot miss it.

She listens carefully, seated at the long table. Rhaenyra was born to be queen. Y/N hopes to make her proud.

As the minutes drag on, Jacaerys can’t help but notice his sister shifting uncomfortably in her chair. He inches closer, “sister? Is everything alright?”

To his surprise, she seizes his hand, squeezing tightly for a moment before exhaling harshly and coming back to herself. “I am well.” Y/N forces a smile as she releases his fingers.

He gawks at her while the blood returns to his hand. “Your labors.”

The princess quiets him. “Not now.”

“Are you mad?” Jace hisses, “this is not something you can postpone.”

“Mmm.” She hums out, low in her throat. Earning Daemon’s attention and then her mother’s.

“Is something the matter?” The Queen demands, they know better than to behave this way without cause.

“No. Forgive me, your grace.” Y/N chokes out, through a contraction.

“Yes,” Jace rats her out, “her labors have started.”

“Well,” Rhaenyra offers her daughter a kind smile. “You are excused, Princess.”

“Thank you, your grace.” Jacaerys nods, helping his sister to her feet.

“Ah,” she clutches at her lower belly as she stands.

Jace tosses her arm over his shoulder for support.

“Can’t believe you told her.” Y/N scowls, shuffling from the council room into the hall.

“Did you think I’d let you give birth during a small council meeting?”

“I could’ve made it.”

“Liar.”

“Fuck,” Y/N curses, forcing her legs to continue toward her chambers.

“How painful is it? If you had to say?” Jace wonders, soon his wife will be birthing their babe. He is doing his best to prepare.

“It is the worst pain I have ever known,” Y/N pants out. “Yet I would do it a hundred times more.”

He takes comfort in this. That it would be worth it; for her, for Baela. “Perhaps I could deliver my babe. Do you think Baela might like that?”

“I do not know, Jacaerys.” She bites out. “You are a kind man, a good husband, you will be a wonderful father.” Breathe, breathe. “But it is hard to speak at a time like this.”

“I apologize. Let us get you to Aegon.” The Prince sighs, hobbling down the corridor. Of course there’s the stairs, his poor sister…

“I can’t,” Y/N sobs out. This child is coming, she will not make it to the top. “I can’t, I can’t.”

“Y/N, tell me now, what can I do?” Jace helps her down, kneeling beside her on the bottom step.

“Send for Aegon, please hurry.”

“Surely you mustn’t be alone.”

“It’s just up the stairs, down the hall. I will be alright.” Y/N assures him.

“Very well,” he gives her shoulder a squeeze, making to stand. Dashing toward their chambers, Jace finds Aegon within. Newly clothed, unhurried.

“What is it?” Aegon frowns at the intrusion.

“Y/N is having the babe.” Jace pants out, having sprinted. “At the bottom of the staircase. Now.”

“Now?” Aegon all but shouts, rushing past his nephew, down the hallway and taking the steps two at a time. He finds his wife hunched forward, with her hands resting on her thighs, still fully clothed. “Sweetheart.”

“Help me,” Y/N pleads, shoving his arm up beneath her skirts.

“I’ve got you.” He murmurs, feeling the child has already begun crowning.

Y/N whimpers, this part never gets any easier.

“That’s it, sweet girl. We’ll have this babe in no time.”

Jacaerys is a few steps away, facing outward. Ensuring their safety and privacy in this moment.

“Oww, FUCK!”

“Breathe,” Aegon reminds her, their child’s head in his hand.

Her thighs tremble, aching from holding up her weight. Aegon peppers gentle kisses to the side of her face.

“I love you, more than you will ever know. And I am forever grateful for the family you have given me.” Aegon murmurs, as his wife bears down, the shoulders are tricky. “Our family.”

A few more moments of agony and the baby is in Aegon’s arms. Announcing their arrival with a loud wail.

“Thank the gods.” Jacaerys breathes, still facing away.

“Another boy, my darling.” Aegon informs Y/N, as she slumps down in relief.

“His hair-”

“I have been waiting, hoping even.” Aegon admits. “For a child with your features, perhaps you heard me in there, hmm?” He cooes at his son.

“Aegon,” Y/N smiles.

“Hmm?”

“His name,” she explains. “I wish to name him Aegon…after you. My dearest love.”

“Are you certain?” Tears prickle at the back of his eyes.

Y/N knows he can deny her nothing. “I have never been more certain.”

Series Taglist: @sophiexoxosblog @alicentswife @f4ll-for-you @tempt-ress @percyjacksonspeen @zoleea-exultant @midnightrqin @buckystevelove @httpjiikook @neenieweenie @springholland @zeennnnnnn @yelenabeleovapocket @nejiho3 @thatkindofgurl @aemondsb1tch @narwhal-swimmingintheocean @kiahpapaya @existential-echo @zzz000eee @janelongxox @bunny24sstuff @alitaar @minttea07 @rwdkarla @bibli0thecary @loxbbg

[keicordelle]

Rescue, Ch. 2 (Recovery)

Fandom: FFXIV Rating: E Pairing: Estimeric Word Count: 3.9k Archive Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence Tags: Established Relationship, Aftermath of Torture, Serious Injuries, Rage, Blood and Violence, Rescue Missions, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Caretaking, Recovery, Explicit Sexual Content, Explicit Consent, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, POV First Person, POV Estinien Wyrmblood

Summary: While the Warrior of Light chases after the Archbishop, Estinien has only one goal: find and free Aymeric from the clutches of their enemies. May Halone have mercy on those who stand in his way, for he certainly won't, carving a bloody path to where his lover is being held. The scene he finds when he arrives will haunt him for the rest of his days, but Aymeric is alive, and, with careful tending from the chirugians, ought to make a full recovery.

That is, if he doesn't sabotage his own healing by trying to work through the pain. It is up to Estinien to hold vigil at his bedside and cater to his every need while he recovers: except, much to Aymeric's dismay, the one that might allow him some distraction from the pain. But if Estinien will not grant him relief, he will find it himself.

-

Aymeric's groan of pain had me bolting upright ere the sound had quite passed his lips, looking him over for signs of distress. "Are you alright? What happened? Do you need help?"

"I'm fine," he assured me, though the crinkle around his eyes belied his pain. "Just a little uncomfortable, that's all."

I leapt to my feet, neck twinging in protest at the sudden movement after so long curled up asleep in the chair beside his bed. "Can I help fix your pillows? Or perhaps you would like a mug of tea?"

His smile was fond but exasperated as he repeated, "I'm fine. There is little you can do for me at the moment." He paused, reconsidering. "Actually, perhaps I would like a mug of tea after all. And mayhap one of those honeyed donuts they sell at the markets."

"Of course," I said, snatching my lance from its nearby resting place. "I'll be gone but a moment."

In the aftermath of Thordan's escape and Haurchefant's death, no one had questioned my insistence that I stay at Aymeric's side. He was injured, after all, and there may still be those about who believed him to be a heretic. With the Warrior of Light hunting down the Archbishop and his knights, driven by a righteous fury that rivalled my own, I could rest assured that the matter was in good hands, permitting me to remain behind and care for the wounded Lord Commander.

Aymeric had been thrilled to take me up on my offer to stay with him, looking on me with that frightening depth of affection as he agreed. If he had grown exasperated with my efforts to watch over him, well, truly he only had himself to blame. Three days and three nights he had spent with the chirugians once he was free, the best healers in Ishgard tending to his every wound until naught but time could heal the remains of his suffering. The shallow cuts across his body had vanished, but the deeper injuries remained, his arm and back and feet still requiring careful tending, to say nothing of his psyche. And yet the first day he was let out of his sick bed, where did he run to but his office, claiming that his work could not wait for him to recover, given the turbulent state of Ishgard in the wake of the Archbishop's disappearance. Thank Halone Lucia had the good sense to find me and rouse me from the slumber that had let him slip past me. Since then, he'd been confined to his manor, and the orders chaffed, perhaps worse than my hovering, which even I could recognize bordered on stifling. Three times since I'd caught him trying to sneak out. After the last time, I'd hidden all his shirts on the assumption that he wouldn’t dare venture into public without one. Although if perhaps I had missed one...

The thought sent me back towards the closed door of his bedroom. I'll just peek in, and if he's resting in bed like he ought to be, then I'll stop and get him a loaf of that sweet bread he likes too by way of apology.

A small sound from within the room caught my attention, and I paused with my hand on the door handle, listening. A heartbeat later I heard Aymeric gasp, and the handle twisted in my hand before I had quite resolved to turn it.

-

Read the rest on Ao3!

FIRST | PREV | NEXT

[yanderememes]

What if Evil! Darling has been ingesting poisons since a young age to build up an immunity (going off of fantasy logic here)? Maybe it's something of a family tradition that normally only the men (this part is for fem darling) take part in, but she's all "I'm going to do it too because I want to become a powerful ruler" so she starts ingesting poisons like her brothers behind her parents backs.

Now, how would prince! Giorno take the news that his beloved has been willingly consuming such dangerous toxins? Usually darling is very careful and regulates their intake accordingly, but one day they accidentally take too much and become ill? Mayhaps, that one day they take too much results in them going unconscious in Giorno's arms. I think the poor guy would have a heart attack lol. Quickly followed by murderous rage when the doctors inform him that his darling has been poisoned, but he doesn't realize that they did it to themselves.

CAN YALL STOP READING MY MIND. PLEASE. BECAUSE I HAVE A HC THAT'S SIMILAR TO THIS IDEA WTF?!?!?!

My hc for evil!reader + poison is this:

Evil!reader uses her extensive knowledge of botany to get rid of one of her suitors. A poisonous flower, hidden in plain sight (watch out guys, cuz part 2 of royal!AU and prince!Giorno hcs are coming!)

You guys are honestly the best. No cap. I'm coming up on a follower milestone soon and I really wanna do something for yall. I'm thinking of doing a poll

"My love, what's wrong?!" Giorno shouted as he held you in his arms.

You suddenly fainted. Was it because of stress? Were you overworking yourself? Did you not get enough sleep? There were a million things running through his head as you laid unconscious.

"Call the doctor!" he ordered.

~~~

"She's been poisoned. She'll be unconscious for 24 hours." the doctor explained.

'How could this have happened' Giorno thought. But it made sense when thinking about it. You were a great ruler of this country, a woman of power, with an army of dedicated soldiers. You were bound to have enemies. Assassination attempts weren't foreign to Giorno. He's a prince, after all. He's also had his fair share of assassination attempts and grew up witnessing multiple accounts against his father.

But this time it was different. It was against you.

The poison that you drank. Looks like the drink is an extraction of Atropa belladonna, AKA deadly nightshade. It originates just West of here. The only nation that had the agriculture to harbor the deadly nightshade was Gloecia. If he remembered correctly, there was always some tension between your two countries. And in the last meeting, some of your scouts mentioned they saw a tent stationed near your borders with the Gloecia symbol on them. So there was motivation. Everything points to them.

A dark and sinister cloud loomed over Giorno.

How dare they try to take away his most beloved. He can't ask Bucciarati and the rest to help him. Nor can he ask your soldiers. What if there's a traitor amongst them? He'll do it himself. He'll kill all Gloecian soldiers stationed at the tent.

That night, all the civilians of your country could hear the screams of the poor Gloecian soldiers.

***

You slowly opened your eyes after a long slumber. Your stomach still ached from the poison but nothing too painful to handle.

Using your elbows to help you sit up, you felt some extra weight on the side of your bed. Looking to your left, you saw the prince fast asleep. He was bent over the side of your bed with his head resting on his crossed arms. Was that blood on his face? It didn't look like he was cut or anything. Surely it wasn't his blood right?

It was the movement of your bed sheets that woke Giorno up from his small nap. Once he finished with the enemy soldiers he immediately came back to your room to check up on you, but fell asleep in the process. He tilted his head up and your eyes met.

"you're awake! Are you alright?!" he shouted

"yes. I'm alright, thank you. Were you keeping me company, Giorno?" you gave a smile

Giorno was still in shock. His wide eyes never left yours and it took him a while to register you were awake and well. "I-... I was so scared." he confessed before standing up properly.

"y/n..." he whimpered as he crawled onto your bed held onto your waist. He tucked his head close to your belly, making himself as small as possible.

Giorno was shaking. Like a child who was trying to hide his pain, he was trembling. He was so scared that he'd lost you.

You stroked his hair and said nothing. It didn't seem appropriate to say anything at this moment. Although you were grateful for the efforts he put in for you, all you could think about was how everything was coming together. The prince got rid of some of your enemies. Your army was getting stronger. It was only a matter of time before King Dio's kingdom falls under your control. And it was all thanks to the prince.

He's do anything for you and all you had to do was pretend to love him back.

[autumnslance]

FFXIV Write 2021 #2: Aberrant

Coerthas, 1551 (About 26 years before the events of “A Realm Reborn”)

“You know once you do this, there’s no going back,” Father Comfraire said in his soft, quiet voice.

Corran nodded, walking alongside the slender old priest. The day was warm and the wind blew through the long grasses, the constant hush muffling their footsteps as they made their way to the old watchtower. Corran looked to the sky, watching to see if the wings cutting the air were birds or dragons.

“There have been some who questioned your commitment to the cause,” Comfraire continued. “You’ve been less...active, since marrying that foreign woman and fathering a son.”

Corran stiffened, but before he could argue, Comfraire shook his head. “If anything, the scandal of your marriage made for a decent smokescreen. You play the part of a good Halonic well; one passionate rebellion is to be expected now and then--and she is lovely.”

“My marriage is neither convenience nor a fit of thoughtless passion,” Corran said in a low, cold voice. “I’ll thank you not to speak of my wife so again.”

Comfraire remained maddeningly calm, gaze fixed forward. “I care not if you love her or simply enjoy what’s between her fine legs--the facts speak for themselves and even after all this time, none suspect where your sympathies truly lie.” They stopped outside the old tower, its shadow shifting with the sun’s movement to fall over them. Comfraire did turn to look at Corran now. “My only concern is if you love our cause as much--or more--as you proclaim to love your Thavnairian beauty.”

Corran ground his teeth and willed his fists to unclench; this was how the old priest simply was, and he knew that. So he nodded. “If I wish my family to be safe and free, then the truth must be known, and this war ended. By any means necessary. I’ve waited long enough, and my boy’s no infant anymore.”

“Very well.” Comfraire tilted his head slightly, toward the swollen old door half-hidden behind ivy. Corran hurried forward and pulled it open, allowing the priest to enter first.

Others waited within, men and women who dared not return to the homes they once knew, branded traitors and heretics by the lying Church. They looked up as the pair entered, some nodding in respect for Comfraire, others watching Corran closely. They wordlessly followed into the center of the tower.

The top had long since fallen in, allowing the sun’s slanting rays to shine upon the creature in the center, she who made her roost here and encouraged those who would seek the truth in this long war. Her crimson scales shimmered in the golden afternoon light, scars marking her many victories.

Avengret, a daughter of Ratatoskr, a general of Nidhogg's Horde.

Her burning orange eyes took in the men who entered her domain, head lifting. “Comfraire. What have you brought me today?” She demanded, voice deep enough to vibrate bones.

“One of our own, my lady,” Comfraire said with a deep, sweeping bow. “One who is ready finally to take the next step in our long and winding path.”

“This you so judge?” She demanded, turning her fiery gaze on Corran. He met her glower with one of his own, struggling not to fidget.

“I have known this man his whole life,” Comfraire said. “He is dedicated, and worthy.”

“Dedicated to his Eastern whore, mayhap,” a rough voice said from the right. Another hyur, pale-haired and ruddy-skinned, glaring at Corran. “Where was you when we—”

Corran’s fist connected with the man’s jaw before most in the room realized he had crossed the four yalms between them. The other hyur flailed into an old table, the half-rotten wood crumbling under the sudden weight.

“Keeping my head down and keeping useful connections,” Corran said coldly. “That’s where I was, instead of flashing my arse to the Inquisition and giving every damned Temple Knight a target, Breckt.” He leaned forward over the fallen man, still holding his jaw and wincing as he tried to sit up among the ruined wood. “And I did it while earning the affections of a proper and respectable woman. If you call her aught else again, I’ll feed you your own balls.”

Avengret’s laugh rumbled through them, the very stones vibrating. “Disparage another’s mate and reap the consequences,” she said. “I like this one, Comfraire. There is a fire here I would see stoked against mine enemies.”

“I thought you would, my lady,” the old priest’s soft voice was nearly inaudible next to the dragon’s simple breathing, yet he was clearly heard even through the angry rushing in Corran’s head.

Corran turned his back to Breckt to look up at Avengret. “What would you have me do?”

She appraised him for a long time. Finally her great mouth curled into what could only be a smile. “I would make of you a true warrior, though it will take time. Assuming you wish to fight so valiantly for me as you do for your mate.”

Corran’s mouth felt dry as the others whispered behind him, someone helping Breckt to his feet, the wood clattering against the hushed noises. Avengret’s eyes burned into Corran’s soul and he nodded. “Anything, my lady.”

She raised her large forearm, and as they watched, bit her own clawed digit. More of a nip from smaller side teeth, but enough for blood to well, ruby against crimson. Avengret held her wound to Corran; he could barely cover it with his hand. “Drink,” she ordered, a threatening growl to it.

He glanced at Comfraire, who nodded slowly, a spark in his eye the only show of emotion from the old priest, always so controlled. Corran took a breath, bracing his hands on Avengret’s scales; she was hot to the touch, but not unbearably so, her hide pebbly. He leaned in.

Later, Corran couldn’t consciously recall drinking from Avengret, though he knew he had; her blood was unbearable, the flames coursing through his body, spreading until he was going to burst from the fullness of heat. Others held him upright, soothed him with ice and calming words.

Somewhere above them all, the dragon laughed darkly. “What was ripped from my mother, I freely give that you, my son, might become my weapon--my vengeance. Serve well, and someday your reward will be to fly alongside your true family to destroy those thieves and murderers who would deny your stolen birthright.”

—-

Dark had fallen fully by the time Corran saw Comfraire back to the chapel where he pretended to serve the Halonic church. Corran was sure he said goodnight, but it was hard to hear or feel anything past the buzzing in his skull, the sensation of his skin rippling from flames still racing beneath the surface. He felt as if he had to be smoking like a smithy, his hair damp with sweat and the echo of a dragon’s song in his ears. Everything felt unbearably slow and fragile; he had to move, but could not go swiftly enough, could not go high enough.

The door of his home slammed, and even that seemed too distant. “Corran!” a sweet, familiar voice cut through the haze, hushed but scolding. “Are you drunk? You’ll wake Zaine!”

He looked, and sucked in a breath. His Emelia crossed to the kitchen, throwing him a disgruntled look at his antics. He didn’t care; he could drown in those dark blue eyes and thank her for the privilege. Her golden-brown skin fairly glowed in the lamps as he followed her, the light catching on her fine black locks, shimmering in his gaze. Even now, cleaning up after the evening meal, she moved with the grace of a dancer, slim form swaying to music only she could hear, music ever outside his own hearing but he would follow her lead forever if she let him. Even scolding, her voice, with its Thavnairian lilt, was a song he could never tire of, weaving over the dragon’s verse still in his head.

“I knew you meant to escort the Father on his walk but did you then stop by the tavern? I expected you home bells ago! Zaine was disappointed you weren’t here to give him a story, it took me forever to put him to bed.”

“I’ll make it up to him tomorrow,” Corran growled as he crossed the room. Emelia squeaked as he spun her around and pressed her back against the counter, kissing her fiercely. Her stiff surprise quickly melted into pliant response, her cool hands sliding up his chest and around his neck, a balm for the fire still raging through him.

His hands ran over her body, needing more, needing her, naught else could quench Avengret’s heat, as he nipped at Emelia’s jaw, her neck. “I need you,” he snarled.

She yelped, and he stiffened. “I--did I hurt you?” He asked, some of the haze clearing.

Emelia shook her head. “No--not in a bad way, I mean.” She blushed brightly, and he couldn’t help a relieved laugh. Then she cupped his face in her hands and he thought perhaps he could ascend to the Heavens after all. “This isn’t like you; are you all right? Just what did you drink tonight?”

He pulled her close once more. “Something new. Think I’ll try it again--if you’ve no objections.” He rocked against her.

Emelia gasped and shivered, then bade him pause, swallowing hard. “Just the one,” she managed to say.

Corran blinked, confusion warring with the fiery instincts raging within him.

Emelia giggled, still blushing. “The kitchen hasn’t a door, let alone a lock, to keep little boys at bay should they wake.”

Corran laughed now, perhaps too loudly as she tried to hush him. He scooped his wife into his arms, to carry her to their bed where he could ravish her until the fire in his veins abated, the song quieted in his head. To love and worship her as she deserved--before leaving her arms in the morning to do his part for the neverending war.

---

((Immediately followed up by “Passion”, the spicy continuation of Corran & Emelia’s evening.

So in one of last year’s prompts I suddenly learned Aeryn’s dad was a heretic, and apparently this year we’re exploring that more.))

[thekidultlife]

The Most Convenient Escape | Jihoon Soulmate!AU (3)

⍟ Pairing: Jihoon x fem!reader

⍟ AU: Fantasy/ Soulmate AU

⍟ Genre: ANGST, SLOW BURN, fluff

⍟ Warnings: mentions of abuse, drinking, and sex

⍟ Word Count: 5.3k

⍟ Synopsis: For all your life, you have a deep disdain towards Soulmate Bonds, so much so that you are able to write opinions about it in a local newspaper. However, as life would have it, you wake up one day bonded to a person you hardly knew. Throwing in an investigation, annoying roommates, and a revolution looming just beneath the surface, you had to seek for the most convenient escape.

CHAP 1 | CHAP 2 | CHAP 3 | CHAP 4 |  CHAP 5 |  CHAP 6 |

ON THE NECESSITY OF GRAND ROYAL BALLS by Alex Fireflower

The Porta Persa Edition, September 6

In one's life, what would be considered basic necessities? Food, shelter, clothing, mayhaps a life partner? Indeed, such factors are important. Yet allow me to tell you, dear readers, that there is something far greater and more magnificent than mere daily needs which regularly perish in less than a common laborer's working hours! An element which elevates the typical human experience to the realms of the ancient gods; giving us a glimpse of the most beautiful, the most majestic blinding auras in this Universe! A necessity which is by far the most crucial of all inventions created by man, known to man! 

That, my friends, is the Grand Royal Ball. 

To be held a week from now at the Crystal Palace, the Grand Royal Ball only admits through invites, usually reserved for the rich and the powerful. Yet what is most anticipated is the glamorous First Waltz where they can showcase their magnificent beauty and impressive wardrobe for the public to see! 

Yet this is simply a mere gathering for the upper class, you say? What, in heaven's name, is the reason why this event is of great importance, you ask?

Look closely, my dear readers! Look at the Grand Royal Ball! Look at it with eyes of impunity! Gaze at its splendor and radiance, and see what these people have robbed from you, from the common people! They who have been brought into this world with silver spoons in their mouths, feed us with scraps from their abundant golden banquets! Banquets such as the Grand Royal Ball, where crimes of extravagance and greed go unpunished in the eyes of god.

Do not forget who mines the diamonds in their earrings, who weaves the silk on their lapels, who farms the fruit in their white marble tables! They who afforded nay a drop of sweat in order to survive, yet admonishes the poor for 'indolence' and 'degradation of moral values'--remember them and do not dare forget in the face of their magnificence! 

If these sheer words do not convey a clearer message to you, then allow me to reiterate. The Grand Royal Ball is an important reminder to you common folk who gaze at them in your grease-stained hands, growling stomachs and exhausted eyes. This is a wake up call to you who still believe that you can be like them, wearing your own beautiful gowns and respectable suits to your own grand royal balls. This is a reminder to look past illusions established by this society dictated by such people. 

You are being exploited. You are being paid by less than what you are worth. If that does not constitute slavery, then there is no worth in reading this article. If you are yet to be angered by such realities through this piece, then I, as an editor have failed my mission. Realize that your fellow laborer is not your adversary. The true cold-blooded monsters are up there in their hectares-wide plantations, sitting on leather chairs and pretending to be your friend, as they casually strategize how to pay you less and less of your appropriate wage, as they search for loopholes in our civil code to perpetuate their evils in the world.

They may look like gods next week, dancing to a waltz in the Crystal Palace with the innocence of a daisy, yet do not be in awe. Do not be complacent.

Do not forget the true enemy. 

◇

"You're going to the ball."

Both Wonwoo and Soonyoung declared, under the purple shade of the wisteria tree in the courtyard, their seriousness catching you off-guard.

"What?!" You shouted, almost choking on a shrimp. "What do you mean I'm going to the ball?! I just slandered it in our newspaper yesterday, if you hadn't forgotten!"

The two boys gazed at you, eyes pitiful. 

"Don't look at me like that!" 

Wonwoo, the bespectacled one, sighed and sat up straight. 

"Look, this isn't a prank. We had to bargain you for um…"

In the middle of his words he gradually lost steam, and began to feel your furious, scrutinizing gaze. For better or worse, he suddenly found the garlic shrimp on his plate quite interesting. 

"Alright, let me handle this!" Soonyoung proudly declared, yet nonetheless deflated after you gave him a similar glare. "Wonwoo...you should handle this after all…"

With a face that may seem calm, Wonwoo conveniently concealed his discomfort. 

"So, um...alright, allow me to explain. I got a bit of a lead on the investigation we're doing and thus, following that trail led me to the ball," he continued, "Apparently, there will be a gathering of the people involved during the evening, and I needed to get in with Soonyoung. So I asked some help, and in exchange, they wanted you."

After listening to his story, you closed your eyes and sighed heavily. There was no way you could stop him even if you wanted to. The deal was done and he had the invitation. 

"So, who's they?" 

You asked, a bit annoyed but you understood the need.

"That would be me."

A familiar voice startled you from behind, as you finally caught a glimpse of the devil Wonwoo had to make a pact with. 

"Jihoon, didn't know you were there," Wonwoo remarked, as the new arrival bent down and passed a heavy binder to him. 

"I just arrived really. Thank you for the reading notes though," he replied, paying you and Soonyoung no heed. "Anyway, Y/N, please return to our room as soon as you finish class. We have to talk about what you're going to wear for the ball."

Jihoon ordered, then stalked away without waiting for a reply, leaving you taken aback. 

After a few moments, you turned to Wonwoo wearing a rather frightening expression on your face.

"Jeon Wonwoo! How dare you bargain me to Lee Jihoon!!" 

◇

'Do you despise Lee Jihoon that much?' 

The voice inside your head asked, completely eclipsing the words of your professor. 

'Do you really have to talk to me during class? ' You snarled, spinning your pen around as you watched one of your classmates getting scolded for sleeping. 

'You don't even like this class. So I'm actually doing you a favor by entertaining you.’

'Touché.'

A few moments of silence passed before your soulmate replied. You thought he bailed out, yet that was definitely not the case.

'Lee Jihoon is the reason why you seem troubled today, isn't it?'

You sighed. 'How obstinate...'

'As obstinate as you, in fact. Have you forgotten that we're soulmates?' 

Clicking your tongue, you knew he was going to bother you if you didn't answer, and well, the words from a month ago rang deep inside your heart: Accept them and learn.

'Fine, he does upset me. I mean, I was not supposed to go to that pretentious ball, now I have to wear those heavy dresses and fake laugh with people I despise a lot! I could be doing something else, you know! Something I enjoy more!'

It took him some time to reply. It's not your fault you had no one to talk about it. Wonwoo and Soonyoung literally sacrificed you. 

'Is it not because you dislike him?'

'I am irritated now because of what he did, yet I surely do not harbor stronger hatred towards him. I live with him after all.' 

'I see. So you simply have a dislike towards parties in general?'

'Not entirely. I don't mind going to parties, yet this one particular ball does not sit well with me.' 

'Why so?'

You propped your chin on your hand as you leafed through the pages of your textbook. 

'It goes against everything I believe in. Why do people have to organize such expensive balls? Wearing expensive clothes? Eating expensive food? They could just donate that money. Don't you think so?' 

He hummed, thinking of a reply. 'You do have a point. Furthermore, it is not only this country's problem yet of entire humanity. Isn't it human nature to be greedy? Isn't it the nature of material objects to be scarce?' 

'Thus, it is an unavoidable, inevitable problem, you mean to say? Well, that would definitely be the case if no effort is afforded to find a solution to this problem. No matter how minute my actions are, I'm sure they would still have a rippling effect.' 

The person on the other side scoffed. 'If only that is how simple things are.' 

'What do you mean by that? Are you calling me naive?' 

He laughed. 'Whatever you think it is shall be its meaning.' 

You were about to interject with your own retort yet was unable to catch up. 

'Well, looks like I still have things to do. It was a pleasure talking to you today. Until then, my soulmate.'

And with that, the connection halted. 

You sighed and slumped on your seat with lips pursed. It was difficult talking to him while keeping your own pride in check. He was definitely talented in wounding it. 

They would magnify your insecurities, your fears, your greatest flaws as a person, and force you to face them.

Sighing, you glanced at the bell that had begun to signal the end of class. 

◇

Bathed in golden sunlight, you entered your dorm room as instructed by Lee Jihoon. 

It has been a month since you began living here yet the days seemed to have gone in a flash. To be honest, other than that time you saw him practicing with his cello, there was little to no interaction between you and Lee Jihoon. He really made sure to avoid me…

Yet right now, so suddenly…what has changed?

Opening the french doors like you did when you first met him, you were greeted by several female attendants and rows of clothes racks, each having a massive collection of gowns.

"Took you long enough to return."

Someone suddenly spoke behind you, making you jump in surprise. Taking a step back, you only bumped into Lee Jihoon's chest. 

"I had to go to the library on the way here," you replied, making some distance between the two of you as the black-haired male marched his way to a vacant armchair. 

"I see. Well then, shall we begin our business here?" He asked as soon as he was settled on his seat, glancing at the gowns at the side. 

"Exactly what I had in mind. Do you wish to explain what these are for?"

With an expression that reeked irritation, Jihoon gave no response to a question he assumed you knew the answer to. 

You sighed. "What I mean is, I thought you had already chosen something for me, so I was quite surprised to see all of these." 

The both of you simply gazed at one another without uttering a single word. Only the sound of the clock ticking and the afternoon bells outside could be heard as you allowed yourselves to be absorbed in your own little trance. Until Jihoon finally relented and stood up. 

"I just thought you would rather choose something akin to your own preference," he told you, scratching his nape, "additionally, these ones here are all about to be thrown out, so maybe you--"

"These ones are about to be thrown out?! But they still look so pretty!" You interrupted, wholly surprised as you inspected the exquisite bead work of the nearest dress to you. 

"It's common for people in the upper class to throw away gowns after wearing it once. So I thought you'd appreciate wearing something like this rather than having something new ordered. We could give away the other ones here as well," Jihoon explained, now a bit conscious of your reaction. 

Chuckling at how he was slowly becoming bashful, you threw a wide grin at him which Jihoon was sure had definitely caught his breath. 

"That was so thoughtful of you! Thank you!" You exclaimed, now more than interested to browse at the racks. 

Unable to respond, Jihoon silently allowed you to check out the dresses while he tried to conceal the fact that his ears had turned red. 

"What about you though? Have you already chosen something for yourself?" You asked in the midst of trying out one blue sequined gown. 

"Since I’m a member of the Parliament, we have to wear a standard ceremonial uniform," he replied, now seated back on the armchair.

"Is that so?" You hummed then continued, "I think I've decided on one so allow me to finish."

After some time, you returned to the common room, showing Jihoon the gown you had picked for the occasion. 

In a beige off-shoulder gown filled with lace trims and appliques, peacock feather patterns of sequins and gemstones, and dangling diamonds, you twirled around the room as the late afternoon sunlight created surreal reflections of light as it reflected on your dress. 

In Jihoon's eyes, you were dazzling, sparkling. He could feel his heart almost explode by how hard it was beating against his chest. What's missing though was a bouquet of roses and a lace veil. This is vexing...

"So what do you think?" You asked, now incredibly self-conscious because of how he was staring at you.

Again, Jihoon was quiet as he glanced at you, yet allowed a sigh to escape before he stood up from where he was sitting. Approaching the coffee table, he picked up a lacquered box and went back to where you were standing.

As he opened the box, you caught a glimpse of a necklace adorned with diamonds, garnets and rubies, sparkling earnestly. Handing the box to one of the attendants, Jihoon held out the necklace to you and wrapped it around your neck.

The close proximity made your heart race for a bit as you unintentionally took a whiff of his cologne. Aware of your reaction, you averted your gaze elsewhere in embarrassment. You were brought back to the present when Jihoon finally took a step back and you felt the weight of the necklace on your skin. 

"Oh...wow, this…" you began yet cannot finish.

"It's a family heirloom so take care of it." Then in a rather unexpected turn, Jihoon smiled at you warmly, making your heart race even further. "It suits you quite well."

Unable to contain it any longer, your lips broke out a wide grin. "I suppose this is a loan then." 

In a rather good mood, Jihoon took your hand in his. "How about we practice our dance? Surely, we wouldn't want to embarrass ourselves during the First Waltz."

You scoffed. "Despite how I may appear, I am capable of a simple waltz."

"That's reassuring then," he remarked, twirling you around so suddenly that had you gasping.

Back in his arms, the both of you moved back and forth as your feet danced to an imaginary melody. 

You never shied away from his intense gaze, rather, you accepted the challenge and smirked at him. 

"So, my dear sir, please answer this burning question I have in my heart," you mocked him playfully. 

"Why are you talking to me like that?" He furrowed his brows which you found adorable.

"I thought since we are to attend such a high profile event, utter politeness is necessary, even in speech."

Jihoon frowned, unimpressed. "Please stop teasing me. What was your question, by the way?" 

Chuckling, you replied, "What are you planning, Lee Jihoon?"

Even though you were still smiling, the atmosphere suddenly turned tense. Lee Jihoon can flatter you with pretty dresses and beautiful diamond necklaces yet you never cared much for them in the first place. To you, his actions were suspicious and it didn't help that he was a rather mysterious person. 

"Planning? Pardon me yet I do not know what you are pertaining to," he replied, as calm as you were. 

"What are you planning by choosing me as your partner? You could have made Wonwoo bargain a million other things, yet you chose me."

This time, it was Jihoon's turn to smirk. 

"I was simply confirming a few hunches, though that does not mean I will divulge them to you." 

This bastard…

You felt a sweatdrop trickle down your cheek as you grit your teeth. "I am not your toy." 

"I wouldn't dream of treating you as such," he grinned at you, "More than anything, you are quite important to me."

"I'd rather wish not to be involved in your political ploys," you seethed. 

He arched a brow at you. "Why would I? You are a mere alchemist's daughter whose political power is the same as the next person." 

You knew where this was going. You spoke no word as you tried to control your expression; not allowing him to see it in your face.

Jihoon smirked, his words hanging on the air.

"Unless, you have more than you let on?" 

*

One week later

The Grand Royal Ball, The Crystal Palace

You kept a tight smile.

The tip of your nose was itching, your skin unused to the makeup covering your face. Superficiality lingered and clung to every corner of the palace from its golden ornaments and marble balustrades to the couples ahead of you, marching their way towards the ballroom for the much awaited First Waltz.Yet you have to smile on. 

Welcome to the Grand Royal Ball!

Beside you was Lee Jihoon, dressed in an attire reserved for high-ranking officials and a sash which proudly broadcasts that he was someone you wouldn't want to mess with. You, on the other hand, wore the gown and the necklace you had tried on a week before, with hair coiffed to perfection and silk gloves which hid the markings on your wrist.

Only the most prominent, the highest  of the high were invited to dance during  the First Waltz.  From billionaire philanthropists and award-winning researchers to  powerful politicians like Lee Jihoon, they all  provide a sense of  prestige to the whole event. This is when the ball catches so much attention after all. 

Lining up uniformly, everyone participating curtsied before the reigning monarch as was the custom, and the music began playing. Facing Jihoon, you gave him a rather mocking smile as you placed your hand on his shoulder and the other on his hand. 

Without a word, everyone began dancing. 

As you stepped across the ballroom, you allowed your mind to slip away from reality; the face of Lee Jihoon reminding you why you were putting up with this sort of pompous absurdity in the first place.

A few days ago… 

You groaned in frustration. 

"I swear, Lee Jihoon is the most irritating man I've ever met in my entire life!" 

"Let's wait for him to fall asleep and beat him up, Y/N!" Soonyoung, who was happily lazing on the grass exclaimed.

"Come on, then! He's already asleep at this hour!" You responded, quite eagerly.

Simply sighing at your shenanigans, Wonwoo closed the book he was reading. 

"Don't listen to him, Y/N. He's drunk," he remarked. 

"But I haven't been drinking!!" 

The other man simply looked at him with a jaded look on his face. 

"You're always drunk even without drinking anything," Wonwoo quietly retorted. "Anyway, Y/N…"

Sitting back down on the grass, you turned to him. It was already past midnight yet the three of you decided to hold a meeting at a long forgotten grove behind the dormitories, usually used by overly-zealous couples for their own pleasure.

"It's true that Jihoon can be cunning if he wants to, yet it's not like we can't do the same as well," he continued, "There's a reason why I had no reservations in bargaining you."

"That doesn't sound too comforting, you know?" 

"As I was saying, Lee Jihoon can be cunning. He can't be trusted to stay at the venue while we are in that meeting. That is precisely why we have to get him out of the venue as soon as possible." 

You nodded. It was the same reason why it wasn't you who was leading this investigation. 

"So my job is to have him stay away from the palace while you and Soonyoung are in the meeting. Alright, I understand."

Wonwoo sighed. "Y/N, I'm not doing this because I think your skills are inadequate, but because we need to play by the rules. If things fail and our cover is blown, Soonyoung and I already have tainted names that another case wouldn't matter much. I can't have you dirty your own name." 

Looking down, you understood where he was coming from. It really wasn't an issue of who's weaker or who's stronger. It was an issue of who's richer and more influential. Wonwoo and Soonyoung, because of their wealth and power, were able to establish their own newspaper company with relative ease. And with that same wealth and power, if anything does happen, the repercussions they have to face and its lasting effects wouldn't be as heavy as an ordinary person would experience. Such is the gift of privilege. 

"I know. I understand." 

◇

You knew, as soon as the dance ended, people would flock around Lee Jihoon, all wanting a piece of that power and influence. 

That is why, when you had the chance, you slipped away from his side and went straight to the buffet tables. If you were going to attend a grand ball, might as well stuff yourself with food. 

That veal over there looks scrumptious!! 

Filling your plate to the brim, you scoured all over the buffet, finding food you have never dreamed of tasting. 

"Y/N! We finally found you, for god's sake! We thought something happened to you!" A familiar voice exclaimed, making you look up from the plate you were feasting on, as you sat on a bench at the side. 

"Ah, Soonyoung, Wonwoo! I didn't see you guys at the dance!" You replied, piercing a turkey leg with your fork. 

"Well, that's because we weren't invited to the dance. Our parents are though, since they are the VIPs," Wonwoo explained.

You hummed. "I see. Well, so far this ball has delicious food. Other than that, it's quite boring. I don't know half these people, and they've been looking at me since a while ago."

Like he always is, Soonyoung embraced you from behind, wrapping his arms around your neck with a cheeky green. 

"Your date is quite popular, you know? It's only natural for people to be curious as to the identity of his chosen date," he remarked, taking a bite of meat from your fork. 

"You're making it sound so romantic," you spat with disdain.

Soonyoung grinned. "Come on, don't you feel anything for our resident politician? You two were dancing so nicely earlier, you know."  

You clicked your tongue. "He's suspicious of me. I think he has a hunch that I'm Alex Fireflower." 

"This is why the Soulmate Bond hasn't visited you yet! You're always so serious! You need to loosen up and have a bit of romance in your life! You can't be young forever!"

"I think Soonyoung has a point here though," Wonwoo suddenly interjected, now with a mischievous smile. "Dating Lee Jihoon could open various opportunities of information gathering. Moreover, you can monitor him more closely than ever before." 

"Oh god, not you too. Isn't it enough that we're roommates?" You complained, sighing.

"No, no! That's not going to cut it, Y/N!" Soonyoung exclaimed, "You have to get inside his room!" 

Glaring at him, you hissed harshly. "I will not enter his room! And I will never date him!"

"Has no one ever told you to avoid using 'never', especially when there is a chance that you will be eating your own words in the near future?" 

A new voice suddenly interrupted your banter as the three of you glanced at the newcomer with a variety of expressions.

In his calm yet intimidating aura, Lee Jihoon stood before you three, waiting for a response. Of course, with a glass of wine in his hands. 

"Has no one ever told you that it's not good manners to eavesdrop on other people's conversations?" You retorted back. 

With arched brows, Jihoon approached you and glanced at Soonyoung who eventually retreated away from you and back to Wonwoo's side with a nervous look on his face.

"It's hardly eavesdropping when I can hear you three screaming from the other side of the room."

At this comment, the three of you looked away in shame, unable to say anything to refute Jihoon.

"If there is nothing else, may I borrow my date for a while?" He then spoke, reaching for your hand while looking at Wonwoo and Soonyoung. 

Grinning, the two easily offered you. 

"Please do, Jihoon (before we turn into mincemeat)."

"Oh of course, please enjoy the rest of the night!"

You grit your teeth and glared at them, annoyed that you weren't able to finish your meal, much less bring anything with you back home. 

Traitors! I'll come back for you two after this!

As Jihoon swept you away from the buffet tables and towards the deserted balcony, you suddenly began to worry about what he was up to.

While dark and cool, the balcony was a pleasant place to escape to especially from a crowd of prying eyes. The crawling rose vines and the tall hedges concealed the area enough so that it was difficult to discern who was who in the balcony. 

"What is it that you want from me?" You finally asked, standing face to face. 

For a moment, Jihoon simply gazed at you before shrugging. "I just thought that since we are already here, we might as well enjoy a dance together. I am not one unkind enough to refuse dancing with my own date."

Arching a brow, you blinked several times, totally suspicious of his intentions. You sighed.

"And here I thought the thirty minute waltz from earlier would suffice," tartly, that was how you replied. 

Jihoon snorted, the first one you have seen. 

"That was simply a mere performance, one that is born out of tradition and formality. This time, I wish to dance with you at our own pace."

Still suspicious, yet nonetheless resigned, you hummed in agreement and took a step forward, towards him. 

Without warning, you snatched the wine glass from his grasps and drank everything in one gulp before discarding it on the balustrade's edge, earning a confused look on Jihoon's face.

"Now then, shall we begin?" you replied, reaching for his shoulder and his own hand on yours.

It seemed like for a moment, Jihoon was stunned by how fast your actions were. However, it didn't take him long to come back to his senses and place a hand on your waist.

Gradually, the both of you swung back and forth a millisecond late from the music's beat, simply too absorbed in each other to correct it.

As you gazed into Jihoon's eyes, you knew you needed that swig of alcohol to survive the whole night. He was as intense as ever; his sharp eyes unreadable, his lips curving into a ghost of a smirk. The grip he had on your waist was firm, sending shivers to your spine. 

You need to loosen up and have a bit of romance in your life!

Dating Lee Jihoon could open various opportunities...

You mentally shook those thoughts away. This wasn't the right time to think about those things.

"I've changed my mind, you know?" Jihoon finally spoke, his voice pulling you away from your reverie. 

"About what?" You asked, your hand warm on his. 

"I want to know you better. I know when we first met, I didn't want anything to do with you, but for some reason, my sentiments have changed over time."

Flustered at the sudden confession, you were only able to say one thing, "Why?" 

"Why…? Why indeed," he made a soft smile at this, as if he knew something that was totally lost to you. "Maybe if I get to know you more, I might arrive at an answer." 

You looked away, unable to face his earnest eyes. There was a feeling in you that knows he was being honest, yet you still couldn't help but feel suspicious. Why is he suddenly springing this up on me? Why does he want to know me? What is he planning? Who exactly is Lee Jihoon? 

You also didn't know the answer to those questions. But maybe, just maybe, you would understand if you just let him in. 

You need to loosen up and have a bit of romance in your life!

God damn it, Soonyoung!

"If that is the case, then feel free to explore, yet that does not mean, the seas are not treacherous," you finally said, your lips curving into a mischievous smile. 

"I wouldn't want anything else."

Grinning back at you, Jihoon leaned forward and placed a small chaste kiss on your forehead, making you look at him with the most stunned expression on your face. 

"I-I...I think I might want to have another drink! J-just stay there! I'll be back!"

As you shouted, you stormed away from the balcony and went straight back to the buffet tables, seeking anything that is liquid, alcoholic or cold to ease the burning on your cheeks. 

"Yes, it seems like I made the right decision with choosing her as my date," he remarked as he watched your retreating figure, smirking to himself.  

By the time you went back, you had already downed a few glasses, and another one on your hand to drink for later. You were tipsy then, as obvious as your flushed cheeks were, and Jihoon had to catch you before you stumbled onto the ground.

"You seemed to have drunk a lot," he remarked as he steadied you on your step.

"...Need it," you muttered, unable to look at him.

"What?"

"Jihoon…" purring, you clung to his lapel with a giggle, your face simply inches away from his. "You...you look quite handsome…have I told you that?" 

With a smirk, you inched closer to him; lips almost brushing against each other. That is, until he turned his head and pushed you away.

"It's late...we should head home."

 His ears were red though.

◇

The school was silent during the dead hours of the night. Students were either prohibited by their curfews or too busy studying to bother with fooling around. Only the soft rustling of wisteria and cherry blossom flowers and the loud ramblings of a drunkard could be heard across the courtyard. 

"Jihoonie~ come on now…don't touch me there," you teased between giggles as he carried you behind his back. 

"Please don't be too loud…"

"I'm not loud! In fact, I'm quite soft spoken~"

"What did I get myself into…?"

You were definitely heavy; and with the weight of the whole dress, Jihoon was already wheezing when he opened the door to your shared dormitory and carried you to your own bed. 

Gently laying you down, Jihoon spent a few moments gazing at you who was smiling at him carelessly. 

"Oh my…" a giggle, "are you going to confess your undying love to me now…?" You asked, making him grin at you. 

"Would you believe me if I did?" Jihoon responded, slowly reaching for your wrist wrapped in a silk and lace glove. 

"Of course not," you smirked. "You're Lee Jihoon." 

Upon your words, he made a small smile, yet it had hinted some sort of deeper sadness. Lifting your hand up, Jihoon kissed the inside of your wrist. 

"Of course."

CHAP 1 | CHAP 2 | CHAP 3 | CHAP 4 |  CHAP 5 | CHAP 6 |

*

A/N: Hii!! This is Hyeri again!! No new chapters for next week (instead some Jihoon smut, if you like those sksksk) Hopefully, after that week, regular updates on this fic will continue! (maybe punctuated by some Wonwoo smut;;; Anyway, I hope you liked this chapter!!! Thank you so much!!

-Hyeri

[ajanefantasy]

Book Love part 2 - Rayn Storm

Rayn Storm was the second novel in the fantasy world of Dahrè. It took me a bit to work out the finer details of it. I restarted it several times and dumped a good portion of it at least twice as I settled into exactly who Betrys and her pirate were. I learned one or two characters introduce in Golden Boots weren’t exactly who I thought they were.

The story finally came together after many many many late late nights pacing and swearing, tempted to just delete everything and never write again because why was I doing this to myself. There is even a song or two I am unable to listen to even to this day after listening to them over and over because the songs so fit the feelings of the story and the characters so well. When I finished writing I sat numbly for a bit, unable to believe I had done it.

With all that said, let me introduce you to:

[Image ID: Image of two, three mast ships in a storm at sea engaging in battle, red and black blasts of magic being volleyed between the two ships, with the words Rayn Storm written across it]

Tricked into marriage by a pirate doesn't stop the desire Betrys feels for the scoundrel, but what is she supposed to do when his grandmother is her mortal enemy? Captain Rayn Storm is determined to hold his wife to the promise they made as children, and he is willing to go to any length to keep her. Even if he must stand against his own blood.

Story contains strong language and explicit sex. 162,000 words

Amazon / Smashword / Kobo / Apple  / BN

A preview of sorts can be found under the cut.

Betrys stood against the wall drinking her third glass of sparkling wine, as she watched all the couples dancing that evening. She hated the thought of abandoning Rhedyn, but she was considering leaving the gathering early, mayhap before the end of the week; she thoroughly disliked being around the Titled—her friends and loved ones aside. Ever since turning that Dusalla into a taod the first night, the rest of the guests had been avoiding her.

All except one, that is.

Her husband was proving himself most difficult, searching her out, flirting with her. It took all her control not to flirt back and she was failing miserably. She had nearly succumbed to his kisses earlier this evening when he had found her entering her room late in the afternoon to ready for the ball.

On top of that…

She grabbed another glass of sparkling wine from a passing footman, replacing her empty one, and drinking half of it in one gulp.

On top of that, she had expected him to show up in her dreams again last night after having once more kept him out of her bed, but he had not come to her. Had he decided the dreams, the sex, proved unsatisfactory after all, that she was not worth the effort?

Her shoulders tensed.

A serious blow it would be to her already fragile view of herself as a woman, as one who felt passion, were it to be proven true—that Rayn had found her performance lacking. But if that were true, then why did he continue to chase her?

With a sigh, she shoved the troublesome thoughts of her husband out of her mind, deciding to disallow them.

From her vantage point on the far wall, she could see Idrys—he had accepted an invitation to stay on for a few days. He was dancing with Queen Gyrti, who was blushing and smiling like a young woman. Before that, he had danced with Rhedyn and before that with Queen Maryn. The women sure flocked to him, even more so it seemed now that he had embraced his nyn Caro nature completely.

The charming rogue.

She tried to think of him objectively and not as her cousin—she grinned and corrected that thought—not as her brother. Idrys was beautiful in both face and form. He was tall and his muscles were well defined and most women fell instantly in lust with him. A smile from him caused women of all ages to blush and flutter their lashes flirtatiously. Betrys had seen several swoon without provocation.

Despite how attractive Idrys was, his brand of looks had never been her type. Not that she knew her type, just that Idrys or those of similar features weren’t it. Nor had Easal—Kino—been her type. Before the brutal attack ten years ago that had broken his face, Kino had been a very attractive man. Even now with the crooked lines of his face, he proved attractive with his golden red hair and fine form. Yet, she felt nothing for him. Which was fine since Kino had always preferred men to women, preferred Idrys above them all and she had always considered him to be more brother than friend.

What was her type?

Without thinking, a picture of her husband formed in her mind. She thought him most…delicious. Yeryl and Zasara, he was delicious—it was the only word to come to mind when she thought of him. His blue eyes were mesmerizing and fathomless, the angle exotic. His blond hair, of which she couldn’t tell the length, though she suspected it to be quite long, was like a gold debloo. He was taller than Idrys by several inches, and his skin… His skin was kissed by the sun in such a way as to have the look of many hours spent outdoors, which as a pirate he did. She admired the sharp angles of his face, his full lips… She really liked his lips.

The wide breadth of his shoulders, his perfectly formed, muscled body… She wanted to touch him, run her hands all over him.

So did every woman in attendance.

A low growl escaped Betrys’s throat, causing a young Resana to flee from the vicinity.

That morning, she had come across a gaggle of women gathered in the lists, tittering about the fine male form before them, and discovered they were staring at her husband. He and Caryk had been fencing and Aryn’s shirt had been off with sweat glistening over all those fine muscles, plastering down his chest hair. The women had been openly staring with lust in their eyes and she had been tempted beyond reason to lash out at the women for staring and at Aryn for making her feel this way.

Especially when she had been just as transfixed by the sight of him, when her thoughts had been centered on cupping that rounded ass of his in her hands, running her tongue over every inch of his chest, his rippling back.

“Might I have this dance, my wife?” Aryn held his hand out to Betrys. He wondered what was causing her cheeks to be flushed with heat. Was she thinking of him?

She focused her eyes on the object of her thoughts and felt a wave of anger at him.

“Betrys, ‘tis not unreasonable that I would wish to dance with my wife.”

“Ask another to dance and leave me be.”

“I wish not to dance with another. The last woman I danced with stuck her hand in the pocket of my breeches and took hold of my prick; old enough she was to be my grandmother.”

Betrys wanted to demand who dared touch him, desiring to rip the woman to shreds. She just kept the flames from her eyes as she spoke between clenched teeth. “Do you attempt to make me jealous?”

“Are you…jealous?” He saw flames flicker briefly and felt satisfied that his wife did indeed feel jealous. He once more held his hand out. “Please, Betrys, dance with me.”

“Go away.” Betrys finished her glass of sparkling wine and snagged another, but had it jerked out of her hand. “What are you about, Highness?”

Aryn drank the wine and then disposed of the glass. He glared at her. “I have a name, wife!”

She was drunk enough to be careless and dared him. “What will you do if I choose not to use it…them…?”

“Do you enjoy the whispers that circulate about our marital troubles?” He caged her against the wall, his arms on either side of her, his face filled with anger. “Do you enjoy the women pawing at me, attempting to warm my bed, since you are not in it? Because I must tell you, that I am enjoying none of these things.”

“You care not to have the gaggles of women vying for your attention?”

“No!” he hissed. “I care not for it. I only want one woman vying for my attention and that would be you, my wife. Except, you are the only woman not interested. Why?”

“Have I not said I wished not for another husband?” She found herself wanting to wrap her arms around his neck, to nip his chin, dip her tongue into the tiny dimple at the corner of his mouth. She decided it had to be his scent that made her want to do these things, as the masculinity of it was overwhelming her senses.

Aryn leaned forward, wanting to taste her lips. “But you have one. Me. All you have to do is reach out and take, as I am all yours.”

All hers. She liked the sound of that. She blinked and attempted to push him away. “No.”

“Aye,” he whispered as he brushed his lips over hers, the pirate taking over. “All yers.”

“No… I…”

He had had enough. The prince was n’ot getting the job done, obviously too considerate of Betrys’s feelings, so it was time to give the pirate a chance. Rayn stepped back, but only long enough to pick her up and toss her over his shoulder. He did an about-face and started out of the ballroom.

“Put me down!” Betrys yelled once the shock wore off and started pounding on Rayn’s back.

“Nae.”

“Might I ask where you are taking my cousin?” Idrys stepped in front of Rayn, and it was obvious it was Rayn; the princely civility was gone from the man’s eyes.

“’Tis none of yer concern,” he growled low. “She is my wife and we are leaving.”

“Put me down, you rotten scoundrel!”

“Not until I am ready, woman.” Rayn glared at Idrys. “Do ye interfere?”

“No, just curious where you might be taking her, Your Highness, but hurt her and I will hunt you down.” Idrys stepped aside and allowed the pirate to pass, Betrys still pounding on his back.

“Idrys, I demand you help me!” Betrys yelled.

“Worry not, I will watch over Zeti while you and your husband mend the rift betwixt you.” Idrys waved to her retreating form.

“I knew he would mess this up,” Maryn spoke from Idrys’s right, watching her grandson exit the ballroom, her arms crossed over and resting upon her waist. “Never has he been able to follow a simple plan.”

“Think I do that this way is better.” He laughed. “Serves Betrys right for pushing him to this point.”

“And what of the scandal?”

“That I am a nyn Caro, a scandal is a favorite pastime.”

Maryn grinned. “’Tis not new for the ayn Gyls either. Compared to the antics of my husband, this… This will be easy.”

--

© A. Jane

Book Love:  Part 1 Part 2 Part 3  Part 4  Part 5  Part 6  Part 7  Part 8  Part 9

[kindasortaameyzing]

A Hot Take on j//nerys

*posting this as a separate post bc tumblr’s being dumb as hell* 

First of all, anon, thank you very much for this ask, because BOY OH BOY have i MANY FEELINGS about the magical targcest ship that is j//nerys.

This is about to be a long ass post. Also, includes spoilers to Season 8 Ep 1 (I’ll tell u when!)

First of all, when watching Season 7, I could not find myself shipping J and D. Like...I can see what D&D tried to do with the buildup and the chemistry (like the cave paintings and Jon Chilling with Drogon), and idk if they meant to make it so awkward and stunted, but it was. I felt -1000000 chemistry in between those two characters, frankly speaking. I could see some of it nearing episodes 6 and 7 if I squinted, but I was just kind of blown away by how I absolutely could not get behind this ship that the show has supposedly been leading up to for seven seasons.

At that point, I did kinda believe in Political!Jon because it made more sense for his character rather than falling in love with Dany “White Savior Complex” T. Before watching S8 Ep1, I already didn’t think jonerys was going to be endgame, even if they were canon for the time being. It was just such a stilted relationship and the Dark!Dany was coming in STRONG. But after watching 801, may I just say…

*if you haven’t noticed, S8 EP1 spoilers start now*

Here is a pretty hot take that I don’t think I’ve seen anyone share:

Jon Snow is infatuated by D. Maybe even in love with her. But he absolutely does not love her.

Let me start with the distinction. J is infatuated because he’s almost maybe even obsessed. He knows her as the Breaker of Chains, the Mother of Dragons, and all these mythical things that her title is, and combined with the fact that she swooped in to save him when he was going Wight Hunting, I think it’s just a bunch of savior idealism mixed in with a tad bit of Stockholm Syndrome. Not to mention, I think he’s being blinded with his obsession of finding more allies to fight against the AotD, and he’s willing to overlook all of her many, many faults to get there. He’s thinking very short term right now.

And honestly? I think that this infatuation is an ongoing trend with Daenerys’ lovers. None of them truly love her as an equal, except Drogo probably. They are besotted with her. Jorah, Daario, and mayyybee even Drogo to an extent -- they don’t love her, they are in love with her.

So does this kill Pol!Jon? Mayhaps. I think, actually, that Jon started out with those Pol!Jon motives in season 7, and I think he sticks to them up until Eastwatch (if his lukewarm reactions to D and clear annoyance with her has anything to say about it). To me, when watching Eastwatch, it was like a flip was switched. Suddenly, so suddenly, Jon was bending the knee to this woman who swooped in and saved the day. And I think his whole “let’s all be truthful once and for all” spiel in Dragonpit is sort-of evidence as to the falling of his Pol!Jon motives. (tbh, I can see how it could actually bolster the Pol!Jon argument, but it’s irrelevant).

Admittedly, this was all conjecture in my head. Up until Season 8. And BOY oh bOY did this episode feed me.

[Yay to Robert and Cersei parallels, anyone?]

I know a lot of people felt as if Jon was rather ooc in 801, and I agree. I think that’s due to his adoration for Dany. Not sticking up for Sansa when Dany threatened her? Asking Arya to take Dany’s side and making that little jab at Sansa for thinking she’s the smartest person in the world (btw, she absolutely is)? Generally being complacent as hell?

I think, in all those moments, he’s warring with himself. On one hand, angel-on-his-shoulder Jon knows that family should come first, that he should fight and stand up for the ones he loved. On the other hand, he’s desperately trying to justify his infatuation for D. He’s grasping at straws, and I think he’s scared of the fact that he is. I think the most telling part of this is when he tries to justify D’s murder of the Tarlys (AND, might I add, he doesn’t even know that she burned them alive yet, just that she killed them. Oh, i cannot WAIT for this tea)

Just...watching that scene [I’ll put a pic when I can get one]. Jon begins by looking confused and worried as hell. He’s beginning to look past his infatuation and see the truth. And he really tries to defend her, he does -- “I’ve had to murder people before” or whatever he says -- but Sam CALLS him the fuck out. And let me tell you? In that fucking scene, Jon doesn’t look angry. He looks scared.

And OOF that scene with Sansa? “Did you kneel for the North or for love?” (I’m paraphrasing, sorry if it’s not accurate)

Jon hesitates. He knows, in his heart of hearts, that he’s supposed to be doing this for the North, and he’s trying to justify his infatuation with Dany and marry the two, but it isn’t working.

And the “Did you ever have faith in me?” I think Jon truly thinks what he’s doing is right. Or it could be right. He’s may be looking for Sansa’s validation, partially, because at this point even he’s unsure of what he’s doing, but that’s a little tinfoil. 

Now, on to explain the existence of J//nerys moments that don’t involve the two characters themselves..

Davos, Varys, and Tyrion talking about a marriage alliance. I’d be lying if if I said I was surprised by it. And I don’t blame Davos for trying to push it. In an ideal situation if D was an actual good person, it would make sense. But she isn’t, and Jon doesn’t love her. Not to mention I find it kind of funny that they were looking at the pair and then we find out D’s just whining abt how Sansa doesn’t like her. Very romantic.

I think that scene was necessary for two reasons. I think they might add in a push for a marriage alliance in Ep 2, when I predict that the tensions btwn Jon and D will begin, and then Jon just reveals it can’t happen because he is, ta-da, a Targaryen. And then D will go back to Dragonstone before the Battle of Winterfell while leaving her armies behind (which people are predicting). But second of all, that scene was absolutely set up for Varys’ last line -- “Nothing lasts.”

A very purposeful line. A very purposeful shot to J and D as Varys says that line. This, more than everything else, confirmed that no matter how canon j//nerys might seem now, it’s never going to be endgame.

Now for the dragon joyride scene! Yay! Let’s take a break in the middle of literal war preparations and ignore an alliance about to fall apart at the seams to go chill at a waterfall that should be frozen over!

Honestly I thought this whole scene was such fanservice. There was no emotional aspect to it, no swelling music or long-awaited release. But D&D put it in there, using their precious screentime for a reason.

1. I think it shows Jon “embracing”, or lack thereof, his Targ side. It’s very clear he is not made for it, and he is not enjoying it. When Dany first rode her dragons, she did so with ease. Jon is absolutely not having it. I think this goes to show in some little way that no matter Jon’s blood, he’s a Stark. Or maybe it’s showing a melding between his Stark and Targaryen side. Idk. either way, there wasn’t an ounce of romance in that scene that didn’t seem forced

2. Foreshadowing for Dance of Dragons 2.0 much?? I think this is very much an introduction to Rhaegar-staying-with-Jon and knowing that Jon can control him

3. Oh my god was the romance one-sided. D instigated all the romance, she instigated the kiss. Admittedly, Jon obliged, but uh...his whole kiss while staring at Drogon? I???? What??? Ah, yes, very romantic????

I love D staring at Jon with all this love (I do think she loves him, and his betrayal will turn her to Dark!Dany, but more on that later) and Jon just trying his best! Keep your queen warm! uwu!!!!!!!!!!! 

PHEW! That’s all the meta-y thoughts I have on j//nerys. I’m also beginning to think that j//nerys is the Bad version of Ygritte and Jon? As in in both cases, I believe Jon began by trying to infiltrate the enemy party and pretending to be in love, but then actually truly falling for the girl in Ygritte’s case and falling in infatuation in D’s, and ending up having to betray her because it was never going to last in the first place. Also, cave/waterfall parallels maybe. That being said, Ygritte and Jon is far, far healthier and balanced, and this is just a crack theory, so don’t hate me on this one!!!

I really found it funny how j//nerys stans after 801 were frantically giffing the dragon joyride and makeout session bonus pack and blatantly ignoring how the entire plot of the story was pointing to Dark!Dany and the strife btwn them. Also, I could literally do an entire other post about Dark!D and how I absolutely hated her in 801 and then another one about jonsa, so if anyone’s interested, lmk!

TLDR: Jon has feelings for D but it’s not even close to love, it’s infatuation at best. Pol!Jon happened initially, but then faded away.  j//nerys is hella one-sided atm and even if jon truly loves D, it’s 101% not going to last longer than like ep 3. Also not mentioned but if D insults Sansa one more time I’m going to kick her ass.