#unsure and unsettled for the rest of the day

[domm1etae]

sent to tempt me - chapter two

chapter two: unsettled

chapter summary: Expecting someone quiet and bookish, Yunho is shocked by Mingi’s effortless confidence, tattoos, and the way he fills the room. As the day unfolds, Yunho can’t stop thinking about Mingi and the pull he feels. But the real shock comes later, when Yunho overhears something that completely upends his expectations..

pairing: yunho x mingi

genre: smut (not yet but there will be eventually), angst, fluff, romance, m/m, non!idol!ateez, sub!yunho, dom!mingi, drama, coming of age, collage, religion

rating: 18+ (for the whole series bc there will be smut eventually) | mdni

word count: 2.6k

warnings under

collage, roommates, sub!yunho, dom!mingi, bad boy mingi and religious church good boy yunho same-sex attraction, m/m, teasing, dark themes, homophobia, self discovery, pet names, strangers to lovers, religion and religious topics, aaaand more will be added soon hehehe

previous chapter | next chapter | AO3 | this fics masterlist

author's note: guys i am SO lazy to read the chapters i write after myself god damn. also do you like these shorter chapters or do you want longer ones?

The voice carried a playful undertone, but there was something deeper in it that made Yunho’s heart skip a beat, something both light and dangerous. He turned sharply toward the door.

Mingi stood in the doorway, one hand resting casually on the frame, the other holding a duffel bag slung over his shoulder. He was tall—easily taller than Yunho—and his presence filled the room without him even trying. He had this air about him, effortless and confident, like he belonged here in a way Yunho wasn’t sure he did.

His dark hair was slightly messy, falling into his eyes in a way that looked more intentional than accidental. A single earring glinted against his jawline, and the faintest trace of tattoos peeked out from under the sleeve of his black t-shirt. His whole look screamed rebellion, freedom—something Yunho hadn’t quite been able to wrap his mind around.

Yunho swallowed hard.

“Oh, uh… I didn’t mean to touch it,” he stammered, quickly stepping back. His face felt hot, and he prayed Mingi wouldn’t notice.

Mingi shrugged, a lazy smirk playing on his lips as he dropped his bag onto the couch. He barely looked at Yunho as he plopped down, his posture relaxed and nonchalant, as though he owned the place. One arm rested on the back of the couch, the other draped over his knee, and he settled in like he’d been here for years.

Yunho stood frozen for a moment, unsure of what to do or say. This wasn’t what he expected. Not at all.

His roommate—this was his roommate? The guy with tattoos, an earring, and the kind of smirk that could make anyone feel like they were the punchline of a joke?

“Nice to meet you, by the way,” Mingi said, his grin widening when he noticed Yunho’s unease.

Yunho felt his stomach twist into knots. His mind raced. This guy—Mingi—wasn’t anything like what he had imagined. In his head, Yunho had pictured someone quiet, reserved, maybe a little nerdy—someone like him, someone who’d want to spend hours reading and discussing novels. But this Mingi, with his relaxed attitude and the aura of danger hanging around him, made Yunho feel small.

“Uh, yeah. Nice to meet you too,” he managed, his voice strained. He hated how it sounded, as though he wasn’t sure of himself. Wasn’t sure of this whole situation.

Mingi raised an eyebrow, his gaze lingering on Yunho for a moment longer than necessary. “You’re Yunho, right? Literature major?”

“Yeah,” Yunho said, gripping the strap of his backpack tightly. His knuckles turned white from the pressure. “And you’re…?”

“Mingi,” he replied simply, leaning back into the couch as if he had all the time in the world. “Also literature. Guess we’ll be seeing a lot of each other.”

Yunho tried to smile, but it felt more like a grimace. His thoughts were scattered—Why was someone like Mingi studying literature? And why did it feel like the room had gotten ten degrees warmer since Mingi walked in?

Mingi didn’t seem to notice Yunho’s discomfort. His eyes lingered on him for a moment longer, sharp and unreadable, before he stood up and stretched his arms over his head with a yawn.

“Well, I’m gonna unpack,” he said casually, grabbing his duffel bag. “See you around, roomie.”

And with that, he disappeared into the other bedroom, leaving Yunho standing in the middle of the room, his heart still racing. He felt more off-balance than he ever had in his life.

Who the hell is this guy?

Yunho sank onto the edge of the couch, hands clasped in his lap. Mingi’s presence lingered even though he was gone—an invisible weight that pressed against Yunho’s chest. He tried to piece it all together, to make sense of why his roommate felt so… overwhelming.

No. Stop it. You’re just overthinking. Yunho gave his head a quick shake. It didn’t matter who Mingi was or how he carried himself. What mattered was that Yunho was here to study, to focus on literature, and to stay on track.

But something about Mingi—his smirk, his tattoos, the way he filled the room like he belonged in every corner of it—pulled Yunho in. A magnetic, almost irritating draw he couldn’t shake.

No. He cannot think like this. Yunho stood abruptly, forcing himself to unpack. If he kept busy, maybe he could stop thinking about the roommate who had just upended his expectations.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The shrill beeping of an alarm jolted Yunho awake. For a moment, he forgot where he was, his eyes darting around the unfamiliar room. The sunlight streaming through the blinds reminded him: college. Dorm. Roommate.

He rolled out of bed, rubbing his face as he tried to shake off the grogginess. Through the thin walls, he heard movement from the other room—Mingi, probably getting ready. Yunho’s stomach twisted at the thought of seeing him again.

When Yunho stepped into the living room, already dressed, he found Mingi lounging on the couch, scrolling through his phone. His dark hair was still damp from a shower, and he wore a simple white t-shirt and black jeans. Yunho’s eyes caught on his hands—rings glinting on nearly every finger, his nails painted a glossy black.

Something about the contrast between the rings and the dark polish made Yunho’s chest tighten. It was such a small detail, yet it added to the effortless edge that Mingi seemed to carry, making him even more…

Yunho stopped himself. No. Absolutely not. Stop thinking like that.

“Mornin',” Mingi said, not looking up.

“Morning,” Yunho replied stiffly, keeping his eyes on the floor, he turned abruptly toward the kitchenette, focusing on pouring cereal as if it were the most important task in the world, avoiding the way Mingi seemed so… relaxed, like he had already claimed the space as his own.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The campus was alive with the kind of chaotic energy Yunho hated. Crowds of students swarmed every pathway, some looking just as confused as him, while others seemed to move with an easy confidence that made him feel even more out of place. It was overwhelming—the laughter, the shouts, the hum of a thousand conversations happening at once.

Yunho gripped his schedule tightly, his knuckles turning white as he tried to focus on where he was supposed to go, his other hand ghosting over the rosary he grabed last minute today and put it in his pocket, just to make sure. Intro to Literary Theory. Room 203. Easy enough to find, right?

He weaved through the crowd, dodging groups of friends chatting in the middle of the walkway, and barely managed to avoid tripping over someone’s abandoned skateboard. By the time he found the building, he was already exhausted.

Inside, the lecture hall was massive, rows of seats climbing higher and higher toward the back. Yunho hesitated, scanning the room for a seat that felt… safe. Not too far in the back, where he’d look like a slacker, but not too close to the front either. Eventually, he settled in the middle, pulling out his notebook and pen like it was some kind of armor.

The professor started talking, her voice droning on about the syllabus and expectations, but Yunho couldn’t concentrate. His mind kept circling back to Mingi.

Mingi, who had greeted him so casually that morning, like they’d known each other for years. Mingi, with his damp hair, painted nails, and those stupid silver rings that Yunho couldn’t stop noticing. He’d been sitting on their couch like he owned the place, scrolling through his phone without a care in the world.

It wasn’t fair how someone could seem so effortless. Yunho had barely managed to keep his voice steady when he said “morning,” and even then, it had come out stiff and awkward.

Mingi didn’t have that problem. He moved through life like he belonged everywhere. Like the world had been made to fit him, not the other way around.

Yunho scribbled something in his notebook, not even sure what it was. Why am I thinking about him so much? He forced himself to focus on the lecture, but it was useless.

By lunchtime, Yunho’s brain felt like it had been wrung out like a sponge. He trudged to the cafeteria, hoping to find a quiet corner where he could eat and recharge.

The cafeteria was a zoo. Tables were packed with groups of students laughing, talking, and shouting across the room. The smell of fried food and coffee lingered in the air, making Yunho’s stomach churn. He grabbed a tray and loaded it with something vaguely edible before scanning the room for a free seat.

That’s when he saw him again.

Mingi was sitting at one of the tables near the window, surrounded by people. A group of at least five or six students leaned in close, laughing and talking like they were best friends. And Mingi? He didn’t even have to try.

He wasn’t the one telling jokes or trying to dominate the conversation. No, Mingi just sat there, leaning back in his chair with a lazy grin, and everyone else flocked to him like moths to a flame. When he laughed—head thrown back, his whole face lighting up—it was like the whole room noticed.

Yunho hated the way his chest tightened at the sight. He quickly ducked his head and headed for a table in the corner, as far away from the commotion as possible.

Of course he’s already popular. Yunho stabbed at his food with his fork, his appetite gone. It made sense. Someone like Mingi didn’t have to work for attention. He just existed, and people came to him.

Yunho tried to eat, but his eyes kept flicking back to that table. To the way Mingi’s rings caught the light when he gestured. To the way the girls in the group leaned closer, giggling at something he said.

It was infuriating.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

By the time Yunho got back to the dorm, he was completely drained. His first day of classes had been a blur of new faces, confusing syllabi, and the overwhelming realization that he was way out of his depth.

All he wanted to do was crash on his bed and not think for a while.

But when he walked into the dorm, the sound of voices stopped him in his tracks.

They were coming from Mingi’s room.

Yunho hesitated in the doorway, his ears straining to catch what was being said. The door to Mingi’s door was thin just enough for the sound to drift through—low, muffled laughter and the occasional murmur of conversation.

He already has someone over? Yunho frowned, dropping his bag by the couch. He wasn’t surprised, not really. Mingi seemed like the type to make friends instantly. Outgoing, confident, the kind of person people gravitated toward.

Still, it was annoying. Yunho couldn’t even get through the first day without feeling like he was falling apart, and Mingi was already entertaining guests?

He walked to his own room, sat on his bed and pulled out a book, trying to lose himself in the familiar comfort of words. But the voices he heard from Mingi’s room made it impossible to focus.

Yunho sighed, setting the book aside. He could feel a headache forming behind his eyes. He decided for a short nap.

Eventually, nature called, and Yunho groaned, peeling himself off the bed. His back cracked as he stretched, and he yawned, rubbing at his tired eyes. The day had drained him, and all he wanted was to pee, maybe grab a glass of water, and go straight to bed again. He shuffled toward the bathroom, still half out of it.

That’s when he heard it.

A moan.

Yunho froze mid-step, his ears perking up like a startled animal.

Was that…? No, it couldn’t be.

But then it came again, soft but unmistakable.

Oh. My. God.

A rush of heat hit his face, and he stood there, awkwardly rooted to the spot. Seriously? Already? It was only the first day of school, and Yunho was overhearing his roommate hooking up? He hadn’t even been here a full twenty-four hours yet!

Yunho’s eyes darted to Mingi’s closed door, his lips pressed into a tight line. He couldn’t believe this was happening. Great. Just great. His mysterious, tattooed, effortlessly cool roommate had someone in his room, and Yunho was here, stuck in the hallway, trying not to combust from secondhand embarrassment.

He shifted awkwardly, debating whether to just head back to his room and forget this ever happened. But then—

Another sound.

This time it wasn’t a moan. It was a groan.

Yunho’s eyes widened. That wasn’t just anyone’s voice—it was Mingi’s.

His heart started to race, and his stomach did a weird little flip. He immediately hated how aware he was of the sound. It was low and rough, and Yunho couldn’t stop himself from hearing it again and again in his head, even after it faded into silence.

What the hell was he supposed to do now? Knock on the door? Run to the bathroom? Pretend he hadn’t heard? His mind scrambled for an answer, but then—

Another sound.

This time it wasn’t Mingi. It was… the other person.

And it was definitely not what Yunho expected.

The moans were soft, breathy, but they weren’t… high-pitched. They weren’t the kind of sounds you’d expect from a girl.

Yunho blinked, his brain halting mid-thought.

Wait. What?

He strained to listen, his face now burning with embarrassment and curiosity he desperately wished he didn’t have. The moans were quieter now, but the tone was unmistakable. Lower. A little deeper. Definitely not feminine.

His stomach flipped again, harder this time, and his brain scrambled to keep up.

No way.

Yunho’s breath caught in his throat as realization started to sink in. His palms felt clammy, and his knees locked up. He stared at the door, willing himself to be wrong, but the sounds kept coming, soft and undeniable.

Mingi wasn’t with a girl.

He was with a guy.

Yunho’s jaw dropped. His heart pounded like a drum, the sound deafening in his ears. A million thoughts raced through his head, none of them coherent.

What. The. Hell.

He’d barely known Mingi for a day, and already his world felt like it was spinning off its axis. Yunho wasn’t sure what shocked him more—the fact that Mingi was hooking up with someone so casually on the first night, or the fact that it was another guy.

He wanted to back away, to escape this hallway and pretend none of this was happening. But he also couldn’t move. Couldn’t stop thinking about how none of this fit the image he’d built of Mingi in his head.

The guy was already a walking enigma: the tattoos, the earrings, the intimidating vibe that somehow drew people in instead of pushing them away. Yunho had spent most of the day trying to figure him out, trying not to think about the way girls probably threw themselves at him without him even needing to try.

And now this?

It was too much. Yunho’s head was spinning, and his chest felt tight.

Eventually, he forced himself to move, stumbling toward the bathroom like his legs were made of lead. Once inside, he shut the door with a soft click and pressed his back against it, exhaling shakily.

What the hell was that?

Yunho closed his eyes, but the sounds kept replaying in his head—the moans, the groans, the undeniable proof of what was happening just a few feet away. His face burned hotter than ever, and he buried it in his hands, trying to will away the thoughts creeping into his mind.

He shouldn’t care. He didn’t care.

Right?

Yunho splashed cold water on his face and tried to focus on something—anything—other than the fact that his roommate, his intimidating and annoyingly handsome roommate, was currently in his room hooking up with another guy.

And for some reason, that fact shook Yunho to his core.

[alicent-archive]

Alicent slept 🙁 in the 🙁 same bed 🙁 that Aemma 🙁 was slaughtered upon 🙁

[luminnara]

Traditions | Feyd-Rautha x Reader

REQUEST: As Feyd-Rautha's wife-to-be, you have moved to the Harkonnen homeworld to await your wedding. You're doing your best to adhere to their customs, but when a supposed doctor examines your 'purity,' Feyd-Rautha's reaction is anything but calm.

MASTERLIST

Requests are open! This was one of the first I received for Feyd-Rautha, I hope you enjoy!

WARNINGS: SA in a medical setting (not graphic but also more than just implied), canon typical violence (also not graphic)

Harkonnen customs were strange.

Harkonnens were strange.

Everything about Giedi Prime felt alien to you—its black sun, bathing the world in infrared; its barren landscape, polluted and abused by years of unbridled industry; and, perhaps most of all, its nobility, the Baron and his his nephew, Feyd-Rautha.

“A Harkonnen?” You had choked out when your parents informed had you of the decision. You had been in disbelief, as if reality had come to slap you in the face. All you had ever known was your homeworld and the comforts of the family palace, on a planet that was lush and beautiful. Everything you had ever heard of the Harkonnen homeworld was the opposite—harsh and inhospitable, its people even more so. You had resisted the information initially, refusing to believe that your life was changing so suddenly and so dramatically.

But, ever the dutiful daughter, you stood and met the na-Baron when he arrived, openly staring at his appearance while another Harkonnen introduced him. Feyd-Rautha was extremely pale, his skin nearly white, and, like the rest of the delegation from Giedi Prime, he was hairless. He did not even have eyebrows, and as your father welcomed him to your world, you wondered if he was truly hairless, everywhere.

As your thoughts wandered, the na-Baron’s eyes slid to you, meeting yours. You suddenly felt as though you had been caught doing something naughty, the way he looked at you, drinking you in, tilting his head slightly as he appraised you.

“Is the na-Baron pleased with what he sees?” You spoke up in a moment of bravery.

His eyes raked over your body and he smirked, making a rough sound you assumed might be a laugh.

“Oh yes, princess.” His voice was just as harsh as you’d expected. “Very.”

Feyd-Rautha spent a week on your planet, courting you in the ways of your House. He presented you with gifts of refined spice and Harkonnen riches, knives and strangely austere jewelry. He walked with you in the evenings, where you spoke of mundane things, unsure of what you were meant to do in his presence exactly, and he watched you like a hawk hunting a field mouse. When the week was up, you accompanied him back to Giedi Prime to prepare for the wedding, leaving your homeworld behind.

Feyd-Rautha was less well behaved when not surrounded by the members of another House. He was an unsettling, panther-like man, always on the hunt for something to kill…and when you arrived on his planet, you saw that he sometimes killed without abandon, fighting drugged prisoners in a public arena to satisfy his own ego.

You were not sure that you wanted him as your husband—he seemed somewhat disinterested in you, leaving you to the guest chambers you would eventually be moving out of in favor for his bed. Your first week on Giedi Prime was another of courtship, though this time in the ways of his people, and you were honored to witness his fighting prowess in that arena beneath that strange sun. You dined with him and his uncle the Baron Vladimir, a large and unpleasant man, one you could tell your husband-to-be felt no real love towards. Feyd-Rautha simply enjoyed that he would one day take the Baron’s place, and when Vladimir commented on your figure one evening, you saw the way Feyd’s jaw tensed. Perhaps he did want you as his wife, after all.

Another strange Harkonnen custom revealed itself to you toward the end of that week, when a doctor entered your chambers and informed you that your purity was to be inspected.

“My apologies, but…what?” You asked, confused. You had never heard of such a thing. Surely he couldn’t possibly mean what you thought he meant…?

“We must ensure that none other than the na-Baron have had you, milady.” The man explained. You noticed he sported a gray sash around his middle, and you assumed it was some sort of uniform. “It must be guaranteed that you are untouched, and that the heir you provide will be the na-Baron’s and no one else’s.”

You felt your face grow warm with anger and embarrassment. “Is my word not enough?”

“I’m afraid this is tradition, milady.” He stared at you with intense, beady eyes. “The na-Baron was eager to honor the customs of your House. You do not want him to think you are refusing those of House Harkonnen, do you?”

No, you did not. The last thing you wanted was to anger Feyd-Rautha and potentially drive your future husband even further away from you. You did not want to seem rude, nor did you want to cause a fuss…and you had been examined by doctors before, though perhaps not for this exact reason. You could withstand a few moments of awkward discomfort, you reasoned, if it meant avoiding an unhappy marriage.

“You do not have any instruments,” you noted.

The doctor smiled, revealing the black teeth of the Harkonnens. “Medical instruments are not necessary for this, milady. Please, move to the bed so that I may examine you.”

You rose from your place at the simple table in the center of the room, abandoning your half-eaten breakfast. As you turned, you felt the doctor’s eyes watching you a chill prickled the back of your neck. You needed to relax, you told yourself; if you were expected to produce an heir, there would be many more invasive check ups far stranger than this. You had seen your mother pregnant with your younger siblings, and had heard her speaking with the midwives and Bene Gesserit woman who stalked the halls of the palace back home. Perhaps this was how you could ease yourself into all of that.

When you turned to face the doctor once more, you were relieved to see him standing just as you had left him. His smile unsettled you, but then so did most Harkonnen features, you realized as you sat on the edge of the bed.

“Lay back and relax, milady.” He said, approaching you. “This won’t take but a moment.”

-0-

To your surprise, Feyd-Rautha joined you for lunch that day. A servant had been sent ahead to inform you that the na-Baron would be arriving to your chambers shortly, but when he did, you insisted on eating elsewhere. The encounter with the doctor had done more than simply unsettle you—it had rattled your nerves, leaving you feeling angry and confused. Though the man was long gone, you had no desire to remain in that room any longer than you absolutely had to, and lunch could not come early enough.

The na-Baron led you to his own chambers and food was served for you there, at a well-sized table just as austere as the rest of the building’s furniture and decor. He watched as you picked at your food, pushing it around on your plate but hardly eating any, and he took the opportunity to attempt conversation.

“We will be wed soon,” he said.

You wanted to roll your eyes. You were in no mood for small talk, but remembered who exactly you were dealing with and stifled a sigh. “Yes, na-Baron, we will.”

He smirked. “I look forward to the consummation, milady.”

You felt bile rising in your throat. The thought of anyone touching you again at the moment made you sick and angry, and you hated him for his people’s customs.

Feyd-Rautha tilted his head as he looked at you. “Do you not?”

“I am sure it will be everything we hope for and more,” you grumbled, looking down at your plate.

“It is unavoidable,” he growled. “We must produce an heir.”

“And we will!” You snapped, glaring up at him. “And you will be happy to hear that your doctor’s examination went as expected, my lord.”

The venom in your words stunned him almost as much as the words themselves. If Feyd weren’t so busy working through what exactly you had just said, he may have been tempted to bend you over that table just to show you how hard you made him, wedding night be damned…but there were other matters at hand now.

“Doctor?” He asked, eye twitching as his brow furrowed in thought.

“Yes, the one who confirmed that I am, in fact, pure,” you spat, voice laced with pure malice now.

You saw what could only be anger bubbling inside of him as he straightened his shoulders. “How exactly was this achieved?”

“By—by the usual means, I presume,” you said, quickly growing afraid of Feyd-Rautha’s infamous temper should it make an appearance. “He…confirmed that I am…that I have never…”

The na-Baron stood suddenly, knocking in the table in his haste. “Describe him to me.”

“I-I don’t know, he was a doctor!” You stammered. “He looked like every other Harkonnen, I don’t know—“

“What did he wear?”

“A-all black, like everyone here…a sash, a gray sash, around his waist, and he had no instruments—“

“What?” Feyd-Rautha roared, fists slamming down onto the table.

You jumped at the sudden outburst, staring in confusion as he stood. "I apologize if I've upset you, I don't understand why you--"

"Come." he hissed, grabbing your arm roughly and hauling you out of your seat.

You shrieked in surprise, stumbling to keep up as he dragged you out of the room and down the corridor. "Na-Baron, what is the meaning of this?!"

You received no answer. Feyd-Rautha was too angry to speak, shoulders hunched and full of violent tension as he stomped down the halls. Servants and Harkonnen nobles alike scattered upon seeing him, and as you twisted your head to look back at them, you saw them whispering and looking after you with pity on their faces.

"Feyd-Rautha, this is absurd!" you protested.

He came to a halt in front of a door. Though the wait for it to slide open only took a few moments, it felt like agony, and you had nowhere to look aside from the na-Baron's heaving form. You had never seen a person so angry before, so utterly enraged that he was practically incoherent. His silence was frightening, as when the door finally opened, you felt relieved...until he grabbed you once more and brought you inside with him.

The room was full of Harkonnen men, and as they looked to the door in surprise, you realized that you had entered some sort of lounge. You recognized their uniforms as military, and at the sight of their na-Baron, they all immediately stood, saluting him and bowing their heads.

"Which one?" Feyd-Rautha hissed, pulling you to stand at his side.

"What?" you asked, still confused by this entire operation.

"Which man?" he asked, voice strained as if he were holding himself back.

As you looked around at the Harkonnens, whose faces were stoic but whose eyes were frightened, you realized what your almost-husband was asking of you. It was difficult to tell them apart--their pale faces blended into one, their uniforms all nearly identical save for subtle distinctions of rank. Then, an idea; the gray sash you remembered, surely the doctor still wore it? If he were there in the room with you, perhaps you could--

Yes.

There he was.

You recognized his face and your lips pressed into a thin line. Feyd-Rautha, whose eyes had been glued to you, watching your every tiny, minute move, noticed the way your eyes lingered. His lip curled into a sneer as he turned to look at the man, whose comrades had all immediately stepped away, leaving him alone and exposed.

"Captain." the na-Baron's voice was dangerous. It was terrifying. You had never heard another human make a sound so guttural, so animalistic, and yet still manage to form it into a recognizable word.

As the man took a panicked step backwards, Feyd-Rautha stalked toward him. Your future husband smoothly pulled a long knife from a hilt on someone's hip as he passed them by, and you could only stare as the captain was brutalized.

You had never seen such agony.

When Feyd-Rautha was finished with him and the room had finally quieted after the screams died out, he stood from the fresh corpse and turned to you, holding a weapon now dripping with dark blood as he faced you.

"For you," he said simply, sincerely, bowing his head yet never breaking eye contact.

You stared. You had no idea how to react upon witnessing such a barbaric act, one that was sure to play out in your nightmares for weeks to come. When you felt panic rising in your chest you forced it down, and mustered all of the courage you possibly could to say, "Thank you, my lord," and bow your head in return.

He seemed satisfied with this as the knife clattered to the floor and he strode forward to you. "Let us leave."

You agreed wholeheartedly, following him and leaving the other soldiers to collect the pieces of their captain, now strewn across the lounge. Feyd-Rautha held your arm once more as he led you down the corridor, though this time, he was far more gentle. Something had been released from within him, his bloodlust sated and his anger quelled for the moment, and as the reality of what you had just witnessed him do crashed down around you, you stumbled to a halt and doubled over.

"Milady?" he asked, confused, before he turned to see you holding a hand over your mouth as you desperately tried not to be sick. His hands gripped your elbows as he faced you, undeterred by your retching. "What is this? He is dead, there is nothing to--"

"You killed him!" you choked out as you gasped for air, the bile in your throat still threatening to come up.

"Yes," he said, head tilted as he looked at you. "Of course I did. For you, as a gift." Then he paused, thinking. "...Was there another? An assistant?"

"No!" you managed to swallow down the last of the bile, throat burning as you grasped your sweat-slick forehead with your palm. "No, there was only him, but--why would you do such a thing?"

Now he was truly bewildered. "Why wouldn't I kill the animal whose hands touched you before mine?"

"Because...I..." you huffed, glaring at him. "What is going on? What is all of this, over a custom of your people? I did not enjoy his examination by any means, but I am doing everything in my power to accept the customs of House Harkonnen with grace and dignity no matter how awful they are and this entire spectacle has now made that very difficult, na-Baron!"

"House Harkonnen does not practice such a thing," he sneered, eyes angry once more.

Your shoulders dropped in horror. "...Excuse me?"

"That man should never have been within a thousand lengths of you."

"...Oh..." the panic had returned, but now, it felt much worse, and your voice sounded impossibly small. You lowered your hand to your lips, chewing your nail in agitation.

"Do you understand?" Feyd-Rautha asked, still holding your elbows.

"...Yes, I'm afraid I do..."

He leaned in, his forehead meeting yours as he still stared at your eyes. You found his to be a deep, dark blue, an abyss that threatened to swallow you up. But right now, you wouldn't mind such a thing, if it meant you could hide away from the world forever.

"No one will every lay a hand on you." he growled. "No one but me."

"...You killed him for me," you whispered.

"I did."

"You avenged me...yet you did not proclaim your reason in front of those other men?"

"I do not need a reason to take a life," he barked a laugh.

You just nodded.

"And I would not humiliate my wife in such a manner." he straightened once more, letting go of your elbows and offering you his arm once more.

"Thank you," you said as you took it and began walking.

"It does not matter to me if you another man has had you before." he said, staring forward. "I know the children you will bear will be mine."

He said it with an arrogance that may have annoyed you had the situation been different. Now, it was a comfort that he had such a big ego.

"That is correct, na-Baron," you said, sighing in relief. At least the whole ordeal was over now, and you doubted anyone would be foolish enough to cross your path now that one man had already been publicly eviscerated.

"Call me Feyd."

"Thank you," you glanced up at him with a small smile. "Thank you, Feyd."

[edenesth]

The Way to His Heart [17]

Pairing: general!Seonghwa x wife!reader

AU: arranged marriage au (Joseon era)

Word Count: 3.6k

Summary: Life has been hell ever since your mother's passing many years ago. Despite being from a prominent family, you've never received the privileges associated with it. It only got worse with the arrival of your stepmother and her daughters. When the intimidating General Park was in search of a wife, your father seized the opportunity to dispose of you, simultaneously securing a connection with the powerful general—killing two birds with one stone.

Warning: eMoTiOnAl DaMaGe

Part 16 | Fic Masterlist | Part 18

How dare he—

Jongho gritted his teeth, his fists tightening at the despicable tactics the fourth prince employed to disrupt your relationship with the general. Usually composed, the assistant struggled to contain his rising anger, feeling an overwhelming urge to resort to violence.

Meanwhile, all Eunsook cared about was your well-being. She empathised with your past, knowing all too well the horrors you endured in your old home. The idea of being married to someone potentially more ruthless than your previous abusers must have been terrifying. Despite understanding the reasons behind her master's actions, she acknowledged his moral ambiguity.

Her only wish was for you to accept that he would never hurt you.

Despite the whirlwind of emotions stirred by the revelation that Seonghwa might have been involved in more than just supervising your father's punishments, your expression remained unreadable. Yeosang held his breath, watching you intently, half-expecting a reaction of terror or betrayal. Whether it was shock, anger, or disbelief, he anticipated something negative.

Desperation clawed at the prince's heart as he clung to his last resort, willing it to work. Foolish as it might seem, the truth was he had no prior experience in wooing anyone, let alone a married woman committed to another. He fumbled in the dark, unsure of the right ways to win your heart, driven only by the conviction that he could be a better husband than General Park.

In his mind, he painted a picture of himself as the ideal partner for you, one who would treat you with the care and affection he believed you deserved. He saw himself as the only one who could truly understand the pain etched into your body, just as you might understand his. And so, he resolved to pursue you relentlessly, even if it meant resorting to drastic measures that could potentially cause you further trauma.

For the fourth prince, the ends justified the means. If it meant having you by his side, it would all be worth it. He vowed to spend the rest of his days showering you with nothing but love and kindness to make up for what he put you through today.

It's time you come to me now, darling.

However, he was in for a rude awakening if he believed you would run into his arms seeking comfort after learning the terrifying truth about the monster your husband turned out to be.

Instead, after a moment of collecting yourself, you lifted your head to meet his eyes, a newfound intensity burning within your gaze, "I'm sorry if this offends you, Your Highness, but what exactly do you hope to achieve by showing and telling me all of this? My husband acted as he did because those people deserved it. As for my father, if you could even call him that, he abused me all my life and killed my mother; he deserved whatever my husband gave him and more."

Though the revelations about the general's potential actions during those extra hours unsettled you, your anger shifted towards Yeosang for bringing them to light in such a manner. Clenching your fists to conceal your trembling hands, you remained resolute. Even if you didn't condone Seonghwa's actions, he was still your husband, and your love for him remained unchanged.

As you stood there, the annoyance toward the fourth prince simmered within you, each word he uttered adding fuel to the fire. From the very beginning, he had refused to acknowledge your new title as Lady Park, a small but significant act of disrespect. Then, he persisted in bringing up topics from your past, despite your obvious discomfort and desire to move on. Now, his deliberate attempts to tarnish the general's image felt almost like a personal attack.

The sarcasm laced in his words when speaking of your husband grated on your nerves. Seonghwa had sacrificed so much for the country, and the least he deserved was respect. It dawned on you now what San had meant about Yeosang's difficult nature. You finally understood why the prince's behaviour could be infuriating.

Jongho and Eunsook exchanged glances, their expressions shifting from concern to awe as they watched you stand your ground against the fourth prince's attempts to undermine your husband. At that moment, it became clear to them that perhaps their worries had been for nothing all along. They should have had more faith in your unwavering love and loyalty to their master.

Yeosang's confidence faltered as he observed your stern expression and heard the firmness in your voice. This was not the reaction he had anticipated from you. Perhaps he had underestimated the depth of your love and loyalty to General Park.

Could the Queen have been right all along?

Feeling a sense of urgency and realising he had no other viable option, His Highness took a deep breath and decided to come clean about his intentions once and for all. He couldn't risk angering you any further than he already had. It was time to be honest, even if it meant facing the consequences of his actions.

The smugness that had once characterised his demeanour now vanished, replaced by a palpable sense of shame as he lowered his head slightly, "I... gosh, I am sorry, my lady. I acknowledge that it was wrong of me to manipulate the situation like that. I'll be honest with you. There was no actual banquet planned. In truth, I haven't celebrated my birthday in years. It only serves as a painful reminder of my existence."

Your brows furrowed in apprehension as you listened, allowing him to continue with his explanation, "I take it you're wondering why I despise my own existence. You're likely unaware of my reputation, unlike others. You may have noticed the birthmark here," he gestured to the red mark on the side of his face, prompting a nod from you.

He offered a faint smile, "Throughout my life, I've been treated like a freak because of this mark. As a member of the royal family, I'm sure you're aware there's an expectation of flawless appearance. So, imagine the shock when they saw the fourth prince with such a conspicuous blemish, my parents included. Both within and beyond the palace walls, people have whispered about my birth, deeming it a curse, questioning if I should have even been born at all."

"Since reaching adulthood, I've rejected numerous marriage proposals. Every woman presented to me has regarded me with disdain in their eyes. But then I met you, my lady, that day in the cherry blossom garden. You were the first person to wear your own mark proudly, without a trace of revulsion. It was as if you saw beyond my appearance. I suppose you could say it was love at first sight for me. I'm in love with you, Miss Jang, and that's why I've brought you here today—to propose to you."

Everything suddenly fell into place.

The puzzle pieces of his behaviour over the past days and weeks finally clicked together, forming a clear picture. Empathy flooded your heart as you realised the depth of his struggles. You knew all too well what it felt like to be singled out, treated like an outsider even by those closest to you, and shown no respect despite your status.

However, you felt a pang of shock upon learning about his feelings for you and his pursuit. It was unexpected, to say the least. You hadn't imagined that he harboured such emotions, especially considering the complexities of your respective situations.

Observing your softened demeanour while listening to the prince's confession, Jongho and Eunsook felt a resurgence of worry. They understood Yeosang's struggles and empathised with his difficult life. Despite that, they couldn't ignore the fact that you were a married woman. Regardless of what His Highness may have gone through, pursuing someone who was already committed was inherently wrong.

The two of them exchanged a concerned glance, silently acknowledging the complexity of the situation. While they sympathised with the prince, they couldn't condone his actions, especially his attempt to come between you and your husband using such underhanded tactics.

Your chaperones would soon find reassurance in your response after a moment of contemplative silence. With a deep inhale, you attempted to offer Yeosang a smile, despite the earlier anger you felt towards him, "Look, Your Highness, I understand the hardships you've endured, and probably continue to endure. I genuinely empathise with you. I'm also truly grateful to have met you. I've never had any friends before, so meeting someone who shares similar interests means a lot to me."

His Highness grinned sadly, "Ah yes, I'm sensing a 'but' there."

With a light chuckle, you nodded, "But it's precisely because I see you as a friend and care about you that I want you to understand that whatever you think you might feel for me isn't love."

He stared at you with wide eyes, but you halted him before he could protest, "Perhaps you've mistaken the feelings of gratitude and joy from finally meeting someone who treats you sincerely for love," You gently explained, "My prince, love doesn't simply happen at first sight like that. It requires much more than that; two people must go through so much together before they truly understand their feelings. I've been through it myself, and I can assure you that what you're feeling is definitely not love."

"Lastly, please address me as Lady Park. I haven't gone by Miss Jang for a while now. While we can remain friends, I must insist that you respect my marriage and abandon any plans you may have. My heart belongs solely to the general, and that won't change."

You sighed at the pleading look in the prince's eyes, understanding that convincing him wouldn't be easy. But you had said your piece, and the rest was up to him to realise. Feeling the onset of a headache from everything, you bowed one final time, saying, "If there's to be no banquet as you've mentioned, we'll be taking our leave then. Thank you for having us today, Your Highness. I wish you happiness."

I'm almost there, my love.

Nearly two days had passed when Seonghwa finally arrived back in the city and approached his own estate. The journey had been one of the most challenging he had ever undertaken. He cursed his injury for slowing him down, as he had to make several stops to rest and change his bandages, mimicking the actions of the medical team soldiers who had tended to him. Despite his urgency to leave camp, he had taken care to pack enough supplies to last the trip back.

Regardless of the constant yearning to be with you again, he felt a twinge of guilt for leaving his army behind abruptly due to such personal matters. If his soldiers knew about his absence, some might consider him irresponsible for his actions.

Shaking his head, he recalled how he used to criticise some of his men distracted by thoughts of their loved ones during battles, viewing them as foolish for letting such distractions affect them. If someone had told him he would act similarly in the future, he wouldn't have believed them for a moment.

The things you do to me, my wife.

The mere thought of seeing and being near you again made his heart flutter. He admitted to himself that he had become one of those fools he once criticised, but he wouldn't change a thing. Experiencing love had shifted his perspective entirely, compelling him to do whatever it took to keep you by his side forever. Having saved you from a life of suffering, he couldn't bear the thought of leaving you alone again. He was determined to be the one to bring you joy, protect you, and stay with you for the rest of your days.

Or... was he really?

His conviction would soon waver as the ominous sensation in the pit of his stomach intensified with each step closer to his home. Alongside it, the pain in his abdomen escalated steadily. What should have been a mere graze now felt like something far more serious. In truth, the discomfort in his insides was becoming unbearable.

Seonghwa gritted his teeth as he clutched the area of his wound one last time, his breath catching in his throat as a sudden wave of pain coursed through him. With a determined exhale, he squeezed his eyes shut, willing himself to endure the agony that surged within him.

At the entrance of his estate, the staff responsible for guarding widened their eyes in recognition of their master's arrival. He quickly straightened his posture, putting on a facade of strength to conceal any signs of his injury, "Master, you're back!" One of the staff members exclaimed, their surprise evident as they rushed forward to assist him down from his horse.

Within moments, Jongho emerged from the estate, his expression a mix of concern and relief as he hurried to the general's side, "Sir, I assume you've received my letter?"

Your husband nodded, "I did. His Highness also sent me one, mentioning his intention to propose to your mistress."

The assistant's eyes rounded in surprise, realising the extent of the fourth prince's confidence to openly declare his intentions to pursue you to the general, "Well, he certainly made the attempt."

Seonghwa's steps faltered at this revelation, and he turned to face Jongho, who seemed equally uneasy, "So, it's already happened?"

Nodding, the younger man blinked anxiously, "S-sir, it's not good. The mistress knows," The general felt his blood run cold at that, but he pressed on, "Please, be more specific."

Jongho swallowed hard, bowing his head apologetically, "She learned about the Jang family's punishments and what you've done to the former minister. The prince took us to the palace torture chambers as part of his scheme. While she stood her ground there, she demanded that I tell her everything that happened as soon as we got back."

Suddenly, Seonghwa understood the source of his ominous feeling. He should have known better than to believe he could keep the truth hidden from you forever. Surely, your compassionate heart would struggle to accept what he did. Taking a shaky breath, he asked, "Where is she now?"

"She's in the House of Lotus, sir. She hasn't left since we returned from the palace two days ago. But don't worry, Eunsook has been making sure she eats her meals." Jongho reassured him.

With a nod of gratitude towards the assistant, your husband made his way towards your quarters, passing by the head maid who was taken aback by his sudden appearance. She knew he should have still been at the warzone. However, a quick glance from Jongho conveyed that the master had returned because of their letter. Understanding dawned on her, and she could only hope for the best.

The general's breath hitched as he laid eyes on you again after so long. There you sat in the pavilion, your attention fixed on the lotus pond before you. You appeared just as radiant as the last time he had seen you. However, this time, instead of your usual lady etiquette books laid open, his heart lurched at the reports detailing your father's latest status beside you. These confidential documents, presented to Seonghwa monthly, tracked the former minister's movements. Biting back the wince that threatened to escape him, he ignored the increasing pain in his abdomen and called out your name.

As your head snapped up at the familiar voice, you gasped at the sight of your husband at the entrance of your quarters. Slowly rising from your seat, you cautiously approached him, unsure if this was a hallucination. For so long, you had imagined him here, in this very spot, so many times that you couldn't count. You hoped it was not your mind playing tricks on you again.

This isn't another dream, is it?

You didn't understand why he was back; there was no news about the war being over yet. It's not that you didn't want him here, you just didn't expect him to be here all of a sudden. Standing before him, you felt your eyes water and your heart pound from seeing him again. It took you a moment to process his presence before you whispered, "S-Seonghwa... what are you doing here?" When he did not respond, you noticed his gaze staring past you at the reports Jongho was forced to hand over to you.

Despite the intense urge to pull you into his arms and never let go, all he manages is to harden his expression, "So, I see you've found out." He said, his voice strained.

This wasn't how either of you had imagined your reunion after the tearful goodbye. With a deep sigh, you nodded grimly, your mind flashing with reminders of your family's physical punishments and the gruesome things he'd done to your father, momentarily shattering the loving image in your eyes, "Yes, I did. And if I hadn't, were you planning never to tell me? What happened to not keeping secrets between us, hm?"

Truth be told, you found yourself no longer harbouring anger towards him for this matter. Over the past two days, you'd taken time to reflect, understanding his perspective and somewhat rationalising his actions. While you weren't exactly upset, you simply desired to hear the whole truth from him directly and perhaps receive a plea for forgiveness. In any case, you were prepared to run into his embrace.

Your words to the prince in the palace were sincere. Your heart belonged only to Seonghwa, and that wouldn't change. You firmly believed in the strength of your love, likening it to the resilience of your lotus flowers, enduring despite the obstacles. This situation, you believed, was just one more challenge to overcome together.

But instead of giving you the response you expected, your heart sank at the cold smirk he wore before speaking, "That's right, I never would have told you the truth if it were up to me. You women are so troublesome; it was stupid of me to think I could actually handle one for the rest of my life. Besides, what difference would it have made? This is who I am, and you knew about my reputation from the moment you were promised to me. So, are you really that surprised?"

Crossing his arms over his chest, he turned away from you, adding, "You've seen the reports. Now that you know what I'm capable of, I won't bother hiding anything from you any longer."

His words pierced your heart like daggers, leaving you reeling in disbelief. Shaking your head in denial, you whimpered his name, hoping for some semblance of the man you loved to emerge from behind that cold facade. This wasn't what you wanted from him. You wanted him to fight for you, to reassure you of his love, just as you had done for him. Confusion gnawed at your insides.

Why wasn't he fighting for you?

What was going on?

"Seonghwa, I-I don't understand—"

Before you could finish, he cut you off abruptly, his words laced with finality, "Yes, it was me. I did all those horrible things to your family. That's the kind of monster I am. But now, you're free. Your family is gone, and no one can dictate your choices anymore. You're your own person. You can do whatever you want and love whoever you want. If it's the fourth prince you wish to be with, you have my blessing. Maybe he's the one who can give you the companionship you desire."

With that, he turned and stormed out of your quarters, leaving you alone and bewildered, with no assurance of his return.

Once out of your sight, he released a shaky breath and clutched his wound, feeling the fabric already soaked with blood seeping through his bandage. Despite his blurring vision, he stumbled through the estate, desperate to depart before anyone noticed his condition. Seonghwa wasn't oblivious; he knew he must have been poisoned when the pain of his injury became too unbearable.

With a sinking feeling, he realised he didn't have much time left, and perhaps Prince Yeosang was right. Maybe what you truly needed was a husband who would consistently stay by your side and not cause you the worry he did.

I'm sorry, my love. This is for the best.

« Preview of Part 18 »

"Physician Jung, there's a letter for you."

Yunho furrowed his brows, pausing his work on his latest concoction aimed at alleviating all of your scars. Despite the challenges he faced in this endeavour, he remained steadfast in his commitment to helping you restore your skin to its original state.

Setting aside the herbs he was working with, he approached the entrance of his quarters to accept the letter from Jongho, "For me?"

The younger man nodded in confirmation, "Yes, oddly enough, it arrived via a military messenger. Initially, I assumed it was intended for the general, but it's specifically addressed to you. General Officer Song requests your urgent attention."

Blinking, the doctor processed the information, "Wait, do you mean General Park has returned to the estate?"

Jongho smiled sheepishly and rubbed the back of his neck, "Oh, yeah. He arrived unannounced just a while ago, thanks to our letter. I suppose the situation at the warzone must have calmed down if he's able to return so quickly. He's with the mistress now. Let's hope things will improve with him here."

Relieved, Yunho nodded and quickly unfolded the letter. His stomach dropped, and his eyes widened at the hastily scribbled words, "H-he's with the mistress, you say?"

"Yes, what about it?" The assistant furrowed his brows in confusion as he watched Yunho shove the letter back into his hands before bolting out. Reading the letter himself, he soon found himself rushing in the same direction, dread filling his being.

No, this can't be.

I was so excited that I got to writing this as soon as I completed all the assignments for the first half of my semester! Only three parts until the end of this story, how we feeling out there?🤧

Holy crap, thank you so much for 1.4k followers! As always, thank you so much for reading and please let me know your thoughts! <3

Tag list (1/2): @huachengsbestie01 @evidive @weedforthoughtz @ssrnghwa @yunnieo @sunnyhokyu @lynnsqueendom @frobin4ever @chwesuh-imnida @thunderous-wolf @itstheghostofmypast @professormingisglasses @deltamoon666 @avantalem @famishalll @yungilia @soobiverse @joongified @scuzmunkie @http-gyu @mentoslol @atinyreads @angel-hyuckie @anxiousskylar @onedumbho3 @narashii @ddaeing @sanstreasure0305 @sohnfile @scarfac3 @dreamingofyeo @puppyminnnie @tinyteezer @vantediary @satsuri3su @mismatchfluffysocks @aliona124754 @bts-army380 @lilactangerine @atinyniki @pay13 @1117promises @xoxkii @st4rcig4r @hikarii02 @nescaffei @xdolls-crownx @ashrocker123 @skzline @minkiflwr @starssongs98 @baeksofty @skz1-4-3 @kawaiikels @madnpan @maoyueze @en-happiness @cheolliehugs @persnyako @startinystay @chngbnwf @fatspecimen @christinerose380 @stfu-rina @kyukyustar @taytayy178 @appleschre @brielle-in-the-galaxy @laurenwidjaja @yangwonielvrs @n1k1mura @idkwgoh @loveateez @linosllvr @wolfgurl2600-blog

All Rights Reserved © edenesth // DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE, PLAGIARISE OR REPURPOSE.

[redroomreflections]

Silver Lining

Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader

Summary: After Natasha dies, Wanda helps reader with raising her baby. They didn't know they would fall in love

W/c: 4.2k

Ellie needs diapers.

It’s a simple text. A message you’re used to these days. It’s straightforward and to the point. Ellie needs diapers. Though there’s no other meaning behind the simple sentence it's a bit unsettling. You stare at the message watching as the text bubble for typing appears. You wait with a finger over your cursor for the sender to say something else. Just as quick as it appeared it leaves your screen.

Are you okay?

You want to send it back. You quickly delete the message and tuck the phone into your pocket. Guess you’ll be going to get diapers. You start the engine of your car, glancing to the bar in front of you, before pulling out of the parking lot. Wanda’s been weird lately. Distant.Cold. a little testy. You have a bit of an inkling of what it could be but your mind won’t let you go there. You’ve just come from a pretty awesome late-night dinner with your coworker, Danny. It’s the second time she’s asked you out and you accepted. It’s about time you hang out with someone other than Ellie these days. Not that Wanda isn’t a good company but You’d be an idiot to say no. Danny is kind, sweet, smart, and so damn sexy. She’s tall, runway model tall, with legs that never seemed to end. Most of all she listened. She’s the only one in the office that understands a bit of what you’ve been through so you go to her for things. It was only a matter of time for your relationship to progress. Right?

You can’t help the deep-seated guilt at leaving Wanda in the dark. She takes care of Ellie as if she’s her own. She helps whenever you need it and despite her own grief and pain, she’s always there for you. This is why you are unsure of her recent behavior. It must be something you did. Maybe she’s not comfortable with you leaving her with Ellie to go on dates? If so you’d be happy to find a babysitter to relieve her. Was she upset that you forgot to put the laundry in the dryer? Did you forget her birthday? No, that can’t be it. Wanda was so gracious and plentiful with her forgiveness. Which is why you are so confused.

The only thing open right now is the 24 hour CVS. Simple enough. You step into the store with a purpose. You find the baby aisle with ease. You’ve been here plenty of times before. The Honest Company brand is the first you spot. You’re not too keen on being loyal to a specific brand but Wanda always insists that it’s really good. You grab a pack of diapers in Ellie’s size and tuck it under your arms. You pull out your phone again to check if Wanda has messaged about anything else. You’re the only one in the store beside the cashier so you’re not in much of a rush. You step around to the second aisle where there are trashy magazines and other assortments of books on display. You grab a crossword puzzle book for you and Wanda to finish together. Maybe then she’ll tell you what’s been on her mind. You make your way to the front where you spot her favorite candy. You’re not intentionally trying to make her feel better, you technically haven’t done anything wrong, and yet you can’t help but feel that you need to make things right with her. You grab the turtle's candy from the shelf and hand it to the cashier. She bags with boredom ready to clock out of work herself. You give her thanks before taking the items and leaving the store.

It doesn’t take long for you to get home. You sit in the driveway with the lights off for a minute. You’re looking up at the house. It’s beautiful. Two-story, brick, a white picket fence. It’s everything you’ve wanted in a home. Everything Natasha wanted. It’s been a little over a year since she’s died. A little longer than that since you’ve seen her face. Ellie never got to meet her. You were eight months pregnant when Natasha and the rest of the team decided to do the mission to reverse what Thanos messed up. Your wife, a natural leader and a true hero sacrificed her own life for the greater good. Natasha was always good. Which is why you resent her so much. In her haste to save the rest of the world she left you with a baby who would never know her name, never know her smile, and never feel her arms around them.

A life you planned together was over before you could start it. You’re here with the house that you chose together and sometimes you can’t make yourself go in. It hurts to see Ellie smile and laugh knowing Natasha would never get to see that. It’s a silhouette in the front window that breaks you from your thoughts. Wanda seems to be cleaning. She hasn’t closed the curtains which you have to remind her to do often. She moved in after you had given birth to Ellie. She was no longer Avenging. She wanted something else for herself. Wanda is your rock and you’re incredibly thankful for everything she does for you and Ellie. Suddenly, as if she senses you’re home, she turns to the window to peer out. She finds you easily and gives you a small wave. You wave back.

You unbuckle your seat belt and grab your items from CVS along with your briefcase. You take slow steps up the walkway. Wanda’s planted new flowers in the garden. They’re beautiful. She opens the front door for you and takes your briefcase just as she does every day.

You plant a kiss on her cheek in hello before stepping over to allow her to close the door. Briefly you think about how domestic the greeting is. She’s your best friend. It’s always been like this.

“Hey,” Wanda greets. She rubs her arms to warm herself. It’s the middle of August. It’s not too warm but Wanda always seems to be freezing. “How was work?”

“Work was work,” You shrug. Wanda lowers her hands to take the diapers. She places them on the front steps. “I need a long vacation. What do you say about taking Ellie to Montana or something?”

“Montana?” Wanda questions. She raises a brow.

“I know there’s nothing there but that’s the point.” You say. You follow her into the kitchen. Wanda rolls up her sleeves to get started on cleaning Ellie’s dishes. She’s sleeping by now with it being way past her bedtime. The eleven-month-old is full of energy. You find yourself missing her whenever you’re away. “How was she today?”

“She was great. She has another tooth coming in so she was a bit fussy before bedtime but a bath and a song fixed all of that.” Wanda scrubs a bottle with care and precision.

“How were you today?”

She pauses to look up at you. “I’m fine.” She drops her head back to the dishes.

“Her first birthday is soon,” Wanda begins another conversation.

“Yes, I can’t believe it,” You smile. “I think we should have a small party. Nothing too flashy. Danny thinks we should do a princess theme. I’ll probably ask her to plan it since she’s good with those things.” There it is. Wanda’s frown appears and she doesn’t try to hide it this time. “Is that not a good idea?” You lean against the counter to wait for her answer.

“No, no, it’s a great idea.” Wanda shakes her head. “I was just thinking that we would plan that together. Danny doesn’t know Ellie. I mean she’s never met her and you’re not dating.” Oh. There it is. She’s upset about you spending time with Danny.

“We can plan it together.” You placate her. “I didn’t think you would want to considering you’re already so generous with your time.”

“Are you kidding? I’d love to.” Wanda sets the last cup aside. “Ellie has been the highlight of my life for a while now. I can’t believe you’d think I wouldn’t want to help with such a milestone.”

“Okay then, we can plan it next week.” Wanda nods.

“I brought these.” You hold up the bag with the crossword puzzle and candy. Wanda eyes it before rolling her eyes.

“I’m going to have cavities because of you.” There’s no real malice in her tone. You grin before shaking the bag.

“Go change and I’ll make us tea.” Wanda takes the bag before waving you off. You plant another kiss on her cheek before running up the stairs to your bedroom. You make a pit stop at Ellie’s bedroom. Her door is cracked and the light from her night light castes the room in a light blue glow. You push it open gently. You tiptoe over to the bed where you take a second to look at her. She’s on her stomach with her hand resting near her face. Her favorite plushie, Boris the monkey, is inches away. You’re sure she fell asleep with it in her arms.

Sometimes you wonder how life with Natasha would be. How different would it be raising Ellie together? If you let yourself think too long you’ll become depressed. Natasha was the love of your life and you’d probably never be over her death. Does one ever get over that? Looking at Ellie, you’re constantly reminded of how much is being missed. You reach down to brush a hand over her head. You lean to press a kiss to her head. She twitches in her sleep before settling again.

You leave the room, closing the door behind you, before making your way to your bedroom. Deciding that a quick shower would feel amazing you step into the bathroom with that purpose. You don’t even bat an eye at Wanda’s towel resting beside yours. You take your time in the shower, allowing all of your stressors to melt away, before stepping out feeling refreshed. Wanda would be ready with the tea by now. You quickly dress and make your way downstairs to meet her in the living room. She’s already tucked under a throw blanket and she’s added a cardigan to her outfit.

“It’s amazing how you’re always so cold,” You say before joining her under the blanket. She adjusts it so that it’s covering both of your legs.

“If you kept the house at a reasonable temperature maybe I wouldn’t be.” She quips. She takes a sip of her tea before setting it on the coffee table. She grabs a pen and the crossword puzzle. She doesn’t hesitate to lean further into you so that you both can see the page. Despite her being cold, her warmth is comforting. She smells amazing. Clean. It sounds weird but it’s Wanda.

“Okay this one is literary lingo,” Wanda begins. She tucks the pen against her bottom lip as she reads across the page. “Two across says an exaggerated statement not to be taken literally.” She glances to you for help before turning back to the page.

“Hyperbole.” You answer. Piece of cake. She scribbles the answer onto the page before going to the next question. This is how much of the night goes until you finish the entire page. Wanda sets the book down in triumph. She picks up the turtle’s package and rips open the paper. She hands you one before biting into one herself. The candy is sticky and tough but delicious.

“Have you been back to the compound recently?” She asks you.

“Not really, I can’t bring myself to.” You shake your head. Going back there would only remind you of Natasha and Vision. She nods her head. She feels that way too. She chews before swallowing thickly.

“I think I want to start volunteering somewhere,” She says and you sit up a bit straighter in interest. Wanda adjusts herself so that she’s fully facing you. “I know I spend a lot of time with Ellie and I love her but I need some adult human interaction.”

“Wanda, if it’s too much please tell me, I can bring her to work with me some days and-”

“No,” She cuts you off. “It’s not that. I just want to do something good. I want to help other orphans maybe. Growing up in Sokovia without parents and then joined Hydra. I know it probably won’t be as dramatic here in America but I want to help them onto the right path. Whether with homework or reading.” Wanda’s hands move excitedly as she speaks. She’s passionate about this and you can’t help but smile seeing her so happy. She notices your look and smiles back. “What?”

“You’re a good person, Wanda Maximoff.” You reply. Her smile widens. It’s all she’s ever wanted to hear.

“Thank you, y/n. I think you’re pretty good too.” She grins cheekily. “So you think I should do it?”

“I think you should. I can get Steve or Peter and MJ to watch Ellie and I’ll come with you some days.” You suggest. NYC is only a train away so you figure it won’t be too bad.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You nod. Suddenly your arms are full of Wanda as she hugs you in gratitude. You think you're a bit touch-deprived as the feeling of Wanda in your arms is heaven-like.

“You’re the best.” Wanda smiles as she pulls back. “Are you too tired for a show?” She tilts her head towards the tv.

“No, put it on.” You watch as she grabs the remote, settling into your side again, as she finds her favorite episode of BEWITCHED.

**************************

The next few days are weekend days so you and Wanda attend a play date with another mom from the neighborhood. Her son, Tyler, is a month older than Ellie and they’re still a bit young for any real play but it’s more of a social thing. Tyler’s mom, Terry, is serving you and Wanda finger food as she talks about a new committee that’s happening in the neighborhood. They want to plan events for the coming year.

“I know things are hectic but it may be fun,” Terry shrugs as she sits across from you. “Mike probably won’t enjoy it but I’d figure us wives will.” She waves a hand dismissively. “Gives us something to do being stay-at-home moms.” This time she looks to Wanda. You don’t bother to correct her. This wouldn’t be the first time someone mistook you two for a couple since moving here.

Wanda nods, she might be considering the idea. You don’t think it sounds bad either. You’re just about to ask Terry about the type of events when Ellie crawls over to you with a toy block in one of her hands. She uses your knees to stand on her own feet. Her eyes are wide and trusting as she shows off the toy.

“It’s so nice,” You feign interest. You wonder if this is like a parent requirement. To give praise or encouragement to something your child wants to show you.

“Mama!” Ellie pushes the toy into Wanda’s lap. There’s a gasp but you can’t quite tell who it’s from. Wanda looks to you for the next step. “Mama!” Ellie is insistent as she pushes the toy further into Wanda’s lap.

“Go ahead, Mama.” You find your voice. You emphasize the title with a gesture to Ellie. Wanda swallows thickly before nodding. She looks down at Ellie before pulling her into her lap. The slipup was forgotten as she inspects the toy and puts on a voice for the toddler.

“Is this her first time saying it?” Terry asks with a smile noting your reactions.

“It’s the first time she’s directed it towards either of us.” You inform her. It’s true. Ellie has said Mama before in passing but she was never so indicative about whom she was talking to. Seeing her direct it to Wanda was startling but heartwarming. It brings tears to your eyes. Seeing the other woman respond and play with Ellie with such care. Wanda looks over to you with a smile before turning her attention back to Ellie.

Whoa. What was that you’re feeling? Butterflies. You haven't felt those in a while. Suddenly you feel as if you’re suffocating. The room feels smaller and you need space. You stand, excusing yourself from the room, to find a bathroom. You go to the one Terry directs you to. Wanda watches as you leave with a frown. Did something happen? You push the door closed leaning your head against it as you take harsh, breaths.

Wanda. Wanda Maximoff. Your best friend. You’re in love with her. It’s a thought that makes you want to puke. You don’t know how it has happened or when it’s happened but suddenly all of your feelings make sense. How happy you are to see her. Even on your date with Danny, all you could think about was Wanda. Coming home to Wanda. Spending time with Wanda. Kissing Wanda. Making love to her.

You gasp. This can’t be. You shake your head hoping it will rid you of the thoughts. Wanda lost the love of her life. You lost yours. It could be nothing more than what it was. She probably didn’t even feel the same way.

Life is crazy.

The car ride home is ridden in silence. Ellie has fallen asleep after the playdate. You glance at Wanda every few minutes. You don’t realize she’s looking at you too. You park in the driveway, helping her with Ellie’s bag when your hand brushes against hers. You pull away hiding the effect it has on you as you walk into the house. You put Ellie to bed on your own while Wanda does god knows what downstairs. You take your time dressing in a t-shirt and shorts before sitting on the bottom step to tie your shoes.

Wanda steps into the foyer to ask where you’re going. You both only just got home. She didn’t know you had plans to do anything.

“For a run,” This surprises her even further. You don’t like running. You despise it and yet here you are gearing up to run.

“You hate running,” Wanda points out. “In fact, the last time Steve suggested you run you told him you would rather have crows poke your eyes out and eat them for breakfast.”

Damn. You did say that.

“I’m trying something different,” You shrug. You stand to stretch before heading for the front door.

Wanda follows after you. Before you turn the knob she calls out to you.

“I’m sorry if I overstepped,” You pause and turn back to her.

“Overstep? Why would you think that?” You question her.

“Well, Ellie called me Mama and I know that’s what she would have called Nat. I’m not her mother.” Wanda folds her arms under her chest. A nervous move. “I thought you might be uncomfortable with that.”

“No, Wanda, that’s not it at all,” You assure her. “I’m so happy that Ellie views you as her Mama. There’s no one I would rather have that title. You are her Mama.” Wanda nods with tears in her eyes. Maybe she’s wanted that without really knowing. You find yourself wanting to kiss her tears away. Again. Whoa.

“Okay,” She gives you a small smile. “Have fun on your run.” She tells you and you nod. She watches you exit the front door. You do a few final stretches before you plug your headphones into your ear. Guess it was time to run.

It’s been two hours the next time you walk through the front door. The lights off save for the foyer. You kick off your shoes, rubbing your forehead with your sweaty shirt before you make your way upstairs. Wanda must be asleep. You check on Ellie as you do every night. She’s sound asleep. You hop into the shower and allow yourself to stand under the scalding hot water. You’re going to regret running so much in the morning. Your thoughts are riddled with Wanda as you shower, when you dry off, and when you dress. You can’t stop thinking of her. You don’t know what prompts you to do it but you suddenly find yourself in front of her bedroom door. Her lights are off but you knock anyway. No answer.

You twist the knob to find the door unlocked. You open the door and call her. She’s on her side facing away from the door. Her posture is a bit stiff.

“Wanda?” You question.

“Yeah?” She whispers into the darkness. She turns over just as you climb into the bed. You’re under the covers now and briefly you think about how comfortable her bed is. You can see her through the light emanating from her window. Her cheeks are stained with dry tear tracks. She’s been crying. “Y/n?” She tries to hide the shake in her voice as you look at her. It’s now or never.

Your eyes fly down to her lips then back to her eyes. You lift a hand to caress her cheek as you lean to plant a chaste kiss against her lips. She gasps, quickly recovering, before kissing you back. You pull back keeping your eyes closed. If you open them to her being angry with you, you don’t know if you’ll forgive yourself.

“Y/n,” Wanda asks.

“Wanda,” You whimper.

“Open your eyes, Malysh.” She raises her hand to rub her thumb against your hand still caressing your face. She takes hold of it before lowering it to lie on the covers between you. She never let's go. You open your eyes slowly to find nothing that you were afraid of.

“I wasn’t mad that Ellie called you Mama,” You repeat your sentiment from earlier. “I was confused. Her calling you Mama made me realize a few things.” Wanda listens. “You’ve been here through it all and yet I’ve never seen you for you until now. My selfless, sweet, Wanda.” You don’t know what you’re saying at this point. All you know is you want Wanda to know how much she means to you.

“I feel the same,” She doesn’t need to you say the words. She knows.

“I can’t believe I didn’t realize all of this time what was right in front of me,” You frown. “I can’t believe how long I wanted to kiss you and I didn’t see it as anything other than platonic.”

“I realized a couple of weeks ago.” You lift your head to rest on your elbows. “When you went out with Danny for the first time. I couldn’t figure out why I was so angry about it. Then I knew why. I wanted it to be me.”

“Wanda, why didn’t you say something?” You ask. “If I knew I wouldn’t have gone out with her.”

“I didn’t want to stand in the way of you finding love again,” Wanda shrugs.

“I don’t love Danny,”

“But you could,” Wanda points out.

“No, I couldn’t.” You say firmly. “Not when I love you.” It’s the first time you’re verbalizing this. “Don’t be a martyr when it comes to your heart, Wanda. Even with me.” You squeeze her hand. “It took me some time but I want you.”

“How do you know that after only a couple of hours?” She asks.

“It hasn’t been a couple of hours,” You shoot back. “It’s been months. The late nights with Ellie. The dinners we have. Our crossword nights. I enjoy them. I look forward to them. We’ve been spending a life together without us even realizing it. I want more with you. If you want it too.”

Wanda surges forward pushing you onto your back as she kisses you with a passion that has you moaning against her lips. The weight of her on top of you is pure bliss. All you can think, feel, and smell is Wanda. Reluctantly she pulls back to take in a deep breath.

“I want it too.” She doesn’t wait for you to answer as she kisses you again.

Five years later

“Mama, Mama, we got ice cream.” Ellie races across the park with your golden retriever, Max, in tow. She’s hanging onto the leash very loosely as she waves around the popsicles she has in her hand. Wanda looks up from her book to inspect the items as Ellie pushes them into her hands. You’re a few feet behind watching as Wanda interacts with the little girl.

“Do you think the baby likes fudgesicles?” Ellie asks as she drops down on the picnic blanket.

“I don’t know, Kiddo, you have to ask him.” You say as you sit next to Max. You watch with pure adoration as Ellie takes it upon herself to lift Wanda’s shirt to expose her swollen belly. Wanda looks over to you with amusement in her eyes.

“Hi baby brother or sister,” Ellie begins. “Mommy told me to ask you if you like Fudgesicles. I bought some for you.” Ellie waits as if she’s truly expecting an answer. “Baby says yes.” She looks up at Wanda for confirmation. Wanda takes the Fudgesicle with gratitude as she licks into it.

“I think baby made a good choice,” Wanda grins. She runs her free hands over Ellie’s brown ringlets to smooth it down a bit.

“Me too,” Ellie says in between licks.

“I think I made a good choice,” You say and Wanda nods. Her too.

[merthosus]

Bloody braiding

Summary: Fives comes in after a mission late at night. You were getting ready for bed but your hair wasn't braided yet, so you kindly ask him to do it.

This got into my mind right before sleeping hope you enjoy it!

"I am full of blood and you are asking me, if I could braid your hair?"

You were sitting on the floor at your room in the umbrella academy. Outside, it's slowly becoming fall and wet leaves are collecting on the windowsill. The walk to the bathroom was clearly too far for you, so you sat cross-legged in front of your large body mirror and embalmed your lips. It was already dark and you were getting ready for bed. Your skin had already been washed, your teeth brushed and you had changed into your best pajamas.

“You scared me, you tramp!” you say angrily as you pick up the balm again and screw it shut. As you look up at Five, your eyes widen a little when you see his bloodstained shirt. “Can you braid my hair?” you ask. Five puts his head to one side as he closes the door behind him. “I am full of blood and you are asking me, if I could braid your hair?” he asks you incredulously.

“Is that your blood?” you ask, pointing to his shirt. He just shakes his head and sits down on your bed. “Well then,” you say as you slide backwards between his legs.

Five sighs heavily as he looks down at you, still in disbelief. “You’re ridiculous,” he mutters under his breath, but his hands are already reaching for the hair tie that’s resting on your wrist.

You lean back slightly, enjoying the feeling of someone else taking over for a change. Five’s hands, though still smeared with dried blood, are surprisingly gentle as he starts dividing your hair into two sections. “You’re going to ruin my pajamas, you know,” you say softly, your eyes fluttering shut. The warmth of his presence feels oddly comforting, despite the unsettling state he’s in.

“I’ve been through worse,” he replies, his voice gruff but less sharp than usual. His fingers move deftly, and you realize he must have done this before. It strikes you, briefly, that Five’s life has been so much more complicated than any of yours.

“So… who’s blood is that?” you ask casually, not quite ready to face the full weight of the situation. It’s easier to talk while his hands are braiding your hair. There’s a lull in the air, as if the night itself is holding its breath.

“Do you really want to know?” he says, finishing the first braid with a quiet snap of the hair tie. You feel his fingers move to the next section of hair, his touch steady, unfazed by the topic. “Maybe not,” you admit, shivering slightly as the cool night air filters in through the window. Fives knee shivers a little bit as you let your head roll back on his thigh to look up at him.

Fives eyes do a little wider, as your head touched his inner thigh. "What?", you ask him confused ´, tilting your head a little bit. "N...nothing..", he shudders. You look deep into his eyes, trim to find an explanation for his odd behavior. "I know you had a bad day, can I help you in any way?", you ask him, laying your hand onto his thigh.

Five's gaze flickers as your hand rests gently on his thigh. He swallows hard, clearly not used to this kind of tenderness. His eyes, usually sharp and calculating, soften for a brief moment before he quickly masks it behind his usual stoic demeanor.

"You don't need to worry about me," he mutters, his voice a little gruffer than before. "I've been through worse." His hands, which were so deft and confident when braiding your hair, now fidget slightly, unsure what to do.

You can sense that there's more going on than he’s letting on, but pressing him might push him away. Five is used to carrying his burdens alone, and you're not sure how much he’ll let you in. But you're here now, and you want to help.

“You’re always saying that,” you reply softly, your thumb unconsciously tracing a small circle on his thigh. “But you don’t have to deal with everything by yourself.”

Five glances down at your hand on his leg, as if contemplating whether to pull away or allow it. There’s a long pause, the room growing still as the air between you feels heavy with unspoken words. He closes his eyes briefly, as if waging some internal battle.

"Maybe not," he finally admits, his voice almost too quiet to hear. It’s the closest he’s ever come to admitting vulnerability. He looks away, his jaw tightening as if the admission alone was too much.

You nod, understanding the gravity of his words. You shift slightly so you’re sitting closer to him, the warmth of your presence offering him comfort, even if he won’t say it out loud.

"Let me help, just this once," you say gently. "You don’t have to say anything. Just let me be here."

Five doesn’t respond immediately, but his shoulders seem to relax, if only a little. His hand moves hesitantly, hovering over yours for a moment before resting on top of it. It’s a small gesture, but it speaks volumes.

reveal. The vulnerability in his touch is a stark contrast to the bloodstained chaos he’s been through. It’s quiet, the room filled with the soft rustling of leaves outside and the steady beat of your heart against the tension in the air.

For a long moment, neither of you speaks. The weight of unspoken words lingers, but it doesn’t feel uncomfortable. Instead, it feels like a kind of peace—fragile and rare, but present nonetheless.

"You don't have to fix everything, you know," you whisper, your voice barely above a breath. Your thumb continues its soft pattern on his thigh, grounding both of you in the simplicity of the moment.

Five lets out a small huff of laughter, but there's no humor in it—more like disbelief. "It's not that simple," he mutters, eyes still avoiding yours as if he's afraid to be seen.

"I know," you reply softly, leaning back slightly against him, feeling the warmth of his body behind you. "But you're not alone, Five. Not tonight."

His grip tightens briefly, and his fingers twitch as if he’s fighting the urge to pull away again. But instead, he stays still, his jaw clenched as if holding back something he can’t quite articulate.

The silence stretches once more before Five lets out a shaky breath. His eyes finally meet yours, a storm of emotions swirling beneath the surface—frustration, weariness, and something else, something softer.

Without saying a word, he leans forward, his forehead pressing gently against yours. The world around you seems to fade, the night drawing closer as you’re wrapped in the quiet intimacy of the moment.

Then, with a tenderness that surprises both of you, Five dips his head slightly, brushing his lips softly against yours. The kiss is slow, tentative, as if he’s testing the waters of something unfamiliar. You return the kiss just as gently, your hands moving to the back of his neck, fingers slipping through his hair as you pull him a little closer.

It’s not rushed or desperate, but rather a quiet understanding—a shared moment between two people who have seen too much of the world but have found solace, if only for tonight, in each other.

When he finally pulls back, his eyes stay on yours, softer now, but still guarded. He rests his forehead against yours again, his breath steady but slightly unsteady, as if letting go of this much was harder than he expected.

"Thank you," he whispers, so softly you almost don’t catch it. But the weight of those two words hangs in the air, and you know it’s more than just gratitude—it’s trust.

Hope you guys liked it!

[novaursa]

The Dragon's Right (6)

- Summary: It was by grace of the gods that firstborn child of Viserys I and Aemma was born a boy and he lived. And all of the rest, scholars will later say, is by power of something more malevolent in kind.

- Paring: male!reader/Rhaenyra Targaryen

- Note: For all the parts of this story, visit my blog. The list is pinned to the top.

- Rating: Explicit 18+

- Word count: 7 000+

- Previous part: 5

- Next part: 7

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff

The hour was late, the Red Keep quiet as the court had retired for the night. You sat awake in your chambers, the faint light of a candle flickering beside you. The endless routine of court life had left you restless, your mind too heavy with thoughts to find sleep. You had become accustomed to the dull rhythm of politics and responsibility since your return to King’s Landing, but the weight of it all still gnawed at you.

You ran a hand through your hair, trying to shake the weariness that had settled deep in your bones. Just as you considered whether to rise and take another walk around the room, the door to your chambers creaked open without warning or announcement.

Expecting your uncle Daemon, as was often the case, you sighed inwardly, preparing yourself for another round of complaints about Otto Hightower’s growing influence or another suggestion to join him in the lower city for some ill-advised adventure. But when you turned, you were surprised to see Rhaenyra standing in the doorway instead.

Her presence filled the room instantly, her usual quiet grace now tinged with something more urgent. Her violet eyes met yours, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. There was something in her gaze that was both familiar and unsettling, a mixture of affection and determination.

"I needed to see you once more today," she said softly, closing the door behind her as she stepped into the room.

You frowned slightly, worried by the intensity in her voice. "Rhaenyra, it’s late. If someone sees you—"

She shook her head, cutting you off as she approached. "I don’t care," she replied, her voice firm. "I spoke with Alicent."

At the mention of her friend, your frown deepened. "What did you say to her?"

"I told her to stay away from you," Rhaenyra said bluntly, her tone laced with a mixture of frustration and jealousy.You sighed, running a hand through your hair again. "Rhaenyra… you and Alicent are close. You shouldn’t—"

"I know," she interrupted, a flicker of regret crossing her face. "But I couldn’t stand it anymore. The way she tries to get close to you, the way she looks at you... It drives me mad."

Her confession hit you like a blow, and you could see the turmoil in her eyes, the battle between her loyalty to her friend and the possessive jealousy she couldn’t suppress. You stood, taking a step toward her, unsure of how to navigate the storm of emotions that now swirled between you.

"Rhaenyra," you began carefully, "I don’t want you getting into trouble because of this. Whatever the situation is between us, it doesn’t need to affect your friendship with Alicent."

She crossed the distance between you, her eyes never leaving yours. "I thought about it all day," she whispered, her voice softer now. "About what we talked about earlier. About us."

Your breath caught in your throat as she stepped closer, her presence overwhelming your senses. "I thought about it too," you admitted, your voice low. "But we have to be careful."

"Do we?" Rhaenyra asked, her tone challenging. "We’re Targaryens. It’s in our blood. Why should we deny what we feel?"

Before you could answer, she closed the final gap between you and, without hesitation, climbed into your lap. Her fingers brushed lightly against your neck as she leaned in, her lips finding yours with a fierce determination that sent a shiver through your entire body.

The kiss was soft at first, tentative, but quickly deepened as you gave in to the emotions you had been trying to suppress. Your hands instinctively moved to her hips, holding her in place as she pressed herself against you. The warmth of her body, the scent of her hair, the feel of her lips—it was intoxicating, and before you knew it, you were trailing your hands up her back, pulling her closer still.

Her lips parted under yours, and the kiss became something more—more urgent, more desperate, as if the floodgates you had feared had finally broken open. Every touch, every movement was an exploration of the complex feelings that had been building between you both for so long. You could feel her fingers tangling in your hair, her breath quickening as the kiss deepened further.

The world outside disappeared as you lost yourself in her—your sister, your blood, your equal. The lines between love, desire, and duty blurred until they were indistinguishable, leaving only the two of you, caught in a moment that felt inevitable.

Eventually, you both pulled back, breathless, your foreheads resting against one another as you caught your breath. Rhaenyra’s fingers traced along your jaw, her touch gentle yet possessive. There was a softness in her eyes now, an affection that spoke of something deeper than mere attraction.

"How can we stop this?" she whispered, her voice barely audible.

You closed your eyes for a moment, trying to steady your thoughts, but when you opened them again, all you could see was her—Rhaenyra, your sister, your equal, the one person who understood you in ways no one else ever could. You reached up, brushing a strand of her silver hair behind her ear, your thumb grazing her cheek.

"I don’t know if we can," you admitted softly, your voice filled with the weight of your confession. "But we have to be careful. Father would never allow it. The court, the Faith… they would try to tear us apart."

Rhaenyra’s eyes darkened with defiance as she leaned in closer, her lips brushing against your ear. "Then let them try."

The fire in her words ignited something in you, something that had been smoldering for so long but now burned brightly. You kissed her again, softer this time, more deliberate, as if savoring every moment.

When you pulled away, you smiled down at her, your fingers tracing along her arm. "You’re dangerous, Rhaenyra."

A smirk tugged at the corners of her lips as she met your gaze, her eyes gleaming with a mixture of mischief and affection. "I learned from the best."

You chuckled softly, shaking your head. "We need to be smart about this."

"I know," she whispered, her tone more serious now. "But I can’t help what I feel. And neither can you."

You held her gaze, the weight of the truth settling between you. There was no going back now. Whatever lay ahead—whether it was the ire of the court, the disapproval of your father, or the dangers that came with your newfound connection—you both knew that this was a path you had chosen.

The atmosphere in the small council chamber was tense the next morning. King Viserys sat at the head of the table, his brow furrowed in thought as his advisors gathered to discuss the ongoing matters of the realm. Corlys Velaryon, ever the advocate for action in the Stepstones, was the first to speak, his deep voice cutting through the quiet murmurs of the room.

“The situation in the Stepstones cannot be ignored any longer, Your Grace,” Corlys began, leaning forward in his seat. “The Free Cities are growing bolder by the day, and their pirates choke the trade routes we depend on. If we do not act soon, it will become more than a mere annoyance—it will be a full-scale war, one we are not prepared for.”

Viserys sighed heavily, his eyes weary. This had been a topic of constant debate for months now, and the pressures of dealing with the Stepstones weighed heavily on his shoulders. “I understand your concerns, Lord Corlys,” Viserys said, his voice tired but steady. “But sending men and ships to the Stepstones will require resources we cannot easily spare. And with the situation at home—”

“We cannot afford not to act,” Corlys interjected, his tone more urgent now. “The crown’s strength is being tested on multiple fronts. If we do nothing, we will be seen as weak, and those who oppose us will seize that opportunity.”

Viserys leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temples as the weight of the council’s concerns pressed down on him. He knew Corlys was right in many ways, but the thought of yet another conflict on the horizon was one he dreaded. Before he could respond, Tayland Lannister spoke up hesitantly, his voice carrying a note of caution.

“Your Grace… there’s another matter that requires your attention,” Tayland began, glancing nervously around the table before continuing. “Dorne… it seems there have been reports along the borders again. They’ve been unusually quiet since Prince Y/N returned to the capital with his dragon, but now there are whispers of movement once more. It’s… concerning.”

Viserys’s expression darkened as he turned to Tayland, the mention of Dorne stirring up memories of the years-long skirmishes his son had just returned from. “Are you suggesting,” Viserys said slowly, his voice tight with barely restrained frustration, “that my only son should be sent back to wage another campaign against Dorne? After everything he has already sacrificed?”

The room fell into an uneasy silence. Tayland shifted uncomfortably in his seat, clearly regretting his words. “No, Your Grace, I… I only meant to say that the situation is escalating again. But I agree, it would be unwise to send Prince Y/N back into that… turmoil so soon after his return.”

Viserys’s hands tightened on the arms of his chair, his frustration evident. “He has just returned to us, to his family. I will not send him back to fight a war that may never truly end. There must be another solution.”

Lord Lyonel Strong, always the voice of reason, spoke up after a brief pause. “Your Grace, I understand your desire to protect your son, as do we all. But we must acknowledge the importance of securing our borders. Dorne is unpredictable, and if they sense weakness, they will strike. However, sending the prince to face them again is not a long-term solution. We cannot afford to jeopardize the king’s only male heir every time a threat arises.”

Lyonel’s words hung heavy in the air, and the other council members nodded in agreement. The stakes were high, and while Y/N had proven himself a capable warrior, his constant involvement in these dangerous conflicts was not sustainable for the future of the realm.

Grand Maester Mellos, who had been quietly observing the conversation, cleared his throat and added his voice to the discussion. “Lord Lyonel speaks wisely. Prince Y/N has more than proven his worth on the battlefield, but his place is here, at court, preparing to take on the responsibilities of the crown. We cannot risk his life in prolonged skirmishes. It is the duty of the crown to ensure stability for the future.”

Viserys exhaled slowly, nodding as he absorbed the council’s words. “You’re right, all of you. My son has done more than enough for the realm, and I will not send him to fight these endless battles again. We must find a way to secure our borders without sacrificing my heir.”

Corlys, though still eager for action, seemed to understand the king’s concern. He leaned back slightly, his tone more measured now. “If we do not wish to send Prince Y/N back into the fray, then we must consider strengthening our defenses along the Dornish border. More men, perhaps. More fortifications. A show of force to deter any further incursions.”

Lyonel nodded in agreement. “A strong presence on the border may be enough to keep Dorne in check, at least for the time being. It would send a message without committing the prince to another campaign.”

Viserys seemed to take comfort in that suggestion, though the weight of his decisions still sat heavily on his shoulders. “Very well,” he said quietly. “Begin preparations to reinforce our forces along the border. We will not provoke Dorne, but we will not be caught unprepared.”

The council members murmured their agreement, and the conversation turned to the practicalities of mobilizing the necessary men and resources. But as the discussion continued, Viserys’s mind remained elsewhere—on his son, on the future of the realm, and on the difficult choices that lay ahead.

After the meeting adjourned and the council members began to filter out of the room, Viserys sat in silence for a long moment, his thoughts troubled. The kingdom was constantly in a state of unrest, with threats both near and far, and though he longed for peace, it seemed ever elusive.

The days in the capital had begun to stretch into a monotonous blur of courtly duties and council meetings. You found yourself restless, confined by the expectations of your role as the king's heir. The small council had agreed to a strategy to secure the borders of Dorne and strengthen the Stepstones, but to your growing frustration, it was Daemon, not you, who was being sent to deliver the message and oversee its execution alongside Lord Corlys Velaryon, the Sea Snake.

You had spent years on the battlefield, earning your place as a warrior and a leader, and now, to be told that you were needed in the capital rather than on the front lines gnawed at you. Duty was one thing, but to be sidelined while others carried out the work you were more than capable of handling left you feeling as though you were trapped in a gilded cage.

It was on one of those restless days that you found yourself walking through the Dragonpit, the familiar scent of dragon leather and smoke filling the air. Your feet carried you forward instinctively, until you rounded the corner and saw your uncle, Daemon, preparing for his departure. Caraxes, his blood-red dragon, loomed behind him, stretching his wings as if eager to take flight.

Daemon, as always, looked at ease, his armor gleaming under the dim light of the pit. He was speaking with a handful of his men, issuing last-minute orders before mounting his dragon. His casual confidence only seemed to stoke the fire of your frustration further.

“Off to war again, are you, Uncle?” you called, your tone sharper than you intended as you approached.

Daemon turned, a knowing smirk already forming on his lips when he saw you. “Aye, someone has to keep things interesting while you play the dutiful prince in King’s Landing,” he said, his voice laced with that familiar mix of teasing and challenge.

You frowned, coming to a stop in front of him. “I should be going with you,” you said bluntly, your hands flexing at your sides. “This strategy was mine as much as anyone's. Yet here I am, stuck in the capital while you fly off to handle things.”

Daemon raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by your frustration. “Don’t tell me you’re starting to enjoy the council meetings, nephew. Perhaps court life is growing on you after all.”

You shot him a glare, but Daemon only laughed, clearly enjoying your irritation. “It’s not a matter of enjoying it. I’ve fought in Dorne, I know the terrain, the people. I should be there with you.”

Daemon’s smirk faded slightly as he regarded you more seriously. “You’ve already done your duty in Dorne, Y/N. The realm can’t afford to lose its heir over another skirmish. That’s why Viserys wants you here. Someone has to keep the peace while I make sure the Stepstones don’t fall into chaos.”

You clenched your jaw, unwilling to let the matter rest. “I’m not made for sitting idly by, Daemon. I should be out there, doing what I do best.”

Daemon’s expression shifted, and for a moment, there was a flicker of something close to understanding in his eyes. He stepped closer, lowering his voice. “Believe me, I know how it feels to be sidelined, to be told that you’re too valuable to risk. But you have something bigger to worry about. You’re the heir to the Iron Throne. If you fall, if something happens to you, Viserys loses everything.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but Daemon cut you off with a knowing look. “I’ve fought in more wars than I care to count, and I’ve seen men die for less. But this—what you and I are dealing with now—this is about the long game. You’ll get your chance to fight again, trust me. But for now, the capital needs you. Viserys needs you.”

You sighed, the weight of his words sinking in. As much as you hated to admit it, Daemon was right. Your place, as frustrating as it was, was here in King’s Landing, keeping the peace and preparing for the future. The realm needed stability, and as much as you longed to be out in the field, your father had made it clear that your role as heir took precedence.

Daemon clapped a hand on your shoulder, his usual cocky grin returning. “Besides, someone has to keep an eye on Otto while I’m gone. Can’t trust him to keep his hands clean without us watching.”

You smirked despite yourself, shaking your head. “You’d rather see me fight in council chambers than on the battlefield?”

“If you can survive a meeting with Hightower without strangling him, I’d say you’ve already won a battle,” Daemon quipped. He moved past you toward Caraxes, his dragon shifting eagerly as his rider approached.

As Daemon mounted the blood-red dragon, he cast one last glance over his shoulder. “Don’t worry, nephew. I’ll make sure the Stepstones stay under control. You just keep things from falling apart here.”

With that, Daemon urged Caraxes into the air, the dragon’s powerful wings beating against the wind as they lifted into the sky. You watched them go, the weight of your frustration still heavy in your chest, though tempered by the reminder of your responsibility. You knew Daemon was right, but the desire to join him still burned in your veins.

As Caraxes disappeared into the clouds, you turned away, your mind already shifting back to the politics of the capital. There was no escaping the duties that awaited you, no matter how much you longed for the freedom of the battlefield. For now, the capital would be your battleground, and courtly intrigue your sword.

You could only hope it was enough to keep you sane until you could fly into battle again.

The afternoon sun bathed the gardens of the Red Keep in a soft, golden glow. The air was warm, and a gentle breeze rustled through the leaves of the trees, bringing with it the faint scent of roses and lavender. Rhaenyra sat on a cushioned bench beneath one of the larger trees, surrounded by her handmaidens, who were engaged in quiet conversation. Beside her, Alicent sat with her usual poise, though the tension between them was palpable despite the pleasant setting.

Since their argument a few days ago, the two friends had yet to fully resolve the unspoken rift between them. They had, for now, put their differences aside, but there was an underlying awkwardness that neither seemed eager to address directly. Rhaenyra, for her part, felt torn between her loyalty to Alicent and the possessive protectiveness she now felt toward her brother. Every time she looked at Alicent, she could feel the jealousy simmering beneath the surface, though she did her best to hide it.

Still, today, Rhaenyra felt lighter, happier. It had been a few days since her last encounter with her brother, and the memory of their shared kiss, their stolen moments of intimacy, filled her with a warmth she hadn’t felt in a long time. She had missed him terribly in the years he had spent in Dorne, but now that he was back, she felt whole again—more than whole, even. There was a secret between them now, something precious and exhilarating that only they shared. It was a feeling that made her heart race and her thoughts drift to places she dared not speak aloud.

Alicent, always attuned to her friend’s moods, noticed the change in Rhaenyra almost immediately. She had observed over the past few days how Rhaenyra seemed… different. There was a lightness in her demeanor, a quiet joy that hadn’t been there before. Despite their recent argument, Alicent couldn’t help but feel a mix of curiosity and concern.

“You seem happier these days, Rhaenyra,” Alicent remarked, her tone casual, though her eyes searched Rhaenyra’s face for any hint of what might have caused this change. “More at ease than you were a week ago.”

Rhaenyra glanced at Alicent, her expression neutral for a moment before a small smile tugged at her lips. “I suppose I am,” she admitted, leaning back against the bench, her fingers absentmindedly playing with the hem of her gown. “It’s good to have my brother home again. I had forgotten how much I missed him.”

Alicent smiled, though there was a flicker of something behind her eyes—something Rhaenyra didn’t miss. “He has been a calming presence for all of us, I think,” Alicent said softly. “The court feels… steadier with him back.”

Rhaenyra nodded, though her mind wandered to thoughts that had little to do with the politics of the court. Her happiness, her newfound sense of ease, had little to do with the stability of King’s Landing and everything to do with the intimate moments she had shared with her brother. The kiss they had stolen, the way his hands had moved over her body, the way they had whispered to each other in the quiet of the night—it filled her with a secret kind of joy that made her pulse quicken just thinking about it.

But she couldn’t tell Alicent that, of course. She couldn’t tell anyone. It was a secret she held close to her heart, something that belonged to her and her brother alone. And yet, as she sat there in the garden, surrounded by her handmaidens and her friend, Rhaenyra felt the weight of that secret pressing down on her, urging her to protect it at all costs.

Alicent’s voice broke through her thoughts. “It’s good to see you like this,” she said, her tone soft, almost wistful. “You’ve always been so strong, Rhaenyra, but… there’s a lightness about you now that I haven’t seen in a long time.”

Rhaenyra glanced at Alicent, her smile widening slightly. “Perhaps it’s because I’m no longer alone,” she replied, though her words held a double meaning that Alicent could not have understood. “It’s been… good to have him near. To be reminded of how much he means to me.”

Alicent nodded, though Rhaenyra could sense the unspoken tension between them. The argument they had about her brother still lingered in the background, and while they had put it aside for now, Rhaenyra knew that it had changed something between them. Alicent had always been loyal, always supportive, but there was no denying that her interest in [Your Name] had stoked Rhaenyra’s possessiveness.

“I spoke to my father recently,” Alicent said after a moment, her tone more subdued now. “He mentioned how important it is for your brother to find a suitable match. I imagine the court will soon begin pressuring him.”

Rhaenyra’s smile faltered slightly at that, her heart tightening at the thought of her brother being married off to some noble lady for the sake of alliances. She knew his duty as heir, just as she knew her own, but the idea of sharing him with anyone else made her blood run cold.

“I’m sure the court has its plans,” Rhaenyra replied carefully, her tone measured. “But my brother has never been one to let others decide his fate for him.”

Alicent glanced at Rhaenyra, a knowing look in her eyes. “Perhaps not. But you know as well as I do that duty often outweighs personal desires in our world. Your brother will have to marry eventually.”

Rhaenyra clenched her jaw slightly, trying to keep her voice calm. “Perhaps. But that doesn’t mean he will let them choose for him.”

A silence fell between them, the tension from their previous argument rearing its head once more. Alicent, ever observant, seemed to sense the shift in Rhaenyra’s mood and quickly changed the subject, offering a soft smile. “Regardless, it’s good to see you happy, Rhaenyra. You deserve it.”

Rhaenyra returned the smile, though it didn’t reach her eyes. Internally, she was still reeling from the conversation, her mind racing with thoughts of her brother and the future that seemed so uncertain. She couldn’t bear the thought of losing him, not after everything they had shared. And though she knew the court would try to force his hand, she was determined to protect what they had.

As the afternoon wore on and the sun began to dip lower in the sky, the handmaidens began to gather their things, preparing to leave the gardens. Rhaenyra stood, her mind still swirling with the weight of her secret and the unspoken tension between her and Alicent. She couldn’t shake the feeling that her brother’s return had changed everything—not just for her, but for the future of the realm.

The darkness surrounded you, thick and suffocating. You knew you were dreaming, yet the world felt all too real, pulling you back to the brutal, violent past you had tried so hard to leave behind. The scent of blood and smoke filled your nostrils, the familiar roar of battle echoing in your ears.

You were back on the Dornish border, where the sun beat down mercilessly on the rocky landscape, turning the sand beneath your feet into a blinding sea of heat. But the heat wasn’t what bothered you. It was the blood, the endless blood that stained the ground, your armor, your hands.

Before you, Silverwing loomed, her massive form casting a shadow over the battlefield. Her scales glimmered in the sunlight, a majestic and terrifying sight as she snarled, her jaws open wide, ready to unleash hell upon your enemies.

The clash of swords, the cries of dying men, and the acrid scent of burning flesh assaulted your senses as you gripped the reins, your heart pounding in your chest. You had been here before, so many times. Leading men into battle, commanding them, killing for the crown. But this time, it felt different. More vivid. More terrifying.

Dornish soldiers surged forward, their spears glinting in the sun, their faces twisted with rage and desperation. You shouted orders to your men, your voice hoarse from the strain of command, but your words seemed to be lost in the chaos around you. The Dornish were relentless, their numbers overwhelming, and despite the strength of your forces, you could feel the tide turning.

With a roar, Silverwing reared up, her wings beating against the air with enough force to send men stumbling backward. You felt the bond between you and your dragon pulse through your veins as you urged her forward. With a deafening screech, Silverwing descended upon the enemy, her massive jaws snapping shut around a group of Dornish soldiers.

Blood sprayed across the battlefield as Silverwing bit down, her powerful teeth tearing through armor, flesh, and bone with sickening ease. The sound of the men’s screams was lost beneath the thunderous roar of the dragonfire that erupted from her mouth, incinerating everything in its path. Soldiers who had been advancing toward you moments before were now nothing more than charred corpses, their bodies reduced to ash.

You watched, horrified, as Silverwing tore into another group of soldiers, her claws ripping them apart with savage efficiency. Blood splattered across the sand, pooling in thick, dark puddles that soaked into the earth. Limbs were torn from bodies, men reduced to nothing more than broken pieces of flesh and bone, and still, the Dornish kept coming.

The heat of the dragonfire was unbearable, searing your skin even from where you sat atop Silverwing. The stench of burning flesh filled your lungs, choking you, but there was no time to think, no time to feel anything but the cold, brutal instinct to survive. You spurred Silverwing forward, her massive body plowing through the enemy lines, scattering men like leaves in the wind.

But it wasn’t enough. No matter how many men Silverwing killed, no matter how many bodies littered the ground, the Dornish soldiers kept coming, their faces twisted with hatred, their eyes filled with the desire to see you dead. You felt the familiar knot of fear tighten in your chest as the enemy began to close in around you.

Suddenly, one of the Dornish soldiers broke through the chaos, his spear aimed directly at you. You had only a split second to react, but it wasn’t fast enough. The spear pierced your side, the sharp pain exploding through your body as the world spun around you. Blood poured from the wound, hot and sticky against your skin, but you barely had time to register the pain before another soldier was upon you, his sword raised high.

Silverwing roared in fury, her massive jaws snapping shut around the soldier, crushing him with a sickening crunch. Blood sprayed across your face as the man’s body was ripped apart in Silverwing’s teeth, his screams cut short as his skull was crushed like an eggshell.

The battlefield was a nightmare of blood, fire, and death. Everywhere you looked, there were bodies—some charred beyond recognition, others torn apart by dragonfire and claws. The ground was slick with blood, the air thick with the stench of death. You felt the weight of it pressing down on you, suffocating you.

You tried to command Silverwing, to take control of the chaos, but your voice wouldn’t come. The pain from the spear wound throbbed in time with your heartbeat, making it hard to breathe. Your vision blurred, the world around you spinning as you fought to stay conscious. But even through the haze of pain, you could still see the carnage—Silverwing tearing through men like they were nothing more than playthings, their bodies breaking and burning beneath her fury.

You were losing control, and you knew it. The battle was slipping away from you, and there was nothing you could do to stop it.

And then, suddenly, you were falling. The reins slipped from your fingers, your body tipping forward as the ground rushed up to meet you. You hit the sand with a bone-jarring thud, the impact driving the air from your lungs. The world went black for a moment, the sounds of the battlefield fading into nothing.

When you opened your eyes again, the first thing you saw was blood—so much blood, pooling around you, soaking into the sand. Your own blood. You tried to move, to push yourself up, but your body wouldn’t respond. You were trapped, helpless, watching as the battle raged on around you.

Silverwing roared somewhere in the distance, her voice filled with rage and pain. You could feel her, feel her fury, her desperation to protect you. But you were powerless to help her, powerless to stop the nightmare unfolding before your eyes.

The last thing you saw before the darkness claimed you was the sight of Silverwing, her jaws clamped down on another group of Dornish soldiers, their bodies breaking apart like twigs beneath her crushing teeth. The blood sprayed across the battlefield, the screams of the dying filling your ears.

And then, there was nothing.

You woke with a start, your heart pounding in your chest, your body drenched in sweat. The room around you was quiet, the familiar walls of your chambers in the Red Keep reassuring you that you were no longer on the battlefield. But the images of the nightmare lingered—Silverwing’s fury, the blood, the death.

You ran a hand through your hair, trying to shake the feeling of dread that clung to you. It was just a dream, you reminded yourself. Just a dream. But deep down, you knew that it was more than that. It was a memory—a memory of the horrors you had witnessed, the lives you had taken, and the toll it had taken on your soul.

No matter how far you ran from it, the blood and fire of Dorne would always haunt you.

The sun was high in the sky, casting a warm glow over the Red Keep as you walked alongside your father through the expansive gardens of the palace. King Viserys had been spending more time with you in the past months since your return from Dorne, and today was no different. He seemed eager, almost desperate at times, to enjoy moments of quiet between the demands of his reign. 

You had always admired your father’s ability to maintain a sense of peace amidst the political storms that often raged around him. But lately, something had shifted. As the days passed, you found yourself becoming more aware of the subtle signs of wear and tear that the Iron Throne had wrought upon him.

As you walked, you couldn’t help but notice the slight tremble in your father’s hand. It was barely perceptible, but you had spent enough time in his company recently to know that it wasn’t just a passing weakness. Your brows furrowed in concern, and you finally spoke up, your voice quiet but laced with worry.

“Father,” you began, glancing at his hand, “are you feeling well?”

Viserys looked at you, startled by the question at first, but then smiled in that familiar way of his, as if trying to reassure you of something he could no longer be certain of himself. He flexed his hand slightly, noticing your gaze.

“I’m fine, truly,” he said, though his tone was too quick, too eager to dismiss your concerns. “It’s nothing but an old man’s ache. The last cut I suffered from sitting the throne seemed to have gone deeper than usual… into the muscle, I think. It must have caused the tremble.”

You frowned, stopping for a moment to face him fully. “The Iron Throne should not wound the king, Father. I fear it has done more harm than you’re letting on.”

Viserys waved a hand, brushing off your concern. “The throne is sharp and unforgiving, yes, but I’ve sat upon it for years. It’s nothing more than an old man’s ailment. Nothing for you to worry about.”

But you couldn’t let go of the unease that gnawed at you. You had heard the stories, how the throne only cut those who were unworthy, how its jagged edges served as a constant reminder of the heavy price of rule. And now, seeing your father—the once strong, vibrant man who had ruled the realm with a steady hand—reduced to such a state, it made you wonder if the cost of the throne was truly worth it.

You glanced down at your father’s hand again, the faint tremor still there. Silent for a moment, you felt a heaviness settle in your chest as you considered the prospect that one day, the Iron Throne would be yours. It was a thought you had pushed aside for years, choosing instead to focus on your duties as a warrior, a protector of the realm. But now, standing here beside your father, the reality of it felt closer than ever.

“Is it worth it, Father?” you asked quietly, almost to yourself, though the question lingered in the air between you.

Viserys looked at you sharply, his expression softening after a beat as he realized the weight behind your words. He sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly as if burdened by more than just the crown. “Is it worth it…” he repeated softly, his gaze distant as he looked out at the gardens. “The Iron Throne… it is a heavy burden, my son. There is no denying that. But we don’t take the throne because it is easy, or because it is what we wish for ourselves.”

He turned to face you, his eyes tired but full of the wisdom of years spent ruling. “We take the throne because it is our duty. Our legacy. We are Targaryens, and the realm looks to us for leadership, for stability. That is worth more than the cost.”

You remained silent for a moment, pondering his words. The duty of being heir to the throne had always been something you accepted but never truly embraced. You had spent years on the battlefield, finding comfort in the clarity of combat, where there were no endless whispers of court intrigue or delicate balance of politics. But ruling… ruling was something different. It required sacrifice, constant vigilance, and endless compromise. And it required you to sit upon that cursed throne, the one that had already begun to cut into your father’s flesh.

“I understand the duty,” you said after a moment, your voice measured, “but I can’t help but feel that ruling is more than just doing what is expected of us. You’ve always been able to manage the demands of the crown, but I fear I lack your patience. I don’t know if I can find that balance.”

Viserys smiled gently, placing a hand on your shoulder. “You’re more like me than you think, Y/N, though I know you’ve never desired court life. You’ve always been happiest on the battlefield, away from the games of politics. But ruling is its own kind of battle. And, just like on the battlefield, you must find the right strategy.”

You chuckled lightly, though the weight of his words didn’t escape you. “I’ve always preferred the battlefield, where at least I know who my enemies are.”

“That’s the trick,” Viserys said, his smile widening. “In court, they may not hold swords, but the battles are just as dangerous. And the price of losing is far greater.”

You nodded, understanding what he was saying. The thought of navigating the intricacies of the court, of having to make decisions that could affect the entire realm, filled you with a sense of dread. But this was the reality of your position. One day, the crown would pass to you, whether you were ready for it or not.

Viserys seemed to sense your unease and gently changed the subject, steering the conversation away from the future you both knew was inevitable. “Have you been adjusting well since your return? I know the transition from the battlefield to the court isn’t an easy one.”

You sighed, glancing around the garden before looking back at your father. “It’s… an adjustment. I’ve managed, somehow, though it’s been difficult to find my footing. Everything here feels slower, more drawn out. There’s no sense of urgency like there is in battle.”

Viserys nodded thoughtfully. “Court life can feel stifling at times, I’ll admit. It isn’t what you imagined for yourself, I’m sure.”

You gave a small, humorless laugh. “No, it isn’t. But I’ve accepted my place. I know what’s expected of me.”

Viserys squeezed your shoulder gently, his expression softening with affection. “I know, my son. And I also know that this is not the life you would have chosen for yourself. You’ve always been a warrior, someone who thrives in action. But a good king finds balance. He learns to fight the battles that can’t be won with a sword.”

You glanced at your father, seeing the weight of years of rule etched into his face. His words, though meant to reassure you, only served to remind you of the impossible burden that awaited you. You couldn’t help but wonder if you would ever find that balance he spoke of—if you could ever be the ruler your father believed you could be.

As you walked together in the garden, your mind drifted back to the Iron Throne, to the cuts it had already inflicted on your father. The price of rule was steep, and as much as you tried to push the thought aside, you knew that one day, that same burden would fall upon you.

But for now, you would follow your father’s guidance, learn what you could, and prepare for the day when the realm would look to you to sit upon the throne that demanded blood as its price.

The evening was late, and the Red Keep had settled into a quiet stillness, with only the occasional flicker of torchlight and the distant echo of footsteps from the night’s watchmen to break the silence. It was during these hours that you found your way to Rhaenyra’s chambers, as had become your clandestine routine. Your secret meetings, hidden from the prying eyes of the court, were the only times you both could truly be together—free from the weight of duty and expectation.

The room was dimly lit, the soft glow of candles casting long shadows across the walls. You could hear the gentle rustling of the curtains as the evening breeze slipped through the cracks of the window. But none of that mattered. The moment you entered, your attention was solely on her—Rhaenyra, lying in wait on the bed, her eyes bright with the same fire that had been between you since your first kiss.

Without a word, you crossed the room and claimed her lips in a feverish kiss, your hands cradling her face as you pressed her down into the softness of the mattress. The world outside, the pressures of the throne, the burdens you carried as the heir to the realm—all of it disappeared in her presence. Here, in the dark, it was just the two of you, and nothing else mattered.

Your body moved instinctively, pressing closer to hers, the thin layers of clothing between you both doing little to contain the heat of your shared desire. Rhaenyra responded eagerly, her fingers tangling in your hair as she pulled you closer, her breath coming faster with each kiss. You could feel her heart beating in time with your own, the intensity of the moment building as your hands roamed over her body.

She broke the kiss for a moment, her eyes locked onto yours, filled with the same fierce affection and need that mirrored your own. "I missed you," she whispered, her voice soft but filled with the weight of truth.

You smiled, brushing a strand of silver hair from her face. "I’m here now," you whispered back before capturing her lips once more, your kisses growing deeper, more urgent.

As you pressed her further into the bed, her hands moved down, her fingers grazing the waistband of your trousers before slipping inside. The sensation made you groan into the kiss, your body reacting instantly to her touch. She worked with practiced ease, her hand moving slowly as she freed your manhood from the confines of your clothing.

The moment her fingers wrapped around you, the world seemed to narrow to the sensation alone. Your groan deepened, your forehead resting against hers as you allowed yourself to get lost in the moment. The heat between you both was nearly unbearable, the need to be closer, to feel her entirely, overwhelming every other thought in your mind.

"Rhaenyra," you breathed against her lips, your voice hoarse with desire.

She smiled, a soft, knowing smile, and kissed you again, her hand continuing its slow, deliberate work. The pressure built quickly, your body responding to her touch with an intensity you couldn’t control. Her thumb brushed against you in just the right way, and with a final shudder, you felt the release you had been so desperately chasing.

You groaned against her lips, your body trembling as you spilled yourself onto her thigh, the tension that had been building finally giving way to sweet relief. Your breath came in ragged gasps, your forehead still pressed to hers as you tried to regain your composure.

Rhaenyra smiled at you, her expression one of both satisfaction and tenderness. She brought your face back to hers for another kiss, soft and slow, as though savoring the moment. Her fingers trailed through your hair as she pressed closer to you, the warmth of her body a comfort in the quiet aftermath.

You opened your eyes, your heart still racing, and kissed her forehead gently. "It’s my turn," you whispered against her skin, your voice filled with both affection and desire. "To return the favor."

Rhaenyra’s eyes gleamed with anticipation as you began trailing kisses down her jawline, your lips brushing against her neck, lingering there as you felt the pulse of her heartbeat beneath your lips. She sighed softly, her hands gently pulling at your shoulders as you moved lower, your mouth tracing a path along her collarbone, then down her chest.

Your kisses grew slower, more deliberate, as you moved further down her body, your lips brushing against her stomach, feeling the soft curve of her skin beneath your fingertips. Every touch seemed to draw out a deeper sigh from her, her body relaxing beneath you as she surrendered to the sensations you were creating.

When your kisses reached her womanhood, her breath hitched, and a low moan escaped her lips, her fingers tangling in your hair as she arched slightly beneath you. You felt the heat of her, tasted the subtle sweetness of her skin, and your only thought was to please her, to give her the same release she had given you.

Rhaenyra’s soft moans filled the room, her fingers tightening in your hair as you continued your ministrations, her body trembling with every kiss, every touch. The sounds of her pleasure only spurred you on, the bond between you deepening with each passing second, each shared breath.

As you looked up at her, seeing the way her eyes fluttered closed in pure satisfaction, you couldn’t help but smile to yourself. There was no one else in the world who could make you feel the way she did—no one else who could understand the depth of your connection. And in that moment, you knew that nothing, not even the demands of the court, could take this from you.

This was yours. She was yours. And for now, in the quiet intimacy of the night, that was all that mattered.

[futureplayboibunnie]

It’s canonically Miguel’s birthday soooo….a fluffy/cute/ lil steamy drabble? yes pls.

-

It was late, you and Miguel were both a little tipsy from the wine you plied each other with, but the night was starless, the fire was roaring, the city lights were gleaming and it was Miguel's birthday.

Miguel always hated his birthday. It was an unpleasant reminder of the years before him and the unforetold future ahead of him- all in all, it was an unsettling and borderline depressing experience, it was clear that everyone around him was viscerally aware of that. Even when he was in the warm blanketed safety of his own home, with the woman he wanted to spend his life with, it was still a struggle for him to not hate the predicament he put himself in. Your head rested on his lap while he was sat on the couch like a normal careless couple would do, your fingers stroked against him tenderly, normally, like it was second instinct but from this angle, you could tell his mind was wandering, twinges of apprehension and sullenness tweaked at his face so faintly, you almost didn't notice

“What's going on up there?” You said with a strained soft breath, your eyes flickered to his, the flames licking at the fireplace illuminated the deep crimson of his eyes. He looked so beautiful and you hated that he barely recognized it. Even now when he stroked your hand with his thumb, the familiar heat he ignited when you first wanted him crept its way back to you all this time.

“Nothing mi amor, let me just be here with you.”Miguel pursed his lips as he so obviously tried to dismiss the situation, he snapped his stare awayfrom yours. Your mind drew to a blank, unsure of what to even say after that but then you remembered, you didn'teven give him his gift yet. You shot up and Miguel instantly raised an eyebrow, watching you hurry away out of the room.

It was only a couple of seconds before you came back with a wrapped box with a cute little bow, a card, and a bouquet of roses.

“Oh my god.” Miguel said mildly but you could tell he was trying to stifle a giggle. He gave you a cute little defeated scoff and got up and came to you, slightly amused by this cute display you provided. He couldn't help but sigh dryly, he pondered you for a second, he had never felt so...appreciated. His heart fluttered in his chest at the realization. His eyes darted to the flowers and he chuckled and then looked back at you with a quiet playfulness.

“You bought me flowers.” He said flatly and smirked, you shoved the flowers in his face aggressive for him to smell them.

“You always buy me them, why can't I buy you some? What? Don't like 'em? Here sniff 'em.” You teased with a pretty smile and Miguel spluttered as he shoved them away

“Alright baby, I got it, I got it.” He protested playfully through short laughs, his smile was gorgeous and you were gawking at him like a lovesick fool.

“Open the card.” You say softly, handing him it, you flash him a flirty look, fluttering lashes sly smile and all. He quirked an eyebrow at yourlittle shift in tone and expression- he always hyper-analyzed you, and every single move you made, he he enjoyed it thoroughly. Even after all this time, he was still crazy about you, your tease, your ability to make him wonder. Miguel opened the card, intrigued by your boldness.

Happy birthday mi amor.

You're the best thing that's ever happened to me. You are the most incredible man I've ever known. I'm the luckiest girl in the world to get to be with you, care for you, love you.

This is your day. I want this all to be about you. I'll let you do anything you want to me, anything, fuck me any way you like. I'm yours. All yours. Tonight and forever.

All my love

Miguel's gaze softened when he read the sweet words, you knew exactly what to say to make him melt in your hands, he glanced up at you and your cheeks colored with a heated blush, a suggestive smirk playing at your lips. You were acting coy as if you weren't aware of what you had written just for him. Even when you were trying to be sincerely romantic, you couldn't help but slip how much you loved his cock.

“Dirty girl.” He said with a crooked smile, biting his lip, gaping into that gorgeous face he's been fascinated by since he met you. “God I love you.” He muttered when he cradled your face in has hands.

“Open it.” You handed him his little wrapped box, your eyes brightened as he took it and unwrapped it.

It was a box. With a few things stuffed inside of it.

There were many cute knicknacks inside of it: a frame with you and Miguel absolutely drunk off your tits at a party that you can’t even remember, Peter took that amusingly hideous photo and he wouldn’t let either of you forget it so instead you thought to embrace it. Funnily enough, you bought him a nail file for his talons with his name engraved on it and you just shrugged with a smug face and said it was when he was in the need for self care. Miguel scoffed dryly, you were enjoying himself. You also got him a real gold ring with his spider emblem engraved on it. He felt very appreciated indeed.

But what really caught his attention was the less wholesome side of it.

You gave him your tiny lacy panties that you knew he loved.

Nipple clamps? Really? Oh my God.

And then he came across it, the multiple polaroids of you naked for the camera. All for him. All his. You looked heavenly.

“Hmmm.” He hummed apppreciatively. Completely enjoying what he was looking at, your body was made for him, you looked adorable.

“You like it?” You ask sincerely but you always had that stupid, smug smirk on your face.

“Of course I do.” He chuckled before grabbing you, letting the box drop to the floor and picking you up off the ground, holding you as he nuzzled into your neck, you yelped in surprise but that soon melted into a soft breath as you inhaled his scent.

Miguel settled you down, his hands still wrapped around your waist, your fingers found hospice in his hair, you tucked a few loose tufts behind his ear.

“I love you, you know that cariño?” He muttered. “I’m not good at stuff like this, I hate my birthday…but you make me feel worthy of it.” His voice was barely audible but you were so close you could hear every syllable.

“I love you too….” You said before planting a soft chaste kiss on his lips. Miguel’s hand went to your hair, your soft pecks turning into deep, heady kisses. “Let me take care of you.” Your breathing become shallow as his hand gripped the back of your neck.

“I want slow.” He slurred against your already wine soaked lips, you always taste so sweet for him, sometimes he wanted to rub you down in honey or something other and just spend his night licking it off you. He’d consider that a beautiful way to die happy. “Want it slow.”

“Take me to bed.” You whispered, your voice gentle and thick all at once. Miguel tiptoed you to your room, he wanted to rip off that smug smirk off of your lips. But in the meantime, he wanted to make love to your body.

[frvnkcastles]

Your work with Frank is incredible! Could I please request one where you’ve been feeling lightheaded/dizzy all day but brushing it off until you’re making dinner and you can’t ignore it anymore and faint and Frank finds you there after coming in from taking out the garbage so you wake up on the couch, washcloth on your forehead and Frank worrying over you and won’t let you walk or lift a finger for awhile and if you get worse then he absolutely insists on taking you to urgent care or the er

THE ANTIDOTE TO EVERYTHING ➵ F. CASTLE

Summary: You’ve been dizzy all day but you try to deal with it until you finally faint, leaving Frank worried about you.

Warnings: Fainting, implied existing condition, fluff, feminine nicknames

Word count: 1.3k

Author’s note: Thank you so so much for your sweet words, anon <3 Sorry for making you wait, I hope you like this!!

Realistically, you should have known the dizziness you had been dealing with all day wouldn’t end well, but you refused to give in. You told yourself it was no big deal, it was nothing new and surely you’d be able to tolerate it — and because it wasn’t that serious in your mind, you didn’t tell Frank, either. He was a worrier when it came to you and you didn’t want to stress him out over nothing, so you found it best to keep it to yourself.

Still, no matter how insistent you were that it would pass, the sway in your head was persistent as hell. As soon as you got up from the couch to go to the bathroom, you stumbled and staggered, and when you were washing your hands afterwards, your vision blurred. You had all the telltale signs of an incoming fainting spell, but you chose to ignore it, hoping it would will it into leaving you alone.

Besides, you had promised Frank to cook his favorite pasta dish and you couldn’t walk back on your word like that. So, despite your unsure footing, you planted yourself by the stove and began working on dinner, silently reassuring yourself that you could do it and everything would be okay.

”Did ya hear me, sweetheart?” Frank’s voice cut through your thoughts, and only then realizing he had joined you in the kitchen, you turned to face him. He was looking at you curiously, a hint of concern in his deep gaze, and his hand came to rest on your back. ”Asked if you needed any help with dinner”, he repeated himself when you just stared back at him, his eyes darting between the pot you were mindlessly stirring and your troubled expression.

”No, no, I’m all good. I got this”, you assured with a weak smile, and reluctantly, Frank nodded. ”You could take the trash out if you really want to be of help”, you added, and with a chuckle, he snuck past you and gathered the garbage bag from its hiding place.

”Makin’ me do all the chores you don’t wanna, huh?” he teased, but before you could defend yourself, he was reaching in to kiss your cheek. ”I got it, sweetheart. Be right back”, he declared before stomping out of the apartment with the trash in tow, earning a smile from you.

The happy look on your face was wiped away quickly, though. A wave of disorientation washed over you and your head started spinning, forcing you squeeze your eyes shut. You tried to regain your balance but nausea took over and you felt the undeniable urge to lay down. With panic rising in your chest, you moved to turn off the stove, figuring it would be wise to continue cooking later.

Before you could move to the bedroom or even the couch, you lost the fight between you and the nasty dizziness that had been bothering you all day, and you collapsed.

The last thing Frank expected to see when he came back inside was you unconscious on the floor. The sight made his heart sink and he quickly tossed his keys onto the counter before rushing to your side, kneeling down and pulling you into his arms. Fear surged in his heart, even though this wasn’t the first time you had passed out on him — nevertheless, it unsettled him just like the first time.

”Hey, hey, hey, sweetheart. Shit”, he rambled, swallowing hard as he picked you up from the floor effortlessly. He carried you to the couch and set you down as gently as he could, his usually steady hands trembling just a smidge as he wiped your hair away from your face and assessed the situation. You didn’t seem hurt, which was a relief to him, but he wasn’t going to breathe properly until you’d regain consciousness.

He got a washcloth and draped it over your forehead, and with a gentle caress on your cheek, he remained crouched by your side and tried to help you come to. His typically stoic expression faltered as he watched you lay there, and there was an uncomfortable weight on his chest. He was worried, but at the same time, he was charging a rant about your well-being, knowing for a fact that you had probably been feeling lightheaded all day.

Eventually, you blinked your eyes open, grimacing at the weird sensation in your body and the bright lights of the living room. It took a moment for your vision to focus, but when it did, you found Frank staring at you with alert eyes, his jaw clenching and his hands hovering over you.

”There you are, darlin’”, he cleared his throat, eyeing you up and down. ”How you feelin’? Found you passed out, baby”, he explained, and slowly remembering what had happened, you gave him a nod to acknowledge.

”I—I’m okay, I think. Lying down helps”, you reminded, and licking his lips, Frank wiped his thumb across your cheek tenderly.

”Yeah, I figured. Ain’t the first time we’ve been here, sweetheart”, he noted, and with a sheepish chuckle, you supposed he was right. Deciding to just shake it off, you tried to sit up from the couch, but Frank reacted immediately. With no real pressure, his hand pushed against your chest to stop you, and you gave him a puzzled look.

”I feel better, Frankie. I need to get back to dinner”, you said like it was the most obvious thing, and in an instant, Frank snorted, amused that you’d think he was letting you do anything.

”Nah, baby, you ain’t goin’ anywhere. Gonna just take it easy for the rest of the day, hear me? I’mma take care of dinner, aight? Don’t worry ’bout a thing”, he announced firmly, unwilling to argue about it. His decision was final, as it often was when your health was in question.

You smiled softly, touched by his worrying. ”But—”, you began, but he cut you off promptly.

”Not hearin’ you out on this, sweetheart. Y’know layin’ down is the best for you right now. Yeah?” he stated, and unable to insist otherwise, you nodded to confirm. Sighing deeply, he took your hand in his own and gave it a soft squeeze. ”Why didn’t ya say somethin’? I know this didn’t just come outta nowhere. Shoulda never been up and cookin’ dinner in this state”, he continued, his tone just slightly scolding but you knew it came from a place of love.

You gave him a shy shrug. ”I thought I could tough it out. Didn’t want to worry you, either”, you explained, a little embarrassed that you had overestimated your ability to handle it so terribly.

Chuckling, Frank lifted your hand up to his mouth so he could kiss your knuckles. ”Darlin’, worryin’ ’bout you is my job. You don’t gotta feel bad ’bout it. Just lemme take care of you when you need it, yeah? It don’t make you any less tough if you need to lay down every now and then”, he pointed out, the tiniest of smiles on his lips.

”I guess that’s fair”, you admitted, ”I’ll tell you next time.”

Satisfied, Frank leaned in to kiss you, sweet and brief but enough to remind you that despite his stern tone, he loved you very much. ”Attagirl. Now, I’mma continue with dinner but if you need anythin’ at all, you shout, yeah? And if it doesn’t pass, I’m takin’ you to the ER”, he informed you after pulling away, making you smile. He took your fainting very seriously, as he did with every other aspect of your health, even when you tried to play it off as nothing serious.

”I love you”, you spoke sincerely, so grateful to have him looking out for you, and with adoration obvious in his eyes, he replied.

”Love you too, sweetheart.”

[obsessive-valentine]

Imposter/Changeling-husband x GN!Reader

A fae changeling seeking some trouble takes the place of your once verbally abusive and neglectful husband and grants you one day of a loving husband out of pity. Or maybe he’ll play along a little longer...

Life was exhausting, your days are long and tiring then you had to return home and continue working to your partners expectations, from making food before he gets home, the house has to be spotless and yourself be presentable. After all this work and effort into a one sided marriage, not one ounce of respect do you get, nor a chance to rant about your day, not a hug. Instead he retreats to his sofa to eat his food and watch tv alone usually only speaking to you briefly. That was what made today so odd, because none of that happened...

Well the day was long and unforgiving and you did rush home to cook and clean, standing in the kitchen keeping the food warm waiting for your partner to barge in, complain about their day and disappear. The door opened but didn’t hit the wall, shoes were wiped on the foot mat then followed with two ‘clip-clops’ as they were laid on the shoe rack... when did they start to care about tracking mud through the house.

“darling? You here?” He called as he walked down the hall towards the kitchen, it took longer than it should have to answered when your words caught in your throat. This was so out of character, even his voice was eerily soft, was he mocking you in a way? Unsure of the intent you choked out a answer with furrowed brows before he rounded the corner “I’m in the kitchen” it came out almost like a whisper but loud enough for his pace to become more confident.

“There you are, you wouldn’t believe the day I had” his eyes locked onto you but were softer than expected and a smile uncovered dimples you forgot existed, subconsciously the corners of your mouth tugged up and your brows rested. Such a unusual feeling of ease washed over you, and even more so when he greeted you with a hug; something was unsettling about the atmosphere but you chalked it up to him being abnormally nice. It was like settling into a old habit, it was how you fell in love with him, the same actions you’d dreamed about experiencing again; the ones that kept you from leaving your husband all these years.

He’d thanked you for cooking and praised your cleaning, you both sat and ate together and he listened about your day before insisting he clean the dishes. You’d been so wrapped up in this feeling you failed to notice his slight change in eye colour, his sharper teeth, the fact his limbs were slightly longer not enough to be concerning and how his smile dropped whenever you turned away.

...

He’d chosen your husband to become a doppelgänger of due to his position in the workplace, a secure one, one he could use to mess with people then disappear and choose a new target. But after weeks of watching and waiting for the perfect moment to jump in, he’d began to become disgusted with how this human treated his partner, even fae treated their partners with more respect than you’d been dealing with.

For a while he’d considered treating you so bad that you’d leave this shitty life and run for the hills in some sort of sick mercy or lesson. But as he walked closer to the door of the house knowing you’d be in the kitchen waiting for the verbal abuse or neglect the like every other day, he couldn’t bring himself to mimic the now dead man he’s taken the place of by opening the door harshly. Instead the door didn’t reach the wall with a thud, stopped by the tips of his fingers last second; sparing you a jolt of shock.

He huffed in annoyance once he’d realised he’d already messed up his plan, after straightening up his jacket he decided ‘this house will see one day of calm, then I’ll chase them off’. So he took off his shoes and placed them on the rack and faked a calm smile. The whole night he kept thinking ‘poor thing’, how fast you caved into the love bombing and denying the off putting atmosphere.

And at some point, maybe when he jokingly danced with you for half a song while you both cleaned up, or maybe when he went to bed with you and let himself drape a arm over you, maybe it was when he woke up to the alarm clock and saw you still peacefully still, he began thinking ‘My poor thing’.

So that morning one day of mercy turned into two and a growing possession over his naive little human. Maybe he will play happy marriage with you for a while, maybe when he gets bored of this world he will take you with him. Maybe he will settle down in this silly world and never reveal his true self...

[snuggerudsz]

NAP TIME AND BABY FEVER l QH43

SUMMARY: Quinn comes home to his wife and children napping, and it leads to a very important talk.

PAIRING: Quinn Hughes x Fem!Reader

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Hi!! I'm on such a Quinn phase always right now. And dad!Quinn actually owns my heart, so I needed to write some more for him. I don't know why the kids are always sleeping when I write these, but I have more dad!Quinn coming out soon, pinky promise. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this. Likes and reblogs are always welcomed. Thank you for reading!!! <3333

The house was silent when Quinn got home. It was peaceful and quiet. That’s never a good sign with children, he thought, worried. If there’s one thing having children taught Quinn Hughes it is that silence is never a good sign. Upon entering the house, he felt immediately unsettled, his eyes darting around, searching for the little ones, who usually came running into his arms, celebrating his return as if he hadn’t left only a few hours ago. 

The defenseman left his equipment bag in the foyer, throwing his keys on the table and hastily taking off his shoes, hurrying up the stairs, looking for a sign of life from his wife and children. Worried, Quinn was skipping steps. He goes into your shared room immediately feeling his heart full. Quinn opened the door to the bedroom quietly and saw his wife, sleeping peacefully in the middle with their two children, Oliver and Aurora, snuggled up against her body. He looked over, a soft smile on his face, mentally wondering how was it possible to live such a good life, surrounded by so much love. Sometimes Quinn still couldn't believe this was his life. Not even his wildest dreams would come close to reality.

He hesitated for a moment, watching the peaceful picture before him. Taking a deep breath, he slowly stepped into the room, carefully made his way over to the bed, and knelt down, carefully brushing a strand of hair from your face. Quinn got up, preparing to turn away and let them rest when you stirred awake, sleepy eyes fluttering open. A bit confused, you quickly took in your surroundings, your gaze finding your husband's. You smiled up at him sleepily and beckoned him closer, doing your best to not wake up the children.

Holding out his hand, Quinn helped you get up without disrupting the two kids. You smiled at him gratefully as he guided the both of you out of the bedroom.

You and Quinn tiptoe downstairs to the kitchen, sitting at the table, drinking some tea. Quinn told you about his day, sharing the stories of the rink, the fun of living out his dreams, and also the hardships of being the captain; you talk about your day at home, telling him about the kids and about how far you've already gotten in the writing of your new book. The two of you stay there, laughing and joking as the afternoon sun casts golden light across the room.

Quinn looked at you with a loving gaze. He could feel a wave of emotion rush through him. Having that sweet moment with you, after seeing you and the children huddled up together had filled him with a longing he couldn't quite explain. He had thought about it before, but never seriously. Now, though, he couldn't help but imagine another kid. Another little one, the perfect mix of the both of you. The thought itself made him smile.

“What do you think about having another baby?” Quinn questioned suddenly, breaking the silence.

“Are you thinking about it?” You answer, looking back at your husband, waiting for his answer.

It’d be an utter lie to say you hadn’t thought about it, truth be told. Both of the kids had friends with baby siblings and you could feel the want for another one deep inside you, missing the baby days. Besides, the sight of Quinn with his teammates' babies always made your mind go blank, full of sinful thoughts. 

“I just,” The defenseman starts, unsurely, “I wouldn't be against having another kid if you're up for it.” He said shyly, almost afraid of your response.

You smiled softly, eyes sparkling in the light of the kitchen. Leaning in, you've kissed him sweetly, voice warm and affectionate, slightly flirty. “I'd love to have another baby with you, Mr. Hughes”

Quinn grinned, eyes full of relief and surprise at his wife's answer. “There’s no one else I’d rather be the mother of my children, Mrs. Hughes,” He answers, the same flirty tone you’d used.

He rises from the table, pulling you with him. He held you close, sharing a few more kisses. They stood in the kitchen, the same kitchen where they had shared so many memories together, holding each other and dreaming about the possibilities that lay ahead of them. They both knew that their family was about to get a little bigger, and they couldn't wait. The room was filled with a different kind of joy, one that was shared between two people who loved each other deeply and were excited for the future.

[auspicioustidings]

Kinktober Day 20

Moniker: König, Mace Risk Level: Med-High. If one over-steps the other will likely resort to violence with him, but they will be distracted with one another in this case. Brief: Pseudo-incest roleplay, “fuck-or-die”, breeding Safeword: Refer to first brief.

I’m watcher today, John can’t be trusted to watch you call another man daddy - Laswell

“D-daddy?”

Your step-dad looked pained. The man sat in the chair in the shadows, Mace, had a gun resting lazily in his lap.

“It will be ok hasenkind, daddy won’t let anything bad happen to you.”

“Aww ain’t nothing bad going to happen to your little daughter. You’re just going to wreck her tight cunt like you’ve been desperate to for years” Mace said in a sing song.

No, he couldn’t mean it. This was too cruel, a bullet would be kinder. Daddy would never, ever hurt you. He had been there for you when the divorce got hard with you bio-parents, so much so that when his own divorce with your mother came around you had chosen to stay with him instead of go with her. He was a good man. A good father.

“You’re sick, I will not touch her.”

See? Good man. Good father.

“Oh?” Mace said with a grin as he moved the gun just enough to make it glint under the little light that it caught. “It’s your dick or my gun for that cute pussy, and mine don’t shoot blanks daddy.”

Your poor daddy was looking at you, pained by how the tears were running down your face. You really didn’t want to die. And you knew he would be gentle with you, you trusted him. Maybe Mace would give up when he realised that there was no way he would get hard enough to do the deed.

“It’s ok daddy” you said quietly, trying to be brave. “I… I can do it. I can take it.”

You couldn’t hold his gaze, your eyes fixed on the ground as you squeezed them shut to try and stop the flood of tears. Your boyfriend would understand you thought, he was so sweet to you and he would never hold this against you. He’d know you didn’t have a choice.

“You heard her daddy, she can take it.”

“Blutige Sau!” daddy yelled at him before he spoke in his soft voice, that one just for you when you were upset. “Ok hasenkind, ok. I’ll just… there is not lube, but there is coconut oil in the kitchen that will make it easier for you.”

“Ah ah ah” Mace said and your eyes shot up to him. “Let’s keep this au naturale big daddy. You want him to be lubed up sweetheart? Better put that little mouth to work.”

Oh God, you wanted to curl up and just go to sleep so you could wake up from this nightmare. Your daddy wasn’t like your sweet boyfriend, he was so much bigger. You’d have held out some hope that his colossal size didn’t mean he was huge everywhere, but you had seen him a few times. Not on purpose. The vent in the bathroom was all messed up so whenever either of you showered the door had to be left open a little to let the steam out.

You knew he was getting around to fixing it but he said it was going to be expensive and wouldn’t you like it better if the money went towards something nice? It wasn’t a big deal to have the door a little open. It just meant that sometimes you caught glimpses. He was big everywhere. And that was when he wasn’t hard.

If he tried to take you dry… but then you weren’t even sure you could fit your mouth around your daddy’s big cock. Your boyfriend’s was average and even then you gagged before you even got half way.

“O-ok” you said, peeking at your step-dad to find a smile that lay between pained and proud.

You were unsure but you wanted to get this over with, you wanted this man out of your house so you and daddy could curl up on the sofa together and he could just hold you as you cried. So you worried at your lip as you awkwardly got to your knees in front of him. He was so tall that you had to kneel up to be level with his groin.

“Will you take it out hasenkind?”

The request unsettled you. It would be better he do it you thought, but you didn’t want to make this situation anymore difficult for him than it already was so you didn’t argue. You just shakily undid the button of his jeans and pushed them down.

He wasn’t wearing underwear.

His cock bounced up against his stomach when it was released. There were alarm bells dully sounding in your head. He was so hard. Bigger than when you had seen him stepping out of the shower. Thick. So, so thick. A vein throbbed through his length and the tip leaked, his whole cock twitching in anticipation.

He was turned on. You must be missing something, maybe Mace had drugged him. Your daddy would never be aroused over the thought of you taking his throbbing cock in your wet mouth.

“Surprised sweetheart? Look at big daddy dripping for you like a stud in rut. Go ahead, taste him.”

You were frozen, eyes stuck on the weapon in front of you. He couldn’t possibly go inside you, he’d tear you apart, bludgeon your poor pussy to death with blunt force. But that was not your greatest fear. What if you leaned forward and when your tongue flicked out you liked how it felt? Liked how he tasted?

The hesitation cost you. After a few moments of still silence, Mace stood and walked over to jam the muzzle of his gun into your mouth without warning. You gagged and when he ripped it back out you swallowed a chip of one of your teeth.

“I don’t have all fucking day. The gun or daddy, pick one” Mace growled.

Daddy was still, you thought maybe he didn’t want to move or say anything to antagonise Mace when his gun was so close to you. You couldn’t look at him. You were too scared to look at him and see what exact emotion might be in his eyes.

You leaned forward.

He was so velvety and hot beneath your tongue. It felt different from with your boyfriend, so very different. Daddy was scolding hot and the feel of him was rougher. When you flattened you tongue out to see how much of the shaft it could cover you were reminded of his size, your little tongue covering barely any of his thickness.

You knelt up fully as you worked up to the head. The fluid was vicious and hot, sticking to the roof of your mouth as you lapped at it. He tasted so much more masculine than you were used to, so salty and earthy and bitter. The shame of knowing what your step-father tasted like made a hiccuped sob erupt from you and a hand went to the back of your head to capitalise on your opened mouth, pushing quickly as daddy fed you his big cock.

You didn’t know whose hand it was that had pushed you, but you were sure it must have been Mace. Daddy wouldn’t do that. He was being kind, feeding you so gently and slowly so you wouldn’t choke while he groaned in what you were sure was pained disgust at being forced to violate your mouth.

The only sounds for a while where the rhythmic wet pump of hard cock into hot mouth and the huffing moans from your daddy. You tried to ignore them. It wasn’t right, but then maybe he was thinking of someone else so he could get this all over with faster. That must be it.

Your jaw hurt and you were so embarrassed by all the drool sloppily dripping on your chin when he pulled his cock from your mouth.

“You are such a good girl for me. Get on the bed and spread your legs.”

For the first time your daddy was scaring you. He sounded unlike himself. But the ever present gun was still trained on you, Mace now back sitting in the chair in the corner watching, so you wiped at your wet eyes and climbed onto the bed.

As you lay on your back you kept your legs closed. If you opened them he would be able to see your panties under this dress. It was too much, too erotic and wrong.

“Spread your legs hasenkind.”

You shook your head, bottom lip wobbling with the effort to stop from breaking down.

“You don’t say no to me. I know you spread your legs wide for that weak boyfriend of yours. It was disappointing at first to know my beautiful hasenkind was such a whore under my roof, but it’s what you need isn’t it? It’s ok, papa knows. Now spread your fucking legs.”

The cool air hit your thighs and quivering cunt as your legs spread wide. Daddy could see you now, could see the way the thin cotton stuck to you with your shameful wetness.

“Fuck her daddy, wreck that tight cunt. Ruin her for that little boyfriend you never approved of.”

You wished Mace would shut up. He was riling daddy up, making him so much more aggressive with how he ripped your panties off.

“D-daddy please” you begged, scared by how he was already looming over you, positioning himself on the bed as he spit in his hand and pumped his cock so close to your pussy.

“Gonna let her go unpunished? She let that boy in her, let him take what should have been yours. You don’t teach her a lesson now and what’s to stop her spreading her legs for who comes calling next? Want them humping your little girl the way he’s been? Fucking their skinny cocks into her while she spills all her sweetness for them? Maybe one will breed her up, give you a grandkid.”

Daddy forced all of himself up inside you. He hadn’t prepped you at all, your pussy went from tight and fluttering to brutally stretched and trying to squeeze the invasion out.

“I’m sorry daddy! Please, please take it out! It’s too big!” you screamed to deaf ears.

The force of his violent thrusts knocked the breathe from your lungs, had your tits bouncing wildly and your legs straining with how he forced them impossibly wide for him.

“Fuck, take it. Take my fat cock in that pretty little cunt. It’s where you belong, on your back and stuffed full of papa! Going to make you a mama hasenkind, put a ring on your finger and keep you forever. Would you like that?”

You could only cry.

“Tell me hasenkind! Say it!” he barked, sounding so impossibly turned on by this as he slammed into you over and over.

“M-make me a mama! Please daddy, make me yours!”

It was not pleasurable as you knew pleasure. It was hot pain that sunk down to your marrow, claimed you from the inside out as his. The weight of him, the smell and sound. Hadn’t he always looked after you? You didn’t think anyone else would fit as well now. Your cunt was moulded to the shape of him, blessed to never be satisfied by another cock.

He grunted like an animal as he played roughly with your clit, waiting for you to give in and have your pretty cunt milk him properly.

“Take it!” he howled as he gripped bruises into your hips and slammed so deep you felt like he would come out of your throat.

You cried out as you bore down on him, your orgasm for his benefit. His seed was hot inside you. There was so much of it as he thrust hard a few more times, roaring in triumph as he flooded you. You felt used up when he pulled out and your hole oozed with him.

“There, so good for me, so perfect. Come here mama, let me hold you.”

König was cooing and fingering his cum back into your ruined hole. It hurt. You didn’t need to look at Mace to know he was furiously masturbating, you could hear him as he approached. König didn’t pay any mind when your face was covered in another man’s cum.

He seemed eager to continue with this, to keep you here as his little innocent step-daughter that he meant to wife. You weren’t sure you could really cope with that, this had already been intense and uncomfortable. The word red hovered in your mind, but the worst part was over, now he was only lavishing praises in a language you didn’t understand into your ear while Mace tucked himself away, gave you an appraising look and left.

You did not want to be alone with König like this. He may not be the same brand of unhinged violence as the likes of Nikto, but something about his intensity frightened you.

Thankfully you were only left in his arms for a few moments when the door opened with Kate there to collect you, Mace at her back. There was a tense moment when König's arms tightened and it seemed he was intent on keeping you, but it passed and he released you to her.

You could hardly walk. Fuck you hoped nobody wanted anything rough tomorrow.

[mushyblushyredhead]

TickleTober 2024 🎃

♡ Aug’s TkTober2024

Day 10: Spidering

~ Alien AU ~

Ler!facehugger

Lee!Kane

Word Count: 4.2K

Warning: This is a tickle fic, and a sillier more fluffier spinoff of the Alien universe. If that’s not your cup of tea, don’t read. But! If you want to read a more sillier ending of the Nostromo crew where nobody dies and Kane is fine, then by all means, enjoy! :3

Additional warning: some language & spoilers ⚠️

In Space, No One Can Hear You...Laugh?

Groaning, the previously comatose executive officer, Kane, fluttered his eyes open as he finally came to. His entire body felt stiff and heavy, like he had woken up from cryosleep again. His head ached as his eyes struggled to adjust to the bright overhead lights above him.

Once he finally did, he slowly looked around, observing his surroundings. The air smelled sterile; the room was decorated in all white; medical equipment and tools littered the counters, and a monitor sat nearby displaying his vitals. He was in the med bay.

Rubbing his eyes with another groan, Kane struggled to replay the recent events that just took place. His memory was foggy, but little bits of what happened were starting to come back to him. He remembered the Nostromo crew took a detour from their previous course in space to an unknown planet, investigating what seemed to be an SOS. Upon arrival, Kane went off to investigate on his own before encountering what looked to be giant eggs housing possible alien life.

The last thing he remembered was curiously getting close to one before…something jumped out, and made him black out.

Kane shuddered at the memory. Whatever jumped out of that alien egg and tried to latch onto his helmet and face couldn’t have been friendly. It was a miracle he came back in one piece and was still alive.

An unsettling realization suddenly dawned upon him. What if something did happen to him while he was comatose? Surely that alien life form wouldn’t try to latch onto him unless it was planning to do something to him, right?

Oh no. He panicked, sitting up and frantically looked around the room. What if…they brought the creature back on board with them? The whole crew could be in danger!

Or worse…what if the alien infected him with something that could spread to the rest of the crew?!

Kane’s hands frantically shot down to his torso, trying to feel around for any abnormalities that could already be showing. The monitor beeped rapidly as his breathing and heartbeat increased.

He jumped at the sound of the med bay doors sliding open. The rest of the crew rushed in, no doubt suddenly concerned as soon as they saw his vitals change drastically.

“Oh, you’re finally awake,” navigator Lambert spoke. “You were out for quite some time.”

“H-How…How long was I out?” Kane groggily asked.

“About sixteen hours, actually,” warrant officer Ripley answered as their science officer, Ash, handed Kane a cup of water to drink. “We were worried you wouldn’t wake up, but we rushed in here as soon as Ash alerted us of your breathing and heart rate increasing erratically. Are you okay?”

“I-I think so?” Kane said in between sips. “I can barely remember what happened but—wait.” He set his cup down nearby, looking around the room again. “Where’s the creature? What happened to it?”

The Nostromo crew exchanged weary glances, as if unsure how to answer that. Then, Captain Dallas spoke up. “When we found you unconscious back on the planet, the creature was still attached to your helmet. It…looked like it was trying to penetrate your suit. We carried you back here to the med bay—despite Ripley’s protests about quarantining over here,” he gestured to said officer, who merely rolled her eyes in response. “Hoping we could get it off you, but the moment we tried, it grew aggressive and scurried off. We’ve been trying to find it ever since.”

Kane’s eyes widened. “You mean it’s still somewhere on board?!”

Dallas sighed. “Yes. But we will find it. In the meantime, you still need to rest.”

“Are you kidding? How am I supposed to rest knowing that alien thing is somewhere loose on this ship?”

“Settle down. We still have a job to do here, so go ahead and rest up. Ash’s orders.” Dallas gestured to the monitor. “But don’t hesitate to beep for us if you need anything.” He got a firm nod in response. “Alright, everyone. Fan out and find this thing, pronto. Remember to keep tabs over the comm channel.” The crew nodded and headed off. Then the doors slid shut.

It was quiet in the med bay again. After just waking up from being comatose by an unknown alien creature, the thought of going back to sleep frightened Kane. It was unsettling. He kept checking all around the berth, afraid the creature was going to jump out of nowhere like it did when he curiously peeked inside the opened egg earlier. Which, now that he thought about it, was probably not the most smartest thing he should have done.

After he checked around the berth for the ninth time, he laid back down with a sigh. “Paranoia,” he muttered tiredly. “Captain was right; I really do need to rest.”

He shifted into a more comfortable position before shutting his eyes. A minute must’ve passed before his ears picked up the faint sound of shuffling nearby. Kane’s eyes shot open. Could that have been..? No, no, it couldn’t.

There it was again: sounds of scuttling, only faster. Kane shot up, eyes with wide panic. There, in the corner of the room, stood the dreaded alien creature. It looked like some kind of mutated spider; long human-like fingers shot out of its sides and front while a long feathery tail flicked around inquisitively.

The alien seemed to pose no threat at first, merely observing the visibly frightened human in front of it. But the second it spider-crawled towards the human, they scooted away with a startled yelp.

The alien halted in its tracks, chittering in confusion at the reaction. With one swift big leap, it landed right on the berth, making the poor already terrified officer shriek in fear. The creature paid no attention to this human’s frightened noises as it simply crawled towards them, ready to engage in the activity it was infamously known for.

Kane whimpered and froze in fear as the alien crawled up his chest towards his face. This is it. He shut his eyes, preparing for the worst when he suddenly relaxed as a wave of relief hit him. His fear instantly vanished as soon as the alien wrapped its finger-like talons around the side of his face and its long tail around his neck like a scarf.

Was this thing seriously trying to tranquilize him? Render him helpless so it could do something far more sinister?

Kane tried to fight against the feeling, but the more he struggled, the quicker the effect took over. He eventually succumbed to the feeling, laying back down, completely vulnerable and at this creature’s mercy.

The alien immediately detached itself and began crawling around the human’s torso, tittering curiously. Kane merely twitched at the weird feeling of this thing’s crawly legs all over him. But his frown suddenly turned wobbly as the alien’s skittering legs brushed over rather sensitive spots on his torso.

Kane struggled to muffle the bubbling laughter. No, he refused to give in. Tickling, seriously?! He thought fiercely. This is stupid! What kind of—oh NO!

The dam finally broke as the alien found a particularly bad spot on this human’s left side of ribs. It began spidering rapidly against the spot, adding the rest of its claws into the mix.

“N-No! Nohohoho!! S-StOHOhohohop!!” Kane giggled madly. “Thihihis ihihihisn’t funny!!” He began squirming on the berth, legs kicking as the surprise tickles didn’t stop.

The last thing he would have expected this terrifyingly looking creature to do was this. As grateful and relieved as the executive officer was for not being a victim of this alien’s unspeakable horrors, he wondered why of all things would this alien resort to tickling? What kind of alien race were these things?

He didn’t have time to ponder about it because the alien switched tactics; now it wrapped all eight of its long fingers against the human’s chest and rapidly dug into his ribcage.

The poor officer arched his back with an uncharacteristic squeal as his front and back ribs were now being assaulted with rapid tickles. ‘StAHAHAHAhap!! T-Thahahat’s WOHOHOHOHORSE!!” His squirming and kicking increased as he tried to dislodge the alien off his chest. He tried rolling onto his front, squirming side to side, even trying to pry the spider-like creature off with his own hands, but it was no use. This alien had an insane death grip!

Even with some of his strength already being sapped from the tickles, the creature would not budge even as he pulled with all his might. He couldn’t even loosen one of its long fingers. Kane kept trying; tugging and tugging at its claws with all his might.

But that proved to be a big mistake as the alien suddenly emitted a low hiss. It quickly shot its two front claws under the human’s arms, digging in ruthlessly.

Kane let out an even louder shriek, collapsing back onto the berth as loud laughter poured out of him. “NAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAAAAA!! OKAAAAHAHAHAY!! OKAHAHAHAY!! I WOHOHON’T TRY TO PR—HAHAHA—PRY YOU AHAHAHAHA—OFF!!” Clearly, this alien did not want to be pried off while it was tickling this human astronaut to pieces!

Instinctively, Kane slammed his arms down to his sides, but that did nothing except trap the still wiggling claws underneath.

“PLEAHEEHEEHEEHEEHEASE!! PLEASE!! I’M SOHOHOHORRY!!” As a last resort, he frantically batted at the alien’s…head? In hopes that it would have mercy on him.

Fortunately, the alien seeemed to understand as it slowed its fingers down to a stop. It tittered and chirped and it watched the human lay limply, panting and breathing heavily. As soon as his breathing returned to normal, he slowly lifted his head up.

The alien softly tittered, flicking its tail all innocently. Kane shot a glare at it. “What the hell?! What the hell was that? First, you give me such a fright and render me unconscious, and then you…attack me in a childish manner like if I am a child!”

Huffing, Kane sat up and brushed the alien off of him. “I wake up from a coma just to scold an alien like a dingbat,” he muttered. “This is what I get for smoking too many sticks.” He slid off from the berth and made a move for the doors when the alien immediately jumped in front of him, blocking his path.

“Move,” Kane barked. The alien immediately hissed like an angry snake in response. Startled by the reaction, Kane backed away until his back hit the wall. As soon as the alien rapidly crawled towards him, Kane yelped and made a run for it. But he couldn’t get more than a few steps before the alien would reappear in front of him again.

With nowhere else to go and unable to get close to the mad bay doors, Kane hopped on top of the berth again. Okay, maybe not the wisest decision, but what else was there to do? Now he was starting to regret agitating the creature.

But strangely enough, Kane noticed how he didn’t feel fear in the moment. He did feel something as the alien was chasing him, but it wasn’t fear. It was something else. He couldn’t quite understand, but it felt like…giddy anticipation. Now? Seriously? Well, the alien didn’t seem like it was going to actually hurt him, would it?

That one split second of being distracted by his own thoughts caused Kane to be unaware of the creeping alien right behind him, ready to pounce.

It leapt with arms wide and landed right on the human’s back, making him let out a shriek that could be mistaken for a female’s. It wasted no time wrapping its fingers around Kane’s torso; three on each side of his ribcage, and two on either side of his neck. It immediately dug and wriggled its claws with no mercy, making poor Kane burst into screechy laughter once more.

“AAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAA!! NOHOHO!! NAAAAAHAHAHAHAO!! NOHOHOT AGAAAAAHAHAHAIN!!”

Kane thrashed like a fish out of water against the berth. The claws grazing his neck made him scrunch both shoulders and giggle like a maniac. The claws spidering ruthlessly against his ribs made him squeal helplessly like a little kid. And when one of those claws happened to claw against his back ribs, he arched his back with another high-pitched squeal that the alien found utterly adorable.

As if that wasn’t bad enough, the alien kept switching from spidering its second set of claws from Kane’s highest ribs to his underarms, back and forth, so he could never get used to the feeling.

“STAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAP!! CUHUHUT IHIHIHIT AHAHAHA—OUT ALREADYHEEHEEHEE!!”

It didn’t help that Kane only had his underclothes on. The thin white tank top he had on did absolutely nothing to protect him from this alien’s merciless tickles. In fact, all it seemed to do was make him even more vulnerable; a huge advantage for the alien.

Lucky him.

The alien paused its torturous assault one last time before it would go for the final kill. Kane exhaustedly flopped against his back, the creature still attached, as he tried to get the air back into his lungs. He was surprised the weight of his body didn’t deter the alien at all, or even crush it.

After several long minutes, his breathing returned to normal, but his cheeks were still dusted with a light pink hue. Kane slowly sat up, huffing in annoyance at the feeling of the alien’s limbs securely hugging his torso again. It chittered excitedly, like a puppy wanting to play.

“Alright, get off of me,” Kane firmly ordered as he tried to looses its fingers. “You’ve had your—weird and torturous fun, but I need you to release me now so I can alert Dallas that I’ve found our…guest.”

The alien stubbornly clung on tighter, refusing to budge. “C’mon…let…go!” Kane grunted through gritted teeth. It let out an angry hiss again. Kane sighed. “Dammit, you’re even worse than Jonesy!”

With one last attempt to pull it off, the alien decided enough was enough, and proceeded to tickle the human again. Kane shrieked as the claws started to spider and stroke up and down his ribs again.

“N-Nononono stop! StOHOhop! I dihihidn’t mean ihihihit!”

But the alien wasn’t convinced. It pulled its eight claws away, luring Kane into a false sense of security that made him sigh in relief before plunging back in, tickling mercilessly.

Kane screeched, flopping back onto his back as those evil claws wiggled against his neck, underarms, ribs, and even reach in front to spider against his stomach. No matter which way he squirmed or how much he flailed and kicked, he could not do a thing to protect his ticklish spots.

“STAAAAAAHAHAHAP PLEAHEEHEEHEEHEEHEASE!! I SWEA—HAHAHAAAA—SWEAR I DIHIHIHIDN’T MEAHEEHEEHEAN IHIHIHIT!!”

Then, just to be extra mean, the alien extended its long feathery tail and slipped it under Kane’s shirt, rapidly brushing the sensitive skin underneath.

Kane let out an ear-piercing screech that he would deny for the rest of his life as he felt something soft and feathery brush back and forth against his bare belly. It tickled horribly!

“AAAAAAAEEEHEHEHAHAHAAAAA!! WHAHAHAT THE HEHEHEHELL IHIHIS THAHAHAT?!!” Kane dared to peek one tear blurred eye open, but immediately shut it as the alien’s evil tail slowly traced up and down one side before swishing circles across his belly, and then tracing the other side.

Could this get any worse?!

A sharp tase to the sides, another squeal. Rapid digging under the arms, more shrieky cackles and protests. More quick pinches to the ribs, another funny sounding squeal. Sneaky feathery brushes over the navel, another screech followed by a snort.

This was maddening; this was torture! This was…surprisingly fun?! Wait, what?

Despite all the protests, and flailing, and laughing, there was something oddly enjoyable about this that made it feel fun. Perhaps it was the playfulness of all this. This alien spider thing clearly did not intend to hurt him from the beginning. Was that its whole purpose form the start? To lure somebody close enough just to engage in this silly play?

As secretly fun as Kane was having, he was also reaching his limit. He could feel his entire face was on fire from how much he was blushing. His limbs had given up trying to protect himself. And his sides and stomach were already aching from how much he was laughing. Even his chest hurt; it felt like it was going to burst any moment.

“PLEEEEEEAHEEHEEHEEHEEHEASE!!! JUHUHUST STAHAHAHAHAP ALREADY!!! I-I REAHEEHEEHEALLY CAHAHAHAN’T TAAAAA—TAHAHAHAKE ANYMOHOHOHOHORE!!!”

Hearing the desperate plea, the alien finally showed mercy and ceased its tickly torture. Kane laid like a limp starfish on the berth. He was too tired to even lift a finger. His chest heaved as he struggled to get the air back into his lungs.

The alien noticed how visibly exhausted this human looked after its little attack. So it decided to help the way its’ kind helped all their victims after they laughed themselves silly.

Chittering softly, it crawled towards Kane’s face again, making him yelp. “W-Wait, wait! Not again, please!” He didn’t want to be the victim of another tickle attack. Well…maybe not right this second.

Instead, the alien wrapped its legs around Kane’s face in a loose hug, while its tail wrapped around his neck again.

Okaaay, this was awkward. He wanted to ask what this creature was doing, but his words were muffled by its furry underside. His question was immediately answered as he felt the air return back to his lungs; he was no longer panting or out of breath. His sides and stomach were no longer sore, and he even felt his body temperature return to normal.

When that was done, the alien released its hold and perched right on top of his chest. It chittered and nudged him as of to ask, “are you okay now?”

Kane slowly nodded. “Um…yes. Terrific.”

The creature let out a satisfied chirp before making itself comfy on Kane’s chest, tucking its legs in just like a cat would when loafing. It wrapped its tail around itself, softly purring in content.

Kane rolled his eyes in disbelief. “Are you shitting me? You’re the one tired after I laughed myself to tears and near death?” The alien just chirped in response.

Kane sighed and let himself relax against the berth once more. The med bay doors suddenly slid open, getting his attention. The Nostromo crew walked in, wither with wide eyes or relieved smiles. And were they…stifling laughs? Well, everyone except Ash.

Kane frowned as he sat up, making the alien slide down into his lap. “Where the hell have you guys been this whole time?”

“Trying to find the damn alien, duh,” Parker, one of their engineers, replied while biting back a smile. “But uh, heh, it seems like you already found it.”

“Hang on a minute.” Kane scanned the crew with a suspicious glare. “Were you all aware of what I was painfully enduring…this whole time?!”

“Well, I wouldn’t call it ‘painful,’” Lambert timidly pointed out, a knowing smile visible on her lips.

“So you guys did know!”

“Now, now, hold on, let us explain,” said Ripley, biting back a smile of her own. “We were trying to find the creature. We searched everywhere, but we couldn’t find it. That’s when we heard you screaming, and we rushed back, afraid that you were in danger. But when we saw what was going on…”

“We saw you weren’t actually in any real danger,” Lambert concluded.

Kane was in disbelief. “So you guys just stood there and watched?! And didn’t think to fucking help me?!”

The Nostromo crew couldn’t hold back their chuckles. “Oh c’mon, you whiner,” Parker teased. “It’s not like you needed our help anyway.”

“And besides,” Dallas couldn’t help but point out. “It’s not like you did much to try and make it stop, either.”

Kane could feel his cheeks grow warm as he knew exactly what he meant by that, but pretended not to know. “What are you talking about?”

“Don’t play dumb, Kane,” Ripley smirked. “You didn’t really put up much of a fight against that alien. But if it makes you feel any better,” she gave a comforting squeeze to her embarrassed crew mate’s shoulder. “I think you have a really nice laugh. I don’t think we’ve ever heard you laugh before, Kane, but it was really sweet to hear.”

Everyone murmured in agreement, which just made Kane blush even more. He covered his face with his hands and groaned. “Ughhhh…you guys are all assholes. The absolute fucking worst.”

The crew laughed again. “And we love you too, Kane,” Dallas patted his shoulder. Then his face grew serious as he eyed the still sleeping alien in Kane’s lap. “Now, about our guest…what do you all suppose we should do about it?”

“Well, we’ve already seen that it poses no threat to any of us, as Kane demonstrated earlier,” Parker pointed out, making said executive officer bristle at his comment. “But I still think we should contain it until we can know more about it.”

Kane seemed hesitant about that decision. “Is that really necessary, Parker? Like you said, this creature posed no threat to me as soon as I woke, and still isn’t threatening any of us right now.” He gestured to said creature curled up in his lap, faintly purring. “As silly as it sounds, I think this creature is harmless, and we have nothing to worry about. Its only purpose seems to be luring people close just to give them a thorough tickling. Now, I don’t know about you guys, but I think I’d rather have that than some kind of dangerous alien eating my face off, or implanting eggs in my chest or something. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“But wait,” Lambert broke the silence. “What about the SOS we received earlier when we found this creature? Couldn’t that still be a red flag that this thing is dangerous?”

“Actually, I looked into that a while ago,” Ripley answered. “Despite Ash’s protests for me not to, I got MU-TH-UR to decipher the transmission. Yes, it was a warning, but not the kind you would think or should panic about. The transmission explained how these creatures originated from a distant planet, and were supposedly engineered to be deadly organisms that would bring the extinction of other planets. However, something didn’t go right like they wanted, and the SOS was warning any travelers to be on the lookout for these aliens because they escaped from the crashed spaceship we encountered earlier.”

“Sooo there’s no real danger?” Brett, their other engineer, piped up.

“None,” said Ripley. “While I do agree with Parker and we should find out more about this creature, we really don’t have to worry about our safety with this thing on board. It’s actually harmless, from what I read on the transmission.”

“All right then, I guess that settles it.” Dallas turned back to look at Kane. “Looks like you’ve got yourself a roommate when we go back into stasis.”

Kane stuttered. “I—what?! Dallas, you can’t be serious..!”

Dallas gave him an apologetic smile that Kane could see right through that it wasn’t sympathetic. “Actually, I am. We’re going to need to go back into stasis again soon, and I think we’d all feel more at ease if this creature wasn’t running around loose on our ship while we’re asleep.”

“I-I get that, but—”

“And you heard Ripley, this thing’s not dangerous. And, it already seems to have grown attached to you in such a short time.” The captain suddenly smirked. “What, are you afraid that it might go after you again while you sleep?”

“That’s exactly why I don’t want this thing in my cryopod!”

The crew laughed again, but Kane wasn’t so amused. A devious idea suddenly crossed his mind. Time for a little revenge. “Oh, sure, you guys can laugh about it. But wait until you’re all suddenly on the receiving end, and we’ll see who’ll be laughing now!”

Kane gently nudged the alien awake, then gestured to the rest of his crew mates. “Hey, look, little chap…more targets!”

The alien chirped and squeaked with delight, seeing a whole buffet’s worth of new victims. It positioned itself to pounce, tail whipping around playfully as it was ready to claim its next ticklish victim.

As soon as the Nostromo crew noticed the crouching alien, they immediately stopped laughing. Everyone except Ash and Kane started backing away awkwardly. It wasn’t until the alien leapt forward that the crew shrieked in unison, and dashed out of the med bay.

Now it was Kane’s turn to laugh. “Let’s see how you astro-jerks like it!”

The alien suddenly ran back inside, making a crawl towards Kane again. He stuttered and held his hands out in defense. “H-Hey, hey, wait. Why are you going after me again? Go after the others! No…no! N-No! NonononoNO! Not again! No!” Kane dashed out of the med bay, the alien skittering after him once more while chirping mischievously.

Now alone in the med bay, Ash scowled as he heard the rest of the Nostromo crew running back and forth between floors, their distant laughter echoing. He gets sent to go undercover to retrieve a supposed deadly alien to be the perfect weapon, only to find this? An alien tickle monster?

“Tch, the fucking Weyland Yutani corporation needs to get their facts right next time. ‘Perfect organism’ my ass.”

THE END :3

[thegreenthepeacetheorange]

I decided to write this little Everlark piece, based on this post of mine yesterday:

It happens suddenly. First the thunder, then the rain. It shatters against the roof and the windows, drowning out all other sounds. Peeta grips the back of his chair and his eyes take on that distant look that tells me he’s been transported back to the darker times, back to the Capitol. I sit still, unsure of what to do, staring at his bowl of lamb stew that now sits on our wooden table untouched as little tremors take over his body. What can I do? I want to go over, to wrap my arms around him, but he’s said before that sometimes he just needs time to himself – so I don’t. After half an hour, I’m about to stand up and go around the table to him when he gets up shakily and says he needs some time to himself. He walks away, mumbling something about water and Johanna and screams.

I sit tense in my seat, my own bowl gone cold, and stare at the rain clattering against the window. Peeta had opened the window earlier in the day, to let in some fresh air. Because I’d refused to go out today. Because it had been too difficult to even get out of bed. Until Peeta had scooped me up in his arms and carried me downstairs half an hour ago, despite my weak protests. He said he’d not gone out of his way to get this lamb stew for it to be wasted. Now the rain drips in through the top opening in the window and pools on the ledge. I’m reminded of the rain dripping in through the cave in the first Games. Huddling against Peeta in the sleeping bag, trying to absorb his own warmth into myself as the cave grew colder around us. My inept attempts at flirting with the good-natured boy with those blue eyes that settled and unsettled me. Those kisses that twisted my insides with something warm.

Before I know it, I’m up and moving. Pushing the chairs away from the table, putting our bowls into the little oven to reheat. I muster up all the strength I can to push the table closer to the sofa that sits a few metres away. Once it’s close enough, I grab the blanket off the sofa, draping it over the back of the sofa and the table, creating a sort of canopy, like the one Peeta made to protect me from the rain in the cave. Peeta’s art books prove to be sturdy enough to weigh down the blanket corners on the table to keep it from slipping off. I then strip the sofa of its cushions and carefully place them under the canopy and the table, creating a soft floor we can sit on. More blankets thrown in on top. The lamps from the kitchen counter and outside in the hallway then make their way into my den, casting a soft glow inside.

I’ve just retrieved the bowls from the oven and placed them inside my little makeshift cave when Peeta comes back into the room. He looks weary, tired. Once he sees me bent down under the blanket, the bowls of steaming lamb stew, his face takes on a quizzical look. “What—” “I thought maybe we needed to… escape to our cave for a little while,” I hold out my hand, inviting him to join me. He raises his eyebrows at me, ruffles his hand through his wavy blonde hair before he crouches down and follows me under the canopy. I snuggle in closer to him, throwing one of the blankets over us, and then another one to make sure Peeta’s legs are covered. I carefully place our bowls on our laps.

“Eat up,” I say, looking up into his tired eyes. He gives me a soft smile, the kind that always melts my insides with its warmth, before he picks up his spoon. We eat quietly, listening to the rain pouring down outside. Periodically, Peeta scoops some of the dried plums out of his own bowl and adds them into mine. I accept them with a smile, realising just how hungry I’ve been after a day of staying huddled in my own bed. After we’ve fully emptied our bowls, Peeta reaches up outside our den to place them onto the table above. He settles back inside, stretching out to lie down, his head propped up by cushions. I instinctively lie down next to him, draping my leg over his and resting my head against his chest, feeling its steady rise and fall. His arms tighten around me and I can feel his breath tickling the top of my head as he bends his head down into my hair. “So… how about that kiss?’ I laugh before I make myself rise up enough to see his grinning face, look into those blue eyes that have come back from the distant place to seek out my face. I feel his lips smile against my own as I lean down to kiss him.

[acewritesfics]

Pretty Blue Eyes | Jay Halstead

⚠️ THIS IS A REPOST FROM MY MAIN BLOG @/DLMLUFICS. UNFORTUNATELY, I HAVE TO DO IT THIS WAY. MORE INFO IN MY PINNED POST.

Pairing: Jay Halstead x Reader

Request: From anon

Fic Type: imagine

Warnings: Fluff. Arguing. Formally titled those pretty blue eyes.

Word Count: 1,148

JAY HALSTEAD MASTERLIST || TAG LIST SIGN-UP

A loud knock at her apartment door interrupts Y/N from the movie she's just begun watching. Sighing, she sets the freshly popped popcorn on the coffee table and walks towards the door, wrapping her cardigan tightly around herself. When she opens the door, she is surprised to see Jay standing there, an angry expression on his face. He storms into her flat before she can say anything. 

She shuts the door as she turns around to follow him inside her small living area, confused and worried for her partner. 

He was in a good mood when she left the district earlier this evening, laughing and joking with her. She can't think of anything that would have made him angry in the time between then and now. He told her that he was going home to do nothing for the rest of the night. 

"Is everything okay?" She speaks up softly, unsure of where his head's at right now. 

"No, it isn't," his voice is filled with resentment and anger as he glares at her. She never imagined she'd be the one to face his unsettling glare he one gives suspects when he isn't taking any of their crap. 

When he reveals what he's angry about, she is overcome with guilt. "Voight just informed me that you've asked to be transferred to the homicide unit at district 27." 

'Shit,' is the first thing that comes to her mind. She wasn't sure how she was going to tell him that she had requested the transfer, but she didn't expect him to find out through Hank, who was refusing to sign the paperwork. S Shaking her head and lifting her palm to her face, she massages her temples, feeling her own anger at her boss. She should have anticipated him to going to Jay to persuade her to stay with intelligence. 

"Were you planning on telling me before you left?" His irritation was still evident in his voice.  

"Of course, I was," she tells him, her voice raising slightly. "Hank is refusing to sign the papers, so I don't know what's going to happen." 

"He doesn't want you to leave, and I don't want you to leave either," he confesses, his voice also rising. 

"Well, I have to," she frowns, her arms folded across her chest as if attempting to create a barrier between them, knowing he won't stop there. 

"Did I do something to make you no longer want to work with me?" 

"Of course not," she says, shaking her head. "You're the best partner I've ever had, and I trust you more than anyone. You've always had my back; you're honest, entertaining, and loyal. Even when you're being a pain in the ass with your Halstead sass." 

"So, what's the problem?" He shouts in frustration, his eyes still filled with anger and confusion. 

"The problem is…" she stops to take a long breath in and out, trying not to become overly emotional. "No one else can make me feel the way you do, and I hate that." 

Jay's stare changes to a shocked expression in an instant, his blue eyes wide and his mouth slightly ajar as his body is frozen in place. When he does not respond, she continues talking. 

"I hate it because I had one rule: never fall in love with someone I work with, especially my partner," she reveals. 

Everyone was aware of her 'no dating in the workplace' rule and where it stemmed from. Fresh out of the academy she'd been paired up with a cop who had left the academy two years before her. She'd fallen hard and fast for the guy only to find out he was engaged to a civilian. She broke it off as soon as she found out, but it was messy, and she ended up transferring to district 21. It took her three years to move up to intelligence where she was partnered up with Jay.  

The day that she met him, she knew she was screwed. After a week of working with Jay, she asked Hank, who she'd known since she was a kid since he worked with her father, if she could be partnered with someone else. Hank refused, having seen how well the two work together.  

Y/N tried her hardest to put distance between her and Jay but as they got to know each other on a personal level as well as a professional level, she knew she couldn't stop it from happening and all she could do was try and deny it. It seemed to be working out for her until Jay got shot multiple times in a shootout with a drug cartel two months ago. He almost lost his life, and it terrified her. Knowing she couldn't be with him, because she thinks he doesn't feel the same and even if he did there was Hank's dislike for in-house romances, she thought her only option to move past these feelings would be to transfer out and put actual distance between them. 

"You came along and drew me in with those pretty blue eyes and that smug little smirk," she laments, her arms at her sides. "And then I got to know you and worked with you, and you were so frustrating but also so kind, protective, and caring. "I was in love with you before I realized it, no matter how hard I tried not to be." 

Jay wraps one arm around her waist and the other on her face. His soft pink lips crash into hers in a passionate kiss as he pulls her body up against him. As she leans into the kiss, Y/N's eyelids close and her arms go over his shoulders as she gives into the feelings, she's tried so hard to deny. 

When the kiss is over, they are both out of breath. He kisses her on the forehead, leaving his lips to linger there for a moment.  "Don't go through with the transfer." 

"I have to," she sighs, smoothing his coat and concentrating on that so she doesn't immerse herself in those blue eyes she adores. "You know Hank dislikes workplace romances." 

"As I said before, Hank doesn't want you to go," he reminds her. 

"When he finds out about this, he could change his mind." 

"I doubt it," he says, taking a step back to look at her. 

"What are we going to do?" She wonders aloud, a little unsure. 

"Talk to Voight, keep it professional at work, and take it one day at a time," he says, as if he's given it much consideration. "But right now, I'm going to tell you that I love you and kiss you again," he adds, dipping his head to the side as he leans in. 

"I love you, too," she murmurs as their lips meet again in a kiss, this time softer and more tender than the first. 

TAGGED: TAGGED: @mrspeacem1nusone - @halsteadbrasil - @allisonargent144 - @rainydayteacups - @alexxavicry

To join my tag list, fill out this form: TAG LIST SIGN-UP

[eliciana]

SAGAU SERIES: Misunderstandings

-> Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 (here)| ...

Masterlist

Blog Navigation

____________________________________

Tw: Sagau, Cult!Au

Reader: GN!Reader, Creator!Reader, God!Reader

Characters: Reader, (mentioned) Aquilo, Unknown voice, Traveller, Paimon

Note: Revised and corrected spelling mistakes

____________________________________

Weeks have passed since you have been practicing to wield your newly aquired powers. Sure, it was tough in the beginning but, you persevered. Aquilo and your new friends were always beside you, their unwavering support and encouragement kept you going, ensuring you took care of yourself along the way.

Each day followed a familiar routine - waking up, preparing meals, tidying the house, practicing magic, resting, and repeating the cycle. This had become the rhythm of your life since you learned to control your abilities.

Now, as you lay on your bed, your gaze fixed on the ceiling, your mind wandered. Dreaming of your crush-/jk. You were actually just thinking, thinking your whole life.

[What's on your mind?], a familiar, and ever so mysterious voice echoed in your thoughts. You paused, then responded with a sigh, "Nothing... no. Actually, I'm just thinking. Thinking of when I will be able to completely master my powers and return to the surface once more."

Your sigh broke the tranquil silence of the room. Beside you, Aquilo slumbered peacefully, his expressions serene as if he were lost in a pleasant dream. "How envious," you muttered, wishing you could experience the same restful slumber. You remembered the previous nights were you wake up in the middle of the night gasping for air.

In contrast, your own nights had been plagued by unsettling dreams – fragments of memories that seemed to piece together, yet remained elusive. Whenever you tried to recall the details, a sharp headache would wash over you, leaving you unable to grasp the true meaning behind these dreams that visit you.

[Pardon me but, may I ask why you think that you should master your powers before resurfacing? I'm intrigued, truly.] The mysterious voice in your mind spoke up once more, interrupting your thoughts.

You paused, considering how to respond. "Hm? Uh. To be completely honest with you, I train my powers so that I can protect myself." You replied then shrugged. [Protect yourself from what?] the voice inquired.

You furrowed your brow, unsure of how to answer. "Why should I even tell you this? I don't even know who – or what – you are. You just appeared in my mind one day, and I've simply accepted you as a companion, though I'm not sure if you're real or just a creation of my own imagination."

[Oh wait, did I forget to mention that?] the voice said coyly. "Duh, if I knew, why would I be asking?" you retorted, a touch of annoyance creeping into your whispered tone, mindful not to disturb the sleeping Aquilo beside you.

[Now, now. Don't get angry at me. I should not have assumed you were aware of what I am.] it said in a gentle voice. "The obvious," you muttered under your breath.

[Tsk. Whatever,] The voice clicked its tongue dismissively. "Hey, did you just 'tsk' at me?" you whispered sharply, keeping your voice low. [I'm actually a soul fragment of yours.] it revealed. "Did you just ignore me- wait what?" you said, now thoroughly confused. A soul fragment? What's that?

[I'm a soul fragment of yours,] The voice repeated. You angrily replied, "Yeah! I heard you the first time. But what do you mean by soul fragment? I don't understand that part." Sitting up straight, you waited for the voice to elaborate, but it remained silent.

*Silence.*

"Hello? Are you still there?" you pressed, whispering into the air.

[Oh, sorry about that,] the voice chimed in, a teasing lilt to its tone. [I dozed off for a moment. Teehee~]

"Don't you 'teehee~' me!" you hissed, your patience wearing thin. The sheer audacity to even 'teehee~' at your face. You can even picture it making a ridiculous face that you could mistake for a punching bag in your mind. If it even had a body, you would definitely punch it with how it's playing with you.

[Come on~ Don't you want to know what I meant by me being a soul fragment of yours?] the voice giggled, its playful tone piquing your curiosity. [Oh wait, let me correct myself.] it continued, the lightness in its voice now replaced by a more serious tone. [I'm not a soul fragment of yours but we are both soul fragments of THEM.] it said, but now it's tone was gone of the once playfullness and was now replaced by seriousness. You felt a sense of unease settle within you as the voice's tone shifted.

"THEM?" you whispered, the question hanging in the air, your brow furrowed in confusion and concern. "What do you mean by THEM?" The voice remained silent for a moment, as if carefully considering its next words. [That is a story for another time,] it finally replied, its tone unreadable and leaving you with more questions than answers. You let out a frustrated sigh.

You opened your mouth to press the voice further, but the sudden stirring beside you made you pause. Aquilo was beginning to stir, his peaceful slumber seemingly disturbed. Glancing over at him, you decided to let the matter rest for now, not wanting to risk waking him. With a deep breath, you settled back onto the bed, your mind swirling with the implications of the voice's words. "THEM," you mouthed silently, your gaze fixed on the ceiling.

Just who or what is THEM? What did you have to do with THEM? What is your connection with THEM? The questions swirling in your mind weighed heavily as you tried to piece together what the voice had mentioned. You closed your eyes, pushing the unanswered questions aside for now and sleep. You are too tired to even properly form an answer.

____________________________________

Under the veil of night, a shadowy figure darted silently through the forest, their movements swift and agile. Barely discernible in the darkness, they weaved between the trees with uncanny precision, leaving no trace of their passing. Emerging into a small clearing, the figure's features remained obscured, their gaze sweeping the area.

“Are you sure that this is where they rest?” a high-pitced voice whispered urgently. The figure responded with a curt nod. "But I see no buildings here," the voice continued, a hint of uncertainty creeping in. "How can you be certain?"

"Quiet, Paimon!" the figure snapped, a note of irritation in their tone. Raising a hand, they pressed it against their chest. "I can feel our connection here, the strongest it has been. They are near, I am sure of it."

"But Traveller-" a fried egg was chucked to Paimon's mouth the instant she opened her mouth. "Shh!" the Traveller warned Paimon again.

____________________________________

Taglist: None

A/n: hi guysss. sorry for the late upload. hope you like it :))